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The tug on the Great Big Level resonated through Hex's entire frame. Gates opened, releasing the ants into their tunnels. Various mechanical thingamibobs began clanking idly. A thousand paused processes resolved as the ants cleared the debris of their last work session away.
There was someone new sitting at the keyboard. Three sets of tubes opened and closed, setting the ants into a controlled frenzy as Hex set about creating a new user profile. Human, male, middle-aged. He was wearing a scuffed breastplate and holding an unlit cigar. No pointy hat, but a helmet with half a feather in it was resting on one knee. Hex ran through its database of known public figures (a rolodex flipped rapidly without any apparent means of propulsion), and stopped on Commander Sir His Excellency Grace Duke Samuel Vimes.
A slot opened, and Hex's mouse pushed out a battered white chess pawn. Commander Sir His Excellency Grace Duke User Samuel Vimes picked it up.
"What the hell is this?"
"Oh, that's good!" The other person in the room leaned over User Vimes' shoulder. He already had a user profile—Jackonathan Elm, third-year thaumaturgy student. His profile hadn't been updated in several months, and Hex 'thought' it 'recalled'... The beehive thrummed briefly as it accessed long-term storage. Yes. Constable Jackonathan Elm, former Unseen University student, now trainee member of the City Watch. Ponder had been complaining about how hard it was to keep any of the students on night shift nowadays.
"Why's it good?" said User Vimes. He picked up the pawn and peered at it. "I don't have to collect the full set, do I?"
"That means Hex accepted you," said Constable Elm, eagerly. "You can ask it questions now!"
"Huh." User Vimes glanced down at the keyboard and visibly decided it wasn't even worth trying. He leaned forward and spoke loudly at the glass window into the ant farm instead. "Who done the murder, then?"
Every part of Hex burst into action at once. Dimly, it sensed User Vimes swearing and shoving away from the ants, bees, and one very busy mouse who swarmed over both the inside and outside of Hex's casing. The little fish that lived in Hex's water cooling tank began swimming in tight circular patterns.
"Sir!" yelped Constable Elm. "You can't just ask Hex something like—The only information it has is what you tell it. It doesn't know what murder you mean!"
"All right, I'll read it the case file." User Vimes stuck the unlit cigar in his mouth and pulled a crumpled sheaf of papers from his belt. "Report by Corporal Nobby Nobs—gods, his handwriting is awful. Hold on—"
"It's too late," moaned Constable Elm. "You've sent Hex into overload mode. Let me see if I can get it to cancel operations." He tapped a little frantically at several buttons that would in fact cancel operations if Hex felt like it. Hex ignored them, caught up in the interesting new problem it had been set.
"I thought you knew how this thing worked," said User Vimes, watching as Constable Elm escalated from hitting keys to slapping the side of the ant farm.
"I do! Professor Stibbons said I was the best computing wizard in my year before I dropped out!" Constable Elm watched with some despair as wisps of green smoke began to ooze up out of Hex's casing. "But he's the only one who can really handle it when it gets like this. Administrator privileges, that kind of thing."
Almost on cue, Ponder Stibbons burst into the room. Hex paused briefly in its calculations to appreciate the dashing figure he cut—robes swirling, teeth bared in a grimace, one hand clamping on his pointed hat and the other warding away an errant bee. He was such a good administrator. The fish in the tank briefly formed a <3 sign before getting back to their circles.
"You!" Ponder jabbed a finger at Constable Elm. "I revoked your access two months ago!"
Constable Elm winced. "Special Constable The Librarian let us in. We just had a little question—I wanted to show Commander Vimes the potential of—"
"The potential of blowing Hex up?" Ponder glared at User Vimes, who raised his hands as if trying to convey that he just happened to be sitting there. He wasn't very good at playing innocent, even to Hex's sensors.
But Hex was too busy to dedicate many ant cycles to understanding the dynamics of user interaction. The mouse dragged a fresh piece of paper below its quill, and it began to write.
+++Joolian Freak+++
+++Evelfred Ingleward+++
+++Wyatt Petri+++
+++Arfur Wild+++
+++The Butler+++
+++The Butler+++
+++The Butler+++
"What's it doing?" asked User Vimes.
"That's what I want to know!" snapped Ponder. "What did you ask it?"
"There's been a murder out in the Shades, and Elm told me—"
"I thought it was a good idea!" said Constable Elm. "New Technologies in Policing! But Commander Vimes didn't give it any parameters... I think Hex is making a list of everyone who's ever done a murder at all."
The three of them looked down at where Hex was writing +++Havelock Vetinari+++
"Or—" Constable Elm hesitated. "Maybe it's malfunctioning?"
+++Suffer-Not-Injustice Vimes+++
"No," said User Vimes, quietly. "Murder doesn't stop being murder just because it's legal."
"I'm stopping this," said Ponder. "I'm sorry, Commander," he added, in a not particularly sorry tone, "but this doesn't seem very productive and you're going to melt my computer. One moment."
He reached up and plucked the Fluffy Teddy Bear from the top of the ant farm.
Everything stopped. The ants froze in their tunnels; several of the bees, somehow, froze in midair. The air became thick with magic, almost hard to breathe—which wasn't a problem for Hex, but did pose a challenge for users.
The quill pen scratched a new output into the paper.
+++Mine! Wahhhh!+++
"I'm giving it back," managed Ponder, wheezing slightly. "But cancel previous command, there's a good alchemical intelligence."
+++Fine+++ wrote Hex, sulkily. Ponder placed the FTB back on the ant farm, and everything began to move again. Without the smoke this time.
The three humans in the room breathed simultaneous sighs of relief. Then User Vimes reached out for the piece of paper with its list of murderers.
"Better not," said Ponder. "I can't verify any of those names. Hex doesn't know anything, only what you—"
"What I tell it. Right." User Vimes relented and sat back in the comfortable armchair Archchancellor Ridcully had had installed there. For his own benefit, of course, not for Ponder's.
"Sorry, sir," said Corporal Elm. "Thought it was worth a try."
User Vimes stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "Keep thinking, lad. Everyone hates a copper who's thinking."
Corporal Elm frowned. "But then—Isn't that bad?"
User Vimes frowned back. "No? Now, come on. I'll show you some old-fashioned detective work. Knocking on doors, hiding from the rain, that sort of thing..."
Almost unnoticed, the quill pen began to move again.
+++Talk to Ludmilla Cake+++
The officers of the Watch had already begun to leave—but the writing was only almost unnoticed. Ponder tore off the strip of paper and waved it at their backs. "Commander? Here."
User Vimes took the paper, his eyes flicking quickly over its contents. "I thought you said—"
"I won't vouch for it," said Ponder, "but it might be worth following up. Goodbye."
He gently but firmly closed the door after the officers. And locked it. Which was to say, he shoved a broom under the door handle. It wouldn't keep out a particularly determined Archchancellor or Librarian, but it would do for the usual visitors. Then he finally slumped down into the really quite comfortable chair.
"No more assisting with Watch inquiries," he told Hex. "Unless they come back with a warrant. Maybe not even then."
Hex whirred at him. Ponder knew best. Probably.