know what is on the far side of that door. In particular, the adjacent universe might have different fundamental constants compared to ours. So universes could 'breed' by budding off baby universes through Black Holes, and natural selection would favour those that had the most offspring — whose constants would automatically be unusually good for making Black Holes. So maybe we live in one of those babies.
There are some difficulties with this theory. In particular, how would selection work? How can universes compete ? But it's an interesting, if rather wild, idea. And it offers a concrete proposal about how a universe can 'make up' its laws: some, at least, could be imposed upon it at birth.
The Big Bang, then, may have done more than just bringing space and time into being. It may also have brought 'the' rules of physics — the ones that now apply to our world — into being. During the becoming of its first moments, our universe kept changing its state, changing the rules it accessed. In this respect it was rather like a flame, which changes its composition according to its own dynamics and the things that it is burning. Flames are all more or less the same shape, but they don't inherit that shape from a 'parent'. When you set light to a piece of paper, the flame builds itself from scratch using the rules of the outside universe.
In the opening instants of the universe, it wasn't just substances, temperatures and sizes that changed. The rules by which they changed also changed. We don't like to think this way: we want immutable laws, the same always. So we look for 'deeper' laws to govern how the rules changed. Possibly the universe is 'really' governed by these deeper laws. But perhaps it just makes up its own rules as it goes along.
Not while these are still in the polar bear.
This figure replaces the previously favoured value of about 20 billion years. Recently lots of scientists collectively decided it should be 15 billion instead. (For a while some stars seemed to be older than the universe, but the age of those stars has been downsized.) In other circumstances they might well have settled for 20 billion. If this worries you, substitute the term 'a very long time'.
Indeed, impeccable Discworld thinking is that no matter how big the universe grows, it’s always the same size.
SEVEN
BEYOND THE FIFTH ELEMENT
IN THE QUIET OF THE NIGHT, HEX COMPUTED. Along its myriad glass tubes, the ants scurried. Crude magic sparkled along cobwebs of fine bronze wire, changing colour as it changed logic states. * In the special room next door the beehives, long-term storage, buzzed. The thing that went 'parp' did so occasionally. Huge wheels turned, stopped, turned back. And still it wasn't enough.
The light of the Project fell across HEX's keyboard. Things were happening in there, and HEX did not understand them. And that was taxing, because there was something there to understand.
HEX was largely self-designed, which was why it worked better than most things in the University. It generally tried to develop a responsive way of coming to grips with any new task; the bees had been a particularly good idea, because although the memory retrieval was slow, the total memory increased with time and good apiary practice.
Now it reasoned thus:
One day it would find a way of increasing its conceptual capacity to understand what was happening in the Project;
If this could ever happen, then — according to Stryme's Directionless Law — there was already a shape in happening-space, where time did not exist, caused by the fact of that happening; all that was required was a virtual collapse of the wave form;
... and, although this was in a very strict sense garbage, it was not complete garbage. Any answer that would exist somewhere in the future must, inevitably, be available in potentia now.
The ants went faster. Magic flashed. HEX could be said to be concentrating.
Then