The Last Continent

brightened up a bit. “You know, it’s amazing what you get if you break even the common cow down into very small bits.”
    “Soup,” said Ridcully.
    “Because, sooner or later, everything is just a set of instructions,” the god went on, apparently not listening.
    “That’s just what I’ve always said!” said Ponder.
    “Have you?” said the god, peering at him. “Well, anyway…that’s how it all began. I thought it would be a much better idea to create creatures that could change their own instructions when they needed to, you see…”
    “Oh, you mean evolution,” said Ponder Stibbons.
    “Do I?” The god looked thoughtful. “‘Changing over time’…Yes, that’s actually quite a good word, isn’t it? Evolution. Yes, I suppose that’s what I do. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be working properly.”
    Beside him, there was a pop. The little plant had fruited. Its pod had sprung open and there appeared to be, bunched up like a chrysanthemum, a fresh white hankie.
    “You see?” he said. “That’s the sort of thing I’m up against. Everything is so completely selfish about it.” He took the handkerchief in an absentminded way, blew his nose on it, crumpled it up, and dropped it on the ground.
    “I’m sorry about the boat,” he continued. “It was a bit of a rush job, you see. I just didn’t want anyone upsetting everything, but I really don’t believe in smiting, so I thought that since you wanted to leave here I should help you do so as soon as possible. I think I did rather a good job, in the circumstances. It’ll find new land automatically, I think. So why didn’t you go?”
    “The bare naked lady on the front was a bit of a giveaway,” said Ridcully.
    “The what?” The god peered in the direction of the boat. “These eyes are not particularly efficient…Oh, dear, yes. The figure. Morphic bloody resonance again. Will you stop doing that!”
    The handkerchief plant had just put forth another fruit. The god narrowed his eyes, pointed his finger and incinerated it.
    As one man the wizards stepped back.
    “I stop concentrating for five minutes and everything loses any sense of discipline,” said the god. “Everything wants to make itself damn useful ! I can’t think why!”
    “Sorry? Am I getting this right? You’re a god of evolution ?” said Ponder.
    “Er…is that wrong?” said the god anxiously.
    “But it’s been happening for ages, sir!”
    “Has it? But I only started a few years ago! Do you mean someone else is doing it?”
    “I’m afraid so, sir,” said Ponder. “People breed dogs for fierceness and racehorses for speed and…well, even my uncle can do amazing things with his nuts, sir—”
    “And everyone knows that you can cross a river with a bridge, ahaha,” said Ridcully.
    “Can you?” said the god of evolution seriously. “I’d have thought that you simply get some very soggy wood. Oh dear.”
    Ridcully winked at Ponder Stibbons. Gods were often not good at humor, and this one was even worse than Ridcully.
    “We’re back in time, Mister Stibbons,” he said. “It may not have happened already yet , eh?”
    “Oh. Yes,” said Ponder.
    “Anyway, two gods of evolution wouldn’t be a bad thing, would they?” said Ridcully. “Makes it a lot more interestin’. The one who’s best at it would win.”
    The god stared at him with his mouth open. Then he shut it just enough to mouth Ridcully’s words to himself, snapped his fingers, and vanished in a puff of little white lights.
    “ Now you’ve done it,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
    “No cake for you ,” said the Bursar.
    “All I said was the one who’s best at it would win,” said Ridcully.
    “Actually, he didn’t look upset,” said Ponder. “He looked as if he’d suddenly realized something.”
    Ridcully looked up at the small mountain in the center of the island, and appeared to reach a decision.
    “All right, we’ll leave,” he said. “The reason this island’s so odd is that some rather daft god is messing around with it. That’s a pretty good explanation as far as I’m concerned.”
    “But, sir—” Ponder began.
    “See that little vine just by the Senior Wrangler there? It’s only been growing for the last ten minutes,” said the Dean.
    It looked like a small cucumber vine, except that the fruits were yellow and oblong.
    “Pass me your penknife, Mister Stibbons,” said Ridcully.
    Ridcully sliced the fruit in half. It wasn’t fully ripe yet,