"Ponder Stibbons, what is this?"
"Well, you see Archchancellor, some of the lads put it together. It's a bunch of trained imps who-"
"Whats all the fuss then, there's nothing special about imps!"
"Erm, yes, that's why there's a fuss sir. In a sense. They have no imagination, but perfect memory. So we let them read every book in the library and-"
"Well there's certainly no innocence there! The library is full of dangerous things!"
"Yes, but you see Archchancellor, the Imps can write new things together with this."
"They have no imagination, they can't make new things!"
"Well, in a manner of speaking, they can. They take snippets of what they remember reading, and attach them to other snippets they remember reading that weren't attached to the original bits."
"So they write the sane way Igors are made?"
"In a way, yes. No new parts are added. You can simply ask them to write about something and they'll put together snippets of the thing."
"So what they've made here is an ungodsly massive and expensive magic 8 ball?"
"Erm, I suppose. The lads have also been showing them lots of art pieces, to see if they can paint the same way they write. Here, watch."
"A piece of imp made art sir."
"An eye, Archchancellor."
"Stibbons, do you know why we are here?"
"In the university. We are here because, against the will of gods and nature, we think. We dream. We have ideas. These, these Abominable Imps, do not! I don't want them pretending to, is that understood, Ponder Stibbons?"
"Good, now get them out of my sight!"