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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BoldItalic" data-source="post: 6807107" data-attributes="member: 6777052">The tunnel ran a long way north and, in some indefinable way, upwards except that if there are two kinds of 'up', this would be the other one - the opposite of sideways. Rylnethaz mentioned this and BoldItalic agreed. "I went to a talk, once, at the Sages Guild, where the speaker tried to convince us that there were really eleven dimensions, not ten. He called the extra one "strange". It didn't make a lot of sense but I do remember the cheese sandwiches were especially good. You can tell if a theory is right by the quality of the sandwiches.""Do you have to be mad, to be a sage?""No, but it helps. On another occasion there was a talk by a different sage who declared that the world was a ball of coloured wool and we were all made of knots in the threads. There was something about the wool twanging but that sounded rather unlikely. Wool doesn't twang, it just fluffs. Anyway, it was meat-paste sandwiches that evening, so of course his theory was no good. A few sharp questions and he unravelled.""There seems to be something up ahead," remarked Rylnethaz, adriotly changing the subject. And so there was, for the tunnel ended at a circular bronze door, quite plain except for a handle set in the middle. A humming noise filled the air, seeming to come from behind the door. They opened the door and went through.They found themselves in a great cavern. The vaulted roof was far above, and the walls were out of sight in a mist that filled the cavern. The humming noise seemed to be coming from a row of huge grey things the size of whales, except they weren't whales. It wasn't obvious what they were, but they definitely weren't aquatic mammals. Here and there, gnomes in sunshine-yellow overalls and white helmets were busying about doing incomprehensible things, peering into crystal windows and pushing levers, or polishing brassy columns with greasy rags."I have the strange sense that we have been here before," said Rylnethaz slowly. "Except, we were up in the gallery then, wondering how to get down.""Well, those are the machines we have to deal with. What should we do about the gnomes?"Clotbert pointed out a trumpet hanging from a stanchion nearby, under a big red sign that read In case of emanation, blow horn. Do not attempt to deal with it yourself. Penalty for improper use - 5 years in the Abyss. "♬Suppose we blow the horn?" he suggested."Good idea," agreed Rylnethaz. "You're the minstrel, go ahead."So Clotbert blew the emergency horn and all the gnomes fled through little hatches without even looking round to see who was sounding the alarm, or what the emergency was. They were very well trained. The Safety Officer (Gnome) would have been proud of them, if he had been there (he was away, attending an important meeting about the draft protocol for the safety issues raised by attending meetings). Of course, the gnomes couldn't go back to work until the Safety Officer gave them the 'All Clear', and he wasn't there so they relaxed and started playing gnomeball in the recreation room."Right. Now to work," declared Rylnethaz firmly. "Do you still have that pesky talking sword, BoldItalic?"As if in answer, BoldItalic produced the long, thin bundle wrapped in what had once been a perfectly serviceable cloak, and began to untie the complicated knots that bound it. A torrent of words came from within."We can do a deal!" shouted the sword. "I know how these machines work!"</blockquote>

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