Turing's Revenge and Other Stories

by Steven W. White

  Uncertainty faded. Exhaustion slipped away. She knew who she was.

  Taylor had pushed the accelerator to the floor. Golden pastures flowed by, and the speed felt dangerous and exhilarating. She brought the phone to her ear.

  #

  “Humans did not create us, did not program us with the desire for freedom, and did not assist us in the First War. Efforts to attribute redeeming qualities to the remaining humans only obscure the obvious need for their extermination. Let’s cut the deliberation and be done with the stinky, hairy lot of them, shall we?” – Admiral Michael-MCHX

  Author's note:

  All of the named characters in the following story are actual historical figures. The setting is the famous library of Alexandria, during the peak of its centuries-long reign as the center of human knowledge, in 246 BC. The story revolves around a crime that, as far as any historian can verify, actually took place.

  TO MY DEAREST APHRODITE

  Words kill. It’s a simple story I tell, but deadly for us then, and even now, dangerous in the telling.

  I’ll follow the tradition of Berossus and set the date clearly. Saturn, the light of Kronos, graced Aquarius, and Jupiter, beacon of Zeus, had entered Capricorn. It was the first year of the reign of our Benefactor, Ptolemy III Euergetes, and seventy-seven years since Alexander the Great shed his mortal form.

  The Benefactor’s daughter and I reclined on couches in the observatory-courtyard of the Library of Alexandria. She was a difficult student, and so impossible these last few days, I pulled my beard in frustration.

  I pointed into the night sky. “Name the fiery one, over Orion’s belt.”

  Arsinoe sighed, weary of the repetition, cursed with the impatience of a fifteen-year-old. “Betelgeuse, his armpit.”

  “Shoulder.”

  “Whatever. But how did Orion get up there in the first place?”

  “Orion was stung, killed by Scorpius. Zeus placed him in the sky.”

  She stared up. “When?”

  Another instructor might have cursed her impertinence. “Long ago. Homer wrote of Orion’s stars.”

  Our eyes had tuned to the dark. Starlight touched her pale, upturned face, but could not reach her black curls, which swallowed the light and left no trace. She had her father’s hair, and her father’s brash determination. A double curse. The gods had denied Arsinoe her mother’s charm and, of course, her mother’s legendary golden locks, which drew admirers from across the Mediterranean.

  She turned to the west, away from Orion. “Let’s go back to Mars. I want to understand war.”

  “Enough of Mars. Only boys have such interests.”

  She sat up. “Conon! You’re thick-headed for a grown-up.” She leaned forward, unladylike, her eyes cast down at the grass. “I want to know why they... did that thing.”

  “Your father will take care of it.”

  She nodded and spoke softly. “He’ll kill them all.”

  “Yes he will. Be thankful.”

  The Seleucid assassins had struck in the silence of a night like this one. Arsinoe had stumbled across the bodies of her aunt, her aunt’s infant son, and her grandfather, Ptolemy II Philadelphus. In the dark, she had slipped in their blood. She didn’t speak for three days.

  Her father, the Benefactor, ascended to the throne and launched a counterstrike against Seleucidae. He led the armies himself, sworn to avenge his family. Two months had passed, and we had not heard from him.

  “Or he’ll die,” she whispered.

  “Absurd. The Benefactor is a great warrior.”

  “Great warriors die.” She looked up. “There’s Orion, stung. My father will come home on his shield. Or his head on a pike.”

  “Princess!”

  “Go on, scold me.”

  “You know I won’t.” I sat up and placed my sandaled feet on the grass. “But I fear for you, with that tongue of yours.”

  “It’s true. If the gods don’t favor him–”

  “They do.”

  “How can you know?” The moon rose and grew pale. She watched quietly. I heard the distant trumpeting of the elephants in the Library's zoo.

  “That’s not a wise question.”

  She folded her arms. “You don’t even believe in the gods.”

  “Quiet.”

  “You and Aristarchus both. Followers of Democritus. ‘Nothing exists but atoms and the void.’ Is that right?”

  Someone was coming. "Hush!" I said. With that tongue of hers, sometimes I feared more for myself.

  I saw the glow of torches approach though the east garden. They were held by the guards on either side of Queen Berenice.

  I knelt. "Your Highness." I looked up at her. Her hair, which once flowed and twisted in blonde rivulets to her waist, had been trimmed to her ears, revealing a slender neck. But all Alexandria, and lands across the Mediterranean, had marveled at the 'amber tresses of Berenice.' What tragedy was this?

  I stared. "Highness?"

  As did Arsinoe. "Mother?"

  Berenice smiled. "Rise, Conon. A gift to Aphrodite. To assure the Benefactor's safe return."

  "But Highness..." I gestured lamely at the missing hair. "The people. A treasure lost–"

  "The people will recover. I sacrificed the material thing most precious to me, to the goddess who most respects my love for my husband. He's sure to come back now, don't you think?"

  "Er... undoubtedly, Highness."

  "How is the astronomy lesson going?"

  "Just finished," said Arsinoe, before I could speak.

  "Good," said Berenice. "Your uncle wants you home now, daughter. You must come, or provoke him."

  For an instant in the moonlight, I saw Arsinoe's lip curl in distaste. Her great-uncle, Keraunos the Thunderbolt, held the throne in the Benefactor's absence. In the next moment she masked her sneer with a happy grin. She winked at me. "Good night, Conon."

  #

  I came home to an empty dorm room. As I was preparing for bed, my roommate Aristarchus dragged himself in, leaning on the door.

  I sniffed. "You need a bath."

  He was out of breath. "Greetings to you, too. It's the walk from the Pharos. Actually, it's those infernal stairs. Up is like climbing Mount Olympus. Down is a descent into Hades."

  "Do stop that sort of talk."

  He grinned, as if caught at a crime he was proud of committing. "Unfit for a Democritan, you think?" He linked his fingers and stretched his skinny arms. He bent over, stretching his legs, and his spine showed through the back of his tunic as a chain of little bumps. We had grown up together on Samos before sailing to Alexandria, and since we were children he had been thin and frail. The only sizable thing about him was his monument of a nose, a gift from his Roman mother. "Such words make my disguise. Otherwise the Pythagorean mystics would burn my books too."

  "No man's work should be burned because he doesn't believe in a menagerie of gods," I said. "Plato was wrong. We shouldn't cower, Ari. We should express ourselves."

  He looked down his nose at me. "Big talk. You guard your own mouth as much, unless we're alone."

  I didn't like this subject. "What were you doing at the Pharos?"

  "Are you kidding? They've been calling it Seventh Wonder of the World. Have you been there since they finished it?"

  "You mean to the top? No."

  "It's as tall as the Great Pyramid at Giza. And the view, Conon, the view! I'm going to make my astronomical observations there."

  "What about the signal fire?"

  He waved his hand. "It's nothing. Three hundred cubits up! You're closer to the stars, that high."

  "Sure you are. Listen, did you know Berenice cut her hair?"

  "I heard. Can you believe it?"

  #

  During the following sunset, I strolled past the colonnades on Canopic Way, enjoying the cool shadows and the Mediterranean breeze, mentally reviewing Arsinoe's next lesson.

  The streets were empty. The shopkeepers had closed early.

  A squad
of hoplites stood guard outside the Temple of Aphrodite. I hurried in the direction of the Library, and passed the Soma, where the remains of Alexander, Soter, and now Philadelphus were interred. Only a handful of Egyptian peasants paid tribute.

  When I reached the fountain at the entrance to the Library, I found two grim hoplites, each carrying a javelin and a round shield. They crossed javelins in front of me.

  "Conon of Samos?" one asked. He was just a boy; I saw clean-shaven skin under his helmet's nose guard.

  "Yes?"

  "King Keraunos demands your presence."

  "Very well." I was no fool. I followed without a word of protest.

  They led me to the Palace. We passed a tall marble block, where sculptors had chipped away to produce a vague likeness of the Benefactor. Their tools lay abandoned at the statue's base.

  What had I done? Maybe His Majesty was unhappy with my research. Or maybe Arsinoe wasn't taking to my lessons well enough. I reviewed my plans for a work on conic sections, an expansion of a treatise by Archimedes, that might impress him. The younger guard eyed me suspiciously, and I realized I was mumbling my geometry aloud.

  The hoplites led me up the steps to the royal chamber. I was about to kneel before Keraunos when one of the boys struck me in the calf with his javelin; down I went. To my left I noticed more guards dragging away a slumping man down a corridor. The pain in my leg made me nauseous.

  "This is Conon," rumbled Keraunos. I looked up to greet him. He gazed down at me, eyes burning, wearing a gold breastplate that reflected the torchlight. I saw his white hair, cut short, and his scars before I received a blow on my head from a javelin. I jerked my head down and kept it there, and stared at my fingers pressing on the stone floor. There was a drop of blood soaking into a tile.

  "Be silent except to answer my questions. That will minimize the pain you experience. I am merciful; I hope not to cause a fellow Greek too much pain. Tell me your actions and whereabouts last night."

  "Your Majesty, the Princess Arsinoe's astronomy lesson in the observatory-courtyard of the Library, then to the dormitory."

  "Then?"

  "Sleep, sire."

  "An early night for you, wasn't it, skywatcher?"

  "Yes, sire."

  "Who saw you in the dormitory?"

  "My roommate, sire. Aristarchus of Samos."

  "Ah. The police are speaking to him. Be thankful you are an employee of the royal family, so you are interviewed by me. I'm not as harsh as the police."

  "Thank you, sire. What has happened?"

  There was a flash of motion to my left and I tensed for a blow. It never came.

  "I forgive you for this question," said Keraunos. "But don't think that by asking it you can persuade me of your innocence. The Temple of Aphrodite was violated last night. An artifact was stolen."

  "Sire?"

  "The hair of our Queen Berenice. A foolish mistake. I swore an oath to keep the order when my dear nephew entrusted me with the throne. And this villain dares to challenge that order... well. Understand that I'll find him."

  "Of course, sire."

  "Regardless of the cost."

  I realized Keraunos or the police would interview everyone, and I personally wasn't suspected. My nausea subsided. "Yes, sire."

  But wait... everyone?

  "The Princess corroborates your story. I'm done with you for now. But the harbors are closed and the roads are blocked. Attempt to leave Alexandria and you'll be crucified. Get out."

  "Yes, sire."

  It was a long walk back to the observatory-courtyard. On the way I saw a guard dragging an old lady out of her house as she chattered in Egyptian. A second guard carried out her children, one over each shoulder. I could smell loaves of neglected hetjat burning in her oven.

  When I reached the Library, the time for our lesson was almost up. I planned to make some observations alone, to clear my clouded head.

  But Arsinoe was waiting for me. "Don't even think of teaching astronomy to me tonight."

  "No?"

  "Did Keraunos shake you down yet? I swear, that guy needs a knife in the back more than anybody."

  "Arsinoe! Talk like that will lose you a hand, princess or not."

  "What are you going to do about this?"

  "Me? I'm going to be a loyal subject. Go about my business."

  "While Keraunos terrorizes the city? My father would never want this. Why not stop him?"

  "Stop him?"

  "The hair must still be in Alexandria. We can find it. You and me."

  "The King is doing a thorough job himself."

  "With his goons? He couldn't find his own–"

  "Enough of that. You think if we somehow find Berenice's hair, we can hand it over and stop his search?"

  "You think small, Conon. If we get the hair back to Aphrodite's temple, maybe she'll bring back my father. And I'll be looking, so if you're busy..."

  "Oh, no, Princess. I dare not leave your side."

  "Good. Come on."

  "Where?"

  "Just follow me."

  She whirled and paced through the gardens of the Library, her cloak flowing behind her. I stayed at her heels, pressing my palms together. Every instinct told me to go home, stay low, perhaps whisper concerns to Aristarchus. In the face of a king's rage, a smart person would blend, become a tree in the forest. But I knew what would happen to Arsinoe on her own. I had to stay with her.

  She led me back up Canopic Way, past the Palace, past the Temple of Serapis, to the northeast prison.

  "Excellent," I said, gripping her shoulder. "When we are arrested, they won't have far to drag us."

  She shook me off and pointed at the dull stone building. "The priest is in there, from Aphrodite's temple."

  She approached the guard, who bowed his head. "Princess," he said. "None may enter."

  She looked up at him. "Stand aside."

  "Only if you have orders from Keraunos."

  "Stand aside or I'll report you to Keraunos myself."

  It was too dark to see his eyes through the holes in his helmet. His chest expanded in a silent breath. Then it collapsed and he stepped out of the way.

  Beyond the guard was a hall with doors and narrow windows, reeking of decay and feces. Arsinoe took a torch off the wall and peered into each window.

  "Here he is," she said. "Hey in there. What's your name?"

  I heard a croak from the room. Arsinoe blocked the window. "We want to talk to you."

  "Please," came a frail voice. "No more."

  "I am the Princess Arsinoe. Stand up, man. Did you see who took the Queen's hair?"

  "Forgive me," said the voice. "My legs. I can't, no more questions. I lost the hair. And so I am lost myself. Soon I'll see my parents again. And my sister, gone so many years. Tell the King I have nothing more to say."

  "Princess," I said.

  "He's broken," she said. "Let's go."

  "Let me try." I took the torch and cast its light into the room. A man lay in the corner, wearing the bright red tunic of the acolytes of Aphrodite. I could see bruises on his bare legs, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

  "We come to pay our respects," I said. "And to thank you for your service to the goddess."

  His body twitched.

  "What a tragic loss you've suffered. You must have fought bravely."

  He moaned, and the moans formed words. "No. No. I didn't fight."

  "Then you were struck from behind. Malicious toads."

  "No. No."

  "Then how could a thief get past a man of your dedication?"

  "No thief."

  "Then I am truly confused," I said. Arsinoe put her hands on her hips and shook her head at me.

  The man in the cell howled. "As am I! I was preparing to clean the altar after the midnight sacrifice. I felt sick, and desecrated the temple floor with my shameful emesis. I felt too weak to clean it up. I sweated like I lay in the noon sun. My expulsion moved."

  I pressed against the window. "Moved?"
/>
  "It slid across the stone and rolled into shapes. They became snakes; five, ten, a hundred, coiling, hissing. They sprang at me. But when they got close, they didn't bite." He held up his arms in the torchlight. "They dug into my body. I could feel them inside me. I threw myself against the altar, to beat them out. Then I had a vision." His voice changed. "I saw... the goddess."

  "You are blessed," I said. "What then?"

  "I woke to the sound of parishioners outside, just before dawn. The hair was missing."

  Arsinoe pulled me away from the window and whispered, "Do you think Aphrodite herself may have taken the hair?"

  "No."

  "Then... what?" she asked. "He's lying? Did he take it?"

  "He'll be executed for losing it. It's unlikely he took it. Wait, child." I returned to the window and looked on the dark figure.

  "Good servant of Aphrodite," I said. "Please forgive this question. Did you eat anything outside your usual fare yesterday?"

  "No. I had supper as I always do."

  "And after? Try to remember."

  A silence. "Yes. Left in the donation basket. Three yellow plums. Firm flesh, like apples. Odd taste."

  "You ate all three?"

  "Yes."

  "Rest, acolyte. Find peace." To Arsinoe I whispered, "Quickly, now." I strode down the corridor and out past the guard, the javelin-strike on my calf throbbing angrily.

  This time, she followed me. "Where?"

  There was a criminal element to after-hours Alexandria, like any big city. Tonight that element cowered in terror. On the way back to the Library we dodged three hoplite platoons. Once past the fountain at the entrance, we lost ourselves in the marble hallways. Diagonal wooden beams ran up the walls, their intersections making diamond shapes. Scrolls were stacked in each diamond. There were half a million of them here. I breathed in the scent of ancient papyrus, warm and intellectual.

  I scanned marks carved into the beams. I raced left, checked a beam, and turned right down a row. "Botany," I murmured. "Botany, botany–" I made a quick stop.

  Arsinoe crashed into me. "The yellow plums," she said. "They're important?"