“It was,” said the barman, “a penguin.”
“Is it a wise sort of bird, then?”
“No. Not a lot,” said the barman. “Not known for its wisdom. Second most confused bird in the world. Can only fly underwater, they say.”
"Then why-
“We don't like to talk about it,” said the barman. “It upsets people. Bloody sculptor,” he added, under his breath.
Down the other end of the bar the philosophers had started fighting again.
The barman leaned forward. “If you haven't got any money,” he said, “I don't think you're going to get much help. Talk isn't cheap around here.”
"But they just- Brutha began.
“There's the expenditure on soap and water, for a start. Towels. Flannels. Loofahs. Pumice stones. Bath salts. It all adds up.”
There was a gurgling noise from the saucer. Om's milky head turned to Brutha.
o;Ah. Philosophy,” said Om.
Brutha peered cautiously round the door.
Inside the room two groups of very nearly identical men in togas were trying to hold back two of their colleagues. It is a scene repeated a million times a day in bars around the multiverse-both would-be fighters growled and grimaced at one another and fought to escape the restraint of their friends, only of course they did not fight too hard, because there is nothing worse than actually succeeding in breaking free and suddenly finding yourself all alone in the middle of the ring with a madman who is about to hit you between the eyes with a rock.
“Yep,” said Om, “that's philosophy, right enough.”
“But they're fighting!”
“A full and free exchange of opinions, yes.”
Now that Brutha could get a clearer view, he could see that there were one or two differences between the men. One had a shorter beard, and was very red in the face, and was waggling a finger accusingly.
“He bloody well accused me of slander!” he was shouting.
“I didn't!” shouted the other man.
“You did! You did! Tell 'em what you said!”
“Look, I merely suggested, to indicate the nature of paradox, right, that if Xeno the Ephebian said, `All Ephebians are liars-' ”
“See? See? He did it again!”
"-no, no, listen, listen . . . then, since Xeno is himself an Ephebian, this would mean that he himself is a liar and therefore-
Xeno made a determined effort to break free, dragging four desperate fellow philosophers across the floor.
“I'm going to lay one right on you, pal!”
Brutha said, “Excuse me, please?”
The philosophers froze. Then they turned to look at Brutha. They relaxed by degrees. There was a chorus of embarrassed coughs.
“Are you all philosophers?” said Brutha.
The one called Xeno stepped forward, adjusting the hang of his toga.
“That's right,” he said. “We're philosophers. We think, therefore we am.”