The following week, Mr Blottisham arrived looking unusually pleased with himself.
This immediately attracted suspicion.
Professor Quillibrace was writing comments on essays.
Miss Stray was reading beside the fire.
Blottisham entered carrying nothing whatsoever.
This suggested that the problem was now entirely conceptual.
"I have solved it."
Quillibrace looked up.
"The future?"
"No."
"A relief."
"The improvement problem."
"Ah."
"The entire matter."
"How fortunate."
Blottisham sat down.
"The mistake has been obvious all along."
"Excellent."
"We have been asking the wrong question."
Quillibrace put down his pen.
"What should we ask instead?"
"'What is intelligence for?'"
Miss Stray looked interested.
"And your answer?"
"To make things better."
The room became quiet.
Quillibrace nodded.
"A popular position."
Blottisham smiled.
"I thought so."
The professor folded his hands.
"What things?"
The smile faded slightly.
"What things what?"
"What things become better?"
"Everything."
"I see."
The professor appeared thoughtful.
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"The weather?"
Blottisham hesitated.
"Not necessarily."
"The tax system?"
"Potentially."
"Universities?"
"Certainly."
Miss Stray laughed.
"A heroic ambition."
Blottisham continued.
"The point is obvious."
"Indeed."
"Greater intelligence produces better outcomes."
Quillibrace nodded.
"What outcomes?"
"Better ones."
The professor closed his eyes briefly.
Miss Stray stared into her teacup.
The room waited.
Eventually Quillibrace reopened his eyes.
"Let us proceed carefully."
"Why?"
"Because we appear to be travelling in a circle."
Blottisham looked offended.
"We are doing nothing of the sort."
"Perhaps not."
The professor picked up a sheet of paper.
"Suppose a city wishes to improve."
"Very good."
"One group wants greater economic growth."
"Reasonable."
"Another wants environmental protection."
"Also reasonable."
"Another wants shorter working hours."
"Entirely understandable."
"Another wants stronger national defence."
"Of course."
Quillibrace looked up.
"Which outcome is better?"
Blottisham paused.
"That depends."
"On what?"
The room became silent.
Blottisham stared suspiciously.
"I know this trick."
"Excellent."
"It depends on values."
"Indeed."
Miss Stray smiled.
The penny had not dropped.
But it had at least entered the vicinity of the fountain.
Blottisham continued confidently.
"Fortunately, greater intelligence will help us discover the correct values."
The room became very still.
Quillibrace removed his glasses.
This was rarely a good sign.
"How?"
"What?"
"How will intelligence discover values?"
Blottisham looked surprised.
"By being intelligent."
The professor stared at him.
Miss Stray stared into the fire.
A long silence followed.
Eventually Quillibrace asked:
"Suppose I possess extraordinary intelligence."
"Excellent."
"But no objective."
"Very well."
"What should I do?"
Blottisham frowned.
"Something worthwhile."
"Such as?"
"Something good."
The professor smiled faintly.
"We appear to have returned."
The room relaxed.
Even Blottisham laughed.
"Perhaps slightly."
"Entirely."
Miss Stray spoke.
"I wonder whether people sometimes treat intelligence as though it were a substitute for purpose."
The others turned toward her.
She continued.
"If we disagree about what matters..."
"Yes."
"...greater intelligence may help us pursue our goals."
"Certainly."
"But it does not necessarily tell us which goals to choose."
The room became quiet.
Blottisham looked thoughtful.
This was becoming a recurring phenomenon.
"Surely intelligence helps."
"Undoubtedly," said Quillibrace.
"It helps us understand consequences."
"Yes."
"Trade-offs."
"Yes."
"Relationships."
"Yes."
"Possibilities."
"Yes."
The professor nodded.
"Those are all valuable."
"Exactly."
"But none of them is identical to purpose."
The silence deepened.
Outside, bells sounded from somewhere across the college.
Inside, Blottisham stared at the carpet.
After a while he said:
"I think I see the difficulty."
"Excellent."
"If intelligence tells me how to get somewhere..."
"Yes."
"It does not automatically tell me where to go."
"Precisely."
Miss Stray smiled.
"Nor whether everyone wishes to travel to the same place."
The room remained quiet.
The observation seemed to settle over the furniture.
After a time Blottisham spoke again.
"Then perhaps the real problem is not intelligence."
"No?" said Quillibrace.
"No."
"What is it?"
Blottisham considered this carefully.
Then, very slowly, he said:
"We keep assuming that 'better' already exists."
For a moment nobody spoke.
Quillibrace looked genuinely pleased.
Miss Stray closed her book.
Outside, the bells continued ringing.
Inside, something unusual had occurred.
Mr Blottisham had accidentally arrived at the centre of the discussion.
Quillibrace eventually picked up his pen.
"Excellent."
Blottisham brightened.
"I understand it?"
"Not entirely."
The optimism faded.
"What have I missed?"
The professor returned to marking essays.
"Only the question of who gets to decide."
The room fell silent.
And remained that way for rather longer than usual.
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