[ OT ] I 'd like to take a moment to appreciate Sir Terry Pratchett .

The Embuggerance ( a short story, to be completed.. ) 
 
 The noise sounded out across the courtyard, like a bull in a delicate predicament involving the parts of it ’ s anatomy that made it indeed, a bull. It started low and deep, echoing throughout the University. “ BUUUUUU- “ 
 
 The ravens, atop the Tower of Art, much more intelligent as a group than the inhabitants below, decided that the weather in Quirm was beginning to look much better, took flight. 
 
 “ RRRRSAAAAAAAA ” 
 The noise reached it ’ s peak, as small underground creatues, began digging deeper. 
 
 “ RRRR ” 
 Mustrum Ridcully, Arch-chancellor UU, was awake. Moreover, he had been awoken. Ever an early riser, for Ridcully to be awoken, generally meant that something was wrong. Ridicully was a great believer in spreading wrongs around, usually in the direction of the Bursar, who on this particular morning, was firm in his belief that he was in fact a moth, about to emerge as a butterfly from a soft and warm cocoon. 
 
 This dream was rapidly shattered, as were the windows of his room in response to the bellowing force of the sound. 
 “ Yes, Archchancellor?'' “ What is the meaning of this?! ” 
 
 The Bursar paused. Partly because he had realized that he was wearing a blanket wrapped tightly around his body, partly because the object of the Archchancellors anger was a simple book. Even on Planet Dried Frog Pill, this was unusual. “ Ahhh, it appears to be a book sir? ” “ Of course it is man. It ’ s my Diary. Why is it bloody screaming, and why doesn ’ t it have any dates left in it? You ’ re the bloody Bursar, why don ’ t we have a current diary? ” 
 
 The Bursar, coming back into orbit on a normal ( for a wizard ), plane of thought, became aware of a soft, moaning scream of despair, emanating from the book being thrust towards him by Ridcully. 
 
 The Bursar liked books. He was ever happy in a book full of Numbers and Ledgers. However, as a Wizard, he was cautious, especially when the book in question belonged to the Archchancellor. He gingerly peered at it and rapidly took an action well known in corporate structures - he passed the problem to someone else. 
 “ STIIIIIIIBOOOOOONS ” 
 A few minutes later, the Faculty were gathered around the Diary, which was still sobbing and crying. Ponder Stibbons, Reader in Invisible Writings, was examining the book. “ Sir, it appears to be finished ” “ What do you mean man? It ’ s a DIARY. Things happen through the day, you write them down. Or you write down reminders, such as how to deal with young Wizards who give stupid responses ” 
 Ponder swallowed hard, an action he often took when attempting to explain things to the Faculty. “ Sir, it ’ s finished - it would seem that there are no more pages available. ” “ Well? What is that meant to mean. Diary shouldn ’ t just run out. They definitely shouldn ’ t be crying ” Ponder, who had now had some time to think, swallowed again. “ Sir.. this may be… The Embuggerance ” “ The what? And why did you pause there ” “ The Embuggerance Sir. Don ’ t you recall? I sent you a memo regarding this several years ago? ” 
 Ridicully returned a fierce blank look, with a brief, nanosecond, glance of shame at his Billiard Table / Filing System, currently piled high with stacks of paper around the edges, but maintaining adequate space for pockets and balls. “ Don ’ t think you sent me that Stibbons. You must have misplaced it. “ Swallow. “ Ahhh. yes, I must have misplaced it. Silly me. ” Pausing to think, Stibbons continued, “ Sir, we may have encountered the hypothesized Embuggerance. The end of ideas ” “ What, end of the world? Frost Giants trying that game again? Well, we ’ ll show them eh! ” “ No Sir, not the end of the world… the End of Ideas. New Thoughts. ”
