The Science of Discworld IV Judgement Da - By Terry Pratchett, Ian Stewart Page 0,37

multiplied to the point at which it is possible to buy living orchid plants for a few pounds at any nursery. Left to their own, in their rare habitats, these plants would not have had any significant impact on humanity. Only a few botanists would ever have heard of them. But today we see them everywhere, in huge quantities; in bridesmaids’ corsages, on restaurant tables and on windowsills. Human cultural capital, this time in the form of know-how, has caused these orchids to exist.

The same goes for trains, cars and aeroplanes. And electrical distribution systems. And washing-up detergents. And the most grotesque weaponry. We all live among the products of this cultural capital, even those of us who live ‘in the wild’, on mountains or in jungles (except for a few indigenous peoples who have hardly any contact with the outside world). Part of being a twenty-first century human is that nearly all of our surroundings have been ‘caused’ by previous investment, by cultural capital, be it artefacts or knowledge. We have taken over the natural world, and are remaking it in our own image. Nearly all of the causality that surrounds us depends on cultural capital.

In this way, we have remade our world in the image of narrativium. There is lots of hidden wiring behind the scenes, but it is deliberately hidden, so that we don’t need to understand it to work our world. If you needed a PhD to log onto Facebook, the internet would have remained what it originally was when Tim Berners-Lee invented the world wide web: a research tool for particle physicists.

Things happen ‘by magic’ because we have made them work like magic. If we want something to happen, it does.

Like turning the light on, or buying an orchid for a few pounds.

fn1 See The Science of Discworld II: The Globe.

fn2 Though not obvious to 20% of Americans, who believe that the Sun goes round the Earth, and a further 9% who don’t know: see Morris Berman, Dark Ages America.

fn3 This phrase is not intended to be derogatory, but it recognises an educational dilemma. In The Collapse of Chaos, ‘liar-to-children’ is a highly respected profession on the planet Zarathustra. The name reflects the occasional need for teachers to simplify explanations, to pave the way for more sophisticated ones later. The Zarathustrans observed that while all such explanations are true for a given value of ‘truth’, that value is sometimes small.

SEVEN

* * *

AMAZING GLOBE

Miss Marjorie looked so uncertain that Ridcully helped her out.

‘Well, here in Unseen University we take the view that sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology. However, as I understand it, you seldom need to say a mantra to get some engine to work … though I rather suspect that some people do.’

Despite everything, Marjorie was finding this weird looking-glass world rather amusing and bemusing at the same time, and as a good librarian she noted the fact, and wondered if there could be a ‘cemusing’ when you couldn’t believe your eyes. She said, ‘As a matter of fact, Archchancellor, I used to have a very old Morris Minor, bequeathed to me by my father, who had polished it every Sunday, religiously, and berated it in Latin if it went wrong. I still have the vehicle, and I myself have found that it can sometimes be persuaded to start by singing to it a few verses from Hymns Ancient and Modern; a few bars of “All Things Bright and Beautiful” often does the trick, even on frosty mornings. My father was a vicar, and I think he truly thought that you could find a semblance of life in the most unlikely things.’

‘Ah yes; the quasi-pagan God of the English, who like their psalms to be full of references to nature, living creatures and growing things – a god of the green and the green-fingered. We have studied your world quite considerably – I told you this – but perhaps I left out one or two significant facts?’ A thoughtful look appeared on his face. ‘I think, madam, that it is time for me to show you your world as it seems to us. Please be so kind as to follow me; I think you will find the experience … enlightening.’

It seemed to Marjorie Daw that this so-called Unseen University was huge and sprawling everywhere, especially down. The progress was slow, and the corridors filled with leaking heating pipes and more scurrying people – and if her eyes had not deceived her, at least