The Last Continent - Terry Pratchett [79]
That bottomless feeling that he had once again wandered into something that didn’t concern him and was going to find it hard to wander out again grew within Rincewind.
He tried to smile.
“G’day!” he said. “No worries, eh? I must say I’m really glad to see you drongos and no two ways about it!”
Ponder Stibbons cleared his throat.
“Where would you like me to start?” he said. “I could probably finish off the elephant…”
“How are you at slime?”
Ponder hadn’t considered a future as a slime designer, but everyone had to start somewhere.
“Fine,” he said. “Fine.”
“Of course, slime just splits down the middle,” said the god, as they walked along rows of glowing, life-filled cubes while beetles sizzled overhead. “Not a lot of future in that, really. It works all right for lower lifeforms but, frankly, it’s a bit embarrassing for the more complicated creatures and positively lethal for horses. No, sex is going to be very, very useful, Ponder. It’ll keep everything on its toes. And that will give us time to work on the big project.”
Ponder sighed. Ah…he knew there had to be a big project. The big project. A god wasn’t going to do all this sort of thing just to make life better for inflammable cows.
“Could I help with that?” he said. “I’m sure I could make a contribution.”
“Really? I thought perhaps animals and birds would be more up your…up your…” The god waved his hands vaguely. “Up whatever you walk on. Where you live.”
“Well, yes, but they’re a bit limited, aren’t they?” said Ponder.
The god beamed. There’s nothing like being near a happy god. It’s like giving your brain a hot bath.
“Exactly!” he said. “Limited! The very word! Each one stuck in some desert or jungle or mountain, relying on one or two foods, at the mercy of every vagary of the universe and wiped out by the merest change of climate. What a terrible waste!”
“That’s right!” said Ponder. “What you need is a creature that is resourceful and adaptable, am I right?”
“Oh, very well put, Ponder! I can see you’ve turned up at just the right time!” A pair of huge doors swung open in front of them, revealing a circular room with a shallow pyramid of steps in the center. At the summit was another cloud of blue mist, in which occasional lights flared and died.
The future unrolled in front of Ponder Stibbons. His eyes were so bright that his glasses steamed, that he could probably scorch holes in thin paper. Oh, right…what more could any natural philosopher dream of? He’d got the theories, now he could do the practice.
And this time it’d be done properly. To hell with messing up the future! That’s what the future was for. Oh, he’d been against it, that was true, but it’d been…well, when someone else was thinking of doing it. But now he’d got the ear of a god, and maybe some intelligence could be applied to the task of creating intelligence.
For a start, it ought to be possible to put together the human brain so that long beards weren’t associated with wisdom, which would instead be seen to reside in those who were young and skinny and required glasses for close work.
“And…you’ve finished this?” he said, as they climbed the steps.
“Broadly, yes,” said the god. “My greatest achievement. Frankly, it makes the elephants look very flimsy by comparison. But there’s plenty of fine detail left to do, if you think you’re up to it.”
“It’d be an honor,” said Ponder.
The blue mist was right in front of him. By the look of the sparks, something very important was happening in there.
“Do you give them any instructions before you let them out?” he said, his breathing shallow.
“A few simple ones,” said the god. He waved a wrinkled hand, and the glowing ball began to contract. “Mostly they work things out themselves.”
“Of course, of course,” said Ponder. “And I suppose if they go wrong we could always put them right with a few commandments.”
“Not really necessary,” said the god, as the blue ball vanished and revealed the pinnacle of creation. “I find very simple