The Last Continent

And in that moment he knew that, despite the apparent beetle fixation, here was where he'd always wanted to be, at the cutting edge of the envelope in the fast lane of the state of the art.

He'd become a wizard because he'd thought that wizards knew how the universe worked, and Unseen University had turned out to be stifling.

Take that business with the tame lightning. It had demonstrably worked. He made the Bursar's hair stand on end and sparks crackle out of his finger, and that was by using only one cat and a couple of amber rods. His perfectly reasonable plan to use several thousand cats tied to a huge wheel that would rotate against hundreds of rods had been vetoed on the ridiculous grounds that it would be too noisy. His carefully worked out scheme to split the thaum, and thus provide end-less supplies of cheap clean magic, had been quite unfairly sat upon because it was felt that it might make the place untidy. And that was even after he had presented figures to prove that the chances of the process completely destroying the entire world were no greater than being knocked down while crossing the street, and it wasn't his fault he said this just before the six-cart pile-up outside the University.

Here was a chance to do something that made sense. Besides, he thought he could see where the god was going wrong.

'Excuse me,' he said, 'but do you need an assistant?'

'Frankly, the whole thing is getting out of hand,' said the god, who was a wizard-class non-listener. 'It's really getting to the point where I need an—'

'I say, this is a pretty amazing place!'

Ponder rolled his eyes. You could say that for wizards. When they walked into a place that was pretty amazing, they'd tell you. Loudly.

'Ah,' said the god, turning around, 'this is the rest of your... swarm, isn't it?'

'I'd better go and stop them,' said Ponder as the wizards fanned out like small boys in an amusement arcade, ready to press anything in case there was a free game left. 'They poke things and then say, "What does this do?" '

'Don't they ask what things do before they poke them?'

'No, they say you'll never find out if you don't give them a poke,' said Ponder darkly.

'Then why do they ask?'

'They just do. And they bite things and then say, "I wonder if this is poisonous," with their mouths full. And you know the really annoying thing? It never is.'

'How odd. Laughing in the face of danger is not a survival strategy,' said the god.

'Oh, they don't laugh,' said Ponder gloomily. They say things like, "You call that dangerous? It's not a patch on the kind of danger you used to get when we were lads, eh, Senior Wrangler, what what? Remember when old 'Windows' McPlunder..." ' He shrugged.

'When old "Windows" McPlunder what?' said the god.

'I don't know! Sometimes I think they make up the names! Dean, I really don't think you should do that!'

The Dean turned away from the shark, whose teeth he'd been examining.

'Why not, Stibbons?' he said. Behind him, the jaw snapped shut.

Only the Archchancellor's legs were visible in the exploded elephant. There were muffled noises from inside the whale; they sounded very much ike the Lecturer in Recent Runes saying, 'Look at what happens when I twist this bit... See, that purple bit wobbles.'

'Amazin' piece of work,' said Ridcully, emerging from the elephant. 'Very good wheels. You paint these bits before assembly, do you?'

'It's not a kit, sir,' said Ponder, taking a kidney out of his hands and wedging it back in. It's a real dephant under construction!'

'Oh.'

'Being made, sir,' said Ponder, since Ridcully didn't seem to have got the message. 'Which is not usual.'

'Ah. How are they normally made, then?'

'By other elephants, sir.'

'Oh, yes...'

'Really? Are they?' said the god. 'How? Those minks are pretty nimble, even if I say so myself, but not really very good for delicate work.'

'Oh, not made like that, sir, obviously. By... you know... sex...' said Ponder, feeling a blush start.

'Sex?'

Then Ponder thought: Mono Island. Oh dear...

'Er... males and females...' he ventured.

'What are they, then?' said the god. The wizards paused.

'Do go on, Mister Stibbons,' said the Arch-chancellor. 'We're all ears. Especially the elephant.'

'Well...' Ponder knew he was going red. 'Er... well, how do you get flowers and things at the moment?'

'I make them,' said the god. 'And then I keep an eye on them and see how they function and then when they wear out I make an improved version based on experimental results.' He frowned. 'Although the plants seem to be acting very oddly these days. What's the point of these seeds they keep making? I try to discourage it but they don't seem to listen.'

'I think... er... they're trying to invent sex, sir,' said Ponder. 'Er... sex is how you can... they can... creatures can... they can make the next... creatures.'

'You mean... elephants can make more elephants?'

'Yes, sir.'

'My word! Really?'

'Oh, yes.'