7. The Curious Case of the Invisible Architecture

The Senior Common Room at St Anselm's

The afternoon had acquired the tranquil atmosphere that often precedes intellectual disaster.

Professor Quillibrace sat by the fire.

Miss Stray was reading.

Mr Blottisham was frowning at the latest paper with the expression of a man who had discovered that gravity was context-dependent.

At length he put the pages down.

"This is getting ridiculous."

Quillibrace looked up.

"An encouraging beginning."

"No, really. We've now reached the point where commands aren't commands, questions aren't questions, offers are biscuits, and apparently context controls everything."

"Not context," said Miss Stray.

Blottisham pointed accusingly.

"There. That."

"There what?"

"That correction."

Miss Stray smiled.

"Tenor isn't being presented as background context."

"It certainly sounds like background context."

Quillibrace folded his hands.

"That is because you are imagining context as scenery."

"What else would it be?"

"The architecture."

Blottisham stared.

"Of what?"

"Of what can happen."

A pause.

Blottisham considered this.

Then shook his head.

"No. A question is a question."

"Is it?" asked Quillibrace.

"Yes."

"Always?"

"Yes."

"Regardless of who asks it?"

Blottisham hesitated.

"More or less."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Then imagine a judge asking, 'Where were you on Tuesday evening?'"

"Very well."

"And now imagine your aunt asking exactly the same thing."

Blottisham frowned.

"Those are different."

"Why?"

"The situation is different."

"Indeed."

Miss Stray looked pleased.

Blottisham immediately became suspicious.

"Oh no."

Quillibrace continued.

"The wording remains unchanged."

"Yes."

"The grammar remains unchanged."

"Yes."

"The speech function remains unchanged."

"Yes."

"And yet the enacted space differs."

Blottisham stared.

A long silence followed.

Then he said:

"I dislike examples."

"They are often uncooperative," Quillibrace agreed.

Miss Stray turned a page.

"I think the important move here is that tenor is being treated as a condition of enactability."

Blottisham closed his eyes briefly.

"That sounds expensive."

"It means," she said patiently, "that tenor conditions which relational configurations can stabilise."

"That sounds even more expensive."

Quillibrace smiled.

"It is a premium concept."

Blottisham ignored him.

"So tenor tells us how to interpret things."

"No," said both Quillibrace and Miss Stray simultaneously.

Blottisham sighed.

"There should be a bell that rings when I'm wrong."

"There is," said Quillibrace. "It is called Miss Stray."

Miss Stray laughed.

Quillibrace continued.

"Interpretation implies that the enactment already exists and we subsequently assign meaning to it."

"Reasonable."

"Tenor operates earlier."

"Earlier?"

"It conditions whether the enactment stabilises as the kind of thing you think it is."

Blottisham frowned.

"I don't follow."

"Imagine," said Miss Stray, "that I walk into the dining hall and command the Dean to wash the dishes."

Blottisham brightened.

"I should like to see that."

"What happens?"

"He ignores you."

"Perhaps."

"Or laughs."

"Perhaps."

"Or has a small stroke."

"Possibly."

Miss Stray nodded.

"But the interesting question is whether the command successfully stabilises as a command."

Blottisham paused.

The pause lengthened.

Then:

"Oh."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Precisely."

"It has the form of a command."

"Yes."

"But not the conditions."

"Exactly."

Blottisham looked troubled.

"So tenor isn't interpreting the command."

"No."

"It is helping constitute whether that relational configuration can become operative."

"Very good," said Quillibrace.

Blottisham looked annoyed.

"I wish you wouldn't say that."

"Why?"

"Because it means I've accidentally understood something."

A silence settled over the room.

Miss Stray returned to the paper.

"What interests me is legitimacy."

"An excellent section," said Quillibrace.

Blottisham groaned.

"Another invisible thing."

"Not invisible," said Miss Stray.

"Merely relational."

"That word again."

She continued.

"The point is that some enactments fail not because of their form but because of entitlement."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Exactly."

"A question can be intrusive."

"Yes."

"A statement can be dismissed."

"Indeed."

"An offer can be inappropriate."

"Quite."

"A command can be illegitimate."

"Precisely."

Blottisham looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"So every speech function carries hidden requirements."

Quillibrace raised an eyebrow.

"Hidden only to those who ignore tenor."

"Which now appears to include me."

"A sizeable demographic."

Blottisham stared at the fire.

Then he said:

"This architecture metaphor is beginning to bother me."

"How so?" asked Miss Stray.

"If tenor is architecture, then speech functions are… what? Furniture?"

Quillibrace considered this.

"Perhaps."

"And enactment space is the building?"

"Not unreasonable."

Blottisham looked alarmed.

"So all this time I've been arguing about chairs while ignoring the floor."

For perhaps three full seconds nobody spoke.

Then Miss Stray quietly said:

"That's actually rather good."

Quillibrace nodded.

"Remarkably good."

Blottisham looked suspicious.

"I've done it again, haven't I?"

"You have."

A comfortable silence followed.

Outside, the late sunlight stretched across the quadrangle.

Inside, three scholars sat contemplating the unsettling possibility that speech functions were furniture, tenor was architecture, and most theoretical confusion arose from repeatedly attempting to command the floor to become a chair.