Nonetheless, it is possible to go some way towards pre-stating a phase space for the biosphere.
While we cannot pre-state a space of all possible organisms, we can look at any given organism and at least in principle say what the potential immediate changes are. That is, we can describe the space of the adjacent possible, the local phase space. Innovation then becomes the process of expanding into the adjacent possible. This is a reasonable and fairly conventional idea. But, more controversially, Kauffman suggests the exciting possibility that there may be general laws that govern this kind of expansion, laws that have exactly the opposite effect to the famous Second Law of Thermodynamics. The Second Law in effect states that thermodynamic systems become simpler as time passes; all of the interesting structure gets 'smeared out' and disappears. In contrast, Kauffman's suggestion is that the biosphere expands into the space of the adjacent possible at the maximum rate that it can, subject to hanging together as a biological system.
Innovation in biology happens as rapidly as possible.
More generally, Kauffman extends this idea to any system composed of 'autonomous agents'. An autonomous agent is a generalised life-form, defined by two properties: it can reproduce, and it can carry out at least one thermodynamic work cycle. A work cycle occurs when a system does work and returns to its original state, ready to do the same again. That is, the system takes energy from its environment and transforms it into work, and does so in such a manner that at the end of the cycle it returns to its initial state.
A human being is an autonomous agent, and so is a tiger. A flame is not: flames reproduce by spreading to inflammable material nearby, but they do not carry out a work cycle. They turn chemical energy into fire, but once something has been burnt, it can't be burnt a second time.
This theory of autonomous agents is explicitly set in the context of phase spaces. Without such a concept, it cannot even be described. And in this theory we see the first possibility of obtaining a general understanding of the principles whereby, and wherefore, organisms complicate themselves. We are starting to pin down just what it is about lifeforms that makes them behave so differently from the boring prescription of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. We paint a picture of the universe as a source of ever-increasing complexity and organisation, instead of the exact opposite. We find out why we live in an interesting universe, instead of a dull one.
REMARKABLY LIKE ANKH-MORPORK
'How can you communicate like this?' panted Ponder, as they jogged along beside a broad river.
'Since the physics of Roundworld are subordinate to the physics of the real world, I can use anything considered to be a communication device,' said the voice of Hex, slightly muffled in Rincewind's pocket. 'The owner of the device believes it to be one such. Also, I can deduce much information from this world's footprint in L-space. And the Archchancellor was right. There is much Elvish influence here.'
'You can extract information from Roundworld books?' said Ponder. 'Yes. The phase space of books that relate to this world contains ten to the power of 1,100 to the power of n volumes,' said Hex. 'That's enough books to fill the univ— hold on, what is n?' 'The number of all possible universes.'
'Then that's enough books to fill all possible universes! Well ... as close as makes no difference, anyway.'
'Correct. That is why there is never enough bookshelf space. However, because of the subordinate temporal matrix of this world, I can use virtual computing,' said Hex. 'Once you know what the answer is, the process of calculation can be seriously reduced. Once the correct answer is found, the fruitless channels of inquiry cease to exist. Besides, if you deduct all the books that are about golf, cats, slood17 and cookery the number is really quite manageable.'
'Oook,' said the Librarian.
'He says he's not going to have a shave,' said Rincewind.
'It is essential,' said Hex. 'We are getting strange glances from people in the fields. We do not wish to attract a mob. He must be shaved, and given a robe and hat.'
Rincewind was doubtful. 'I don't think that'll fool anyone,' he said.
'My readings tell me that it will if you say he's Spanish.'
'What's Spanish?'
'Spain is a country some five hundred miles from this one.'
'And people there look like him?'
'No. But people here would be quite prepared to believe so. This is a credulous age. The elves have done a lot of damage. The greatest minds spend half their time busying themselves with the study of magic, astrology, alchemy and communion with spirits.'
'Well? Sounds just like life at home,' said Rincewind.
'Yes,' said Hex. 'But there is no narrativium in this world. No magic. None of those things work.'
'Then why don't they just stop trying it?' said Ponder.
'My inference is that they believe it should work if only they get it right.'
'Poor devils,' said Rincewind.
'They believe in those, too.'
'There's more houses ahead,' said Ponder. 'We're coming to a city. Er ... and we've got the Luggage with us. Hex, we haven't just got an orangutan with us, we've got a box on legs!'
'Yes. We must leave it in some bushes while we find a voluminous dress and a wig,' said Hex calmly. 'Fortunately, this is the right period.'
'A dress won't work, believe me!'
'It will if the Librarian sits on the Luggage,' said Hex. "That will bring him up to the right height and the dress will provide adequate cover for the Luggage.'
'Now hang on a moment,' said Rincewind. You saying that people here will believe an ape in a dress and a wig is a woman?'
'They will if you say she's Spanish.'
Rincewind took another look at the Librarian.
'Those elves really must have done a lot of damage,' he said.
The city was remarkably like Ankh-Morpork, although smaller and, unbelievably, smellier. One reason for that was the large number of animals in the streets. It was as if the place had been designed as village and simply scaled up.
The wizards hadn't been hard to find. Hex located them easily, in any case the noise could be heard in the next street. There was a tavern, with a courtyard, and in the courtyard a crowd of alcohol which contained people was watching a man trying to beat Archchancellor Ridcully with a very long and heavy staff.
He wasn't succeeding. Ridcully, who was stripped to the waist, was fighting back very effectively, putting his wizarding staff to the unusual task of hitting someone. He was a lot better at it than his opponent. Most wizards would die rather than take exercise, and did, but Ridcully had the rude health of a bear and only marginally better interpersonal skills. Despite his quite considerable if erratic erudition, at heart he was a man who'd rather smack someone around the ear than develop a complicated argument.
As the rescue party arrived, he hit the man across the head and the swept his feet from under him on the back-swing. A cheer went up the man went down.
Ridcully helped his stunned adversary to his feet and propelled him to a bench, where the man's friends poured beer over him. Then he nodded to Rincewind and company.
'Got here, then,' he said. 'Bring the stuff, did you? Who's the Spanish lady?'