Terry Pratchett - The Science of Discworld I

What else could live on a neutron star?

They're waiting.

'THAT,' SAID THE DEAN, 'was a very unpleasant business. Good thing we weren't really there.'

Rincewind was sitting at the end of the long table, his chin on his hand.

'Really?' he said. 'You thought that was bad? Try having a comet land on you. That really makes your day.'

'It was the music that really got on my nerves,' said the Senior Wrangler.

'Oh, well, good job the planet's a snowball, then,' said Rincewind.

'I call this meeting to order,' said Ridcully, thumping the table. 'Where's the Bursar?'

The wizards looked around the main hall of the High Energy Magic building.

'I saw him half an hour ago,' the Dean volunteered.

'We are quorate, nevertheless,' said Ridcully. 'Now ... the magic flux is almost run down, although HEX reports that the model uni­verse appears to be continuing on internal power. Amazing the way the whole place seems to strive to keep existing. However ... gen­tlemen, the project is at an end. All it is has taught us is that you can't make a world out of bits and pieces. You need chelonium for a proper world. And you certainly need narrativium, otherwise the life you get is a lot of opening chapters. A comet is no way to end a story. Ice and fire ... that's very primitive.'

'Poor old crabs,' said the Senior Wrangler.

'Goodbye, lizards,' said the Dean.

'Farewell, my limpet,' said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.

'What were the ones that left?' said Ponder.

'Er ...' said Rincewind.

'Yes?' said the Archchancellor.

'Oh, nothing. I had a thought... but it couldn't possibly work.'

'Some of the bears seemed quite bright,' said Ridcully, who had naturally sided with a lifeform that resembled him in several par­ticulars.

'Yes, yes, it was probably the bears,' said Rincewind quickly.

'We couldn't watch the whole world ail the time,' said Ponder. 'Something could have evolved quickly, I suppose.'

'Yes, that's right, something probably evolved quickly,' said Rincewind. 'I shouldn't think there was any unauthorized interfer­ence in any way.'

'Good luck to them, whatever shape they're in,' said Ridcully. He assembled his papers. 'That's it, then. I won't say it hasn't been an interesting few days, but reality calls. Yes, Rincewind?'

'What are we going to do with the snow globe, I mean, the world?' said Rincewind.

As one wizard, they looked across at the world spinning gently in its dome.

'Is it any use to us, Mister Stibbons?' said Ridcully.

'As a curiosity, sir.'

'This university is stuffed with curiosities, young man.'

'Well, then ... only as very large paperweight.'

'Ah. Rincewind ... you an the Professor of Cruel and Usual Geography, so I suppose this is right up your street...'

There was a rattle from HEX's tray. Ponder pulled out the paper.

It said: +++ The Project Must Be Kept Safe +++

'Fine. Rincewind can put it on a high shelf so that it doesn't get knocked,' said Ridcully, rubbing his hands together.

+++ Recursion Is Occurring +++

Ridcully blinked at the writing.

'Is that a problem?'

HEX creaked. There was a flurry of activity in the ant tubes. Eventually the write-out clattered for some time.

Ponder picked up the message.

'Er ... it's addressed to Mrs Whitlow,' he said. Er ... it's rather odd...'

Ridcully looked over his shoulder.

'"Don't Dust It",' he read.

'She's a devil with a duster,' said the Senior Wrangler. 'The Dean nails his door shut when he leaves his study.'

The write-out clattered again.

'"This Is Important",' Ponder read.

'Not a problem, not a problem,' said Ridcully. 'So on to the next item. Ah, yes. We have to shut down the reacting engine. No, don't get up, Rincewind, I've had the door locked. The interior of the squash court is still just a tiny bit not entirely completely safe, is that right, Mr Stibbons?'

'Very definitely!'

'And therefore the area within it quite clearly counts as...'

'Let me guess,' said Rincewind. 'It's cruel and unusual geogra­phy, yes?'

'Well, done, that man! And all you have to do...'

A sound that had been on the limit of hearing suddenly descended through the scales. And there was silence.

'What's that?' said Ridcully.

'Nothing,' said Rincewind, with unusual accuracy.

'The reacting engine has shut down,' said Ponder.

'By itself?'

'Not unless it can pull its own levers, no ...'

The wizards clustered around the door to the old squash court. Ponder held up his thaumometer.

'There's hardly any flux now,' he said. 'It's practically back­ground ... Stand back ...'

He opened the door.

A couple of white pigeons flew out, followed by a billiard ball. Ponder pulled aside a cluster of flags of all nations.

'Just natural fallout,' he called out. 'Oh ...'

The Bursar ambled around the side of the reacting engine, wav­ing a squash racket.

'Ah, Ponder,' he said. 'Have you wondered if Time isn't simply Space rotated through a right angle?'

'Er ... no ...' said Ponder, watching the man carefully for signs of thaumic breakdown.

'It would certainly make pretzels very interesting, don't you think?'

'Er ... have you been playing squash, sir?' said Ponder

'You know, I'm really coming to believe that a closed contour is a boundary, up to parametrization, if and only if it is homotopic to zero,' said the Bursar. 'And, for preference, coloured green.'

'Did you touch any switches, sir?' said Ponder, maintaining a careful distance.

'This thingy here does make some shots very difficult,' said the Bursar, hitting the reacting engine. 'I was trying to hit the rear wall around last Wednesday.'

'I think perhaps we should leave,' said Ponder in a clear, firm tone. 'It will soon be teatime. There will be jelly,' he added.

'Ah, the fifth form of matter,' said the Bursar brightly, following Ponder.

The other wizards were waiting just outside the door.

'Is he all right?' said Ridcully. 'I mean by general bursarial stan­dards, of course.'

'It's hard to tell,' said Ponder, as the Bursar beamed at them. 'I think so. But the reacting engine must had been putting out quite a high flux when he went in.'

'Perhaps none of the thaumic particles hit him?' said the Senior Wrangler.

'But there's millions of them, sir, and they can pass through any­thing!'

Ridcully slapped the Bursar on the back.

'Bit of luck for you, eh, Bursar?'

The Bursar looked puzzled for a moment, and then vanished.

THIS BOOK WASN'T CALLED The Religion of Discworld for a reason, although, Heaven knows, there is plenty of raw material. All religions are true, for a given value of 'truth'.

The disciplines of science, however, tell us that we live on a world formed from interstellar debris some four billion years ago in a universe which itself is about 15 billion years old (which is science-speak for 'a very long time'); that in the ensuing years it has been pummelled and frozen and re-arranged on a reg­ular basis; that despite or rather because of this, life turned up very quickly and seems to spring back renewed and re-formed from every blow; and that we ourselves evolved on this planet and, with the suddenness of a bursting dam, became Top Species in a very short period of time.

Actually, science tells us that many cockroaches, bacteria, bee­tles, and even small mammals might argue that last statement, but since they are not good at debate and can't speak, who cares what they think? Especially since they can't, eh? A key thing about big brains is this: they know big brains are good.