'And You Will Pay Me Twice As Much As Other Watchmen/ said Dorfl.
'Will I?'
'Yes. I Do Not Sleep. I Can Work Constantly. I Am A Bargain. I Do Not Need Days Off To Bury My Granny.'
How soon they learn, thought Vimes. He said: 'But you have holy days off, don't you?'
'Either All Days Are Holy Or None Are. I Have Not Decided Yet.'
'Er... what do you need money for, Dorfl?'
'I Shall Save Up And Purchase The Golem Klutz Who Labours In The Pickle Factory, And Give Him To Himself; Then Together We Will Earn And Save For The Golem Bobkes Of The Coal Merchant; The Three Of Us Will Labour And Buy The Golem Shmata Who Toils At The Seven-Dollar Tailor's In Peach Pie Street; Then The Four of Us Will - '
'Some people might decide to free their comrades by force and bloody revolution,' said Vimes. 'Not that I'm suggesting that in any way, of course.'
'No. That Would Be Theft. We Are Bought And Sold, So We Will Buy Ourselves Free. By Our Labour. No One Else To Do It For Us. We Will Do It By Ourselves.'
Vimes smiled to himself. Probably no other species in the world would demand a receipt with their freedom. Some things you just couldn't change.
'Ah,' he said. 'It seems some people want to talk to us...'
A crowd was approaching over the bridge, in a mass of grey, black and saffron robes. It was made up of priests. They looked angry. As they pushed and shoved their way through the other citizens, several haloes became interlocked.
At their head was Hughnon Ridcully, Chief Priest of Blind lo and the closest thing Ankh-Morpork had to a spokesman on religious issues. He spotted Vimes and hurried towards him, admonitory finger upraised.
'Now, see here, Vimes...' he began, and stopped. He glared at Dorfl.
'Is this if?' he said.
'If you mean the golem, this is /ii'm,' said Vimes. 'Constable Dorfl, your reverence.'
Dorfl touched his helmet respectfully. 'How May We Be Of Service?' he said.
'You've done it this time, Vimes!' said Ridcully, ignoring him. 'You've gone altogether too far by . half. You made this thing speak and it isn't even alive!' '
'We want it smashed!'
'Blasphemy!'
'People won't stand for it!'
Ridcully looked around at the other priests. 'I'm talking,' he said. He turned back to Vimes. 'This comes under the heading of gross profanity and the worship of idols - '
'I don't worship him. I'm just employing him,' said Vimes, beginning to enjoy himself. 'And he's far from idle.' He took a deep breath. 'And if it's gross profanity you're looking for - '
'Excuse Me,' said Dorfl.
'We're not listening to you! You're not even really alive!' said a priest.
Dorfl nodded. 'This Is Fundamentally True,' he said.
'See? He admits it!'
'I Suggest You Take Me And Smash Me And Grind The Bits Into Fragments And Pound The Fragments Into Powder And Mill Them Again To The Finest Dust There Can Be, And I Believe You Will Not Find A Single Atom of Life - '
'True! Let's do it!'
'However, In Order To Test This Fully, One Of You Must Volunteer To Undergo The Same Process.'