The Science of Discworld Revised Edition

repeatedly erased species that were probably more beautiful and worthy.
    But we feel it
does
matter, because humans invented the concept of things ‘mattering’. We feel we ought to be brighter than a mile of incandescent rock and a continent-sized glacier. Humans seem to have created, independently, in many places and at various times, a Make-a-Real-Human-Being Kit, which begins with prohibitions about killing and theft and incest and is now groping towards our responsibilities to a natural world in which, despite its ability to hurt us mightily, we nevertheless have a godlike power. 4
    We advance arguments about saving rainforests because ‘there may be undiscovered cancer cures in there’, but this is because extelligence wants to save rainforests and the cancer-cure argument might convince the bean-counters and the fearful. It might have a real basis in fact, too, but the real reason is that we feel that a world with tigers and orangutans and rainforests and even small unobtrusive snails in it is a more healthy and interesting world for humans (and, of course, the tigers and orangutans and snails) and that a world without them would be dangerous territory. In other words, trusting the instincts that up until now have generally seen us through, we think that Tigers Are Nice (or, at least, Tigers Are Nice In Moderation And At A Safe Distance).
    It’s a circular argument, but in our little round human world we’ve managed to live on circular arguments for millennia. And who else is going to argue with us?
    1 Explained to the hilt in
The Science of Discworld II: The Globe
.
    2 This is probably another lie. Alien microbes are unlikely to find us edible. So are alien tigers, although they might do us quite a lot of damage in finding out. But certainly an alien world will have a whole host of nasty surprises, if we are not very careful. We can’t tell you what they’ll be. They’ll be a
surprise
.
    3 We apologize to any
real
gods.
    4 Unfortunately, huge malicious destructive force is a god-like power.

FORTY-NINE
AS ABOVE, SO BELOW

    ‘ RINCEWIND WALKED VERY gingerly towards his office, the globe of the project held carefully in his hands.
    He would have expected an entire universe to be heavier, but this one seemed on the light side. It was probably all that space.
    The Archchancellor had explained at length to him that although he would be
called
the Egregious Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography, this was only because that was cheaper than repainting the title on the door. He was not entitled to wages, or to teach, or express any opinions on anything, or order anyone around, or wear any special robes, or publish anything. But he could turn up for meals, provided he ate quietly.
    To Rincewind, it sounded like heaven.
    The Bursar appeared right in front of him. One moment there was an empty corridor, the next moment there was a bemused wizard.
    They collided. The sphere went up in the air, turning gently.
    Rincewind rebounded from the Bursar, looked up at the ball curving through the air, flung himself forward and down with rib-scraping force and caught it a few inches from the stone floor.
    ‘Rincewind! Don’t tell him who he is!’
    Rincewind rolled over, clasping the little universe, and looked back along the passage. Ridcully and the other wizards were advancing slowly and cautiously. Ponder Stibbons was waving a spoonful of jelly invitingly.
    Rincewind glanced up the Bursar, who was looking perplexed.
    ‘But he’s the Bursar, isn’t he?’ he said.
    The Bursar smiled, looked puzzled for a moment, and vanished with a ‘pop’.
    ‘Seven seconds!’ shouted Ponder, dropping the spoon and pulling out a notebook. ‘That’ll put him in … yes, the laundry room!’
    The wizards hurried off, except for the Senior Wrangler, who was rolling a cigarette.
    ‘What happened to the Bursar?’ said Rincewind, getting to his feet.
    ‘Oh, young Stibbons reckons he’s caught Uncertainty,’ said the Senior Wrangler, licking the paper. ‘As soon as his body remembers what it’s called it forgets where it’s supposed to be.’ He stuck the bent and wretched cylinder in his mouth and fumbled for his matches. ‘Just another day at Unseen University, really.’
    He wandered off, coughing.
    Rincewind carried the sphere though the maze of dank passages and into his office, where he cleared a space for it on a shelf.
    The ice age had cleared up. He wondered what was happening down there, what gastropod or