Science of Discworld III

of Man . However, the final word in Origin is ‘evolved’.

THIRTEEN
INFINITY IS A BIT TRICKY
    I T WAS JUST GONE HALF five in the morning, too late for Nibbles and yet not time for Early Breakfast. Jogging through the grey mist, Archchancellor Ridcully saw the lights on in the Great Hall. Steeling himself in case Ponder had students in there, he pushed open the door.
    There were a few students around. One of them was asleep under the coffee spigot.
    Ponder Stibbons was still on the stepladder, waving his hands through the timelines.
    ‘Getting anywhere, Stibbons?’ said Ridcully, running on the spot.
    Ponder managed to steady himself just in time.
    ‘Er … general progress, sir,’ he said, and climbed down.
    ‘Bit of a big job, eh?’ said Ridcully.
    ‘Rather taxing, sir, yes. We’ve done the instructions, though. We’re nearly ready.’
    ‘Hit ’em hard, that’s the style,’ said Ridcully, punching the air.
    ‘Quite probably, sir,’ said Ponder, yawning.
    ‘I was thinking while I was running, Stibbons, as is my wont,’ said Ridcully.
    It’s going to be about the eyeball, isn’t it, Ponder thought. I’m pretty good on the eyeball now, but then he’ll ask about the parasitic wasp and that’s a puzzler, and then he’ll ask how exactly is evolutionpassed on and there’s a god-space right there. And then he’ll ask how do you get from a blob in the ocean to people by adding nothing but sunlight and time? And he’ll probably say: people know they’re people, did blobs know they were blobs? What bit of a blob knows that? Where did consciousness come from, then? Did the big lizards have it? What’s it for? What about imagination? And even if I can think up some kind of answers to all those, he’ll say: look, Stibbons, what you’ve got there is a lot of clockwork answers, and if I ask you how you can get from a big bang to turtles and spoons and Darwin, all you’ll be able to come up with is more clockwork. How did all this happen? Who wound it up? How can nothing explode? Theology of Species makes so much sense when—
    ‘Are you all right, Stibbons?’ He was aware of the Archchancellor looking at him with uncharacteristic concern.
    ‘Yes, sir, Just a bit tired.’
    ‘Only, your lips were moving.’
    Ponder sighed. ‘What was it you were thinking about, sir?’
    ‘Lots of Darwins get through this voyage, right?’
    ‘Yes. An infinite number.’
    ‘Well, in that case—’ the Archchancellor began.
    ‘But Hex did say it’s a much smaller infinite number that the number that don’t,’ said Ponder. ‘And that’s an even smaller number than the very large infinity when he never goes on the voyage. And the number of infinities where he’s never even born is—’
    ‘Infinite?’ Ridcully asked.
    ‘At least,’ said Ponder. ‘However, there is a positive side to this.’
    ‘Do tell, Stibbons.’
    ‘Well, sir, once Origin is published, the number of universes in which it is published will also become infinite in an infinitely small space of time. So even though the book may only be written once, it will, by human standards, immediately have been written in untold billions of adjacent universes.’
    ‘An infinite number, I suspect?’ said Ridcully.
    ‘Yes, sir. Sorry about that. Infinity is a bit tricky.’
    ‘You can’t imagine half of it, for one thing.’
    ‘That’s true. It’s not really a number at all. You can’t get to it starting from one. And that’s the problem, sir. Hex is right, the oddest number in the multiverse isn’t infinity, it’s one. Just one Charles Darwin writing The Origin of Species … it’s impossible.’
    Ridcully sat down. ‘I’ll be damn glad when he finishes the book,’ he said. ‘We’ll get all those nody things sorted and get him back and I personally will hand him the pen.’
    ‘Er … that doesn’t happen immediately, sir,’ said Ponder. ‘He didn’t write it until he was back home.’
    ‘Fair enough,’ said Ridcully. ‘Probably a bit tricky, writin’ on a boat.’
    ‘He thought about it a lot first, sir,’ said Ponder. ‘I did mention that.’
    ‘How long?’ said Ridcully.
    ‘About twenty-five years, sir.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘He wanted to be sure, sir. He researched and wrote letters, lots of letters. He wanted to know everything about, well, everything – silk worms, sheep, jaguars … He wanted to be sure he was right.’ Ponder thumbed through the papers on his clipboard. ‘This interested me. It was from a