Kepic
Your friendly neighbourhood Alien Abductor
- Joined
- Aug 19, 2000
- Posts
- 1,163
Now, those of you who might know of what I titled this thread, are probably thinking this won't work.
But I'm willing to give it a go anyhow.
For those of you who don't, I can only recommend you look up Terry Pratchett's books. If you like fantasy stories, like the Hobbit, for instance... then imagine such injected with a heavy dose of humour, and you're close to thinking what his stories are like.
I'll start with some quote(s) from the start of one of his books, to set the general scene (and possibly even help his sales, lol)...
Nothing but stars, scattered across the blackness as though the Creator had smashed the windscreen of his car and hadn't bothered to stop to sweep up the pieces.
This is the gulf between universes, the chill deeps of space that contain nothing but the occasional random molecule, a few lost comets and . . .
. . . but a circle of blackness shifts slightly, the eye reconsiders perspective, and what was apparently the awesome distance of interstellar wossname becomes a world under darkness, its stars the lights of what will charitably be called civilisation.
For, as the world tumbles lazily, it is revealed as the Discworld - flat, circular, and carried through space on the back of four elephants who stand on the back of Great A'tuin, the only turtle to ever feature on the Hertzsprung-Russell Disgram, a turtle ten thousand miles long, dusted with the frost of dead comets, meteor-pocked, albedo-eyed. No-one knows the reason for all this, but it is probably quantum.
Much that is weird could happen on a world on the back of a turtle like that.
It's happening already.
Another Disc day dawned, but very gradually, and this is why. When light encounters a strong magical field it loses all sense of urgency. It slows right down. And on the Discworld the magic was embaressingly strong, which meant that the soft yellow light of dawn flowed over the sleeping landscape like the caress of a gentle lover, or, as some would have it, like golden syrup.
But I'm willing to give it a go anyhow.
For those of you who don't, I can only recommend you look up Terry Pratchett's books. If you like fantasy stories, like the Hobbit, for instance... then imagine such injected with a heavy dose of humour, and you're close to thinking what his stories are like.
I'll start with some quote(s) from the start of one of his books, to set the general scene (and possibly even help his sales, lol)...
Nothing but stars, scattered across the blackness as though the Creator had smashed the windscreen of his car and hadn't bothered to stop to sweep up the pieces.
This is the gulf between universes, the chill deeps of space that contain nothing but the occasional random molecule, a few lost comets and . . .
. . . but a circle of blackness shifts slightly, the eye reconsiders perspective, and what was apparently the awesome distance of interstellar wossname becomes a world under darkness, its stars the lights of what will charitably be called civilisation.
For, as the world tumbles lazily, it is revealed as the Discworld - flat, circular, and carried through space on the back of four elephants who stand on the back of Great A'tuin, the only turtle to ever feature on the Hertzsprung-Russell Disgram, a turtle ten thousand miles long, dusted with the frost of dead comets, meteor-pocked, albedo-eyed. No-one knows the reason for all this, but it is probably quantum.
Much that is weird could happen on a world on the back of a turtle like that.
It's happening already.
Another Disc day dawned, but very gradually, and this is why. When light encounters a strong magical field it loses all sense of urgency. It slows right down. And on the Discworld the magic was embaressingly strong, which meant that the soft yellow light of dawn flowed over the sleeping landscape like the caress of a gentle lover, or, as some would have it, like golden syrup.