'Firstly, you'll spend it here, and secondly, Dean,
The brain has far less control over the body than the body does over the brain. And adolescence is not a good time. Nor is old age, for that matter, but at least the spots have cleared up, some of the more troublesome glands have settled down and you're allowed to take a nap in the afternoons and twinkle at young women. In any case, the Dean's body hadn't experienced too much old age yet, whereas every junior spot, ache and twinge was firmly embossed on the morphic memory. Once, it decided, was enough.
The Dean expanded. Ponder noticed that his head in particular swelled up to fit his ears.
The Dean rubbed his spot-free face. 'Five minutes wouldn't have been bad,' he complained. 'What was
'Temporal uncertainty,' said Ridcully. 'You've seen it before, didn't you realize? What were you thinking of?'
'Sex.'
'Oh, yes, of course... silly of me, really.' Ridcully looked along the deserted beach. 'Mister Stibbons thinks we can—' he began. 'Ye gods! There
A young woman was walking towards them. Swaying, anyway.
'My word,' said the Dean. 'I suppose this isn't Slakki, by any chance?'
'I thought they wore grass skirts...' said Ridcully. 'What's she wearing, Stibbons?'
'A sarong.'
'Looks right enough to me, haha,' said the Dean.
'Certainly makes a man wish he was fifty years younger,' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies.
'Five minutes younger would do for me,' said the Dean. 'Incidentally, did any of you notice that rather clever inadvertent joke just then? Stibbons said it was "a sarong" and I—'
'What's that she's carrying?' said Ridcully.
'—no, listen, you see, I misheard him, in fact, and I—'
'Looks like... coconuts...' said Ponder, shading his eyes. 'This is a bit more
'—because actually I
'Certainly
'—so
'I
'—and, listen, when Stibbons said "sarong", I thought he—'
'Something familiar about her,' Ridcully mused.
'Did you see that nut in the Museum of Quite Unusual Things?' said the Senior Wrangler. 'Called the coco-de-mer and...' he permitted himself '... ha, very curious shape, you know, you'll never guess who it used to put me in mind of...'
'It
'As a matter of fact, I must admit that it—'
'Well,
'It
'More of a nut, really, but—'
It dawned on the Senior Wrangler that the sky was a different colour on his personal planet. He turned around, looked, said, 'Mwaaa...' and fell gently to the sand.
'Ai don't quate know what's happened to Mister Librarian,' said Mrs Whitlow, in a voice that made the Senior Wrangler twitch even in his swoon.
The coconut opened its eyes. It looked as if it had just seen something truly horrific, but this is a normal expression for baby orang-utans and in any case it was looking at the Dean.
'Eek!' it said.
Ridcully coughed. 'Well, at least he's the right shape,' he said. 'And, er, you, Mrs Whitlow? How do you feel?'
'Mwaa...' said the Senior Wrangler.
'Very well indeed, thank you,' said Mrs Whitlow. This country agrees with me. I don't know whether it was the swim, but Ai haven't felt quate so buoyant in years. But Ai looked around and there was this dear little ape just sitting there.'
'Ponder, would you mind just throwing the Senior Wrangler in the sea for a moment?' said Ridcully. 'Nowhere too deep. Don't worry if it steams.' He took Mrs Whitlow's spare hand.
'I don't want to worry you, dear Mrs Whitlow,' he said, 'but I think something is shortly going to come as a big shock to you. First of all, and please don't misunderstand me, it might be a good idea to loosen your clothing.' He swallowed. 'Slightly.'
The Bursar had experienced some changes of age as he wandered through the wet but barren land, but to a man capable of being a vase of flowers for an entire afternoon this was barely a mild distraction.
What had caught his eye was a fire. It was burning bits of driftwood, and the flames were edged with blue from the salt.
Close to it was a sack made of some sort of animal skins.