Category: mr pump

Regular

Mr. Pump stayed on his knees for a moment, and then rose slowly. The red eyes focused on Moist, and the golem stuck out his hand.
“I Do Not Know What A Pleasure Is, But I Am Sure That If I Did, Then Working With You Would Have Been One,” he said. “Now I Must Leave You. I Have Another Task.”
“You’re not my, er, parole officer anymore?” said Moist, taken aback.
“Correct.”
“Hold on,” said Moist, as light dawned. “Is Vetinari sending you after Gilt?”
“I Am Not At Liberty To Say.”
“He is, isn’t he? You’re not following me anymore?”
“I Am Not Following You Anymore.”
“So I’m free to go?”
“I Am Not At Liberty To Say. Good Night, Mr. Lipvig.” Mr. Pump paused at the door. “I Am Not Certain What Happiness Is, Either, Mr. Lipvig, But I think – Yes, I Think I Am Happy To Have Met You.”

– on goodbyes |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“Mr. Lipvig, You Have An Appointment With Lord Vetinari.”
This sunk in and sounded worse than wizards in jars. “I don’t have any appointment with Vetinari! Er… do I?”
“He Says You Do, Mr. Lipvig,” said the golem. “Therefore, You Do.”

– how Vetinari appointments work |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“What happened to my clothes?” he said. “I’m sure I hung them neatly on the floor.”
“I Did, In Fact, Try To Clean Your Suit With Spot Remover, Sir,” said Mr. Pump. “But Since It Was Effectively Just One Large Spot, It Removed The Whole Suit.”
“I liked that suit! At least you could have saved it for dusters, or something.”
“I’m Sorry, Sir, I’d Assumed That Dusters Had Been Saved For Your Suit.”

– I feel called out by this whole conversation |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“And… did I actually rise up in the air, glowing gold?” said Moist.
“I Think I Must Have Missed That, Sir,” said Mr. Pump.
“You mean I didn’t, then.”
“In A Manner Of Speaking, You Did, Sir,” said the golem.
“But in common, everyday reality, I didn’t?”
“You Were Lit, As It Were, By An Inner Fire, Sir.”

– on tact |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“Unfinished stories,” he said.
“Yes, Sir,” said the golem calmly. “You Talked About Them At Length, Sir.”
“I did?”
“Yes, Sir. You Said–”
–that every undelivered message is a piece of space-time that lacks another end, a little bundle of effort and emotion floating freely. Pack millions of them together and they do what letters are meant to do. They communicate, and change the nature of events. When there’s enough of them, they distort the universe around them.

– on unfinished stories | Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Mr. Pump entered, carrying a large box. It should be quite hard to open a big pair of doors while carrying something in both hands, but not if you’re a golem. They just walk at them. The doors can choose to open or try to stay shut, it’s up to them.

we saw a similar choice earlier |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“Listen, they’re just paper! And they talked!”
“Yes,” rumbled the golem ponderously. “This Place Is A Tomb Of Unheard Words. They Strive To Be Heard.”
“Oh, come on! Letters are just paper, they can’t speak!”
“I Am Just Clay, And I Listen,” said Pump, with the same infuriating calm.

– on paper and clay |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“Do you understand anything I’m saying?” shouted Moist. “You can’t just go around killing people!”
“Why Not? You Do.” The golem lowered his arm.
“What?” said Moist. “I do not! Who told you that?”
“I Worked It Out. You Have Killed Two Point Three Three Eight People” said the golem calmly.
“I have never laid a finger on anyone in my life, Mr. Pump. I may be – all the things  you know I am, but I am not a killer! I have never so much as drawn a sword!”
“No, You Have Not. But You Have Stolen, Embezzled, Defrauded, And Swindled Without Discrimination, Mr. Lipvig. You Have Ruined Businesses And Destroyed Jobs. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. Your Actions Have Taken Money From Those Who Had Little Enough To Begin With. In A Myriad Small Ways You Have Hastened The Deaths Of Many. You Did Not Know Them. You Did Not See Them Bleed. But You Snatched Bread From Their Mouths And Tore Clothes From Their Backs. For Sport, Mr. Lipvig. For Sport. For The Joy Of The Game.”

– on consequences |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

Stanley looked around at the golem, who was right behind him. IT was astonishing how quietly a golem could move; he’d crossed the floor like a shadow and now stood with one still fist raised like the wrath of gods.
“Oh, I didn’t see you standing there, Mr. Pump,” said Stanley cheerfully. “Why is your hand up?”
The holes in the golem’s face bathed the boy in red light.
“I… Wanted To Ask The Postmaster A Question?” said the golem slowly.

– a quick save |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

Regular

“You’ll know where to hire men with ropes, steeplejacks, that sort of thing? I want those letters back on our building by midday, okay?”
“That’ll cost a lot of money, Mr. Lipwig,” said Groat, staring at him in amazement. Moist pulled a bag out of his pocket and jingled it.
“One hundred dollars should more than cover it,” he said. Mr. Hugo was very apologetic and very, very inclined to be helpful. Says he bought them years ago off a man in a pub and is only too happy to pay for them to be returned. It’s amazing how nice people can be, if approached in the right way.”
There was a clang from the other side of the street. Mr. Pump had already removed the H, without any apparent effort.
Speak softly and employ a huge man with a crowbar, thought Moist. This might be bearable after all.

– on effective management techniques |
Terry Pratchett, Going Postal