The Science of Discworld IV

talking about things like faith and gods; it chose instead to hurry hastily towards such anodyne old favourites like seeing everybody’s point of view, since religion was clearly a source of comfort for many people, and without respect for the other’s point of view there can be no debate.
    She called it vamp-till-ready journalism, hanging back until the public position was overwhelming; in that way, nobody would get into trouble with the public, or have nasty letters in their in-tray. What the editor called
Vox Populari
was a lot of fun, however, certainly for those who got their fun by looking sideways at the world. The wizards’ absolute determination not to turn over Roundworld to the Omnians was causing people to think, sometimes without adequate equipment, which was signalled by such phrases as ‘I reckon’.
    Marjorie was of the opinion, after years of working in libraries, that any philosophical remark that begins with ‘I reckon’ was probably unlikely to come up with a world-shattering insight or even a new un-shattered one.
    She couldn’t help it; she had three degrees, a doctorate and could
think
in Greek – an excellent language for dealing with ideas. Latin, she thought, was … well, quite useful; but Greek had that extra
je ne sais quoi
, and so did French, when you came to think about it. So
while
you were thinking that you could be entertaining seditious arguments against democracy, she couldn’t help sometimes finding herself annoyed that the system allowed the deliberations of somebody whoexplored a great deal of the background of the talking point in question to have the same value as that of a man who buys his newspapers because they have naked women in them.
    She’d had many arguments with her mother about that, and her mother had taken the view that it all worked out in the end, pointing out that some of the most renowned and intelligent people could be guilty of the most stupid and even homicidally dangerous ideas. She said that stupid
clever
people do much more damage than stupid untutored morons.
    Marjorie tossed the paper away and there was a knock, a nervous one. She opened the door to see the wizard known as Rincewind; he was dwarfed by an orangutan – a large one, but a very amiable-looking one who knuckled his way into the room.
    Rincewind said, ‘Excuse me, miss; the Archchancellor would like you to meet the Librarian. He used to be as human as you or me but now, after a bit of an accident in the library, he is …
more so
, if you see what I mean … You don’t look surprised?’
    ‘You know, Mister Rincewind, I am
not
surprised, not really. We librarians don’t often talk about it, of course, but everybody knows about the banana skins that turn up overnight when a book you desperately need is found exactly where it ought to be, even though you might swear that place had been empty for months. We all have
experience
– we know he’s out there; sometimes upside down. I personally have already briefly met the gentleman on two previous occasions.’
    She held out her hand to the Librarian; it felt like shaking hands with a delicate ladies’ glove. He winked at her, then Rincewind broke the spell by saying, ‘He will understand everything you say. After a while you find yourself
knowing
what he is saying; it sort of seeps in … what’s the word?’
    ‘Osmosis,’ said Marjorie without thinking, and she was rewarded with a very large ‘Ook!’
    ‘The Archchancellor has decreed that you have the run of our library, which of course holds a copy of every book ever written sincethe concept of writing began. You might like the contents of the library of Alexandria – we got everything out while it was burning – and … let me see, yes – the library of Atlantis. There weren’t any humans there, of course, but the Librarian – with help from friends – has deciphered the language of a most sapient species of lobster-like creatures that wrote on stone slabs about the creation of the world. It is just a shame that they were so
tasty
.’
    Marjorie stood with her mouth open while Rincewind chattered on, ‘The Archchancellor told me you might like to see around while everybody is getting ready for the case on Thursday; it’s the talk of the city! So now, a grand tour of the Library. Strictly speaking, it should take more than one million billion years, but we can take short cuts.’
    In fact, Marjorie didn’t get back until dinner time on Wednesday – sated of