Vurt 3 - Automated Alice Read Online Free PDF Page A

shirt-sleeve where a second wrist-clock was fastened. “It's a Thursday,” he announced.
    “A Thursday! It should be a Sunday.”
    “It should always be a Sunday but, unfortunately, it hardly ever is.”
    “What month is it?” asked Alice.
    Ramshackle rolled up his right trouser leg. Another tiny clock was fastened to his ankle. “It's a bleak twenty-fourth of November in shivery Manchester.”
    “At least that's right!”
    “Of course it's right; this is a right-leg watch, after all!”
    “And what year is it, please?” Alice then asked, quite confused.
    Ramshackle consulted yet another tiny clock, strapped to his left ankle this time. “It's 1998, of course.”
    “1998!” cried Alice. “Oh dear, I am ever so very late for my lesson. I set out in 1860, and I still haven't reached the writing table yet. Whatever shall I do?”
    “You say that you left Didsbury village in 1860? Why that's. . . that's. . . why I don't know how long ago that is. Do you?” Alice tried to work it out, but she couldn't. “No matter,” said Captain Ramshackle, “I'll ask the mound how long ago it is.” And with that he picked up his pair of tweezers and proceeded to pluck a number of termites from the earth; he rearranged them here and there and then set them on their way back into the mound. “The answer should be arriving in a few minutes,” he said. And then he started to consult something lying on his desk beside the computermite mound.
    “Oh this is very confusing,” cried Alice, edging even closer to the desk in order to see what Captain Ramshackle was looking at.
    “Confusing? Splendid!” the Captain cried, not even looking up from his task.
    “It's not at all splendid. It's extremely confusing.”
    “Confusing is splendid.”
    “Is that a jigsaw you're doing?” asked Alice, having finally dared to look over his shoulder.
    “No it is not,” fumed the Captain. “This is a jigglesaurus.”
    “What's the difference?”
    “A jigsaw is a modern creature that finally makes sense, whilst a jigglesaurus is a primitive creature that finally makes nonsense.”
    “None of the pieces seem to fit at all,” said Alice. “There's no picture there.”
    “Exactly so. Everything adds up to nothing. You see, I'm a Randomologist: I believe the world is constructed out of chaos. I study the strange connections that make the world work. Did you know that the fluttering of a wurm's wings in South America can bring about a horse-crash in England?”
    “No, I didn't know that,” said Alice, “in fact I don't even know what a horse-crash is, but I do know that a worm doesn't have wings.”
    “Doesn't it?” Ramshackle replied. “How on the earth then does it fly?”
    “A worm doesn't fly. A worm wriggles.”
    “Does it? Excellent! Even better. The wriggling of a wurm in South America causes a horse-crash in England. Oh chaos, chaos! Splendid chaos! Now what's this doing here?” Ramshackle had plucked a jigsaw piece up from his desk with the aid of his tweezers. “This little piece seems to fit perfectly in place!” he cried out loud. “We can't have that! Indeed, no.” He slipped the jigsaw piece under his microscope. “It's a section of a badger's head I believe.”
    “That belongs in my jigsaw,” said Alice.
    “Splendid! And here was I fearing that my jigglesaurus was starting to make sense, of all things.” Alice took the offending piece from Ramshackle and then placed it in her pinafore pocket. “You know, I thought you were a wurm, Alice,” the Captain continued, “when first I saw you marching out of the mound.”
    “I'm not a worm,” answered Alice.
    “I didn't say you were a worm, Alice. I said you were a wurm.”
    “Why do you keep saying the word with a U in the middle of it?”
    “Because it stands for Wisdom-Undoing-Randomized-Mechanism. Don't you see, Alice? The world is totally random and all the Civil Serpents who try to find out the rules of it are just squeezing at strawberry