Feet of Clay

a human!”
    “That’s because it’s a machine made for looking like a human.”
    She walked around behind the thing. “I’m going to read your chem, Dorfl,” she said.
    The golem let go of the goat and raised the cleaver and brought it down sharply on to a chopping block beside Cheery, making the dwarf leap sideways. Then it pulled around a slate that was slung over its shoulder on a piece of string, unhooked the pencil, and wrote:
    YES.
    When Angua put her hand up, Cheery realized that there was a thin line across the golem’s forehead. To her horror, the entire top of the head flipped up. Angua, quite unperturbed, reached inside. Her hand came out holding a yellowing scroll.
    The golem froze. The eyes faded.
    Angua unrolled the paper. “Some kind of holy writing,” she said. “It always is. Some old dead religion.”
    “You’ve killed it?”
    “No. You can’t take away what isn’t there.” She put the scroll back and closed the head with a click.
    The golem came “alive” again, the glow returning to its eyes.
    Cheery had been holding her breath. It came out in a rush. “What did you do? ” she managed.
    “Tell her, Dorfl,” said Angua.
    The golem’s thick fingers were a blur as the pencil scratched across the slate.
    I AM A GOLEM. I WAS MADE OF CLAY. MY LIFE IS THE WORDS. BY MEANS OF WORDS OF PURPOSE IN MY HEAD I ACQUIRE LIFE. MY LIFE IS TO WORK. I OBEY ALL COMMANDS. I TAKE NO REST.
    “What words of purpose?”
    RELEVANT TEXT THAT ARE THE FOCUS OF BELIEF. GOLEM MUST WORK. GOLEM MUST HAVE A MASTER.
    The goat lay down beside the golem and started to chew cud.
    “There have been two murders,” said Angua. “I’m pretty certain a golem did one and probably both. Can you tell us anything, Dorfl?”
    “Sorry, look,” said Cheery. “Are you telling me this…thing is powered by words? I mean…is it telling me it’s powered by words?”
    “Why not? Words do have power. Everyone knows that,” said Angua. “There are more golems around than you might think. They’re out of fashion now, but they last. They can work underwater, or in total darkness, or knee-deep in poison. For years. They don’t need rest or feeding. They…”
    “But that’s slavery!” said Cheery.
    “Of course it isn’t. You might as well enslave a doorknob. Have you got anything to tell me, Dorfl?”
    Cheery kept looking at the cleaver in the block. Words like length and heavy and sharp were filling her head more snugly than any words could have filled the clay skull of the golem.
    Dorfl said nothing.
    “How long have you been working here, Dorfl?”
    NOW THREE HUNDRED DAYS ALREADY.
    “And you have time off?”
    TO MAKE A HOLLOW LAUGHING. WHAT WOULD I DO WITH TIME OFF?
    “I mean, you’re not always in the slaughterhouse?”
    SOMETIMES I MAKE DELIVERIES.
    “And meet other golems? Now listen , Dorfl, I know you things keep in touch somehow. And, if a golem is killing real people, I wouldn’t give a busted teacup for your chances. Folk will be along here straight away with flaming torches. And sledgehammers. You get my drift?”
    The golem shrugged.
    THEY CANNOT TAKE AWAY WHAT DOES NOT EXIST, it wrote.
    Angua threw up her hands. “I’m trying to be civilized,” she said. ’I could confiscate you right now. The charge would be Being Obstructive When It’s Been a Long Day and I’ve Had Enough. Do you know Father Tubelcek?
    THE OLD PRIEST WHO LIVES ON THE BRIDGE.
    “How come you know him?”
    I HAVE MADE DELIVERIES THERE.
    “He’s been murdered. Where were you when he was killed?”
    IN THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE.
    “ How do you know ?”
    Dorfl hesitated a moment. Then the next words were written very slowly, as if they had come from a long way away after a great deal of thought.
    BECAUSE IT IS SOMETHING THAT MUST HAVE HAPPENED NOT LONG AGO, BECAUSE YOU ARE EXCITED. FOR THE LAST THREE DAYS I HAVE BEEN WORKING HERE.
    “All the time?”
    YES.
    “Twenty-four hours a day?”
    YES. MEN AND TROLLS HERE ON EVERY SHIFT, THEY WILL TELL YOU. DURING THE DAY I MUST SLAUGHTER, DRESS, QUARTER, JOINT AND BONE, AND AT NIGHT WITHOUT REST I MUST MAKE SAUSAGES AND BOIL UP THE LIVERS, HEARTS, TRIPES, KIDNEYS AND CHITTERLING.
    “That’s awful ,” said Cheery.
    The pencil blurred briefly.
    CLOSE.
    Dorfl turned his head slowly to look at Angua and wrote:
    DO YOU NEED ME FURTHER?
    “If we do, we know where to find you.”
    I AM SORRY ABOUT THE OLD MAN.
    “Good. Come on, Cheery.”
    They felt the golem’s eyes on them as they