The Last Continent

Ridcully.
    “Well, some supper, then?”
    “Too late for supper.”
    The Chair of Indefinite Studies took in the rest of the room. A lizard scuttled across the wall and disappeared.
    “Bit of a mess in here, isn’t there?” he said, glaring at the place where the lizard had been. “Everything’s very dusty. What’s in all those boxes?”
    “Says ‘Rocks’ on this side,” said the Dean. “Makes sense. If you’re going to study the outdoors, do it in the warm.”
    “But what about all the fishing nets and coconuts?”
    The Dean had to agree the point. The study was a mess, even by the extremely expansive standards of wizardry. Boxes of dusty rocks occupied the little space that wasn’t covered with books and paper. They had been variously labeled, with inscriptions like “Rocks from Lower Down,” “Other Rocks,” “Curious Rocks” and “Probably Not Rocks.” Further boxes, to Ponder’s rising interest, were marked “Remarkable Bones,” “Bones” and “Dull Bones.”
    “One of those people who pokes his nose where it doesn’t belong, I fancy,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, and sniffed. He sniffed again, and looked down at the book he’d picked at random.
    “This is a pressed squid collection,” he said.
    “Oh, is it any good? I used to collect starfish when I was a boy,” said Ponder.
    The Lecturer in Recent Runes shut the book and frowned at him over the top of it. “I daresay you did, young man. And old fossils too, I expect.”
    “I always thought that old fossils might have a lot to teach us,” said Ponder. “Perhaps I was wrong,” he added darkly.
    “Well, I for one have never believed all that business about dead animals turning into stone,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes. “It’s against all reason. What’s in it for them?”
    “So how do you explain fossils, then?” said Ponder.
    “Ah, you see, I don’t,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, with a triumphant smile. “It saves so much trouble in the long run. How do skinless sausages hold together, Mister Stibbons?”
    “What? Eh? How should I know something like that?”
    “Really? You don’t know that but you think you’re entirely qualified to know how the whole universe was put together, do you? Anyway, you don’t have to explain fossils. They’re there . Why try to turn everything into a big mystery? If you go around asking questions the whole time you’ll never get anything done.”
    “Well, what are we put here for?” said Ponder.
    “There you go again,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
    “Says here it’s girt by sea,” said the Senior Wrangler.
    He looked up at their stares.
    “This continent EcksEcksEcksEcks,” he added, pointing at a page. “Says here ‘Little is known about it save that it is girt by sea.’”
    “I’m glad to see someone has their mind on the task in hand,” said Ridcully. “You two get on with some studyin’, please. Right, then, Senior Wrangler…girt by sea, is it?”
    “Apparently.”
    “Well…it would be, wouldn’t it,” said Ridcully. “Anything else?”
    “I used to know a Gert,” said the Bursar. The terror of the Library had sent his somewhat erratic sanity on a downward slide into the calm pink clouds again.
    “Not…very much,” said the Senior Wrangler, flicking through the pages. “Sir Roderick Purdeigh spent many years looking for the alleged continent and was very emphatic that it didn’t exist.”
    “Quite a jolly gel. Gertrude Plusher, I think her name was. Face like a brick.”
    “Yes, but he once got lost in his own bedroom,” said the Dean, thumbing through another book. “They found him in the wardrobe.”
    “I wonder if it’s the same Gert?” said the Bursar.
    “Could be, Bursar,” said Ridcully. He nodded at the other wizards. “No one’s to let him have any sugar or fruit.”
    For a while there was no sound but the splash of water behind the door, the turning of pages and the Bursar’s randomized humming.
    “According to this note in Wasport’s Lives of the Very Dull People ,” said the Senior Wrangler, squinting at the tiny script, “he met an old fisherman who said in that country the bark fell off the trees in the winter and the leaves stayed on.”
    “Yes, but they always make up that sort of thing,” said Ridcully. “Otherwise it’s too boring. It’s no good coming home and just saying you were shipwrecked for two years and ate winkles, is it? You have to put in a lot of daft stuff