The Common Room was unusually peaceful.
No reports had arrived.
No rankings had been published.
No strategic frameworks had been unveiled.
The resulting atmosphere was almost festive.
Professor Quillibrace was enjoying a state of intellectual relaxation rarely observed in the wild.
Miss Stray was reading quietly.
Mr Blottisham entered looking troubled.
Quillibrace immediately noticed.
"What's happened?"
"There has been a heresy."
Quillibrace sat upright.
"A proper one?"
"Yes."
"Excellent."
Blottisham looked horrified.
"Excellent?"
"We've not had a decent heresy in years."
"This is serious."
"They usually are."
Blottisham sat down heavily.
"A colleague made a suggestion."
"What sort of suggestion?"
Blottisham lowered his voice.
"He said things might already be good enough."
The room fell silent.
Even the fire seemed briefly attentive.
Stray looked up from her book.
"He actually said that?"
"He did."
"Interesting."
"Interesting?" said Blottisham. "It's dangerous."
Quillibrace nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes."
"You agree?"
"Certainly."
Blottisham looked relieved.
"Good."
"It threatens several entire industries."
The relief vanished.
Blottisham folded his arms.
"No, really."
"I am being serious."
The fire resumed its work.
Outside, the fog continued its slow occupation of the college grounds.
Inside, the consequences of sufficiency were being considered.
Stray closed her book.
"What exactly did he mean?"
Blottisham consulted his notes.
"He said our objectives were being achieved."
"Reasonable."
"He said stakeholders appeared satisfied."
"Interesting."
"He said further improvements would require substantial effort for very little gain."
A pause followed.
Then Quillibrace murmured:
"The revolutionary."
Blottisham sighed.
"You think this is funny."
"My dear fellow."
"Yes?"
"The history of institutions is largely the history of people discovering that enough is an awkward concept."
The room became thoughtful.
Stray nodded.
"Enough implies a limit."
"Precisely."
"And limits create difficulties for systems organised around growth."
"Exactly."
Blottisham looked unconvinced.
"But surely there is always room for improvement."
Quillibrace smiled.
"A beautiful article of faith."
"It's not faith."
"No?"
"No."
"It's evidence."
"Ah."
Quillibrace leaned back.
"Then what evidence would persuade you that improvement was no longer necessary?"
Blottisham opened his mouth.
Then paused.
Then tried again.
Nothing arrived.
Stray watched with sympathy.
Quillibrace watched with fascination.
Eventually Blottisham said:
"I don't think that's the right question."
"There."
"Where?"
"The doctrine."
The room became quiet.
Blottisham frowned.
"What doctrine?"
"The assumption that improvement requires no stopping point."
The fire crackled.
Several logs shifted position.
None submitted a strategic enhancement plan.
After a while Stray spoke.
"I think the dissident's question was actually very simple."
"What question?"
"What would success look like?"
Blottisham looked uncomfortable.
"We already know."
"Do we?"
"Of course."
"What is it?"
The discomfort increased noticeably.
Blottisham stared into the fire.
The fire offered no assistance.
Finally he said:
"Improvement."
Stray nodded.
"Improvement toward what?"
The silence that followed was unusually complete.
Quillibrace appeared delighted.
The conversation continued.
Eventually Blottisham rallied.
"The problem with 'good enough' is complacency."
"Perhaps."
"People stop striving."
"Possibly."
"They stop improving."
"Conceivably."
Blottisham looked irritated.
"You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Refuse to commit yourself."
Quillibrace considered.
"My dear Blottisham, I am entirely committed."
"To what?"
"The proposition that means and ends should occasionally be introduced."
Stray laughed.
The fog thickened.
A Fellow passed the window carrying three folders and what appeared to be regret.
After a while Blottisham produced a document.
"There's already a response."
"To the heresy?"
"Yes."
"What does it say?"
Blottisham adjusted his glasses.
"'Continuous improvement should continue until contextually appropriate excellence thresholds have been achieved.'"
The room became silent.
Then Quillibrace smiled slowly.
"Oh, that's beautiful."
"Is it?"
"Magnificent."
"Why?"
"Because it appears to answer the question."
Stray nodded.
"But doesn't."
"Exactly."
Blottisham looked puzzled.
"It sounds perfectly clear."
Quillibrace gestured toward the paper.
"Then tell me."
"What?"
"What is a contextually appropriate excellence threshold?"
Blottisham stared at the document.
Then read it again.
Then a third time.
Finally:
"I suppose that's still under discussion."
The smile widened.
"Indeed."
The paper was set aside.
The fire continued performing its duties without consulting a dashboard.
Outside, the fog remained contentedly mediocre.
Inside, the discussion drifted toward silence.
Eventually Stray spoke.
Quietly.
"I think the real question isn't whether something is good enough."
"No?"
"It's whether we still possess a way of recognising enough when we encounter it."
The room became very still.
Even Blottisham did not immediately respond.
At length he asked:
"Do you think we've lost that ability?"
Quillibrace looked toward the fire.
Then toward the abandoned document.
Then toward the fog.
Finally he replied:
"I think we've become remarkably skilled at postponing the answer."
No one spoke.
And somewhere, far away, a committee was almost certainly developing a framework for the identification of contextually appropriate excellence thresholds.
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