Hogfather

hang around with a bunch of idiots you’re bound to become pretty daft yourself,” Ridcully went on.
    “I suppose in a manner of speaking…”
    “And you’ve only got to talk to the poor old Bursar for five minutes and you think you’re going a bit potty yourself, am I right?”
    The wizards nodded glumly. The Bursar’s company, although quite harmless, had a habit of making one’s brain squeak.
    “So Hex here has caught daftness off the Bursar,” said Ridcully. “Simple. Real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time.” He banged his pipe on the side of Hex’s listening tube and shouted: “FEELING ALL RIGHT, OLD CHAP?”
    Hex wrote: +++ Hi Mum Is Testing +++ MELON MELON MELON +++ Out Of Cheese Error +++ !!!!! +++ Mr. Jelly! Mr. Jelly! +++
    “Hex seems perfectly able to work out anything purely to do with numbers, but when it tries anything else it does this,” said Ponder.
    “See? Bursar Disease,” said Ridcully. “The bee’s knees when it comes to adding up, the pig’s ear at everything else. Try giving him dried frog pills?”
    “Sorry, sir, but that is a very uninformed suggestion,” said Ponder. “You can’t give medicine to machines.”
    “Don’t see why not,” said Ridcully. He banged on the tube again and bellowed, “SOON HAVE YOU BACK ON YOUR…your…yes, indeed, old chap! Where’s that board with all the letter and number buttons, Mr. Stibbons? Ah, good.” He sat down and typed, with one finger, as slowly as a company chairman:
    D-R-Y-D-F-R-O-R-G-1/2 P-I-L-L-S
    Hex’s pipes jangled.
    “That can’t possibly work, sir,” said Ponder.
    “It ought to,” said Ridcully. “If he can get the idea of being ill, he can get the idea of being cured.”
    He typed: L-O-T-S-O-F-D-R-Y-D-F-R-O-R-G-P-1/4-L-L-S
    “Seems to me,” he said, “that this thing believes what it’s told, right?”
    “Well, it’s true that Hex has, if you want to put it that way, no idea of an untruth.”
    “Right. Well, I’ve just told the thing it’s had a lot of dried frog pills. It’s not going to call me a liar, is it?”
    There was some clickings and whirrings within the structure of Hex.
    Then it wrote: +++ Good Evening, Archchancellor. I Am Fully Recovered And Enthusiastic About My Tasks +++
    “Not mad, then?”
    +++ I Assure You I Am As Sane As The Next Man +++
    “Bursar, just move away from the machine, will you?” said Ridcully. “Oh, well, I expect it’s the best we’re going to get. Right, let’s get all this sorted out. We want to find out what’s going on.”
    “Anywhere specific or just everywhere?” said Ponder, a shade sarcastically.
    There was a scratching noise from Hex’s pen. Ridcully glanced down at the paper.
    “Says here ‘Implied Creation Of Anthropomorphic Personification,’” he said. “What’s that mean?”
    “Er…I think Hex has tried to work out the answer,” said Ponder.
    “Has it, bigods? I hadn’t even worked out what the question was yet…”
    “It heard you talking, sir.”
    Ridcully raised his eyebrows. Then he leaned down toward the speaking tube.
    “CAN YOU HEAR ME IN THERE?”
    The pen scratched.
    +++ Yes +++
    “LOOKIN’ AFTER YOU ALL RIGHT, ARE THEY?”
    “You don’t have to shout, Archchancellor,” said Ponder.
    “What’s this Implied Creation, then?” said Ridcully.
    “Er, I think I’ve heard of it, Archchancellor,” said Ponder. “It means the existence of some things automatically brings into existence other things. If some things exist, certain other things have to exist as well.”
    “Like…crime and punishment, say?” said Ridcully. “Drinking and hangovers…of course…”
    “ Something like that, sir, yes.”
    “So…if there’s a Tooth Fairy there has to be a Verruca Gnome?” Ridcully stroked his beard. “Makes a sort of sense, I suppose. But why not a Wisdom Tooth Goblin? You know, bringing them extra ones? Some little devil with a bag of big teeth?”
    There was silence. But in the depths of the silence there was a little tingly fairy bell sound.
    “Er…do you think I might have—” Ridcully began.
    “Sounds logical to me,” said the Senior Wrangler. “I remember the agony I had when my wisdom teeth came through.”
    “Last week?” said the Dean, and smirked.
    “Ah,” said Ridcully. He didn’t look embarrassed because people like Ridcully are never, ever embarrassed about anything, although often people are embarrassed on their behalf. He bent down to the ear trumpet again.
    “YOU