She caught up with him part way along the corridor.
“A prison for things that break the laws of physics.” She snorted. “Come on.”
“No, really,” he said.
“How’s that work?”
“Well, for example, you know when you have to spin the toilet paper roll three, four times and then – bam! – finally, there’s the end of the sheet?”
She squinted, admitting nothing.
“What’s more likely? That your keen eyesight and capable brain aren’t up to the task of operating such a simple mechanism, or…”
She raised an eyebrow.
“The ratio of the roll’s circumference to its diameter wasn’t, for the moment, three point one four etcetera?”
“You’re saying pi,” she frowned, “can change.”
He nodded. “It can vary. Constants aren’t, strictly speaking, constant. Let’s call them consistents.”
He opened the door.
“And down here, even that’s a stretch.”