One, who seemed to have been thinking about something, said, Just one moment.
One said, Besides, sometimes he wonders about his job. One said, in a voice that would have been even chillier if it was not already at absolute zero, No. One said, Got a crush on them, that sort of thing? Supposing gravity developed a personality? Supposing it decided to like people? Where you get personality, you get irregularities. They just changed reality so that they had spoken. They were in conversation without speaking. They might be rumored among those who see to it that gravity operates and that time stays separate from space. Some people might call them cherubs, although there was nothing rosy-cheeked about them. Exactly what they were can't be described in normal language. Three gray figures floated just above it. It is covered with gentle rolling curves that might remind you of something else if you saw it from a long way away, and if you did see it from a long way away you'd be very glad that you were, in fact, a long way away. "But that means everythin' is made up of everythin' else," said Ridcully. "I don't think you're supposed to stop miracles of existence." "I shouldn't think so," said the Senior Wrangler, doubtfully. "I suppose there's no way of stopping it?" "Is it? Sounds like bad hygiene to me," said the Archchancellor. They just float around in the air, I suppose, until they get attached to someone else." "Yes? What happens to the old ones?" said Ridcully, interested despite himself.
The Senior Wrangler could do to a conversation what it takes quite thick treacle to do to the pedals of a precision watch. “After a while the Senior Wrangler said, "Do you know, I read the other day that every atom in your body is changed every seven years? New ones keep getting attached and old ones keep on dropping off.
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