The afternoon tea had reached that agreeable stage at which conversation wandered without apology. Cups had been refilled. Biscuits had diminished. Outside, rain tapped politely against the leaded windows.
Professor Quillibrace lowered the latest essay onto the table.
"It appears," he said, adjusting his spectacles, "that we have been underestimating doors."
Mr Blottisham looked up immediately.
"I've never underestimated a door."
"No?"
"No. I generally find them about the right height."
Miss Stray smiled into her teacup.
Quillibrace ignored this.
"The essay suggests that a door is not primarily an object."
Blottisham frowned.
"It is if you walk into it."
"It is also," Quillibrace continued patiently, "an arrangement of possibilities."
"I thought it was wood."
"That as well."
Blottisham considered this.
"I don't see how a door can be a machine."
"Nor," replied Quillibrace, "does it."
"I'm sorry?"
"The machine is not made of timber. The timber merely enables it."
Blottisham looked unconvinced.
"I've owned several doors. None has ever displayed the slightest interest in machinery."
Miss Stray intervened gently.
"I think the point is that the interesting thing about a door isn't what it is."
"It's what it does?"
"Not even that."
She paused.
"It's what it makes possible."
There was a short silence.
Blottisham broke it.
"It makes possible the airing of the linen cupboard."
"Occasionally."
"And the prevention of draughts."
"Yes."
"And keeping burglars outside."
"Sometimes."
Quillibrace nodded.
"Those are all physical consequences. The essay is asking about social ones."
Blottisham brightened.
"Oh! You mean knocking."
"Exactly."
"I've always thought knocking was one of civilisation's more successful inventions."
"It isn't an invention."
"No?"
"It is a behaviour."
"Then who invented the behaviour?"
"No one."
Blottisham looked mildly disappointed.
"I had hoped there might be a plaque."
Miss Stray leaned forward.
"What interested me was the observation that physics doesn't require knocking."
Blottisham looked alarmed.
"Are you suggesting we stop?"
"No."
"The laws of physics are perfectly capable of opening a door without asking permission."
"Indeed."
"But people generally aren't."
Quillibrace smiled.
"There, Mr Blottisham, you've almost arrived."
"I have?"
"The existence of a door creates the possibility of privacy."
"Obviously."
"And once privacy exists..."
"...people have to ask before interrupting it."
"Precisely."
Blottisham sat back.
"So knocking is not caused by etiquette."
"No."
"It is caused by architecture."
"Closer."
Miss Stray shook her head.
"Neither."
The other two looked at her.
"It is caused by an agreement."
She continued.
"A wall separates spaces. A door connects them. But neither tells us how to behave."
"The people do."
"Yes."
"So the invisible machine isn't really the door."
Quillibrace's eyebrows rose.
"Go on."
"It's the shared understanding that grows around the door."
For perhaps ten seconds nobody spoke.
It was unusual for the Common Room.
Finally Blottisham said,
"Does this mean that every front door contains a small quantity of philosophy?"
"I rather think," said Quillibrace, "that every front door prevents a surprisingly large quantity of chaos."
Miss Stray looked towards the oak door leading into the corridor.
"I wonder whether that's why we stop noticing such things."
"Noticing what?"
"The invisible machines."
She gestured towards the room.
"We see the wood."
"We see the brass handle."
"We see the hinges."
"But once the machine is working well..."
"...we stop seeing the possibilities it quietly produces."
Blottisham looked thoughtfully at the door.
After nearly a minute he stood, crossed the room, opened it, closed it again, and returned to his chair.
"Well?"
asked Quillibrace.
"I just wanted to see whether it felt any more philosophical."
"And?"
"It didn't."
"No."
"It merely seemed extremely competent."
Quillibrace smiled.
"I suspect, Mr Blottisham, that competence is one of philosophy's most underrated disguises."
Miss Stray stirred her tea.
"Perhaps civilisation itself is rather like that."
The Professor looked at her with interest.
"How so?"
"The greatest achievements are often the ones we no longer notice because they have become part of the background of ordinary life."
Quillibrace nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"A civilisation isn't only what it builds."
"It's also what it succeeds in making seem obvious."
Blottisham looked around the room.
"I must confess..."
"Yes?"
"I'm beginning to feel slightly suspicious of the furniture."
"Excellent," said Quillibrace.
"That is exactly where this sort of inquiry ought to begin."
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