Professor Quillibrace knew immediately that the day was lost.
Mr Blottisham entered pushing a wheelbarrow.
Inside it were three spanners, two screwdrivers, a hammer, a roll of insulating tape, an oil can, and what appeared to be an adjustable wrench of heroic proportions.
Professor Quillibrace looked over his spectacles.
"No."
Blottisham stopped.
"I haven't said anything yet."
"You have brought tools."
"I have."
"You intend to use them."
"I hope so."
Professor Quillibrace sighed.
"I repeat."
"No."
Miss Stray entered a moment later carrying her tea.
She looked at the wheelbarrow.
Then at Professor Quillibrace.
"I see we're repairing the universe today."
Professor Quillibrace blinked.
"How did you know?"
"Mr Blottisham has labelled the wheelbarrow."
Sure enough, attached to the handle was a neat handwritten sign.
UNIVERSAL MAINTENANCE KIT
Blottisham smiled proudly.
"I've come prepared."
"For what?"
"For the routine servicing."
Professor Quillibrace stared.
"Of?"
"The universe."
A silence settled over the room.
Finally Quillibrace spoke.
"I had not realised it was due."
"It must be."
"Must it?"
"Physicists keep describing the universe as though it were a machine."
"They sometimes do."
"So machines require maintenance."
"They do."
"Therefore..."
Professor Quillibrace closed his eyes.
"...there is no therefore."
Blottisham looked unconvinced.
"There must be a workshop."
"There is not."
"A maintenance schedule."
"No."
"Replacement parts."
"No."
"A warranty."
"No."
Miss Stray smiled into her teacup.
"It does seem rather poorly documented."
Blottisham removed a notebook.
"I've prepared a list."
Professor Quillibrace looked alarmed.
"How long is the list?"
"Only fourteen questions."
"Oh."
"I omitted the supplementary appendix."
Professor Quillibrace looked wistfully towards the door.
Item One
"If the universe is a machine..."
"It is not."
"...where is the engine?"
"There isn't one."
"Then what powers it?"
"It doesn't require powering."
Blottisham made a note.
"Self-powered."
"No."
"Extremely efficient?"
"No."
"Battery missing?"
"No."
Miss Stray leaned over.
"I think the notebook is becoming more entertaining than the discussion."
Item Two
"If the universe is a machine..."
Professor Quillibrace sighed.
"...yes?"
"Who designed it?"
"Physics does not answer that question."
"So the engineer is unknown."
"No."
"Missing."
"No."
"On annual leave?"
"No."
Professor Quillibrace paused.
"Blottisham..."
"Yes?"
"I have begun to suspect that you are imagining a very large bicycle."
Blottisham looked surprised.
"I wasn't."
"What were you imagining?"
"A steam engine."
Miss Stray burst into laughter.
Item Three
Blottisham picked up the oil can.
"I assume this is unnecessary."
"Entirely."
"Pity."
"Why?"
"I had hoped to reduce friction."
"There is no universal gearbox."
"There really isn't?"
"No."
Miss Stray looked thoughtful.
"It is interesting, though."
Professor Quillibrace looked at her.
"What is?"
"We often describe systems as though they had mechanisms."
"Indeed."
"And mechanisms as though they had purposes."
Professor Quillibrace nodded slowly.
"That is true."
Blottisham looked delighted.
"So we are making progress."
"We are making observations."
"Excellent."
Item Four
Blottisham unfolded a large diagram.
"I've attempted to identify likely access panels."
Professor Quillibrace stared.
The universe had been drawn as an enormous brass clock.
Several arrows pointed towards labels including:
MAIN SPRING
EMERGENCY BRAKE
COSMIC LUBRICATION PORT
DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PRESSURE
Miss Stray was laughing too hard to speak.
Professor Quillibrace examined the drawing.
"I particularly admire the cup holder."
"I thought it practical."
"For whom?"
"The engineer."
"There isn't one."
"So you've said."
The fire crackled gently.
After a while, Miss Stray became thoughtful.
"I think Mr Blottisham has discovered something rather important."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"He often does."
"We call things machines because machines are among the most complicated objects we understand well."
"Yes."
"So they become metaphors for other complicated things."
Professor Quillibrace nodded.
"The metaphor invites us to think about parts."
"Functions."
"Interactions."
"Reliability."
"Causation."
"But eventually..."
"...Mr Blottisham asks where the workshop is."
The room fell quiet.
Professor Quillibrace looked at the wheelbarrow.
"I must admit..."
"...that is exactly where the metaphor resigns."
Blottisham looked pleased.
"So we've found another edge."
"Indeed."
The college clock struck five.
Blottisham began packing away the tools.
"I didn't use the hammer."
"I noticed."
"I was rather hoping."
"I was rather hoping you wouldn't."
As he lifted the wheelbarrow, a small screwdriver rolled onto the floor.
Professor Quillibrace picked it up.
He turned it thoughtfully in his hand.
"You know..."
he said,
"there is something oddly comforting about the machine metaphor."
Miss Stray looked at him.
"In what way?"
"If the universe were a machine..."
"Yes?"
"One always imagines that, somewhere, someone understands how it works."
The room grew unexpectedly quiet.
Blottisham nodded.
"And perhaps that is why we invent the metaphor."
Professor Quillibrace smiled.
"Perhaps."
He handed back the screwdriver.
"But whether or not the universe resembles a machine..."
"...our understanding certainly does."
Miss Stray tilted her head.
"How so?"
"We are forever dismantling ideas..."
"...examining the parts..."
"...and then attempting to put them back together."
Blottisham looked delighted.
"So philosophy is a repair shop."
Professor Quillibrace laughed.
"No."
"What then?"
"It is the place where we discover that the instruction manual was itself only another metaphor."
The wheelbarrow rattled gently down the corridor.
The Senior Common Room returned to its customary tranquillity.
Professor Quillibrace lifted his teacup.
Then paused.
"Miss Stray..."
"Yes?"
"Do you suppose Mr Blottisham already has a plan for quantum fields?"
She smiled.
"I believe..."
"...he was seen this morning purchasing a picnic hamper."
Professor Quillibrace slowly put his teacup down again.
"Oh dear."
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