"What do you do with these things?"

"I give them names."

"Names?"

"I invent new words that will correspond to the things."

"Ah. Now I see. But how do you decide? How do you know if you've found the right word?"

"I never make a mistake. It's a function of my genius."

"Could you give me an example?"

"Of one of my words?"

"Yes.”

"I’m sorry, but that won't be possible. It's my secret, you understand. Once I've published my book, you and the rest of the world will know. But for now I have to keep it to myself."

"Classified information."

"That's right. Top secret.

“I’m sorry.”

"You shouldn't be too disappointed. It won't be long now before I've put my findings in order. Then great things will begin to happen. It will be the most important event in the history of mankind.

The second meeting took place a little past nine o'clock the following morning. It was Sunday, and Stillman had emerged from the hotel an hour later than usual. He walked the two blocks to his customary breakfast place, the Mayflower Cafe, and sat down in a corner booth at the back. Quinn, growing bolder now, followed the old man into the restaurant and sat down in the same booth, directly opposite him. For a minute or two Stillman seemed not to notice his presence. Then, looking up from his menu, he studied Quinn's face in an abstract sort of way. He apparently did not recognize him from the day before.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"I don't think so," said Quinn. "My name is Henry Dark."

"Ah," Stillman nodded. "A man who begins with the essential. I like that."

"I’m not one to beat around the bush," said Quinn.

"The bush? What bush might that be?"

"The burning bush, of course."

"Ah, yes. The burning bush. Of course." Stillman looked Quinn's face-a little more carefully now, but also with what seemed to be a certain confusion. "I'm sorry," he went on, "but don't remember your name. I recall that you gave it to me no long ago, but now it seems to be gone."

"Henry Dark," said Quinn.

"So it is. Yes, now it comes, back to me. Henry Dark." Stillman paused for a long moment and then shook his head. "Unfortunately, that's not possible, sir."

"Why not?"

"Because there is no Henry Dark."

"Well, perhaps I'm another Henry Dark. As opposed to the one who doesn't exist."

"Hmmm. Yes, I see your point. It is true that two people sometimes have the same name. It's quite possible that your name is Henry Dark. But you're not the Henry Dark."

"Is he a friend of yours?"

Stillman laughed, as if at a good joke. “Not exactly," he said. "You see, there never was any such person as Henry Dark. I made him up. He's an invention."

"No," said Quinn, with feigned disbelief.

"Yes. He's a character in a book I once wrote. A figment."

"I find that hard to accept."

“So did everyone else. I fooled them all."

"Amazing. Why in the world did you do it?"

"I needed him, you see. I had certain ideas at the time that were too dangerous and controversial. So I pretended they had come from someone else. It was a way of protecting myself"

"How did you decide on the name Henry Dark?"

"It's a good name, don't you think? I like it very much. Full of mystery, and at the same time quite proper. It suited my purpose well. And besides, it had a secret meaning."

"The allusion to darkness?"

"No, no. Nothing so obvious. It was the initials, H.D. That was very important."

"How so?"

"Don't you want to guess?"

"I don't think so."

"Oh, do try. Make three guesses. If you don't get it, then I'll tell you."

Quinn paused for a moment, trying to give it his best effort. “H.D.," he said. "For Henry David? As in Henry David Thoreau."

"Not even close."

"How about H. D. pure and simple? For the poet Hilda Doolittle.

"Worse than the first one."

"All right, one more guess. H. D. H… and D… Just a moment… How about… Just a moment… Ah… Yes, here we are. H for the weeping philosopher, Heraclitus… and D for the laughing philosopher, Democritus. Heraclitus and Democritus… the two poles of the dialectic."

"A very clever answer."

"Am I right?"

"No, of course not. But a clever answer just the same."

"You can't say I didn't try."

"No, I can't. That’s why I'm going to reward you with the correct answer. Because you tried. Are you ready?"

"Ready."

"The initials H.D. in the name Henry Dark refer to Humpty Dumpty. "

"Who?"

"Humpty Dumpty. You know who I mean. The egg."

"As in 'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.'?"

"Exactly.

"I don't understand."

"Humpty Dumpty: the purest embodiment of the human condition. Listen carefully, sir. What is an egg? It is that which has not yet been born. A paradox, is it not? For how can Humpty Dumpty be alive if he has not been born? And yet, he is alive-make no mistake. We know that because he can speak. More than that, he. is a philosopher of language. 'When I use a word, Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, it means just what I choose it to mean-neither more nor less. The question is, said Alice, whether you can make words mean so many different things. The question is, said Humpty Dumpty, which is to be master-that's all.

"Lewis Carroll."

"Through the Looking Glass, chapter six."

"Interesting.”

"It's more than interesting, sir. It's crucial. Listen carefully, and perhaps you will learn something. In his little speech to Alice, Humpty Dumpty sketches the future of human hopes and gives the clue to our salvation: to become masters of the words we speak, to make language answer our needs. Humpty Dumpty was a prophet, a man who spoke truths the world was not ready for."

"A man?"

"Excuse me. A slip of the tongue. I mean an egg. But the slip is instructive and helps to prove my point. For all men are eggs, in a manner of speaking. We exist, but we have not yet achieved the form that is our destiny. We are pure potential, an example of the not-yet-arrived. For man is a fallen creature-we know that from Genesis. Humpty Dumpty is also a fallen creature. He falls from his wall, and no one can put him back together again-neither the king, nor his horses, nor his men. But that is what we must all now strive to do. It is our duty as human beings: to put the egg back together again. For each of us, sir, is Humpty Dumpty. And to help him is to help ourselves."

"A convincing argument."

"It's impossible to find a flaw in it."

"No cracks in the egg."

"Exactly."

"And, at the same time, the origin of Henry Dark."

"Yes. But there is more to it than that. Another egg, in fact. "

"There's more than one?"

"Good heavens, yes. There are millions of them. But the one I have in mind is particularly famous. It's probably the most celebrated egg of all.

"You're beginning to lose me."

"I'm speaking of Columbus 's egg."

"Ah, yes. Of course."

"You know the story?"

"Everyone does."

"It's charming, is it not? When faced with the problem of how to stand an egg on its end, he merely tapped slightly on the bottom, cracking the shell just enough to create a certain flatness that would support the egg when he removed his hand."

"It worked."

"Of course it worked. Columbus was a genius. He sought paradise and discovered the New World. It is still not too late for it to become paradise."

"Indeed.

"I admit that things have not worked out too well yet. But there is still hope. Americans have never lost their desire to discover new worlds. Do you remember what happened in 1969?"

"I remember many things. What do you have in mind?"

"Men walked on the moon. Think of that, dear sir. Men walked on the moon!"