Sheep-benet opens the big book that the ghost hands him.
Is it a dictionary?
It’s THE dictionary. It contains all the elements of language to be used in an instructional situation. The seal of the ministry, see how it glitters! My little sheep, we have to hide it quickly, this engineering perfidy. The lady has done too much harm here. Go to the library. Wedge her between two books. Aristophanes, Ionesco, whatever. Plays. They won’t look for it there.
Is that what engineering is? A simple book? Why be afraid of a dictionary?
I was a principal in this school before I was hanged. In my office… A sulphurous hanging… Headlines everywhere, in every mailbox. I’m sorry. You know, Beefcake… you’re raising the bar. Allow me. There’s always a lucid one with every promotion. My death was shortly after the opening of the first class. The book didn’t have the same cover, but it was basically the same. I had to conform to it. Contort my soul into that box of degrees. Creativity, students, good ideas… gone, gone. The poor kids didn’t learn anymore. They were babbling like you are bleating today.
But to hide it, it’s il-lé-gal, Sir, isn’t it?
The ghost shrugs his shoulders and leaves the stage; Mouton-benet remains forbidden, the book open in his hands. He leafs through it.
Writing reference. To close the field of possibilities. Cognitive walk. Impactation. Neuronal effervescence. And… let’s see? A unicausal approach that erases all the determinants that are going to have an impact… Uh oh. None of this makes sense to me. Am I already infested?
Beefcake closes the book.