Proposition One

Irma turned again to Wittgenstein.

If you're a philosopher, she said, you must have a philosophy. What is it, exactly?

It is laid out simply in my Tractatus, said Wittgenstein.

Eeuuw ! said Emma. What's your tractatus?

Now then, Emma! said Professor Freud. It is his famous philosophical publication the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Your sister was asking a serious question. Listen to the answer.

I have answered, said Wittgenstein.

No you haven't, said Irma. What does it say, the Tractatus?

Wittgenstein sighed.

It says: Proposition One: The world is all that is the case.

Most profound, said Professor Freud. What do you think, girls?

It's not, said Irma. Because it's obvious. What's Proposition Two?

Never mind that yet, said Wittgenstein. It generally takes people longer to understand Proposition One.

Well, I understand it, said Irma.

So do I, said Emma.

I don't, said Saint Nicholas. What about miracles?

Wittgenstein looked pained.

If a miracle can be shown to be a fact, then it is part of the logical world. But once it becomes a fact, it is no longer truly a miracle.

Steady on! cried Saint Nicholas. That isn't right! What about.....?

Are you a philosopher too? interrupted Emma.

No, said Saint Nicholas. I'm a saint. I thought you knew who I was.

You're a fat man who is really bad at Paintball, said Irma.

Well, thank you, said Saint Nicholas. Thank you very much. At least I joined in.

You did, said Professor Freud. And you will do better next time.

That might require a miracle, said Saint Nicholas.

Cheating

Irma watched in dismay as Wittgenstein burst out of the bunker firing his paintgun willynilly.

You idiot! she shouted. Get behind the bones!

But Wittenstein wasn't paying attention. He fired 6 yellow paintballs at Saint Nicholas who had come out from behind his bunker and was standing in the open.

Hey! shouted Saint Nicholas crossly. I'm out! Where's the referee?

Wittgenstein grabbed hold of his friend and frogmarched him back towards his bunker, where Emma was crouching.

Pow! Pow! Wittgenstein shot 2 yellow paintballs at Emma, who deftly slipped out of the way, and shot 5 red paintballs at Wittgenstein from her new position.

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! yelled Saint Nicholas, who had taken all five paintballs in the stomach because Wittgenstein was using him as a human shield.

Stop! cried Professor Freud. Stop this game at once!! The yellow team is disqualified for cheating! The red team is disqualified for failing to leave the field when hit!

What's this? said Wittgenstein. I haven't finished playing! I have to shoot this girl.

Too late, said Professor Freud. The game is over.

Good, said Saint Nicholas. Look at me. I'm covered in yellow and red paint.

Your own fault, said Professor Freud.

Don't worry comrade, said Emma. It washes out.

Well that was most diverting, said Wittgenstein. I'm having such a marvellous holiday from philosophy. What shall we do next?

How about we all go to the Ripple and Swirl Cafe for icecreams? said Saint Nicholas. My treat.

Yes! said Emma and Irma.

With pleasure, said Professor Freud.

Are we whisking? asked Wittgenstein.

I don't think I could manage that, said Saint Nicholas. We're going to have to walk.

No, no, said Professor Freud. We have plenty of bicycles here at the meatworks. And it's all down hill from here.

Red Team, Yellow Team

You, Herr Wittgenstein, said Professor Freud, can be on Irma's team. Irma will tell you what to do. Her team is the yellow team. Here are your overalls, here is your paintgun, and here are your paintballs. As you see, they are yellow. And this is Irma, he added, pointing to a little girl of about eleven.

Wittgenstein looked down at Irma. Irma looked up at him.

And you, Saint Nicholas, continued Professor Freud, will be on Emma's team. Emma is Irma's sister. Her team is the red team. Here are your things.

So it's two on two, is it? said Saint Nicholas. Hello Emma. You look rather like your sister.

We're twins, said Emma. And we're both really good, she added.

I like good children, said Saint Nicholas.

At Paintball, I mean, said Emma.

I shall of course be the referee, said Professor Freud. Now is everybody ready? Armbands on? Then go to your bunkers!

There were makeshift bunkers at either end of the meatworks yard, and piles of bones dotted about the middle. Wittgenstein and Irma withdrew to the far end and crouched behind their bunker.

What happens now? asked Wittgenstein.

Watch this, said Irma. She ran out from behind the bunker. Wittgenstein saw her dodge from bone pile to bone pile until she was directly behind the bunker of Saint Nicholas and her twin.

Ouch! he heard, and then Ouch! Ouch!

Saint Nicholas emerged from behind his bunker, covered in yellow paint. You're bunkered! yelled Irma.

Her sister leapt out from behind another pile of bones and shot three red paintballs at her in quick succession.

Ouch! Ouch! squawked Irma. Ouch! She looked down at herself. None of the paintballs had burst. She ran back to Wittgenstein.

That was brilliant! she said. I'm still in, but your friend's out. We're bound to win now, even though you're useless, she added.

No, I'm not, said Wittgenstein. I think I'm getting the hang of it. Sit tight. I'm going to shoot your sister.

The Rules of Paintball

Professor Freud spotted them at once. He walked towards them, pushing up his goggles.

How nice to see you, he said shaking each of them by the hand. But what are you doing here?

We are on holiday, said Wittgenstein. But we are not sure of what we're doing here.

Saint Nicholas and Herr Wittgenstein, said Professor Freud, since you are here, may I invite you to join us in a game of Paintball ?

I know a lot of games, said Saint Nicholas, due to my profession, but I do not know the rules of Paintball.

Nor do I, said Wittgenstein, because I know no games.

Language-games, said Saint Nicholas. You know a few of them.

Paintball is a simple game, gentlemen, said Professor Freud. You put on overalls and goggles, you choose a team, and you try to capture the flag of the other team. In order to do this each player has a gun that fires paintballs. If you are hit by a paintball it will explode and you will then have paint all over your overalls. When this happens, you are eliminated from the game.

That sounds easy said Wittgenstein, I am good at dodging.

No you aren't, said Saint Nicholas. You never pay attention.

And you are rather slow, said Wittgenstein. Because you are so fat.

I shall put you on different teams, said Professor Freud. By the way Saint Nicholas, I hope you will not be tempted to cheat. There are serious penalties for cheating.

Why are you picking on me? asked Saint Nicholas. Wittgenstein is just as likely to cheat as I am.

No he isn't, said Professor Freud. You said yourself he doesn't pay attention. It is you I am worried about, because I know that you can do miracles.

Oh, don't worry about him, said Wittgenstein. He has just done one. And can't do another for quite some time.

Professor Freud looked somewhat disappointed.

Old Meatworks

Walking downhill towards the lower track they found themselves looking at the opposite hillside. It was covered in prickly brown bushes. At the top, against the skyline, was a series of joined-together structures.

What do you think that is? asked Saint Nicholas.

A ruin, said Wittgenstein. Lets climb up and see.

Alright, said Saint Nicholas.

I say, he added, after a while, do you get the feeling that we are not behaving consistently with our characters?

Yes, said Wittgenstein, I do. Perhaps it is because we are on holiday.

I hope that is all it is, said Saint Nicholas, as he continued trudging upwards through the prickles.

I feel, said Wittgenstein, as though we are going through the motions of things that have already happened in the lives of others.

So do I, said Saint Nicholas. And I don't like it. I wonder if I can still do miracles? Shall I try one?

Yes, try one. Whisk us up to the top of the hill, said Wittgenstein.

Saint Nicholas whisked them up to the top of the hill.

They found themselves inside a compound surrounded by a high fence topped with barbed wire.

This is an old meatworks, said Wittgenstein, reading a sign. It's horrible, can you get us out?

You may have to wait, said Saint Nicholas. I can't do continuous whisking. Look! There are some people over there.

I hope they are not terrorists, said Wittgenstein.

They aren't, said Saint Nicholas. They are playing paintball. And if I'm not mistaken one of them is our old friend Professor Freud!

Escape

The editors of Velosophy are not too happy with Professor Freud's contribution.

The VeloDrone: The old prankster! What's he playing at. Paintball!

Le Bon David: A picnic!

The VeloDrone: Using us as an answering service!

Le Bon David: And where is the philosophical content?

The VeloDrone: There is none. And what is the point of repeatedly trying to prove Galileo's laws? Haven't they been proven already?

Le Bon David: Never mind that. The real point is, will our readers like it?

The VeloDrone: From bitter experience, I predict that they will.

Le Bon David: Which means....

The VeloDrone: There's going to be this beastly picnic to organise.

Le Bon David: And attend! A Paintball picnic with Professor Freud. Spare us!

The VeloDrone: I think I know how to get out of it. We'll pretend that we're going away. Better still, we'll really go away. We could say we were going on business.

Le Bon David: Yes! On business! Some research for the magazine that can't possibly be put off.

The VeloDrone: Brilliant! And I know exactly where we can go.

Le Bon David: Where ?

The VeloDrone: Trust me. I'll organise everything. Just make sure your bicycle's ready.

Galileo's Bicycle, by Professor Freud

To the Editors of Velosophy

Dear Friends,

Please find enclosed my final draft of Galileo's Bicycle for inclusion in your magazine. I trust the small embarrassment at the Tour Down Under is now behind us. These things tend to happen when one gets over-excited. As you will see, I make light of it in my article.

GALILEO'S BICYCLE.

Did Galileo have a bicycle? No, we can be fairly certain he did not. This is merely an example of the free association of ideas, incidentally invented by myself. But that is by the way.

In what way is it an example of the free association of ideas? In this way. I was recently reading a book called Weighing the Soul, by Len Fisher. In it he describes how he once used a bicycle to demonstrate Galileo's laws of constant velocity and projectile motion.

He rode his bicycle at constant speed past his local pub, challenging onlookers to guess where a stone would land after he threw it straight up in the air. Thirty percent guessed that it would land behind him, but Mr Fisher's demonstration confirmed Galileo's prediction that it would keep moving forward at the same speed.

And how did this happen? In a most comical way. The stone landed directly on top of his head!

I myself have tried to reproduce this experiment, most recently at the Tour Down under, to the amusement onlookers, when the team I was part of was disqualified for throwing stones.

Nor was it a worthwhile exercise. My team mates refused to cooperate and did not throw their stones properly. Indeed, one of them was seen throwing his stone at a tree!

As a result of this, I have come up with a new and more modern way of testing Galileo's Laws, as they apply to Paintball.

Let us say you are firing your Paintball at a person jumping out of a tree. The question is, should you fire at the person, or should you fire below the person at the point where you expect him to be when the Paintball reaches the tree?

Are there any Paintball enthusiasts amongst the readers of Velosophy interested in a Paintball afternoon some time in the coming weeks? If you are, please let me know, through the editors. You may, of course, bring your bicycles. And perhaps we might organise a picnic.