Is There a Problem Here

The Webster stories, "Webster's Diction" , are best read in order.

This story is lecture #6, part of a series of lectures given by Professor Webster. The lectures are ordered as follows:
#1 is "The Color of God" 
#2 is "Silence in G Minor" 
#3 is "Three Hats, a Blind Man and a Dime" 
#4 is "Aristotle’s Pigeons" 
#5 is "Waiter, There is Fate in my Soup" 

Is There a Problem Here

“Good morning, everyone,” he says in a tolerant voice.

“Did you do something with your hair, sir?” Carlisle couldn’t help himself.

“I’m Professor Randolph.” Continued Joseph Randolph, hunk of the math department and part-time dream caster to most of the school’s young ladies. “I will be standing in for Professor Webster today. I’m afraid he’s a little under the weather.”

‘You’ll have to move around very quickly if you expect to stand in his place, I mean, he covers a lot of space.’ Carlisle squeezes his banter out of the side of his mouth, to Cabra, who is siting next to him today.

Cole is attentive as usual, although Gupta thinks perhaps she is she is a little too attentive.

Professor Randolph paces the floor on the balls of his feet, as if he is ready to break into a sprint at any moment. “Professor Webster did share some lecture notes with me, however, quite honestly, I was perplexed,” Randolph says as he prepares to run out of the room, “something about dreams and candy and fluffy white clouds.”

‘And pulling white rabbits out of a hat.’ Carlisle makes a snorting sound and gets a chuckle out of Cabra this time.

“Who is Carlisle,” Randolph asks panning the room, “it says something here about rabbit-tails and good-luck on a quiz. I don’t know, it’s all quite mystifying, I must say.”

Carlisle looks around the room, as if looking for himself.

“Anyway, I thought it might be fun to work on a couple of logic problems. They are not quite as eventful as a Webster lecture, but they are sure to exercise the noggin.” Randoph taps his temple and gives an innocuous wink, which Gupta is sure is directed at Cole.

“The first problem is as follows,” Randolph continues, unburdened by the weight of Guptas large round eyes, “You are a young person on your first day at work in a grocery warehouse. Your boss calls on you with a sense of urgency, and you aim to please, of course.”

“ He shows you three large wooden crates, one labeled ‘Oranges,’ one labeled ‘Apples,’ and one labeled ‘Apples and Oranges.’ ”

“He tells you that he has just received word from the grower that each box has been mislabeled. That is, the box labeled ‘Oranges’ does not carry oranges, the box labeled ‘Apples’ does not carry apples, and the box labeled ‘Apples and Oranges’ does not carry apples and oranges.”

“The ability to ship these boxes to the right stores is imperative and freshness is equally important, so, your boss gives you the following directive: ”

“You are allowed to create a hole the size of your fist, but only in one box, you will then put your hand in, touch only one piece of fruit and then, quickly, properly label every box. You have ten minutes.” Randolph points to the faceless clock above Webster’s desk, on which someone has written, ‘time sucks, and then you die.’

Well, don’t just sit there looking at the clock, wondering if Webster is the delinquent tormentor of time, get on with it, the clock is ticking, albeit a little fast.

“Alright, our time is up, who can label these boxes for me?” Says Randolph, as he scans the room with his compass-like forefinger.

Cole’s content look gives her success away, but she wants to give someone else an opportunity. Gupta was pleased that she remained quietly his own, but he was unhappy with his success, having drawn circles and squares to no avail and, truth be-told, creating notes that differed little from his usual scribbles.

Randolph’s finger points to true north, where he finds Ms. Lauren’s half-raised hand. “Yes Miss, do you have an answer for us?”

To which she replied first with her gleaming eyes and soon thereafter with a valid answer, “You cut your hole in the ‘Apple and Oranges’ labeled box, because you know it does not carry apples and oranges. If you feel an orange, you know it must be the orange box. So you label it ‘Orange.’ If this box is the ‘Orange’ box, then you know that the remaining boxes carry apples and, apples and oranges. You also know that the ‘Apple’ box is mislabeled, so it must, in-fact, be the ‘Apples and Oranges’ box. This means the box originally labeled as ‘Oranges’ must be the ‘Apple’ box.” Her smile is as wide as Gupta’s eyes.

“Well done!” Randolph springs to his feet, looking as if he might leap across the room, “well done.”

“I will leave you with a tougher one, and you may take it home with you, seeing as it is almost 3:30.” Randolph looks to Webster’s clock questioningly, while his own watch says 3:10.

“Here we go. A tribe of savage Logicians capture these two young men,” Randolph points to Cabra and Carlisle.

‘I smell Webster all over this one,’ Carlisle thinks to himself.

“This savage tribe ties each one of them to a tree,” Randolph speaks in the plural, but points to Carlisle. “Once secure, the scatter-haired leader of the tribe approaches.”

“I knew it was Webster.” Carlisle whispers to Cabra who is trying hard not to be disrupted.

Randolph looks to the rest of the class, “the leader of the tribe speaks,” Randolph is as bad at accents as Webster is, leaving many students wondering exactly what galaxy this tribe comes from, “gentlemen, there is a little game we play with our captives. I will ask you each to make a statement (not a question). If your statement is true, we will burn you at the stake, if your statement is false, we will boil you in oil.” Randolph coughs to try to get his own voice back. “Tough choice gentlemen, tough choice.”

Randolph points to Cabra, letting him off-the-hook, though Cabra is not sure this is a good thing.

“The first gentleman answers,” Randolph speaks on behalf of Cabra, “the grass in Kentucky is blue.” Cabra is mildly relieved that there was no accent. “Well, the chief disagrees and promptly orders that he be boiled in oil.” Cabra’s relief is admittedly short-lived.

“Your job tonight is to help this other gentleman come up with a statement that will spare his life.” Randolph points to Carlisle.

“Thank you for your patience, I’m sure Professor Webster will be back next week. You all can offer your answer directly to "Professor Webster's Mail Box" .”

Gupta’s Notes:

Gupta’s alone tonight. As the first flurries of winter chill him unexpectedly, he looks out his second floor window, no longer planning on Cole’s surprise visit.

Cole has been having difficulty with a geometry assignment this week and Professor Randolph’s unplanned appearance gave her occasion to spend some time with him after class, which she clearly was in need of. She signaled that Gupta should call her tonight, by holding her pinky and thumb up to her ear, as she briskly walked passed him, wishing not to lose the opportunity for Randolph’s attention, because, as we all know, Randolph has the ability to leap out of the room with little forewarning.

Gupta will sip hot tea tonight, with downhearted thoughts of Cole and Randolph and isoscelic shapes as his only company. He watches the sweet Pongal thaw, untouched, finding emptiness the only meal his belly can bear.

The next lecture is "It's a Matter of Fact"