1. The Curious Case of the Meaning Parcel

The Senior Common Room at St Anselm's

The afternoon rain tapped gently against the leaded windows. Professor Quillibrace sat in his customary armchair, a copy of the latest post folded neatly upon his knee. Miss Elowen Stray occupied the sofa opposite, pencil poised above an untouched notebook. Mr Blottisham stood before the fire with the expression of a man preparing to defend civilisation.

"Well," said Blottisham, "I see no difficulty whatsoever."

Quillibrace glanced up.

"How reassuring."

"The matter is perfectly straightforward. Conversation consists of exchanging meanings. We have all known this for years."

"Indeed?"

"Certainly. I ask you a question. You provide me with information. Information has therefore travelled from you to me. Exchange complete."

Quillibrace nodded thoughtfully.

"Like a wheelbarrow of potatoes."

"Precisely."

Miss Stray looked up.

"Are meanings potatoes?"

"No, no," said Blottisham impatiently. "That would be absurd. They are more like parcels."

"Ah," said Quillibrace. "An important distinction."

Blottisham ignored him.

"The point is that discourse clearly involves things moving between people. Otherwise how could questions receive answers?"

"An interesting question," said Quillibrace. "One might ask whether the answer is actually contained within the question."

Blottisham frowned.

"I don't follow."

"Suppose I ask you, 'Would you care for tea?'"

"Very civil."

"Have I transferred anything to you?"

"You have transferred a question."

"Have I?"

Blottisham hesitated.

"Well ... yes."

"What exactly arrived?"

"The question."

"Where is it now?"

Blottisham stared suspiciously.

"In my mind."

"Excellent. And before it was in your mind?"

"In yours."

Quillibrace folded his hands.

"So the question itself has migrated between minds?"

"Yes."

"Like a duck."

Miss Stray suppressed a smile.

Blottisham shifted uneasily.

"Not literally."

"Then perhaps something else is occurring."

A brief silence followed.

Miss Stray leaned forward.

"The post seems to suggest that the important thing isn't that something moves between participants."

"Go on."

"It's that a relation is established."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Exactly."

Blottisham waved a hand.

"Relations may be established, certainly, but information is still exchanged."

"Perhaps," said Quillibrace, "the difficulty lies in mistaking a recurring pattern for its explanation."

"Meaning?"

"When a question is followed by an answer, the sequence resembles transfer. One party appears to lack information. Another appears to supply it."

"Which is what happens."

"Or appears to happen."

Blottisham groaned.

"We are entering philosophy."

"We were already there."

Miss Stray studied the paper.

"What struck me is the discussion of possibilities."

"Yes," said Quillibrace.

"A question doesn't merely request an answer. It changes what can happen next."

"Precisely."

She nodded slowly.

"After a question, certain responses become relevant. Others become odd."

"Very good."

"If someone asks, 'What time is it?' and I respond by reciting medieval tax records, the interaction becomes strange."

"Profoundly strange."

"Because the question has structured the possibilities available."

Quillibrace smiled.

"Exactly so."

Blottisham frowned.

"But surely that's merely because the answer has not yet been delivered."

"Or," said Quillibrace, "because the question has enacted a field of expectations and accountabilities."

Blottisham sighed.

"There it is again. Enacted."

"Quite."

"And what exactly is this enactment?"

Quillibrace gestured toward the room.

"Imagine that discourse does not transfer meanings but organises relations."

"Relations of what sort?"

"Who may respond. Who is expected to respond. Who carries commitment. Who may challenge. Who may refuse. Who may continue the interaction and in what manner."

Blottisham considered this.

"So a question creates obligations?"

"In part."

"A command creates different obligations?"

"Indeed."

"An offer creates yet another configuration?"

"Precisely."

Miss Stray looked thoughtful.

"So speech functions become different ways of organising relational possibilities."

Quillibrace inclined his head.

"The model calls this enactment space."

Blottisham pulled a face.

"Sounds terribly abstract."

"Only because you are imagining space geometrically."

"I am."

"Try imagining it interactionally."

Miss Stray nodded.

"Not physical space. Possibility space."

"Exactly."

She tapped the page.

"The interesting part is reciprocity."

"Yes."

"Because all participants are positioned by the act."

"Quite."

"A question doesn't merely position the addressee as answerer."

"It also positions the speaker."

"As someone lacking information?"

"Or at least as someone publicly seeking it."

Blottisham blinked.

"Oh."

"Similarly," continued Quillibrace, "a command positions both parties. One as directing, the other as potentially complying or refusing."

"And those positions arise through the act itself."

"Exactly."

Miss Stray smiled.

"So reciprocity doesn't mean equality."

"No."

"Both participants occupy the same enacted space."

"Yes."

"But from different positions within it."

"Just so."

Blottisham sank into a chair.

"I think I finally see the argument."

Quillibrace looked mildly surprised.

"A red-letter day."

"The claim isn't that questions, statements, commands and offers disappear."

"No."

"Nor that exchange-like patterns disappear."

"Correct."

"It's that exchange is being demoted."

"A useful way of putting it."

Blottisham stared into the fire.

"The patterns remain."

"Yes."

"But the explanation changes."

"Exactly."

"What looks like transfer is actually the stabilisation of relational configurations."

Quillibrace's eyebrows rose.

"My word."

Miss Stray laughed softly.

Blottisham looked pleased.

"So when discourse appears to move meanings around, that appearance may simply be the visible trace of something deeper."

"And what is that?" asked Quillibrace.

Blottisham paused dramatically.

"The structuring of enactment space."

A silence followed.

Quillibrace removed his spectacles.

"Miss Stray, would you kindly note the date."

"Of course."

"I believe Mr Blottisham has accidentally understood something."

"An historic occasion."

"Quite. The college bells should probably be rung."

Blottisham frowned.

"You make it sound unusual."

"My dear Blottisham," said Quillibrace, "it is unusual."

And with that he returned to his reading while the rain continued against the windows, quietly enacting a field of conversational possibilities that none of them felt obliged to exchange.