“Getting creatures to make themselves, eh? I thought this whole seed business was just high spirits but, yes, I can see that it would save a lot of work, a lot of work. Of course, there’d have to be some extra effort at the design stage, certainly, but afterwards I suppose it’d practically run itself...” The god’s hand blurred as he wrote, and he went on, “Hmm, drives and imperatives, they’re going to be vital... er.. How does it work with, say, trees?”
“You just need Ponder’s uncle and a paintbrush,” said the Senior Wrangler.
“Sir!” said Ponder hotly.
The god gave them both a look of intelligent bewilderment, like a man who had just heard a joke told in a completely foreign language and isn’t sure if the speaker has got to the punch line yet. Then he shrugged.
“The only thing I think I don’t quite understand,” he said, “is why any creature would want to spend time on all this...” he peered at his notes, “this sex, when they could be enjoying themselves... Oh, dear, your associate seems to be choking this time, I’m afraid...”
“Dean!” shouted Ridcully.