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.”