Laure: how did you get that name, anyway? Are you French?
Half French.
That’s something. That saves you – partly.
You know who the original Laure was, don’t you? The unstable girlfriend of Georges Bataille. Have you heard of him?
I don’t think I have.
He was a mad philosopher. And she wrote deranged poetry and mad essays. And died terribly young. I wonder whether you have any Laure-ness about you …
What’s your role in all, Laure? Are you, like, a mole in Organisational Management? Are you for it or against it? Were you for it and now you’ve flipped? Are you a double agent? Playing both sides? Are you hedging your bets until you see who wins? Do you believe in Organisational Management?
I know there are supposed to be philosophers here. Pragmatic ones, who went where the money was. Who got Business Studies scholarships to fund their PhDs. Smart move, now that humanities PhD funding has dried up. And who found themselves Business Studies jobs … Which allow them to hide in plain sight …
They thought they could just lead lives in secret, in business studies departments. Recognising each other by secret handshakes. Nodding in the corridors. Occasionally meeting in secret for philosophy reading groups. Is that what you are? Are you one of them?
I’m – not – one -of – them.
Then what are you doing here? You don’t believe in any of this. I can tell. Come on – you must have some instinct for freedom. You must know that all this is wrong. You must be very lonely, Laure.
I am lonely, philosopher.
Lonely on this campus, I mean. In the Apex … It’s like you’re part of a philosophy sleeper cell. That even you don’t know about. It’s like you’ve been programmed and then brain-wiped. Like a goodie version of Jason Bourne …
You want to believe in me. That’s nice.
Work in Progress 