Simon was having a tough day in the library. He had been trying to come up with a way of linking Saussurian structural theory to the works of Timothy Leary, and it wasn�t gelling. He was contemplating giving up for a while and finding someone sufficiently stupid on the Manics forum to make condescending remarks to. Before he could do so, a shadow fell across the William Gibson novel he had been flicking through. He looked up.
Before him stood a young woman, slim, with dark wavy hair. Through the haze of structural analysis going through his mind, he couldn�t help but observe that she was rather attractive. He felt a certain stirring in his loins, and hastily flicked a sheet of notes on Barthes and the modern imagination across his lap, so as to disguise his arousal.
�Excuse me,� she said, �My name�s Hannah. I�m in town for the Women in Mental Health Conference, and I was looking for the Gender Studies section.
Damn, thought Simon, she seemed far too attractive for a lesbian. Still, he decided to console himself by coming up with a suitably witty and patronising remark.
He leaned back and gazed at her with a look that he hoped was both flirtatious and condescending at the same time. �Ahhhhhh, but gender is merely a construct imposed on socio-cultural structures and functions, rather than a part of the noumena. Work on transcending the body and free yourself from imposed symbols.�
He smiled at her, confident that she would be cowed by his superior thinking.
�But the body,� she replied, �is a part of a biological given upon which cultures imposes its objects and symbols. The body dictates our existential state and defines our interaction with the sensory world.�
She cocked her head and peered coquettishly into his eyes. �Believe me, I know all about the body.�
Simon was taken aback. �I see you have an impressive intellect,� he said, as his gaze fell downwards, causing him to note that she did indeed have an impressive pair of intellects.
�So,� she smiled, �Are you going to show me the way to the Gender Studies section or not?�
Simon struggled to compose himself and appear calm. �Why, yes,� he said. �As it happens, I was just on my way to the Post-Modern Theory section, which is right next to the Gender Studies section. Follow me.�
He started in the direction of Gender Studies. She began to follow him, never taking her eyes off him. He couldn�t help but notice how seductively her hips swung when she walked.
�Oh, but don�t you find Post-Modern Theory a bore?� she said, her voice suddenly becoming soft and husky, �All that angst about the death of the Real? Don�t you sometimes yearn for something���..real, Simon?�
�How do you know my name?� Simon sputtered incredulously.
�I know a lot about you. I know what you've been doing. I know why you hardly sleep, why you live alone, and why night after night you sit at your computer, posting on the Manics forum.�
Suddenly, Simon began to wonder if the mysterious Hannah was part of the New Age cult that he�d been reading about earlier in the Fortean Times, and whether he was going to wake up in a bathtub of ice with his kidney removed.
�You're looking for him,� she continued, �You�re looking for Forum Clique. I know, because I was once looking for the same thing. And when he found me, he told me I wasn't really looking for him. I was looking for an answer. It's the question that drives us, Simon. It's the question that brought you here. You know the question just as I did.�
Without even thinking, Simon knew what the question was.
�What is the Manix?�
�Indeed,� she nodded. �Oh, here we are at the Gender Studies section.�
She began running a finger along a de Beauvoir text, while occasionally peering at him, still smiling.
�Would you like something that�s not post-modern, Simon?� she enquired. �Something�..real?�
It occurred to Simon that one thing that was real was that he wanted to give her a real good fucking on top of the library photocopier.
�Er, sure,� he said. �When and where?�
�Meet me at 7pm tomorrow evening at the intellectual coffee house at 23 Wilson Street,� she picked up the de Beauvoir book and headed towards the checkout desk. �In the meantime, maybe I�ll speak to you on the Manics forum, and you can click your little mouse at me.�
Just before turning the corner, she looked back at him and said, �You know how to click your mouse, don�t you? You just take it in your fist, and apply pressure with your fingers.�
And with that, she was gone�..
To Be Continued