I never thought studying wormholes as a living would lead me to another planet. Accidently discovering one in the vegetable isle at the grocery store was never on a list of possible places for one to open up at. My first few visits to the strange land only lasted mere hours. Intrigued by the locals and the scenery i kept coming back. Mapping the stars in the sky to figure out where i ended up. With out my equipment i had to find out the old school way. Each time i came out i was met by a local, she called herself Kamina. From the language barrier i wasnt able to figure out much else. She kept me safe from a hunting party, warded off the local wild animals that wouldve had me for breakfast, and started to teach me the good and bad things in her world. She was aa curious about me as i was of her and her world. Perhaps thats why she kept me safe. To learn about me as i have about her. Once she deemed me a safe she brought me to her village, immediately my personal space was invaded again by her kin, touching me, smelling me, pulling on my clothes. Some felt i was too skinny so they tried fo feed me food they had prepared. The meat in it wasnt like anything i have seen before, didnt taste like chicken, but i ate it anyway. At night they all circled around a fire dancing and cooing with one another. She attempted to get me to dance, it all was too archaic for me. So she instead sat next to me telling me in her language members of the tribe. I began to understand some words like eat, chief, sleep, etc. She began to teach me her words to other things, trees, the rocks, the animals they lived along side of. When i calculated the worm hole to be active i went back to my time and brought over some of my things to teach them. The nights i spent along side them were cold but were bearable because they all liked to huddle together. I felt Kamina cuddle up to me, i felt myself enjoying it more as the days went on. The days were spent hunting or gathering various meats and fruits. I proved to be terrible at the hunting with a spear. But excelled at picking out the best fruits that had fallen from the trees. Like Kamina i was a better explorer. We would lay together side by side looking at the stars. Id tell her what the constalations were in my language, she she would say in hers. Explaining the history of each constalation we both began to fall in love with each others worlds. After i had made another trip home and back again, the energy in their tribe changed. As an outsider i experienced my first death in the tribe. Scouts on patrol ran into others from another tribe farther away. A tribe that was more intense by nature. In the dispute they killed one of the scouts and severely injuring the other, he was Kaminas cousin. She was very distraught over his death she helped raise him and guide him after his parents died. The elders argued with the chief on whether to attack them back in retailliation. Kamina was against the fighting, she didnt want to have anyone else in her tribe get hurt like her cousin did. Despite her passive nature and wishes, Kamina and her tribe were in for a big war. That same tribe that attacked their scouts was marching their way to descimate them. Take their lands, women and all they built. Kill anyone who didnt join them. And by my calculations the worm hole wasnt going to be open for another few days. Which means i had no way to help them with things from my world. I was stuck in their world with their technology and barely any training to defend myself. I may share the same fate as the tribe…

It took me a while to get here, but I got here. Blinking, I look around. Everything is dimly lit with candlelight. I am in a pyramid shaped room lined with gold tables and Crystal everywhere. Things are written in hieroglyphs and on stone tablets. A statue of an ancient goddess is at the front of the room. I’m going to like it here. I feel like I belong here.

Black. That’s all I remember after I’d entered Dr. Navil’s Supersonic Time Travel Machine. It was fast but extremely uncomfortable. Even though I was short I still had to squat a little for them to close the hatch. I swear I could hear us slowing down, and my heart began to race. I was excited and nervous. This was where I got to meet her. All bouncing curls I wish I had and deep brown knowledgeable eyes. What if she though me ignorant and wouldn’t do it to see me? Or perhaps her curiosity would be peeked, and she would succumb to what I had to say… Which was honestly a colorful assortment of fangirling questions. What if it was the wrong era and I’d missed her life comepletly? After all, she hadn’t had a normal life-span of the human race.
No more time to think, for the hatch opened with a hiss. I climbed out and looked down at the plain brown dress I wore. Yes, dress. This was 1810, and all the ladies wore dresses with hoop skirts and corsets cinched tight. No, I didn’t have a hoop skirt(for sure not a corset!), but I figured that my role-play of a poor girl who ran away from home would work. Perhaps these people would even take me in out of pity! I could only dare hope so. I smoothed out what wrinkles had begun to form during my wild ride and hurried off into the town outside of the little wood in which the machine had settled. I looked and saw old but fashionable house with gorgeous architecture that some people in my era would have died to have on their front porches. There was not much landscaping to look at. Nice but simple. I had to be in the right place. All I needed was to try to get information from someone that could point me to Steventon. I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as I possibly, stealing here and there, while still looking out for a very approachable person who could help. As I dashed into a dark corner, I thought of something quite sadly. I had never ever been to England in my life. But oh, I wish I had before! It was actually quite splendid despite the overcast skies. There were horse-drawn carriages which gave me royalty vibes. Dry-stacked stone that could have been used on a castle. Streets of stone which triggered my cottage-core loving self. This was a place where dreams came true, I was sure of it. I kneeled down in the darkness and coughed when I saw the person I was waiting for. The seemingly cheerful countenance on her face boosted my confidence. But when she turned gracefully in my direction, her face seemed to freeze in half smile, half disbelief. “Please,” I croaked, cough cough, “ I’m looking for my grandmother. She lives in Steventon and promised to look after me when my father died.” “Mercy!” She said under her breath. “Poor child…” Her outcry to pitiful sorrow as she took in my condition. “Dear child, what is you’re name?” “Katelyn Reynolds,” I said meekly, making sure I used my full name to sound more appropriate but not meeting her eyes less she would see my uncomfortableness in case I messed up the accent. The woman shook her head disapprovingly. I took it not meant for me, but whoever was supposed to be looking after me. She muttered something that I couldn’t make out this time. With a soft pat on her brown curls, she straightened up and pointed down the street. “Steventon is that way, Miss Reynolds.” I thanked her, deciding not to ask any more questions because I feared she was far too nervous to hang around much longer. So I quietly stole my way down the street towards my goal and one step closer to my hero… Jane Austen, here I come.

I glanced around, comprehending my surroundings. My gaze landing on a Ginormous pyramid covered in Gold. I hiked my way to this beautiful structure; I entered the pyramid and my eyes shimmered from the beauty. Surrounding me was paintings of mythical Gods, including Yahweh and his Son. There were alters made of stone and lined with Gold. There were africans everywhere greeting one another, and some making offerings. I looked down and beneath me was black marble floors. In front of me was a throne for the Emperor. Carved in the walls of the pillars were creatures exploring and socializing. The ceiling was made of Stone and carved into beautiful circular patterns. How amazing was this civilization and the beauty was none other.

My head spun with black and white dots as my by aching body crashed limply to the ground.

‘What happened?’ I questioned internally, finally willing my eyes to open.

I stared up at the blinding sunlight shining all around me in mild confusion. I searched my mind for an explanation to it all, but came up empty. Anything that would hint as to what brought me here was left in a fuzzy mess, blocking me from viewing them.

Ever so slowly, I got to my feet and started walking in any direction I chose. Adventure was always a wondrous thing in my books, you never knew where your feet would be swept off too. I’ve read about thousands of great adventures through the art of literature, but never had I expected to experience one of my own.

I work at a coffee shop for crying out loud. The most ‘adventure’ I got in a day, consisted of walking from behind the counter and over to the restroom a few times throughout a day.

As my feet padded against a small dirt trail, I hummed a familiar tune. My lips quirked into a smile as I heard a bird chirping in the depths of the vibrant trees and the whistling of a gentle breeze swaying the thin branches.

It was all so peaceful and calming that I couldn’t contain the joy from revealing itself in my face.

But all good things have to come to an end.

I gasped as my chest came a hair to close being pierced by a stone spear. My wide eyes stared at a very intimidating man, silently pleading for my life.

I raised my hands to the sides in surrender, hoping that I could transmit the idea that I meant no harm to him. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” I asked hesitantly, eying the spear still pointed at my chest with a wary gaze.

The man’s face showed to no sign of recognition to my words other than slight confusion. So I reiterated my previous words. “I mean no harm, I had no intention to trespass on your property.”

Still no reaction on the man’s face.

However, luck seemed to be on my side because he cautiously lowered the spear. He said something in a strange tongue I had never heard before, leaving me now confused. How far did I go, to end up in a place with such a mysterious man?

He seemed to realize my bafflement, so instead he pointed south, while imitating what he wanted me to do.

As a charades extraordinaire, I caught on rather quickly. He wanted me to follow him to a village, and then I couldn’t translate further because he started to walk away. Not knowing what else to do, I blindly followed him until we reached a large body of water.

My jaw dropped as I gazed upon the glassy, shimmering surface of the water. But not even the beauty of the crystal clear liquid could deter my attention away from the elegant city situated at the middle, almost as though it was floating.

We climbed in a boat and paddled our way over to the city’s entrance. He didn’t speak to me, he seemed to be fascinated with the grand architecture himself.

At what I presumed was a dock, crowds of people stood around watching me with eyes swimming with curiosity. Though I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t looking at them in a similar fashion.

I was led around buildings and through the winding streets bustling with life. I was amazed by how many people lived here, it had to be at least a couple hundred thousand if not more.

But the only thing more interesting than the people, was the food. Along the sides of the roads vendors offered me soups and corn while I paid with some spare change in my pocket. They eyes my token of thanks in wonder and suspicion, but accepted it nonetheless.

The man leading me through the city, offered me a bed in his home, even though we were merely strangers. That night I lie in bed, reminiscing in all of the marvelous things I had been fortunate enough to witness during today’s travel. Slowly, my mind drifted off to sleep, giving into the exhaustion of my body.

The next morning I awoke in excitement, only to find that I was still tucked in my queen sized bed, in the middle of my apartment.

I was admiring the majestic pyramids the sun heated violently against my face. I was rather enjoying my time in Egypt when I realized everyone was staring at me, of course I forgot about my clothes. I was in shorts and sneakers with a sun bleached shirt. Two men started grabbing me. Next thing I knew I was facing one of the most powerful woman in Egypt. Cleopatra. “Who are you?” Luckily I haven’t managed to lose my translator. thinks Quick make something up! “I… Am from the future sent by the uh… Gods! To hail a uh warning of the future!” People murmured, Even Cleopatra looked shocked she stared at me gravely “What is this warning?” “Uh that a great darkness is coming in the uh future that you can stop.” “What is this darkness?” thinks Quick think! “There’s uhm a-a famine coming and the uh gods are too tired to stop it and need you to do a special rain dance.” “What is this rain dance?” The guards let go of me to demonstrate the dance. Thinking fast I did a fortnight dance. Eventually Cleopatra made me teach it. And hosted a feast in my honor. That night was when they did the dance and I found a perfect moment to sneak out. Even now it still made me laugh.

Two years of post-doctoral work, five years of beta testing and bug fixing, three Timexplorers presumed dead.

Billions spent.

Millions and millions of tons of dirt and ore and flora and bedrock moved and manipulated in the search for the Silic-Graphitate necessary to power the massive, mile-wide underground machinery.

Enough wire to circle the planet forty times.

A grueling testing process, invading every part of my life, my body, my psyche. Waking up in the middle of too many nights wondering if I would be the first to succeed, or number four on the list?

The eyes of the entire Interstellar Federation were on me—the broadcast streaming to all corners—as I walked to the TimePod. Traveling through time, it turns out, is relatively simple. I say relatively in that, as difficult as it was to get our understanding of now basic physics to that point, it turned out to be the simplest link in the TimeSpace chain. The really tough part was the maths around how to put a TimePod in an exact location at an exact time in an ever-changing universe.

It was like I explained months ago, before quarantine, when I was invited onto the Graham Ross TeleLink.

“Help those of us who got poor marks in science to understand this?” Graham asked with his trademark self-deprecation.

“Well, you see, a universe is not static. It’s always moving, either expanding or contracting, depending on its lifecycle, if you will. That means that where we are, at this moment in space and time, will be different, in relation to everything else in the universe, by the time I finish this sentence; And of course much, much different a year from now?”

“Here? This will be different a year from now? What have you heard, am I getting cancelled?” The audience roared their approval.

“Ha. No, I have no insight into that—“

“Well, use your time machine and let me know!”

“If only I could. But we can’t, as of yet, go forward. Only back. And even that is still theoretical, because those we sent back to collect data…”

Here, Graham got serious. “Ah, yes. You lost some people, I understand. Some early explorers gave their lives for the cause, so-to-speak.”

“Yes. Well, we assume. That’s part of the problem. Not only is our universe expanding, but the planets in our solar system, including this one, are moving at a high rate of speed as well. So, to try to calculate where a specific location will be on a specific planet in a specific part of a specific universe at a specific moment in time—“

“It’s impossible!” More laughter.

“Yeah. It’s pretty close to impossible—“

“You lot can do this? You sure you want to put yourself through this? It seems too much?”

Maybe he was right. Maybe it was too much, too difficult. I suddenly felt very claustrophobic. My heart rate increased, as did my breaths per minute.

“You okay, Commander? Your vitals are—“

I steadied myself. “I’m fine. Just excited.”

Traveling through SpaceTime, it turned out, was similar to my wedding day. I remember showing up, and I remember being done with the ceremony, but everything in between is now a blur. It didn’t “feel” like anything, but somehow my body understood that I was moving, traveling. A thousand years back in time in what felt like maybe five, ten minutes.

Then it was over.

The pod did what it was supposed to. I was alive, safe. The HUD showed that I had landed somewhere that could support life—human life—but opening the hatch still took more faith than anything I’d done before.

I was fine.

Deep, full breaths. The smell of pine and grass. I saw birds and small, furry animals scittering about.

I locked in my locator beacon and took my first tentative steps on terra firma. All good. I could tell by the relative position of the sun to the horizon that it was only a few hours before sundown, so I decided it best to make camp for the night. I thought about sleeping in the pod itself, but it was too cramped to serve as anything other than a mechanism of travel. Besides, hadn’t I signed up for adventure?

I set up my cooking station, lit a firebrick, and unfolded my sleepcell. A full stomach and heavy eyes made for quick, restful sleep.

“Sir.”

My eyes were still adjusting to the morning light, my mind still in a sleep fog.

“Sir. You can’t be here, sir.”

My mind finally registered what was happening and I popped up. I was looking into the face of a fellow human. He was tall, clean-shaven, well-muscled.

“You can’t camp here, sir. You need to pack your stuff into your, whatever this is, and move on out of here. And no fires. You’re lucky I don’t write you at ticket.”

“You… you speak my language?”

“Yeah, I’m speakin’ your language. Now, do me a favor, pack up your stuff, and hightail it outta here.”

“Hightail?” As absurd as it sounds now, I did actually look to see if he had a tail.

“Get outta here? Kick rocks? Leave the premises? How you want me to say it?”

“Ah, yes. I see. I’ll do that.” I figured out he was some kind of enforcement agent. I’d read about them, in the Histories.

“Say, what even is this thing? Some kind of trailer? I don’t see no wheels or anything.”

“Um, yes. It is for travel, well, sort of.”

“Well, sort of get it the hell out of the park, sir.”

I started to break camp, putting my items back aboard the pod. Nervous, I wondered how much I could expect this primitive being to understand. “I will gladly remove my belongings form your park, but, I fear, this pod is not intended to move along the ground, sir.”

“No? Then how’d you get it here?”

“Well, you see, I’m not sure if you will understand this, but, and this may be something of a shock, I am, in fact, from the future.”

He looked at me with a kind smile. “You don’t say?”

He understands! I thought to myself. “Yes, you see, I was sent back here, a thousand years in the past, to study, well, you… and those like you, your culture, thoughts—“

“Okay, listen bud, I’ve been patient. But I gotta get back to my beat. So, you gonna move this thing or not?”

It turns out the Histories were accurate. Not only did the ancient peoples actually criminalize time spent in nature (or, what they called “parks”), but they were also quite gifted in the art of temporary incarceration. Whereas criminals in our own time would simply have their neural-links suspended, the ancients used a combination of brick and steel and tempered glass to create a sort of holding pen. A holding pen I found myself in for “failure to comply with a lawful order.”

And so, I thought, this is where my journey ends. Not exactly the success I thought it would be. Well, I mean, technically, we did succeed. But, to be honest, I was hoping for the heroes welcome, the parade through IFHQ, my notes being compiled and sold via ZonLink.

I sat on my bed—which, again, was made of metal bars and metal coils—and tried to accept my fate as a prisoner of such a primitive State, when I was told that I was to be released. It turns out that the ancients were willing to sell back those temporarily incarcerated for some amount of their physical(!) currency. [More on that topic in my chapter on transactional goods and services in ancient times.]

When I exited the facility I was shocked to see my rescuers: The three Explorers I had watched take the trip before me: Commanders Duncan, Nakami, and Obuju-Quan.

It was Nakami that spoke first: “Hungry?”

They took me to, what I must now openly confess, the greatest calorie distribution unit—apologies: “restaurant”—that I had ever encountered. Unlike the calorie units we consume, this restaurant would allow you to choose between myriad ways of placing bovine flesh within two wheat-based wafers, then top it with things as varied as liquified mustard seed, porcine flesh, oil-cooked root vegetables, and some kind of yellow, viscous goo that was apparently made from (again) bovine lactation. Along with that, I was treated to fried potatoes and salt, and provided not simply water, but a water-based sugary liquid flavored to mimic an ancient plant called “cola.”

It was amazing.

Even though, after a meal so rich and calorically dense made me feel sick, I, for some reason wanted more of it. They bought me something called a “chocolate shake” that I am certain I will dream of for the rest of my days. [See chapter 9: Food of the Ancients - How a clown, a king, and a red-headed child fed a planet.]

I will, of course, discuss the myriad findings and open questions that fill my NoteLink in more detail, but it was this first discussion with my fellow commanders that made me instantly understand their decision to stay, and solidify my own decision to come back. You see, the space and time with which we found ourselves was itself one of great division. The people of that time, had they understood what we now take for granted—that they had, even then, the means to provide for all, to start the progression toward peace, to use the technology at hand, to them in its infancy, as we would eventually use it—then maybe I would have stayed, too. But my work is too important, for I fear that without documenting my first-hand experiences, we could someday risk devolving back to that state.

My evidence for that? My fellow commanders. They fell pray to the ease in which that time could fulfill, above all else, the need for sensual distraction, what those whom the Ancients considered ancient called “Hedonism.”

“You don’t understand. They are constantly at war, but only a small percentage of them fight. Some starve, but most eat more than they should. They are fragile, but look how they put themselves at risk for experience!”

I fear I almost fell prey to it, as well. There is a freedom to it, the danger. A sense of wonder that comes from not knowing if you’ll make it another day, another year, or seven more decades. The risk of doing such pedestrian things like driving oneself in a petrol-powered metallic vehicle, of inhaling toxic gasses into your lungs for the promise of stimulation, of engaging in sexual activities without pre-clearance from HealthLink. It was gravitational, pulling my compadres into it, threatening to pull me in, too.

At that time, the planet was also divided, with varied states of different sizes jockeying for power. One, the predominant power, was actually a conglomerate of 50 individual states under their own primitive federation. I likely don’t need to explain here the difficulties inherent in a system set up with such conflicting goals. But, again, this is what drew my compatriots to stay. “You don’t understand, it’s by design. It is intended to slow the reach of the State in order to protect the freedoms of the individual!” I won’t pretend here to understand this impulse. Nor will I try to understand the impulse of the Ancients to bicker, to burn down their own cities, to allow their fellow citizens to try to survive without proper shelter, or their insistence on consuming highly toxic chemicals for amusement. Everything about them seems to contradict everything else, as though they are guided not by logic but solely by emotion.

And, thus, you see why my notes require compilation.

Freedom.

That was the thing the three said made them stay.

“Freedom of injury, humiliation, danger? Freedom to die?” I protested.

Freedom to choose, they insisted.

I do not try to understand the hold that this ancient time had on them. I can only attest here that they remain there completely able to return, just as I did. They simply have decided not to.

I miss them, but I don’t miss that moment in spacetime, save for the spectacularly contradictory feelings of guilt and pleasure I experienced eating something called a McChiken Sandwich.

For that, I may someday have to return, as well.

The very first sense that I noticed was olfactory. I mean it was stinky, real stinky. Someone, a lot of ones, needed a shower and a fresh suit of clothes. However, one would get used to it, I hoped. Well here I was, I had entered the machine and been whisked back to 1830's London...I think. The second, third and so on senes that were aroused were olfactory. Animal shit, muggy air, coal fire and nasty refuse continued their assail of my nose. I adjusted my position on a black steel bench on an unknown street in 1832 London. Shit, it had worked! Due to my skepticism on whether or not the machine would work, I was wearing jeans, vans and a blue and white flannel button down. Certainly not contemporary early-19th Century England but no one even gave me a sideways glance. It was busy place, a gritty place with, what I had already noticed, a huge disparity between the haves and have-nots. As I began to meander around, I had a sense of what we consider poor today would be opulent in where I was right now. An overwhelming feeling of complete amazement was abated by fear and loneliness. No one I know has ever been close to be born. Would I make it to my rendezvous point for return, would the return trip work? Then there was the time travel paradox (could I kill my great great great grandfather, which would mean I never was born and therefore, unable to be where I was). I wasn't going to test that, no murderous plans-gonna lay low, real low. Then I saw her, well she saw me, she was staring at me, I could sense it before I saw her. The beauty of this creature was like nothing we have today, that I have ever seen anyway. She was like a thorough bred beautiful horse, I was stunned....

So I was waking down from school when these bullies found me and started to mug me. “Give is your money!” They said “No! I need it! My mom is in debt and is sick!” I said “Francois, just give the money before we pound you into a pulp!” Then all the sudden a blast of light shot through me and I was at a port. I ran up to a man and said,” Hello sir? Can you tell me where I am.” He replies,” Your in Queenstown. You wanna board the titanic with me? I have an extra ticket.” “Wee wee but sir” I said with a tremble in my voice,” what is the date?” “ April 11, 1912. Why do you ask?” I had chills sent down my back, so much so that I boarded the ship and forgot about the fate that was to accompany me. The cruise was pretty nice except for the fact I had second class and could feel the ship sway and turn. Then I saw her, Isabella. She was a black-haired girl with the prettiest green eyes which sparkled like emeralds. “ Hi Isabella. I’m Francois Toussaint of France.” I said to her. “Hi Francois, how’s your day?” Isabella responded. We began to talk for the rest of the day. The next day I woke up and immediately ran to her room. “O’ Isabella where art thou.” I said to her door. She opens the door and says,” Shakespeare reader I see, I also liked Romeo and Juliet. To bad I didn’t pack it with me before getting on this darn Titanic.” Then it hit me. I was on a ship destined to sink in the freezing ocean. I needed to get off this ship. But Isabella. I could leave her. I needed to confess. “Isabella I need to tell you something.” I said in a shaky tone. “Yes?” She replies. “I like you.” I said. I stupidly said. Why did I say what was on my mind. “Oh. I kinda feel the same way I suppose.” “Their’s something else I need to confess.” “What else do you have to say to me?” “I’m from the future. And this boat is to sink. We need be off this cursed ship.” “Wait really? WAIT REALLY? We need off this ship! We need to tell the crew.” We both rushed to the captains quarters in a blind panic. “Sir we need to get off the ship. Most of us won’t make it!” I said. The crew chuckled at my request and said,” Yeah and I’m the king of Ireland.” he laughed. We both knew what was to come of this, we were screwed. We made our way back to the room depressed. “We are dead. Theirs nothing we can do.” Isabella sighed. “Their is something we can do.” I said “What.”

The next day we woke up and immediately knew what was to happen today, death day. The day of no return. Our final hour. We both did as much stuff as we could because we weren’t able to wait till 18 to drink. That night we stayed above deck and watched our final sunset. “Beautiful. Isn’t it? Just like you.” I said as I ran my finger through her hair. Isabella blushed,” Yeah I suppose. Maybe we could try to steal one of the life boats and-“ “No. They’d stop us even before we got the boat in the water.” “Burr is cold out here, forget it sometimes.” “Yeah.” I said starting to become more and more depressed with each word. Then it hit. A big screech which hurt our ears so bad. We were at the place in which we would be safe… until it sink fully into the water. “Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.” I quoted. “I would not for the world they saw thee here.” Isabella said before we kissed for the very last time. Before we touched the water, the great light flashed upon me and Isabella as we are transported away back to my place in time. “We survived? WE SURVIVED!” I shouted. Isabella looked outside at the Eiffel Tower and present day France. “Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked her. “Indeed, but I should be dead. My family, all down below the sea floor without me.” She responded. We then overhear on the radio,” France has just joined WWIII!”

Fin

It wasn’t like in the movies. I had been sent back in time to the 400’s BC, to learn from the philosopher Socrates himself for a week. But there was no technology sending me there, nor would any technology return me home. It was entirely out of my control.

All I knew was that I was to spend one week in Athens, as a disciple of Socrates, and then I would be returned home.

I’d seen sculptures of Socrates before, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. He looked like Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy had a love child. He was fat, with a piglike nose, and his eyes bulged out like a frog’s. And his B.O. was barely tolerable.

“Greetings, barbarian,” he said in Greek. Though I had never learned the language, somehow I was able to understand what he said—and vice versa.

“Barbarian?”

“You are not an Athenian, from your appearance.”

I resisted the urge to facepalm. “Barbarian” just meant “stranger” in Greek. There was no need to take offense.

“My name is Michael.”

“Mich-a-el,” said Socrates deliberately. “I am not familiar with such a name. What does it mean?”

Once more I was taken aback. Did people talk about what names meant back then?

“It’s Hebrew,” I said. “It means ‘Who is like God?’”

“You are a Hebrew, then?” said the philosopher.

I had no idea how to begin to explain the truth, so that would have to be my cover story. I recalled that Jews of this time were subjects of the kings of Persia, but I knew almost nothing about that.

Fortunately for me, Socrates didn’t seem interested anyway.

“You speak perfect Greek for a Hebrew, Michael. I am called Socrates; it means ‘safe power.’”

He stared hard at me.

“I do believe the God has sent you to me. At least, my daimon is not repelling me from speaking with you.”

I nodded, wondering what the heck he meant.

“Would you have a free hour or two to converse with me about the best things in life, about virtue and truth?”

I tried to contain my enthusiasm. “Yes, sir, that’s why I was sent here, to learn wisdom from you.”

Socrates shook his ugly head. “Then you will meet disappointment, for I have no wisdom to give you.”

Once more I was stunned. I kept waiting for him to say the Greek equivalent of “Gotcha!” But the moment never came.

“Aren’t you Socrates, the philosopher?”

“I am a philosopher, Michael the Hebrew. A lover of wisdom. Wisdom is the happiness I seek. Can one seek what one already has?”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“Come, let us walk.”

After a few minutes I had to stop and catch my breath. My legs were sore.

“Forgive me, Michael the Hebrew, but are you a king?”

I stared at him. Was he pulling my leg?

“No, I’m not a king.”

“Or of noble birth?”

I shook my head.

Socrates shook his head in return. “You have weak legs for a man not used to being carried about in a litter by his servants. We have barely begun our walk.”

“I’m used to traveling in a car,” I said, forgetting myself for a moment.

“And yet you are not of high birth? Do Hebrew men not deign to use the legs that the God gave them? Perhaps it would take a woman to have legs strong enough to keep up with me!”

Now I knew he was joking.

“I guess I can’t argue about using my legs,” I said. “It’s just that, where I’m from, everything is so far away from everything else. The only buildings within walking distance from my house are other houses.”

Socrates looked almost as though he were going to fall down. “Why, what sort of men would build a city thus?”

“I don’t know. I’m not one of the city planners.”

“But, why not rather build the buildings within walking distance of one another in the first place?”

I threw up my hands. “I don’t have an answer for you. That would be nice, since I don’t drive.”

Socrates clucked his tongue. “I can make no judgment, Michael Weak-Legs, not having seen your city. But your description thus far sounds to my ears as aristocratic decadence taken to excess.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“I see I have much to learn.”

“You mean I do,” I said.

“We both do.”