The Science of Discworld IV Judgement Da - By Terry Pratchett, Ian Stewart Page 0,17

Y-particles. The generic name for such particles is currently ‘preon’.

fn2 Provided all irregularities are exaggerated by a factor of 7000. http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn20335-earth-is-shaped-like-a-lumpy...

fn3 Recall that DNA stands for ‘deoxyribonucleic acid’, a type of molecule that famously takes the form of a double helix, like two interwound spiral staircases. The ‘steps’ of the staircase come in four kinds, called bases, which are like code letters. The sequence of bases differs from one organism to the next, and it represents genetic information about that organism.

fn4 Gregory Benford, a creature of double vision, in Science Fiction and the Two Cultures: Essays on Bridging the Gap between the Sciences and the Humanities, edited by Gary Westfahl and George Slusser, McFarland Publishers 2009, pages 228-236.

THREE

* * *

SEEPAGE BETWEEN WORLDS

The button having been pressed, the Archchancellor had noticed, not for the first time, that Lord Vetinari had a most useful talent, which was to be extremely volcanically angry without even slightly losing his composure. Corpses would have admired the coldness that he could insert into the most innocent conversation.

But now, in mid-reverie, Mustrum Ridcully heard a scream emanating from the High Energy Magic building. The scream was very closely followed by a number of wizards. They seemed to be fleeing, but he grabbed one and held on tight.

‘Here! Has something gone horribly wrong?’

‘I should say so, sir! There’s a woman! And she’s angry!’

This last wail was larded with the inference that only an Archchancellor could deal with a very angry woman. Fortuitously, Mustrum Ridcully was the very Archchancellor they needed, because for one thing he knew how to soothe, but he also knew when to twinkle and – more importantly perhaps – he also knew when not to twinkle. This looked like it could be a vital skill in the case of this particular lady, who was standing in the entrance to the HEM with her arms akimbo and a definite look of annoyance, a look which was tinted with a palpable sense that there had better be an explanation and, moreover, an extremely good one.

The Archchancellor took care as he walked towards her, and at exactly the proper moment took off his hat and bowed, not too theatrically, with just the right amount of olde-worlde charm. ‘Do excuse me, madam, how may I be of service?’ he said courteously. ‘I thought I heard a scream?’

She glowered at him. ‘Oh, I am sorry, but I punched one of your chaps. Couldn’t help it. Found myself where I shouldn’t be and thought: When in doubt strike first. I am a librarian, you know. And who are you, sir?’

‘Madam, my name is Mustrum Ridcully and I am Archchancellor of this college.’

‘And what you don’t know isn’t knowledge, by any chance? No!’ The woman watched Ridcully’s face and realised that he was as bewildered as her. ‘Don’t answer that! Just tell me where I am and why. I can’t get any coherence with all these men scuttling about like drones around a hive.’

‘Madam, I quite understand your feelings myself – it takes ages to get any real coherence out of them. Alas, that is the curse of academia; but with the aforesaid in mind I will tell you that you appear to have magically landed in Unseen University, and have been caught up in what I might now call a “science” experiment, although it may seem to you to be like magic, and very hard to explain at the moment. I do have my suspicions as to how you got here, believe me, for my thaumometer nearly went off the scale a few minutes ago, suggesting that what we might call magic is wild.’ He paused, before adding reassuringly, ‘But don’t fret; I’m used to this sort of thing. Running a university does have its ups and downs, and I truly believe I know the cause of this, and we will get it right as soon as possible. May I say that I would be very pleased if you would be our guest until that happy time.’

She looked at him askance, in a slightly dazed fashion, and said, ‘Somehow I appear to have turned up mysteriously in something like Balliol College; it certainly reminds me of it, oh my word, yes. Oh dear, where are my manners?’ The woman held out her hand to Ridcully and said, ‘How do you do, sir? My name is Marjorie Daw, you know, rather like the nursery rhyme?fn1 And please, I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know how I can get back