The Science of Discworld II

the sphere from Rincewind and held it in front of his eyes.
    â€˜Speak!’ he commanded.
    â€˜Permission denied,’ said the crystal. ‘You do not have the rights to do this.’
    â€˜Where did you tell him you came from?’ Rincewind whispered to Ridcully, as Dee tried to polish the ball with the sleeve of his robe.
    â€˜I just said we’d dropped in from another sphere,’ said Ridcully. ‘After all, this universe is full of spheres. He seemed to be quite happy about that. I didn’t mention the Discworld at all, in case it confused him.’
    Rincewind looked at Dee’s shaking hands and the manic glint in his eye.
    â€˜I just want to be clear,’ he said slowly. ‘You appeared in a magic circle, you told him you’re from another sphere, he’d just spoken to a crystal ball, you’ve explained to him that magic doesn’t work and you don’t want to confuse him?’
    â€˜Make him any more confused than he is already, you mean,’ said the Dean. ‘Confusion is the natural state of mind here, believe us. Do you know they think numbers are magical? Doing sums can get a man into real trouble in these parts.’
    â€˜Well, some numbers are magi—’ Ponder began.
    â€˜Not here they’re not,’ said the Archchancellor. ‘Here I am, out in the open air, no magical protection and I’m going to say the number that comes after seven. Here it comes: eight . There. Nothing happened. Eight! Eighteen! Two fat ladies in very tight corsetry, eighty-eight! Oh, someone pull Rincewind out from under the table, will you?’
    While the Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography was having some of it brushed off his robes, Ridcully continued: ‘It’s a mad world. No narrativium. People makin’ up history as they go along. Brilliant men spendin’ their time wondering how many angels can dance on the head of a pin—’
    â€˜Sixteen,’ said Ponder.
    â€˜Yes, we know that because we can go and look, but here it’s just another silly question,’ said Ridcully. ‘It’d make you cry. The history of this place goes backwards half the time. It’s a mess. A parody of a world.’
    â€˜We made it,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
    â€˜We didn’t make it this badly,’ said the Dean. ‘We’ve seen the history books here. There were some great civilisations thousands of years ago. There was a place like Ephebe that was really beginning to find things out. The wrong things, mostly, but at least they were making an effort. Even had a decent pantheon of gods. All gone now. Our chum here and his friends think everything worth knowing has been discovered and forgotten and, frankly, they’re not totally wrong.’
    â€˜What can we do about it?’ said Ponder.
    â€˜You can talk to Hex on that thing?’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜Then Hex can do the magic back at UU and we’ll find out what the elves did,’ said Ridcully.
    â€˜Er,’ Rincewind began, ‘do we have the right to interfere?’ They all stared at him.
    â€˜I mean, we never did it before,’ he went on. ‘Remember all those other creatures that evolved here? The intelligent lizards? The intelligent crabs? Those dog things? They all got completely wiped out by ice ages and falling rocks and we never did anything to stop it.’ 2
    They went on staring.
    â€˜I mean, elves are just another problem, aren’t they?’ said Rincewind. ‘Maybe … maybe they’re just another form of big rock? Maybe … maybe they always turn up when intelligence gets going? And the species is either clever enough to survive them or it ends up buriedin the bedrock like all the others? I mean, perhaps it’s a kind of, a kind of test? I mean …’
    It dawned on Rincewind that he was not carrying the meeting. The wizards were glaring at him.
    â€˜Are you suggesting that someone somewhere is awarding marks , Rincewind?’ said Ponder.
    â€˜Well, obviously there is no—’
    â€˜Good. Shut up,’ said Ridcully. ‘Now, lads, let’s get back to Mortlake and get started.’
    â€˜Mort Lake?’ said Rincewind. ‘But that’s in Ankh-Morpork!’
    â€˜There’s one here, too,’ said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, beaming. ‘Amazing, isn’t it? We never guessed. This world is a cheap parody of our own. As