Interesting Times by Terry Pratchett

and bring you out. With surgical precision.”
    Rincewind groaned. He knew what surgical precision meant in Ankh-Morpork. It meant “to within an inch or two, accompanied by a lot of screaming, and then they pour hot tar on you just where your leg was.”
    But…if you put aside for the moment the certainty that something would definitely go horribly wrong, it looked foolproof. The trouble was that wizards were such ingenious fools.
    “And then I can have my old job back?”
    “Certainly.”
    “And officially call myself a wizard?”
    “Of course. With any kind of spelling.”
    “And never have to go anywhere again as long as I live?”
    “Fine. We’ll actually ban you leaving the premises, if you like.”
    “And a new hat?”
    “What?”
    “A new hat. This one’s practically had it.”
    “Two new hats.”
    “Sequins?”
    “Of course. And those, you know, like glass chandelier things? Lots of those all round the brim. As many as you like. And we’ll spell Wizard with three Zs.”
    Rincewind sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ll do it.”

    Ponder’s genius found itself rather cramped when it came to explaining things to people. And this was the case now, as the wizards forgathered to kick some serious magic.
    “Yes, but you see, Archchancellor, he’s being sent to the opposite side of the Disc, you see—”
    Ridcully sighed. “It’s spinnin ’, isn’t it,” he said. “We’re all going the same way. It stands to reason. If people’re going the other way just because they’re on the Counterweight Continent we’d crash into them once a year. I mean twice.”
    “Yes, yes, they’re spinning the same way, of course, but the direction of motion is entirely opposite. I mean,” said Ponder, lapsing into logic, “you have to think about vectors, you, you have to ask yourself: what direction would they go in if the Disc wasn’t here?”
    The wizards stared at him.
    “Down,” said Ridcully.
    “No, no, no , Archchancellor,” said Ponder. “They wouldn’t go down because there’d be nothing to pull them down, they—”
    “You don’t need anything to pull you down. Down’s where you go if there’s nothing to keep you up.”
    “ They’d keep on going in the same direction! ” shouted Ponder.
    “Right. Round and round,” said Ridcully. He rubbed his hands together. “You’ve got to maintain a grip if you want to be a wizard, lad. How’re we doing, Runes?”
    “I…I can make out something,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, squinting into the crystal ball. “There’s a lot of interference…”
    The wizards gathered round. White specks filled the crystal. There were vague shapes just visible in the mush. Some of them could be human.
    “Very peaceful place, the Agatean Empire,” said Ridcully. “Very tranquil. Very cultured. They set great store in politeness.”
    “Well, yes,” said the Lecturer in Recent Runes, “I heard it was because people who aren’t tranquil and quiet get serious bits cut off, don’t they? I heard the Empire has a tyrannical and repressive government!”
    “What form of government is that?” said Ponder Stibbons.
    “A tautology,” said the Dean, from above.
    “How serious are these bits?” said Rincewind. They ignored him.
    “I heard that gold’s very common there,” said the Dean. “Lying around like dirt, they say. Rincewind could bring back a sackful.”
    “I’d rather bring back all my bits,” said Rincewind.
    After all, he thought, I’m only the one who’s going to end up in the middle of it all. So please don’t anyone bother to listen to me.
    “Can’t you stop it blurring like that?” said the Archchancellor.
    “I’m sorry, Archchancellor—”
    “These bits…big bits or small bits?” said Rincewind, unheard.
    “Just find us an open space with something about the right size and weight.”
    “It’s very hard to—”
    “Very serious bits? Are we in arms and legs territory here?”
    “They say it’s very boring there. Their