The afternoon sunlight had briefly defeated the rain, illuminating the Senior Common Room with a warmth entirely disproportionate to the season. Professor Quillibrace sat near the window, examining a botanical illustration whose margins were crowded with meticulous handwritten notes.
Mr Blottisham entered carrying a genetics textbook with unmistakable enthusiasm.
"Professor!"
Quillibrace looked up.
"Good afternoon, Blottisham."
"I believe I have found an example that even you cannot possibly object to."
"I await enlightenment."
"DNA."
"An admirable molecule."
"It contains the information required to build an organism."
Quillibrace regarded him for a moment.
"Does it?"
"Certainly."
"You sound unusually confident."
"Because this isn't philosophy."
"No?"
"It's biology."
Miss Elowen Stray arrived quietly with her notebook.
"Am I in time?"
"Barely," said Quillibrace. "Mr Blottisham has just assured me that philosophy has finally been defeated by molecular biology."
"Oh dear."
Blottisham ignored her.
"The matter is straightforward. Genes contain information. Cells read the information. Organisms develop."
Quillibrace nodded thoughtfully.
"I wonder..."
Blottisham sighed.
"There it is."
"What?"
"The wondering."
"I find it useful."
"I'm sure you do."
Quillibrace smiled.
"When you say that genes contain information..."
"Yes?"
"...what sort of thing do you suppose information to be?"
Blottisham looked puzzled.
"Information."
"I heard the word."
"It's... instructions."
"Very good."
"What more do you want?"
"What are instructions?"
Blottisham hesitated.
"They tell something what to do."
"So instructions exist independently of whoever follows them?"
"Of course."
Quillibrace reached for the botanical illustration.
"What does this drawing instruct me to do?"
"It doesn't."
"So it contains no information?"
"No, that's different."
"How?"
"It's a picture."
"Indeed."
Miss Stray looked over the Professor's shoulder.
"My grandmother couldn't identify that plant."
"No?"
"She'd simply see lines on paper."
Quillibrace nodded.
"So the information isn't available to everyone."
"Obviously not."
"It depends upon..."
"Knowledge."
"I see."
He placed the illustration back on the table.
"So knowledge contributes something."
"Naturally."
"And without that contribution?"
Blottisham shrugged.
"The information can't be used."
Quillibrace raised an eyebrow.
"Can it even be said to exist?"
Blottisham frowned.
"Well..."
The Professor continued gently.
"Suppose we discover a sequence of symbols carved into a rock on a distant planet."
"Very exciting."
"Do the symbols contain information?"
"Certainly."
"About what?"
"We don't know."
"So what information do they presently contain?"
Blottisham opened his mouth.
Then closed it again.
Miss Stray looked thoughtful.
"It seems we would know they were patterned."
"Yes."
"But not what the pattern was for."
"Quite."
"So the pattern exists."
"It does."
"The information..."
She paused.
"...appears to depend upon how the pattern is taken."
Quillibrace smiled faintly.
"A useful observation."
Blottisham shook his head.
"No, no. DNA is different."
"In what respect?"
"It has been shaped by evolution."
"I quite agree."
"So evolution has written the instructions."
Quillibrace leaned back.
"Has it?"
"Obviously."
"What language did evolution use?"
Blottisham laughed.
"Not literally."
"Ah."
"So we have another metaphor."
"It's a very good metaphor."
"I quite agree."
The Professor folded his hands.
"But good metaphors sometimes become invisible."
"What do you mean?"
"We stop noticing that they are metaphors."
A silence settled over the room.
Miss Stray spoke first.
"Professor..."
"Yes?"
"Suppose I have the complete DNA sequence of an oak tree."
"Very well."
"And I also have an empty laboratory."
"Yes."
"Can I grow the tree?"
Blottisham answered immediately.
"Of course not."
"Why not?"
"You need the cell."
"And?"
"The developmental environment."
"And?"
"Nutrients."
"And?"
"The whole biological machinery."
Quillibrace waited.
Blottisham stared into space.
"Oh."
"No hurry."
"The DNA..."
"Yes?"
"...doesn't build anything by itself."
"No."
"It only..."
He searched for the words.
"...works within..."
Miss Stray finished the sentence quietly.
"...a developmental system."
Quillibrace inclined his head.
"Exactly."
Blottisham looked unconvinced.
"But surely the information is still inside the DNA."
Quillibrace reached for the sugar bowl.
"How much sweetness does this spoon contain?"
"The spoon?"
"Yes."
"None."
"So sweetness belongs..."
"...to the sugar."
"And if no one had ever tasted sweetness?"
Blottisham groaned.
"That's unfair."
"I merely wondered."
Miss Stray smiled.
"I think the Professor is asking whether we've mistaken a relation for a substance again."
Quillibrace looked pleasantly surprised.
"A very economical summary."
Blottisham looked from one to the other.
"So you're saying information doesn't exist?"
"Oh, I shouldn't say that."
"No?"
"I should merely ask whether information is the sort of thing that can be poured into a molecule."
The room was quiet.
Outside, a gardener was pruning roses with remarkable concentration.
Miss Stray closed her notebook.
"It seems odd."
"What does?"
"The more biology discovers about development..."
"Yes?"
"...the less development resembles a set of instructions."
Quillibrace looked towards the window.
"Science has a curious habit."
"Which is?"
"It reveals increasingly intricate relations."
Blottisham sighed.
"And then?"
"And then we describe them as though someone had hidden little things inside other little things."
Blottisham laughed despite himself.
"You really think that's what we're doing?"
Quillibrace smiled.
"My dear Blottisham..."
"Yes?"
"I think we often mistake participation for possession."
The fire gave a soft crack.
No one spoke for several moments.
Miss Stray finally broke the silence.
"I wonder..."
Quillibrace looked up.
"...whether that isn't exactly the same mistake we discussed last week."
The Professor's smile was almost imperceptible.
"I rather hoped you would notice."