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and incidentally come as a great relief to all rhinos?
    To answer such questions Hex had been built, although Ponder Stibbons was a bit uneasy about the word “built” in this context. He and a few keen students had put it together, certainly, but…well…sometimes he thought bits of it, strange though this sounded, just turned up .
    For example, he was pretty sure no one had designed the Phase of the Moon Generator, but there it was, clearly a part of the whole thing. They had built the Unreal Time Clock, although no one seemed to have a very clear idea how it worked.
    What he suspected they were dealing with was a specialized case of formative causation, always a risk in a place like Unseen University, where reality was stretched so thin and therefore blown by so many strange breezes. If that was so, then they weren’t exactly designing something. They were just putting physical clothes on an idea that was already there, a shadow of something that had been waiting to exist.
    He’d explained at length to the Faculty that Hex didn’t think . It was obvious that it couldn’t think. Part of it was clockwork. A lot of it was a giant ant farm (the interface, where the ants rode up and down on a little paternoster that turned a significant cogwheel was a little masterpiece, he thought) and the intricately controlled rushing of the ants through their maze of glass tubing was the most important part of the whole thing.
    But a lot of it had just…accumulated, like the aquarium and wind chimes which now seemed to be essential. A mouse had built a nest in the middle of it all and had been allowed to become a fixture, since the thing stopped working when they took itout. Nothing in that assemblage could possibly think, except in fairly limited ways about cheese or sugar. Nevertheless…in the middle of the night, when Hex was working hard, and the tubes rustled with the toiling ants, and things suddenly went “clonk” for no obvious reason, and the aquarium had been lowered on its davits so that the operator would have something to watch during the long hours…nevertheless, then a man might begin to speculate about what a brain was and what thought was and whether things that weren’t alive could think and whether a brain was just a more complicated version of Hex (or, around 4 A.M. , when bits of the clockwork reversed direction suddenly and the mice squeaked, a less complicated version of Hex) and wonder if the whole produced something not apparently inherent in the parts.
    In short, Ponder was just a little bit worried.
    He sat down at the keyboard. It was almost as big as the rest of Hex, to allow for the necessary levers and armatures. The various keys allowed little boards with holes in them to drop briefly into slots, forcing the ants into new paths.
    It took him some time to compose the problem, but at last he braced one foot on the structure and tugged on the Enter lever.
    The ants scurried on new paths. The clockwork started to move. A small mechanism which Ponder would be prepared to swear had not been there yesterday, but which looked like a device for measuring wind speed, began to spin.
    After several minutes a number of blocks with occult symbols on them dropped into the output hopper.
    “Thank you,” said Ponder, and then felt extremely silly for saying so.
    There was a tension to the thing, a feeling of mute straining and striving towards some distant and incomprehensible goal. As a wizard, it was something that Ponder had only before encountered in acorns: a tiny soundless voice which said, yes, I am but a small, green, simple object—but I dream about forests.
    Only the other day Adrian Turnipseed had typed in “Why?” to see what happened. Some of the students had forecast that Hex would go mad trying to work it out; Ponder had expected Hex to produce the message ?????, which it did with depressing frequency.
    Instead, after some unusual activity among the ants, it had laboriously produced: