In this course we identified some of the “cultural differences” between the different fields in terms of their methods, relationships to society, and epistemological values, i.e. their attitude towards knowledge-finding and “the truth.” On the other hand, we investigated what is shared between fields and how the forces of multiple disciplines can be joined to see even further.
We created a reflection on an aspect of choice of the course content (in consultation with the lecturer during the Individual Sessions) in the form of a written paper, podcast, mini-exhibition, short film, video game, etc.
Discworld
“Absolutely not!” said Widdershins. “I shall not collaborate with wizards if it is not absolutely necessary.” Jasp Parks, the innkeeper, knew of the stubbornness of witches, but he had not become the most successful inn in Chaffend by a lack of people skills—although it might have been because it was the only inn. “Do you trust the wizard to fix it himself with no issues?” he asked her. Widdershins considered this for a second. “They are a very capable bunch, despite having their heads up in the books.” She walked away confidently and, after closing the door, set off in the direction of the child. A wizard may be capable, but she was damn well going to be present, even if it was just to scoff.
Thaddeus Flimble listened to the child. Being a wizard, he never really interacted much with children. The fearful young one was describing with wild flailing arms how there was a monster underneath their bed. Through the grand descriptions, Flimble concluded that the child was talking about a grinklewight; squidgy creatures that make a sound like brittle bones shuffling a forgotten tune from the edge of dreams. “No need to worry,” said Flimble to the parents. “If it were an actual grinklewight, the bed would have been gnawed at, the mirror would be shattered by the sheer ugliness of it, and the small human would be missing either a limb or their head.” He turned back to the child: “You can sleep peacefully, young one, now that I have proven your fears are ungrounded.” Relieved, Flimble walked back downstairs. Any real grinklewight infestation would have required a rather complicated containment spell he hadn’t quite figured out yet and a very large mop.
The parents gave him half a dollar for his services, and he stepped outside. The sunshine caressed his face and the smell of smoke made his head turn. Widdershins sat outside on a stool, blowing triangles from her pipe. “Evening.” he said. “Evening.” “I heard there was a witch in town. Came to dispel the demon? I already took care of it; it was just their imagination.” The only response was another puff of smoke. Flimble bid her a good day and whistled away.
Widdershins found the parents hustled around the table. “I know it isn’t real but they still won’t go to sleep!” “What else can we do? We proved there is no monster!” They looked up when Widdershins came in. Witches can always immediately be recognised, as they are never seen without their hats. This particular witch was wearing a strong pointy hat, a black cloak and was carrying a sack filled with items. Widdershins immediately walked towards the stairs and the couple never considered stopping her.
You don’t question witches.
After a few minutes, she came back downstairs, rummaging through her sack, and walked out the door. The mother could have sworn that her sack was hanging from a heavy stick, but she must have misremembered. A minute later they heard soft snoring coming from up the stairs.
Roundworld
“Absolutely not!” said Pia. “I will not collaborate with that new doctor if it is not necessary.” Jasper the barman knew that Pia, their healer, was a very stubborn person, but they did not become best friends by not understanding what she valued — traditional medicine, the people of their village, and chocolate. “Do you trust that western doctor?” he asked her. “They seem very capable; their medicine is effective even though they seem to care more about invisible creatures than the humans carrying them.” Pia downed the last of her drink. Jasper watched her go and knew she would head towards him anyway. That new doctor may be capable, but no one would trust him as much without their own healer present.
Doctor Ruben listened to the child, carefully writing everything down. He wasn’t yet used to the ways of these people, but he had never shied away from a challenge. The villages around here were struggling; they needed more medicine and lacked advanced medical knowledge, and he had immediately volunteered. The child went on telling him how the spirits were plaguing them, preventing them from going to sleep. By the sound of it, the young one was simply having nightmares. Ruben prescribed Temazepam, told the parents to give him a daily dose for a week and the nightmares should stop. The parents of the child hesitated a few seconds, unfamiliar with the little white pills they were presented with, but thanked Ruben and tried to pay him with their freshly made bread, which he wouldn’t take.
He stepped outside the cottage and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on his face, taking a deep breath and smelling smoke. He looked to the right and found the local healer smoking some native herbs. “Evening.” he said, nodding his head. “Evening.” “No need to worry.” He knew she was still a little cautious around him albeit very respectful. “The child suffered from a nightmare, so now they’re scared to go to sleep, which causes them to have more nightmares. I gave the parents some Temazepam to help him sleep without dreams and his fears will dissipate in a few days.” Pia blew her smoke in a perfect circle in response. Ruben bid her a good day and walked to his next appointment.
Pia found the parents at their table looking at the bottle of pills, uncertain if this medicine they had given their child would dissuade the spirits. Pia tipped her hat at them and went upstairs. After an hour, she came back down and sat at the table with them. “We have made a dreamcatcher so Asibikaashi can look over them while they sleep, protecting them from the malicious spirits,” she explained. “The medicine from the doctor will likely work, but they seemed to have forgotten about the spirits. This way they will sleep soundly and be protected also.” Pia never asked for any payment, this was not the way but she always accepted their offerings.
A few weeks later, at that murky hour when even the birds look hungover, Pia woke up to a knock on her door. “Come quickly, Papa is very unwell!” Hanny, the son of the blacksmith, wailed.
Pia came by the bedside of the man. He was quivering underneath the stack of blankets but he was feeling slightly hot to the touch, like a nervous candle. She had seen fevers before and this was nothing new. She ordered Hanny to go out and grab willow bark so she could make him a tea. After boiling the bark for ten minutes, having it sit for another thirty, Pia administered the tea.
A few hours later, what could be called a reasonable hour, doctor Ruben came into the cottage. Pia, who had dozed off, awoke from the door opening. “The townsfolk said there was someone with a terrible fever.” Ruben panted. “While I respect your dedication as to be so quick to not even get properly dressed,” she replied, eyeing his misbuttoned lab coat over his pyjama pants. “I am afraid they were exaggerating once again. Remember last week when they told me you sewed a four-inch wound shut but it was only five stitches?” Ruben nodded. “Mr Harold had a slight fever and it has all but disappeared,” Ruben sat down to catch his breath. “What did you administer? There is an astringent smell.” Pia perked up. She enjoyed discussing herbology and Ruben was nothing if not respectful. “Willow bark tea.” The doctor considered this for a moment. “Ah yes, willow bark, Salix alba or nigra, white or black, contains salicin, which we use in the painkiller aspirin.”
Fascinated by the commonality, Pia conversed with Ruben about the many herbs used in medicine and how they commonly extract the specific substance that is effective and administer these in high dosages. “So, in essence, you find a solution from nature that works and, instead of just accepting this gift like we have, you start prodding and probing, trying to unlock all mysteries and discover every single possibility this gift can bring you?” Ruben laughed at her description. “Yes, I suppose we always want to know everything and can never satisfy our curiosity. But that is also how most advances in science are made.” For many more hours Pia questioned Ruben, who gladly shared some of the major discoveries recently made in the field of medicine, and Ruben learned more on how the village dealt with medical issues and how sometimes experimentation with few resources and a lot of creativity can be effective as well.
Discworld
A few days later, too early in the morning to be called early morning, Flimble woke up to the alarm bell pealing. Throwing on his robe and hat, he hurried towards the town square. The townsfolk were quickly trickling into the plaza from all sides. Nobby (no relation to Corporal Nobbs), the butcher’s boy, let go of the rope and called down from the tower, “They are coming! The greenery is attacking the village!” A sound started to grow. It sounded like mashed potatoes were learning how to waltz with newspapers. Slowly, the shrubbery came into view. “Aha!” exclaimed Flimble. “Virgulta Oppugnatio, a subspecies of invasive foliage that is naturally attracted to warm cobblestones and torchlight, presumably because they are considered solar addicts and mistake the village for a low-altitude sun nest, according to An Analysis of Spontaneous Arboreal Occupations by Archmage Willowwhistle.” He realised all eyes were locked on him, waiting expectantly. the wizard quickly went through his recital on their intricate mating rituals and finished with “When a human or dwarf—but not trolls—make physical contact, they get a high fever for 3-4 days. On the other hand, some animals appear immune to the fever but do experience similar effects as humans do from certain Weeds. Their greatest weaknesses are fire and the—now extinct—dodo.” While the villagers grabbed their torches, he pointed at the invasion and whispered “Incendio.”
At the outskirts on the other side of the town, Widdershins was sitting patiently waiting for the invaders to advance. She wasn’t sure what was coming but could feel their determination. As soon as they came into view she glared at them suspiciously. “Plants…” she muttered to herself. A moment later the witch was lying seemingly unconscious in the grass, as though her body was currently unoccupied. At the village’s goat pen a conscious seemed to search for something and found it with the Flock Queen. The consciousness settled next to the Queen’s and gently suggested the thought of a delicious feast waiting for them. The Queen was wildly interested in this prospect but was immediately blocked by their old enemy—a fence. Luckily, a stray fireball seared the wood, which caused the nearest goat to look up with slight interest at the near-deadly experience. The Queen bleated and set out with the heard to feast.
An hour later, some foliage still burning, everyone gathered on the square again. “Mr Flimble, Mistress Widdershins, the town would like to express their gratitude,” the innkeeper declared. “Even though the goats are roaming on the roofs, eating people’s pastries and Nobby saw one up on a pole… and we do not have a pen to herd them towards due to it burning down.” Widdershins rolled her eyes. “If he hadn’t burned the pen, the goals wouldn’t have been able to defend the village now would they? Besides, they had almost chewed through the fence anyway.” The townsfolk looked a tad guilty and a little confused on how the witch knew that when she hadn’t been spotted near the goats at all. “Besides,” said the wizard, “get some rope and I’ll call all the goats to the plaza.” The wizard was ready to call a spell that would conjure invisible hands that would drag the goats to the plaza, like a candy bowl near a toddler, but felt the gaze of the witch on him and decided to try it more her way. While some villagers went to grab any rope they could find, he cast a spell that made him smell strongly of warm blankets, sweet hay and old tin cans. Immediately, the goats started to swarm towards the wizard. The first two goats were quickly caught by the townsfolk but soon the plaza was overrun. The wizard realised he might have made a slight miscalculation when a goat was chewing on his rope and another on his shoe. The wizard looked up confounded, made eye-contact with the witch who was staring at him slightly disapprovingly, trying to hide her amusement unsuccessfully. After a few seconds both burst out laughing.