The Science of Discworld Revised Edition Read Free

fallen on deaf ears; the wizards considered that pushing back the boundaries of
anything
was akin to lifting up a very large, damp stone. His assertion that splitting the thaum might significantly increase the sum total of human happiness met with the rejoinder that everyone seemed pretty happy enough already.
    Finally he’d ventured that splitting the thaum would produce vast amounts of raw magic that could very easily be converted into cheap heat. That worked. The Faculty were lukewarm on the subject of knowledge for knowledge’s sake, but they were boiling hot on the subject of warm bedrooms.
    Now the other senior wizards wandered around the suddenly-cramped court, prodding the new thing. Their Archchancellor took out his pipe and absent-mindedly knocked out the ashes on its matt black side.
    ‘Um … please don’t do that, sir,’ said Ponder.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘There might be … it might … there’s a chance that …’ Ponder stopped. ‘It will make the place untidy, sir,’ he said.
    ‘Ah. Good point. So it’s not that the whole thing might explode, then?’
    ‘Er … no, sir. Haha,’ said Ponder miserably. ‘It’d take a lot more than that, sir –’
    There was a
whack
as a squash ball ricocheted off the wall, rebounded off the casing, and knocked the Archchancellor’s pipe out of his mouth.
    ‘That was
you
, Dean,’ said Ridcully accusingly. ‘Honestly, you fellows haven’t taken any notice of this place in years and suddenly you all want to – Mr Stibbons? Mr Stibbons?’
    He nudged the small mound that was the hunched figure of the University ’s chief research wizard. Ponder Stibbons uncurled slightly and peered between his fingers.
    ‘I really think it might be a
good
idea if they stopped playing squash, sir,’ he whispered.
    ‘Me too. There’s nothing worse than a sweaty wizard. Stop it, you fellows. And gather round. Mr Stibbons is going to do his presentation.’ The Archchancellor gave Ponder Stibbons a rather sharp look. ‘It is going to be very informative and interesting, isn’t it, Mister Stibbons. He’s going to tell us what he spent AM$55,879.45p on.’
    ‘And why he’s ruined a perfectly good squash court,’ said the Senior Wrangler, tapping the side of the thing with his squash racket.
    ‘And if this is
safe
,’ said the Dean. ‘I’m against dabbling in physics.’
    Ponder Stibbons winced.
    ‘I assure you, Dean, that the chances of anyone being killed by the, er, reacting engine are even greater than the chance of being knocked down while crossing the street,’ he said.
    ‘Really? Oh, well … all right then.’
    Ponder reconsidered the impromptu sentence he’d just uttered and decided, in the circumstances, not to correct it. Talking to the senior wizards was like building a house of cards; if you got
anything
to stay upright, you just breathed out gently and moved on.
    Ponder had invented a little system he’d called, in the privacy of his head, Lies-to-Wizards. It was for their own good, he told himself. There was no
point
in telling your bosses
everything
; they were busy men, they didn’t want
explanations
. There was no
point
in burdening them. What they wanted was little stories that they felt they could understand, and then they’d go away and stop worrying.
    He’d got his students to set up a small display at the far end of the squash court. Beside it, with pipes looping away through the wall into the High Energy Magic building next door, was a terminal to H EX , the University’s thinking engine. And beside that was a plinth on which was a very large red lever, around which someone had tied a pink ribbon.
    Ponder looked at his notes, and then surveyed the faculty.
    ‘Ahem …’ he began.
    ‘I’ve got a throat sweet somewhere,’ said the Senior Wrangler, patting his pockets.
    Ponder looked at his notes again, and a horrible sense of hopelessness overcame him. He realized that he could explain thaumic fission very well, provided that the person