Post by Grand Moff Muffin on Apr 21, 2009 20:54:51 GMT
On the train returning from London today, the voice of the steward sounded over the intercom, announcing that the buffet was open, and all sandwiches were half-price. The buffet car, the voice said, was located near the rear of the train.
A fellow passenger turned to me to ask a question. It was a member of a species posessing only one eye, and very deep-set in its face, so that it only had a very narrow field of vision, just an angle of a couple of degrees at most. I wondered how such an inconvenient state of being should have evolved, but then thought, we all know people whose eyeballs are held up above their heads on stalks, allowing them a full 360-degree field of vision, and our own state of being, with both eyes facing forwards so we can't see behind us, must seem equally bizarre and limiting to them.
Anyhow, my fellow passenger's question was as follows: which direction was the rear of the train (and hence buffet car)?
The question perplexed me, since the scenery was flashing past the window and it seemed obvious to me which direction was the front and which the rear. However, when I expressed this opinion my companion confessed it found it very difficult to work out.
"When I look out of the window on one side, the scenery goes from right to left. When I look the other side, it goes from left to right. So which direction is the rear?"
The direction to which the scenery goes, I said, and the direction from which it comes is the front.
"But it doesn't go to or come from either side," it protested. "And when I look _along_ the carriage, I can't see the scenery at all."
"Look to one side, observe which direction the scenery is going, and you go that way too, and you will find the rear and the buffet car," I said.
"I can't follow the scenery!" it wailed. "I'm not going out through the window!"
I gave up, held up my finger where the poor creature could see it and pointed the way to walk. It left me.
Before I could return to reading my book, I was accosted by another passenger, a robot this time.
"Do you mind moving to another carriage?" it asked in an annoyed tone. "This is a low-smell carriage and your smell is too strong."
I assured the fellow that I could smell nothing, and had washed that very day.
"It's nothing personal. We have very sensitive olfactory sensors, and all humans smell foul to us. I specifically requested a low-smell carriage to avoid such a pong as yours."
I protested that the creatures in the other carriages smelt foul to me, and this was the only one where the air smelt fresh. The robot sympathised, but pointed to signs supporting its position. "You have quiet coaches, do you not, where people are not supposed to make excessive noise? This is the same, only for smell, and you humans smell too strongly."
"But I can't help smelling!"
"That's too bad. Some human children can't help being noisy, but that fact doesn't entitle them to plague the quiet coach."
"Can't you turn your smell sensors off?"
"Then I wouldn't be able to smell what people were doing around me, or smell any important announcements. You wouldn't like to be told to wear earplugs in a quiet carriage, would you?"
I had no answer to that, moved to another carriage and travelled the rest of the journey hodig by doze.
Martin
A fellow passenger turned to me to ask a question. It was a member of a species posessing only one eye, and very deep-set in its face, so that it only had a very narrow field of vision, just an angle of a couple of degrees at most. I wondered how such an inconvenient state of being should have evolved, but then thought, we all know people whose eyeballs are held up above their heads on stalks, allowing them a full 360-degree field of vision, and our own state of being, with both eyes facing forwards so we can't see behind us, must seem equally bizarre and limiting to them.
Anyhow, my fellow passenger's question was as follows: which direction was the rear of the train (and hence buffet car)?
The question perplexed me, since the scenery was flashing past the window and it seemed obvious to me which direction was the front and which the rear. However, when I expressed this opinion my companion confessed it found it very difficult to work out.
"When I look out of the window on one side, the scenery goes from right to left. When I look the other side, it goes from left to right. So which direction is the rear?"
The direction to which the scenery goes, I said, and the direction from which it comes is the front.
"But it doesn't go to or come from either side," it protested. "And when I look _along_ the carriage, I can't see the scenery at all."
"Look to one side, observe which direction the scenery is going, and you go that way too, and you will find the rear and the buffet car," I said.
"I can't follow the scenery!" it wailed. "I'm not going out through the window!"
I gave up, held up my finger where the poor creature could see it and pointed the way to walk. It left me.
Before I could return to reading my book, I was accosted by another passenger, a robot this time.
"Do you mind moving to another carriage?" it asked in an annoyed tone. "This is a low-smell carriage and your smell is too strong."
I assured the fellow that I could smell nothing, and had washed that very day.
"It's nothing personal. We have very sensitive olfactory sensors, and all humans smell foul to us. I specifically requested a low-smell carriage to avoid such a pong as yours."
I protested that the creatures in the other carriages smelt foul to me, and this was the only one where the air smelt fresh. The robot sympathised, but pointed to signs supporting its position. "You have quiet coaches, do you not, where people are not supposed to make excessive noise? This is the same, only for smell, and you humans smell too strongly."
"But I can't help smelling!"
"That's too bad. Some human children can't help being noisy, but that fact doesn't entitle them to plague the quiet coach."
"Can't you turn your smell sensors off?"
"Then I wouldn't be able to smell what people were doing around me, or smell any important announcements. You wouldn't like to be told to wear earplugs in a quiet carriage, would you?"
I had no answer to that, moved to another carriage and travelled the rest of the journey hodig by doze.
Martin
