> Detritus blinked. There was a tinkle of falling ice. Odd things were happening in his skull. Thoughts that normally ambulated sluggishly around his brain were suddenly springing into vibrant, coruscating life. And there seemed to be more and more of them.

> 'My goodness,' he said, to no-one in particular.

> This was a sufficiently un-troll-like comment that even Cuddy, whose extremities were already going numb, stared at him.

> 'I do believe,' said Detritus, 'that I am genuinely cogitating. How very interesting!'

> 'What do you mean?'

> More ice cascaded off Detritus as he rubbed his head.

> 'Of course!' he said, holding up a giant finger. 'Superconductivity!'

> 'Wha'?'

> 'You see? Brain of impure silicon. Problem of heat dissipation. Daytime temperature too hot, processing speed slows down, weather gets hotter, brain stops completely, trolls turn to stone until nightfall, ie, colder-temperature,however,lowertemperatureenough,brain operatesfasterand—'

> [...] Detritus sat down again. Life was so simple, when you really thought about it. And he was really thinking. He was seventy-six per cent sure he was going to get at least seven degrees colder.

-- Men At Arms by Terry Pratchett

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