He sees the directions the city turns in before it even moves its head Madam and her friends are fascinated with him but he denies her anything, right up until it’s suddenly five years into the past and he sees Sam take his first drink outside of the social sphere, and realizes that he’s actually allowed to change, really change things. He catches a young lad before a cart runs the boy over Sergeant Maroon doesn’t take an unfortunate dive onto the upturned pike of a belligerent thief, because Keel is there, grabbing the back of his armor just in time to haul him up. There are various watchmen who die who don’t need to, crimes remembered that he can now predict, and as time goes on Sergeant Keel of the Night Watch gains a reputation for being disconcertingly there, present at just the right time. He’d just have to fish out whatever bits he could from there. *Or, at least, thirty years give-or-take the two decades where his memories swam in a sea of alcoholic blurr.
John Keel lives now, and Vimes has thirty years of knowledge to try and put things right.* The only watchman who knew his secret was dead the monks keep to themselves. Sam Vimes the Current follows him all the way and he realizes that he has a responsibility to this boy, one that now lasts more than just a few days. He stands before the newly-appointed Lord Snapcase and salutes as best he can without wincing, and leaves as soon as he’s allowed, twitchy and eyeballing every guardsman all the way back to the watchhouse. He weathers the punishments that come with laying his captain out and fields the rest that come with commanding a barricade against the military in a city-wide demi-revolution, and is commended for his efforts toward the future of the new administration. The monks are very sorry that this has happened to him, and endure his raging and his ranting with the sad patience of people who know the volcano is going to erupt and where the pyroclastic flow will have to land, and have to deal with it anyway.Īnd Vimes does the only thing he knows how to do, and goes to work. There are six new graves to be dug up in Small Gods, and Vimes looks at the grass where the seventh should be and feels sick. The Glorious 25 th of May happens and keeps happening, and Vimes lives by the skin of his teeth and sees the dawn of the less glorious 26 th of May, and the cleanup of its bloody yesterday.
The hole opened and closed, and will stay closed the cards are shuffled and cannot be unshuffled. In belated honor of the Discworld fandom’s ‘Feelings Day’, and in order to cause some more Feelings, I’m curious about a version where Vimes doesn’t go home.
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