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"Revolution."
"War."
"Barricades."
"Reavers."
"History monks."
"Ooh, nice guys. Don't drink the yak butter tea. Um..." The man thought, swirling the water in his glass. "The end of the world."
"Really?"
"Well, the end of the planet, anyway."
"Oh." Vimes swigged his own water. "Tell me, is time travel ever dull?"
"Not that I've noticed."
"But what do you do when you get there?" Vimes asked. "All these different times and places."
The man looked at him properly for the first time, with eyes that were more ancient than Vimes could have imagined.
"The job that's in front of you."