Eric

was a round rock. Beside the rock sat a manacled man, his despairing head buried in his hands. A squat green demon stood beside him, almost buckling under the weight of an enormous book.
    “I’ve heard of this one,” said Eric. “Man who went and defied the gods or something. Got to keep pushing that rock up the hill even though it rolls back all the time—”
    The demon looked up.
    “But first,” it trilled, “he must listen to the Unhealthy and Unsafety Regulations governing the Lifting and Moving of Large Objects.”

    Volume 93 of the Commentaries, in fact. The Regulations themselves comprised a further 1,440 volumes. Part 1, that is.

    Rincewind had always liked boredom, treasuring it if only because of its rarity value. It had always seemed to him that the only times in his life when he wasn’t being chased, imprisoned or hit were when he was being dropped from things, and while falling a long way always had a certain sameness about it, it did not really count as “boring.” The only time he could look back on with a certain amount of fondness was his brief spell as assistant Librarian at Unseen University, when there wasn’t much to do except read books, make sure the Librarian’s banana supply wasn’t interrupted and, rarely, help him with a particularly recalcitrant grimoire.
    Now he realized what made boredom so attractive. It was the knowledge that worse things, dangerously exciting things, were going on just around the corner and that you were well out of them. For boredom to be enjoyable there had to be something to compare it with.
    Whereas this was just boredom on top of more boredom, winding in on itself until it became a great crushing sledgehammer which paralyzed all thought and experience and pounded eternity into something like flannel.
    “This is dreadful,” he said.
    The chained man raised a haggard face. “You’re telling me?” he said. “I used to like pushing the ball up the hill. You could stop for a chat, you could see what was going on, you could try various holds and everything. I was a bit of a tourist attraction, people used to point me out. I wouldn’t say it was fun , but it gave you a purpose in the afterlife.”
    “And I used to help him,” said the demon, its voice raw with sullen indignation. “Give you a bit of a hand, sometimes, didn’t I? Pass on a bit of gossip and that. Sort of encourage him when it rolled back and that. I’d say things like ‘whoops, there goes the bleeder again,’ and he’d say ‘Bugger it.’ We had some times, dint we? Great times.” It blew its nose.
    Rincewind coughed.
    “’Sgetting too much,” said the demon. “We used to be happy in the old days. It wasn’t as if it used to hurt anyone much and, well, we was all in it together.”
    “That’s it,” said the chained man. “You knew if you kept your nose clean you’d stand a chance of getting out one day. You know, once a week now I have to stop this for craft lessons?”
    “That must be nice,” said Rincewind uncertainly.
    The man’s eyes narrowed. “Basketwork?” he said.
    “I been here eighteen millennia, demon and imp,” grumbled the demon. “I learned my trade, I did. Eighteen thousand bloody years behind the pitchfork, and now this. Reading a—”
    A sonic boom echoed the length of Hell.
    “Oi oi,” said the demon. “He’s back. He sounds angry, too. We’d better get our heads down.” And indeed, all over the circles of Hades, demons and damned were groaning in unison and getting back to their private hells.
    The chained man broke into a sweat.
    “Look, Vizzimuth,” he said, “couldn’t we just sort of miss out one or two paragraphs—”
    “It’s my job ,” said the demon wretchedly. “You know He checks up, it’s more than my job’s worth—” He broke off, gave Rincewind a sad grimace, and patted the sobbing figure with a gentle talon.
    “Tell you what,” he said kindly, “I’ll skip some of the subclauses.”
    Rincewind took Eric by an unresisting shoulder.
    “We’d better get along,” he said quietly.
    “This is really horrible,” said Eric, as they walked away. “It gives evil a bad name.”
    “Um,” said Rincewind. He didn’t like the sound of Him being back and Him being angry. Whenever something important enough to deserve capital letters was angry in the vicinity of Rincewind, it was usually angry with him.
    “If you know such a lot about this place,” he said, “perhaps you can remember how to get