Harry Potter and the Way of Reason

Those things that can be destroyed by Rowling should be destroyed. [2]

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Harry lay on the soft cot, staring at the ceiling of the small room.He ate a bunch of Professor Quirrell's treats—super-intricate desserts, made of chocolate and other substances, sprinkled with little glittery dots, dotted with sugar gemstones, looking expensive, and It is indeed delicious.Harry didn't feel guilty at all, he earned it.

He didn't try to sleep.Harry had a hunch he wouldn't like what happened when he closed his eyes.

He didn't try to read.He couldn't concentrate at all.

The funny thing is, Harry's brain seems to be running non-stop, no matter how tired he is.His brain would go a little bit dumber, but refuses to shut down.

But it was true that he felt a real sense of victory.

Anti-Dark Lord Harry Project, +1 is not enough to sum up the feeling at all.Harry wondered what the Sorting Hat would say if it were put on his head at this moment.

No wonder Professor Quirrell felt that Harry was on his way to becoming the Dark Lord.Harry was so slow to react, he should have seen it right away—

You know, the Dark Lord didn't win that day.His purpose was to learn martial arts, but he left without learning anything.

Harry's purpose in Potions class is to learn potions.He left without learning anything.

After Professor Quirrell heard about this, he understood all this with great precision, and then stretched out his hand, dragging Harry away from the path that would make him a copy of the You-Know-Who.

Someone knocked on the door. "get out of class is over." Professor Quirrell said softly.

Harry made his way to the door, finding himself suddenly anxious.Then, when he heard Professor Quirrell's footsteps gradually moving away from the door, the tension disappeared.

What exactly is going on?Is this what will finally get him fired?

Harry opened the door to see Professor Quirrell waiting for him some distance away.

Did Professor Quirrell feel it too?

They walked across the deserted steps to Professor Quirrell's desk, and Professor Quirrell leaned back against the desk; and Harry, just like before, stopped not far from the podium.

"So," said Professor Quirrell.For some reason, he comes across as friendly, even if his expression remains as serious as ever. "What do you want to talk to me about, Mr. Potter?"

I have a mysterious dark side.But Harry couldn't just say it outright.

"Professor Quirrell," said Harry, "have I now left the path of becoming the Dark Lord?"

Professor Quirrell looked at Harry. "Mr. Porter," he said solemnly, with only a small smile, "I have an advice for you. There is a flaw called being too perfect. Real people don't just stand up after being beaten and humiliated for 15 minutes , and graciously forgive their enemies. You're trying to convince everyone that you're not evil, not—"

"I can't believe it! You can't make every possible observation confirm your theory!"

"And you're outraged."

"How can I convince you?"

"Convince me that you don't want to be the Dark Lord?" said Professor Quirrell, who now seemed to be laughing openly. "Just raise your right hand."

"What?" Harry said blankly. "But I can lift it whether I want to be the Dark Lord or not—" Harry closed his mouth, feeling even stupider.

"That's right," said Professor Quirrell, "you can do it anyway. Nothing you can do will convince me, because I know exactly what you want to do. If we want to be more precise, let's say, really Even if I have never seen the kind of perfect and good person that is almost impossible to exist, even so, he cannot get up immediately after being surrounded for 15 minutes and forgive his attacker with great mercy. On the other hand, It is less likely that a child would imagine that he could play such a role as to convince his teachers and schoolmates that he was not the Dark Lord. Actions convey more than what they appear to be, Mr. Potter, It's about what kind of consciousness is more or less likely to make you act on the level of consciousness."

Harry blinked.A wizard had just explained to him the difference between representativeness heuristics and evidence as defined by Bayes.

"But on the other hand," said Professor Quirrell, "anybody can want to impress their friends. It doesn't have to be evil. So, without taking your answer as any evidence, Tell me the truth, Mr. Potter. What was going through your head when you forbade vengeance? Did you really forgive them? Or did you know what your fellow students would think of your actions?"

Sometimes we will come to a song of our own phoenix.

But Harry couldn't say it out loud.Professor Quirrell will definitely not believe him, and maybe he will look down on him because of this clumsy lie.

After a while of silence, Professor Quirrell smiled with satisfaction. "Believe it or not, Mr. Potter," said Professor Quirrell, "you needn't be afraid of me discovering your secret. I won't make you give up on being the next Dark Lord. If I could go back in time and somehow bring this Ambition was removed from my childhood self, and I don't benefit from it now. During my days with the Dark Lord as my goal, it was my motivation to learn, to refine myself, to make myself stronger. We are Be who we are meant to be by following our desires, no matter where that desire leads us. This is Salazar's point. If you ask me which section of the library those books I browsed when I was 13 are in , I'd be more than happy to lead the way."

"It's all nonsense," said Harry, plopping down on the hard marble floor and lying down, staring straight at the vaulted ceiling.He had broken down hopelessly in the way that would least hurt him.

"You're still too angry," Professor Quirrell said on the sidelines.Harry didn't look at him, but he could hear a suppressed smile in his voice.

Then Harry reacted.

"Actually, I think I know what you've misunderstood," said Harry. "That's what I want to talk to you about. Professor Quirrell, I think you're seeing my mysterious dark side."

pause.

"Your... dark side..."

Harry sat up.Professor Quirrell was staring at him with the strangest expression on his face that Harry had ever seen, let alone someone as majestic as Professor Quirrell.

"When I'm angry," Harry explained. "My blood would turn cold, everything would turn cold, and everything would become crystal clear... Looking back, it's been a while—my first year at Muggle school, and someone tried to snatch it during recess." My ball, I hid the ball behind my back and kicked him in the solar plexus, I read in the book that the solar plexus is a weakness, and the other kids didn't mess with me after that. My I bit my math teacher when she wouldn't let me take the lead. But only recently, I've been under so much pressure that I finally figured out that it's actually, you know, the dark side of the mystery, not what the school therapist said, just Temper control issues. And while this was happening, I didn't get any super magic powers, and that was the first thing I checked."

Professor Quirrell rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Let me think about it," he said.

Harry waited in silence for a full minute.He used the time to stand up, which was more difficult than he expected.

"Okay," said Professor Quirrell after a while. "It seems that there are still some arguments that can convince me."

"I've guessed that my dark side is just another part of me and the solution isn't never to be angry but learn to control yourself by accepting it and I'm not stupid or anything and I've seen it a lot , I know how it's going to go, but it's difficult and you seem like someone who can help me."

"Well...that's right...very perceptive, Mr Potter, I must say...as you've guessed, that part of you is your killing tendencies, and you said it's part of who you are... ..."

"Then that tendency needs training," said Harry, going through the whole exposition pattern.

"Then this tendency needs training, yes." Professor Quirrell's expression was still very strange. "Mr. Potter, if you really don't want to become the next Dark Lord, then what is the ambition that the Sorting Hat tried to persuade you to give up, and also the ambition that made you elected into Slytherin?"

"I was drafted into Ravenclaw!"

"Mr. Potter," said Professor Quirrell, finally returning to his usual indifferent smile, "I know you think everyone around you is a fool, but please don't confuse me with them. The Sorting Hat decided to The chances of you playing its first prank in 800 years on your head are too low to even be worth considering. I think you invented a simple and clever way to resist the reaction on the hat by snapping your fingers. Intervention spells are also less likely, but not impossible; I can't think of a way to do that myself. But by far the most likely explanation is that Dumbledore doesn't like hats. A choice made by the boy who didn't die. It's obvious to anyone with even an ounce of common sense, so your secrets are safe at Hogwarts."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it helplessly.Professor Quirrell was wrong, but so convincingly wrong that Harry began to think that this was a reasonable judgment that Professor Quirrell knew.There are times when you can't predict when, but there are times when you will encounter unrealistic situations and your best guesses will be wrong.If you're taking a medical test that's only going to be wrong once in a thousand, sometimes it'll go wrong anyway.

"May I ask you not to repeat to anyone what I'm going to say in a moment?" said Harry.

"Of course," said Professor Quirrell. "Just pretend I know."

Harry wasn't fooled either. "Can I take it as your promise?"

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Of course you may think so."

"Professor Quirrell—"

"I won't repeat to anyone what you're going to say later." Professor Quirrell smiled.

They both laughed, and then Harry looked serious. "The Sorting Hat seems to think that if I don't go to Hufflepuff, I'm going to become the Dark Lord," said Harry. "But I don't want to be the Dark Lord."

"Mr. Potter..." said Professor Quirrell. "Don't get me wrong. I promise I won't judge you by your answers. I just want to know your own honest answers. Why not?"

Harry felt that sense of helplessness again.Thou shalt not become the Dark Lord is such an obvious axiom in his moral system that it is difficult to actually lay out the proof step by step. "Well, will anyone else be hurt?"

"Of course you thought about hurting people," Professor Quirrell said. "You want to hurt the thugs today. Being the Dark Lord means hurting the people you want to hurt."

Harry hesitated about what to say, then decided to start with the most obvious. "First of all, just because I want to hurt someone doesn't make it right—"

"If it's not what you want to do, what's going to make it right?"

"Ah," said Harry, "preferred utilitarianism."[3]

"Excuse me?" said Professor Quirrell.

"It's a moral theory, and to be right is to satisfy the preferences of the majority—"

"No," said Professor Quirrell.He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't think that's what I want to say. At the end of the day, Mr. Porter, people do what they want to do. Sometimes people use words like 'correct' to name what they want to do, but we How is it possible to act on something other than our own desires?"

"Well, obviously," said Harry, "I wouldn't act ethically if moral considerations didn't move me. But that doesn't mean my desire to hurt Slytherin outweighs moral considerations." Impress me!"

Professor Quirrell blinked.

"Not to mention," said Harry, "that being the Dark Lord means a lot of innocent bystanders get hurt!"

"What does it matter to you?" said Professor Quirrell. "And what have they done for you?"

Harry laughed. "Oh, now that's as cunning as Atlas Shrugged."[4]

"Excuse me?" Professor Quirrell asked again.

"My parents wouldn't let me read this book, they thought it would corrupt me, so of course I read it, and then I was upset that they thought I was going to fall into such an obvious trap. Bar Blah blah blah, it's going to appeal to my sense of superiority, other people are trying to overpower me, blah blah blah—”

"So you're saying I need to hide my trap a bit?" said Professor Quirrell.He put a finger to his cheek and looked thoughtful. "I can try."

They both laughed.

"But back to the question," said Professor Quirrell, "what have other people done for you?"

"Other people have done a bunch of things for me!" said Harry. "My parents adopted me after my own parents died because they were good people, and becoming the Dark Lord is betraying all of that!"

Professor Quirrell was silent for a moment.

"I confess," said Professor Quirrell softly, "that it never occurred to me when I was your age."

"Sorry," Harry said.

"No need to apologize," said Professor Quirrell. "It was a long time ago, and I've worked my way out of my parents' problems. So the reason you're hesitating is because your parents will be disappointed? Does that mean that if they die in some accident, nothing will stop you-"

"No," said Harry. "Really not. It's their drive to be good that shapes me. And it's that drive that can be betrayed."

"Anyway, Mr. Potter, you haven't answered my original question," said Professor Quirrell. "What exactly is your ambition?"

"Oh," said Harry. "Hmm..." He organized his thoughts. "Understand everything that is necessary to understand the universe, apply that knowledge to make yourself omnipotent, and then use that power to rewrite reality a bit, because I have some issues with the way reality works right now."

The conversation between the two paused.

"Forgive me if this is a stupid question, Mr. Potter," said Professor Quirrell, "but are you sure you weren't just admitting that you wanted to be the Dark Lord?"

"Only if you do something bad with that power," Harry explained. "If you use this power to do good, you are the King of Light."

"I see," said Professor Quirrell.He tapped the other half of his face with his hand. "I think I can accept this statement. But Mr. Potter, while your ambition is already worthy of Salazar himself, what is your specific plan? Your first step is to become a powerful battle mage , or become Chief Reticent, or Minister for Magic, or—”

"The first step is to become a scientist."

Professor Quirrell looked at Harry as if Harry had just turned into a cat.

"Scientists," said Professor Quirrell after a moment.

Harry nodded.

"Scientist?" repeated Professor Quirrell.

"Yes," said Harry, "I will achieve my goal...with the power of science!"

"Scientists!" said Professor Quirrell.He looked angry, and his voice became louder and sharper. "You could be the best of all my students! The best battle mage at Hogwarts for 50 years! I can't imagine you wearing a white coat and wasting your days doing pointless things to rats superior!"

"Hey!" said Harry. "There's more to science than that! Of course, there's absolutely nothing wrong with experimenting on mice. But science is how you understand and control the universe—"

"That's silly," said Professor Quirrell, with quiet, bitter emotion in his voice. "You're so stupid, Harry Potter." He covered his face with his hands, and when he moved away, his expression calmed down a bit. "Or, more likely, you haven't found your true desire. May I strongly recommend that you go back to being the Dark Lord? I'll do what I can to help you, it's public service."

"You don't like science," Harry said slowly. "Why?"

"Those idiot Muggles are going to kill us all one day!" said Professor Quirrell, raising his voice. "They'll end everything! End everything!"

Harry was a little behind. "What are we talking about, nuclear weapons?"

"Yes, nuclear weapons!" Professor Quirrell was almost roaring now. "Even the one who can't be named never used it, maybe because he didn't want to sit on a pile of dust! Nuclear weapons shouldn't have been built! It's only going to get worse with time!" Quirrell The professor straightened up from the desk he was leaning on. "There are some doors you can't open, some seals you can't break! Those idiots who couldn't resist the temptation to mess around were killed early on by less serious dangers, and the rest of the survivors know that there are some secrets you can't Share it with those who aren't smart and disciplined enough to discover this secret for themselves! All powerful wizards understand this! Even the worst dark wizards understand it! And those idiot muggles don't seem to know it yet! Those eager little fools When they discovered the secret of nuclear weapons, they didn't keep it secret, they leaked it to the idiot politicians, and now we have to live under the threat of extermination!"

This point of view is very different from the one Harry grew up with.It never occurred to him that nuclear physicists should have established a pact of silence, pledging not to reveal the secrets of nuclear weapons to those who were not smart enough to become nuclear physicists.If nothing else, the idea itself is fascinating.Will they have a password?Will they wear masks?

(Actually, as far as Harry knows, physicists do have a whole bunch of assorted, unbelievably devastating secrets they don't tell, and nuclear weapons are the only ones that have slipped out. So no matter from Either way, the world is still the same to him.)

"I'll have to think," said Harry to Professor Quirrell. "This was a new idea for me. And one of the hidden secrets of science—some teachers, but not many, who teach their students this secret—is how to avoid hearing yourself When you come up with a new idea that you don’t like, immediately flush that new idea down the toilet.”

Professor Quirrell blinked again.

"Is there any science you like?" said Harry, "like medicine?"

"Space travel," said Professor Quirrell. "But Muggles seem to have been dragging the project; a project that would allow wizards to get away before they blow up the planet."

Harry nodded. "I'm also a fan of the space program. At least we still have that much in common."

Professor Quirrell looked at Harry.Something flashed in the professor's eyes. "I want you to promise, promise, swear that you will never tell what happened next."

"No problem," Harry answered instantly.

"Be careful, you keep your oath, you don't like the consequences of breaking it," said Professor Quirrell. "I'm going to cast a rare and powerful spell now, not on you, but on this classroom. Stand still so you don't touch the boundaries of the spell after casting it. You must not maintain this with me Magical interaction. Just watch. Otherwise I'll end the spell." Professor Quirrell paused. "Try not to fall, too."

Harry nodded, confused and expectant.

Professor Quirrell raised his wand, and then said something that Harry's ears and brain couldn't grasp at all, and the words bypassed his cognition and disappeared directly into memory.

A short circle of marble around Harry's feet remained.All other marble floors, walls and ceilings are gone.

Harry stood on a small circle of white marble, in the middle of an endless starry sky, the stars burning like fire, their light unwavering.Harry didn't make out the earth, or the moon, or the sun.Professor Quirrell stood in the same place as before, floating in the starry sky.The galaxy was ablaze, brighter as Harry's vision adjusted to the darkness.

The sight before him gripped Harry's heart more tightly than anything Harry had ever seen before.

"Are we...in space...?"

"No," said Professor Quirrell.His voice was sad and devout. "But it's a real image."

Tears welled up in Harry's eyes.He frantically wipes away tears, he won't let a stupid speck of water cloud his vision and cause him to miss it.

The stars no longer look like little jewels in a great velvet dome, as they did in Earth's night sky.There is no sky here, no atmosphere.There was just perfect points of light against perfect darkness, an endless void of nothing, with countless holes in it, radiating radiance from some unimaginable kingdom.

In space, the stars look so, so, so far away.

Harry kept wiping his eyes, over and over.

"Sometimes," Professor Quirrell's voice was almost non-existent, "when this world full of flaws seems so hideous, I think, maybe there is another place, a place far away, where I It was supposed to be there. I can barely imagine what it could be like, and if I can't even imagine it, how can I believe it exists? But the universe is so, so vast, maybe It's there anyway? But the stars are so, so far away. Even if I knew how to get there, it would take a long, long time. And I wonder, if I slept long, long, would I What a dream..."

Even though it felt like profanity, Harry managed to squeeze out a whisper. "Please let me stay here for a while."

Professor Quirrell nodded, floating above the stars without any support.

It's easy to forget about the little circle of marble slabs you're standing on, and your own body, and become a little point of consciousness, either in place or moving.Distance can no longer be measured, so you don't know if you're moving.

Time seems to have ceased to exist.

Then the stars disappear and the classroom returns to its original state.

"Sorry," said Professor Quirrell, "but it looks like we have a visitor."

"It's okay," Harry said softly. "Enough is enough." He will never forget this day, not because of the unimportant things that happened before.He had to learn how to cast that spell no matter what.

Then the classroom's heavy oak door was blown off its frame, passing quickly across the marble floor, making a sharp rubbing sound.

"Quirinas! How dare you!"

Like a thundercloud, an ancient and powerful wizard burst into the classroom, his face so blazing with rage that his previous stern expression on Harry was nothing compared to it.

Harry's brain went wild, and the part of his mind that wanted to scream and run away from the scariest thing he'd ever seen fled to make room for the part that could withstand the onslaught.

The stargazing was interrupted, and all of Harry's personalities were very unhappy. "Headmaster Albus? Percival—" Harry began coldly.

boom.Professor Quirrell slapped the table. "Mr. Potter!" Professor Quirrell scolded. "This is the headmaster of Hogwarts, and you're just a student! You have to show some respect!"

Harry looked at Professor Quirrell.

Professor Quirrell gave Harry a stern look.

Neither of them laughed.

Dumbledore stopped in front of Harry standing in front of the podium and Professor Quirrell leaning against the table.The principal stared at them both in shock.

"Sorry," Harry said in a mild, polite tone. "Principal, thank you for your willingness to protect me, but what Professor Quirrell did was right."

Slowly, Dumbledore's expression changed from something that could directly vaporize steel to just anger. "I heard from students that this man made senior Slytherins abuse you! He also forbade you to resist!"

Harry nodded. "He knew what was wrong with me and taught me how to fix it."

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"I'm teaching him how to throw in the towel," said Professor Quirrell indifferently. "It's an important survival skill."

It was obvious that Dumbledore still didn't understand, but his volume had dropped. "Harry..." he said slowly. "If the Defense Professor threatens you not to tell—"

You lunatic, after today you really think I—

"Headmaster," said Harry, trying to look a little embarrassed, "it's not my problem to keep quiet about a professor who abused me."

Professor Quirrell laughed. "It's not perfect, Mr. Potter, but this is the first day, and it's not bad for you. Headmaster, have you heard the part where Ravenclaw adds 51 points, or are you listening After finishing the first sentence, you rushed over quickly?"

Embarrassment flashed across Dumbledore's face, followed by surprise. "Ravenclaw plus 51 points?"

Professor Quirrell nodded. "He didn't expect that, but fifty-one points seemed about right. Tell Professor McGonagall that I think the story of Mr. Porter earning back the points he lost would say as much for her. No, Headmaster, Mr. Porter does everything." Not to me. It's easy enough to see which part of today's events was hers, just as I know the compromised part must have been your personal suggestion. Although I'm curious, how on earth did Mr. Potter Getting the upper hand on Snape and you at the same time, and how Professor McGonagall got the upper hand back on Mr Potter."

Harry managed to control his expression.Was it that obvious to a real Slytherin?

Dumbledore moved closer to Harry, looking him up and down. "You don't look very pretty, Harry," said the old wizard.He took a closer look at Harry's face. "What did you have for lunch today?"

"What?" Harry said, his mind jerking with sudden confusion.Why would Dumbledore ask about roast lamb and sliced ​​cauliflower, which is the least likely to cause-

The old wizard stood up straight and went back. "Never mind. I think you're fine."

Professor Quirrell coughed loudly a few times on purpose.Harry looked at the Professor, who was staring sharply at Dumbledore.

"Hmm!" said Professor Quirrell again.

Dumbledore and Professor Quirrell met their eyes, and something seemed to pass between them.

"If you don't tell him," said Professor Quirrell after a moment, "I will, even if you fire me for it."

Dumbledore sighed and turned to Harry. "I'm sorry for intruding on your spiritual privacy, Mr. Potter," the Headmaster said formally. "I have no intention other than to test whether Professor Quirrell has done the same thing."

what?

Harry's confusion vanished as soon as he understood what had just happened.

"you--!"

"Calm down, Mr. Potter," said Professor Quirrell.But he still stared at Dumbledore sternly.

"Sometimes people mistake Legilimency for common sense," said the Headmaster, "but to another skilled Legilimency user, Legilimency leaves a trail that can be detected. That's me I'm looking for something, Mr Potter, so I'm asking you an unrelated question, just to make sure you're not thinking about anything important while I'm reading my mind."

"You should have asked me first!"

Professor Quirrell shook his head. "No, Mr. Potter, the principal has his own considerations. If he gets your permission first, then you will think of a bunch of things that you don't want him to see." Professor Quirrell's voice became sharper. "I'm more concerned, Headmaster, that you don't think it's necessary to even tell him afterwards!"

"You are now making it more difficult to guarantee his mental privacy in the future," said Dumbledore.He gave Professor Quirrell a cold look. "I'm curious, is this your purpose?"

Professor Quirrell's expression was firm. "There are too many Legilimency students in this school. I insist that Mr. Potter must at least receive introductory Occlumency training. Will you promise me to be his tutor?"

"Of course not." Dumbledore replied.

"I don't think you'll agree, either. Then, since you've banned my free services for him, you'll hire a licensed Occlumency instructor to teach Mr. Potter."

"This kind of service is not cheap," said Dumbledore, looking a little surprised at Professor Quirrell, "although I do have some relationship-"

Professor Quirrell shook his head firmly. "No. Mr Potter will ask his account manager at Gringotts to recommend a neutral lecturer. With respect, Headmaster Dumbledore, after the events of this morning, I must object to you or your friend linking into Mr Potter I also insist that the lecturer take an unbreakable oath that he will say nothing, and agree to be forgotten immediately after each lesson."

Dumbledore frowned. "You also know that this kind of service is very expensive and I have to wonder why you would feel it was necessary."

"If it's a question of money," Harry began, "I've got a few ideas that could make a lot of money quickly—"

"Thank you, Quirinus, you have proved your intelligence quite well, and I apologize for my doubts. Your concern for Harry is also appreciated."

"You're welcome," said Professor Quirrell. "I hope you won't object to me continuing to take special care of him." Professor Quirrell's expression became very serious and stiff now.

Dumbledore looked at Harry.

"That's what I'm hoping for," Harry said.

"Then let it be..." the old wizard said slowly.A strange expression flashed across his face. "Harry... you must know that if you choose this man to be your teacher and friend, your first mentor, you will always lose him in some way, and depending on how you lose him, you may be able to He got it back, and he may never get it back."

Harry never thought about it.But the position of Professor of Defense is indeed cursed... a curse that has worked perfectly for decades...

"Perhaps," said Professor Quirrell softly, "but until I can hold on, he'll make the most of my guidance."

Dumbledore sighed. "I think it is at least affordable. Anyway, as a defense professor, you have been cursed in some unknown way."

Harry had to work hard to control his expression after he realized what Dumbledore was implying.

"I will inform Mrs. Pince to allow Mr. Potter to borrow the book on Occlumency," said Dumbledore.

"There's some preparatory training you'll have to do yourself first," Professor Quirrell said to Harry. "I suggest you do it as soon as possible."

Harry nodded.

"Then I'll go ahead," said Dumbledore.He nodded to Harry and Professor Quirrell, then walked away slowly.

"Can you use that spell again?" Harry asked once Dumbledore had left.

"Not today," said Professor Quirrell softly, "and I'm afraid I won't be able to do it tomorrow either. It takes a lot of energy to cast such a spell, but it's better to maintain it, so generally I like to maintain it as long as possible. Today I improvised." Yes. If I think about it and realize we might be interrupted—