Proceedings Of The Twenty-third Annual Conference Of The Cognitive Science Society (cognitive Science Society (us) Conference//proceedings)

 3URFHHGLQJVRIWKH 7ZHQW\7KLUG $QQXDO&RQIHUHQFH RIWKH &RJQLWLYH6FLHQFH6RFLHW\           ²$XJXVW  8QLYHUVLW\RI(GLQEXUJK (GLQEXUJK6FRWODQG  (GLWRUV -RKDQQD'0RRUH .HLWK6WHQQLQJ Proceedings of the Twenty-Third Annual Conference of the Cognitive Science Society Johanna D. Moore and Keith Stenning Editors August 1-4, 2001 Human Communication Research Centre University of Edinburgh Edinburgh, Scotland LAWRENCE ERLBAUM ASSOCIATES, PUBLISHERS 2001 Mahwah, New Jersey London c 2001 by the Cognitive Science Society Copyright All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by photostat, microform, retrieval system, or by any other means, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Distributed by Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc. 10 Industrial Avenue Mahwah, New Jersey 07430 ISBN 0-8058-4152-0 ISSN 1047-1316 Printed in the United States of America Dedicated to the memory of Herbert A. Simon, June 15, 1916 – February 9, 2001 How It All Got Put Together Once upon a time when the world was young, Oh best beloved. There came to the banks of the Monongogo River, All muddy and brown, Oh best beloved, A djinn who was one thing on the inside But many things on the outside. And he camped by the banks of the Monongogo River, All muddy and brown, Oh best beloved. And he stayed and stayed and he never went away. And he did his magic there. He had many hands, each hand with many fingers, Oh best beloved. More hands and fingers than you and I More hands than you have fingers, More fingers on each hand than you have toes. Each hand played a tune on a magic flute, Oh best beloved. And each fluted tune floated out on a separate flight. And each was a tune for a separate dance, And each was heard in a separate place, And each was heard in a separate way, And each was merged in the dance it swayed. But it was still all the same tune, For that was the magic of the djinn. Now, best beloved, listen near— Each separate place, when the world was young, Danced in a way that was all its own, Different from all of the others. But the melody told of how it could be That creatures out of an ancient sea, By dancing one dance on the inside, Could dance their own dance on the outside, Because of the place where they were in— All of its ins and outs. For that was the magic of the djinn. And little by little, each swayed a new way, Taking the melody each its own way, But hearing the melodies far away From other places with separate dances, But the very same melody That told the dance to be done on the inside. So, each started to step in the very same way, Putting together one dance on the inside For many dances on the outside. So the melody grew, and it drifted back To the Monongogo River, all muddy and brown, And the river came clear and sweet. Ah, best beloved, I must tell the truth. The river is not yet clear and sweet, Not really so. Because putting together is a task forever. And no one—not even a djinn with k