Turing's Revenge and Other Stories

by Steven W. White

  "Think."

  "Vomit, hallucinations," she said. "He was drugged. Why not cut his throat?"

  "Think."

  "Poison is risky. So... our thief is no killer. No stomach for it."

  "My clever pupil."

  I found "medicinal fruit" and handed Arsinoe a scroll. I picked up a second, and read the neat hand of a Library scribe.

  One hour and nineteen scrolls later, Arsinoe said, "Ah! Yellow plums. From the East. Wait. For fertility?"

  "Read on."

  "They're called mandrake. Oh, listen to this. 'A moon before the wheat harvest, before the mandrake acquires its smell, eating one or two will bring senselessness and visions. Three will loosen the bowels and bring sleep. Four can kill a small man.'

  "And the attribution?"

  "Hm?"

  "At the bottom."

  "'From an Arabic-speaking caravan.' No date."

  "How old is the papyrus?"

  She rubbed a corner. "Looks really old."

  I picked up a scroll from the pile around us, rolled it, and put it back on its shelf. "Now what?"

  She frowned and held up her scroll. "Any Arab might know this."

  "Yes."

  "There are thousands of Arabs in the city."

  "True," I said. "If we were chasing a common thief, I'd be stumped."

  "But we're not. And money. I don't know how tough mandrakes are to find for sale in the Brucheium, but I bet they're more expensive than a thief's blade."

  "Then our malefactor is no pauper and no barbarian. So?"

  "So... I wonder who's seen this scroll since my mother cut her hair."

  "As do I." I put away the remaining scrolls, and tucked the mandrake scroll under my arm. Arsinoe turned and vanished down the row. I ran after her, refusing to limp, following the slap of her sandals on the floor tiles.

  She stopped in the doorway of the librarian's office. I reached her and followed her gaze inside.

  It was a little room, with one wall covered by diagonal beams, loaded with the scrolls written by Callimachus that catalogued the Library's contents. Behind a desk sat a young man, beardless, with long hair tied back in an unconventional Egyptian style, although the man was clearly Greek. He studied a small wooden sphere, a globe, mounted on the desk. He was the target of Arsinoe's wide-eyed attention, and I confess he was shockingly handsome.

  "I've seen you," he said to her. His voice flowed like wine. "You're the Princess. It's late for you to be out without your guard."

  "The guards are busy," I said, "tearing the city apart."

  "Ah. And I've seen you in the observatory. Conon, yes?"

  "Who are you? Where's Callimachus?"

  "Callimachus is at the docks. A ship from Abdera was found with books in its hold; he's collecting them to be copied. I'm Eratosthenes, the new librarian-in-training. You can call me Beta, everyone does."

  So this was Beta. I had heard of a young genius recently arrived from Cyrene, Berenice's home city. She had raved about him, and insisted that Philadelphus fund his scholarship to Alexandria.

  I handed him the mandrake scroll. "Who's checked this out recently?"

  He took it. "I can look. But wait. A question, Conon. To a fellow astronomer."

  "What is it?" I asked. "We're in a rush, actually."

  He pointed at the globe. "You accept the world is round?"

  "Of course. Everyone does nowadays."

  He breathed in deep. His eyebrows arched. "Then a brave seaman could sail west from Iberia and arrive in India."

  I took a step back. "Impossible."

  Beta smiled. "Nothing's impossible. Just ask Archimedes. But ah, the duration of the journey! So my question: How large is the world?"

  "I... well, I don't know."

  "Alas, no one seems to. But I recently found a scroll from Syene, stating that on the longest day of the year, the sun can be seen reflected in the bottom of even very deep wells–"

  "Beta," I said, "the scroll."

  "Oh. Perhaps we'll talk later. Let's see..." He unrolled the mandrake scroll, then peered at a second scroll on his desk. "This was checked out two days ago, by the Master of the Elements."

  "The Master? That's impossible."

  Beta smiled again. "You say that a lot, Conon."

  Arsinoe giggled.

  I pressed my hands on his desk and peered at the record. "A mistake–"

  "Not at all," said Beta.

  I felt weak and leaned on the desk.

  Beta frowned and tilted his head. "Are you so shocked that a great mathematician would be interested in botany?"

  I nodded. "Yes, that's it. It's... suspicious, isn't it?"

  "Not at all. Have you seen my work in mathematics?"

  "Well, no."

  "My astronomy? My history? My poetry? My treatise on drama?"

  "No."

  "My point is, Conon, we're Greek. Specialization is for slaves."

  "Yes, yes; hasn't anyone else checked out that scroll?"

  Beta sighed. Shaking his head, he scanned the list. "Ah. Yes, a physician, Herophilus."

  "When?"

  "Three years ago."

  My fist struck the desk. Arsinoe and Beta straightened.

  "Pardon me," I said.

  Beta's eyes narrowed. "What is this about?"

  "Nothing of consequence," I said.

  His face didn't change. "Liar."

  "Perhaps I'll tell you. Once it resolves. Good night."

  I stepped out, leaving the mandrake scroll on his desk. Arsinoe remained frozen in the doorway.

  "So," she said. "Beta. That's so cute, Beta. Maybe I'll see you around–"

  I grabbed her elbow and pulled. Once she was in the hall, the spell faded, and she kept up with me. "Did you hear?" she said. "He writes poetry. Maybe I can get him to read me some. Slow down! We're going to the Master?"

  I found that my haste kept the sickness in my heart at bay. "Yes."

  "Good. You think he's awake?"

  "I know he's awake."

  Old men slept little. And Euclid was very old.

  #

  We knocked on his door at the Library's dormitory. Strange sounds came from within. Tap-swish, tap-swish, tap-swish. The door creaked open.

  Euclid was once a tall man. Now, in his eighties, his upper body curved forward like a shepherd's hook, taking a cubit off his height. His scowling face was level with Arsinoe's. His left hand clutched a twisted cane, and his right arm was bent and pressed to his chest. His beard, long but well maintained, hung over it. The sound had been his shuffling feet and thumping cane.

  "You disturb me," he said. His voice was a rusty hinge.

  "Sorry, Master," I said.

  "Who are you? I don't see well."

  "This is the Princess Arsinoe. I am Conon of Samos."

  "Royalty. Hm. And you... you were in my geometry class."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "I recall you were an adequate student."

  "Thank you, Master. We came to ask you... er, that is–"

  "You checked out a scroll on mandrake fruit," Arsinoe interrupted. "We want to know what for."

  Euclid's tiny clouded eyes focused on her. His right hand appeared from under his beard and scratched his head, clawlike, shifting the cloth cap that covered his ears. The hand disappeared back under the beard. "He sent you to bother me about this again? I'm older than you'll ever be. If you felt the pain in these knees, you'd walk around all day on your arms. How will I ever find a good salve if you people keep harassing me? You're too late."

  "Too late?" I asked.

  "I've returned all those scrolls to the Library. If Aristarchus wants to see them again, he can look them up there. Leave me alone." Euclid rocked back and shut the door.

  "Aristarchus?" Arsinoe asked the closed door.

  Our eyes met. "Aristarchus," I whispered.

  #

  We jogged down Canopic Way, northeast toward the docks. Every step drove blades through my calf.

  "Maybe we
should stake out the dorm," Arsinoe said, "and catch him there."

  "No," I said. "I know where he is."

  "Where?"

  "'Closer to the stars.'"

  "What?"

  "I'm a fool!"

  She nodded, grinning. "Perhaps."

  We had passed the Brucheium and the Jewish Quarter, and the colonnades stopped. I saw the ocean, dark as iron, filled with merchant ships. War galleons patrolled the gap in the breakwater, preventing ships from entering or leaving. We ran past the battering ram of a galleon, and its painted face leered at us.

  "Aristarchus once told me he believes that the Earth revolves around the sun."

  "Really?" she said.

  "And that the sun is a star. The stars are suns, but far away."

  "That's crazy!"

  "Yes, but think of it. Look up."

  She did. She stopped running, her eyes locked on the sky. I doubled back to her.

  The lights of Alexandria had faded, this late. We could see the Pharos already, its flame making a tiny orange halo in the sky to the north. The rest of the world was humbled by the light of the stars. They shone in their eternal brilliance, white, gold, blue, filling infinity with cold illumination. Hera's Way stretched across the cosmos like a ribbon of translucent silk.

  "It's too big," she murmured. "It's too big."

  She trembled, staring, lost among a million suns.

  I grabbed her shoulders, and she returned to this world. "Would you climb the Pharos to get closer to that?" I asked. She wiped her eyes and shook her head no.

  We stepped onto the Heptastadium, a stone breakwater with a road that connected the Pharos to shore. We ran its length, waves lapping on either side, and the world's greatest lighthouse grew tall before us.

  We stopped at the island's path to the summit. Arsinoe leaned on a boulder, spreading her thin arms. "Stop," she gasped.

  "Come when you're ready." I started up the path.

  "Aren't you exhausted?"

  "Yes."

  "Wait, I'm coming." She tore herself off the rock and pushed toward me. We climbed.

  We passed the columns at the entrance and dragged ourselves up the spiraling interior staircase. Every thirty cubits, a narrow window broke the pattern of blocks. At the tenth window, I stopped to let Arsinoe catch up. My leg throbbed. I put my arm through the window and felt the night's wind grapple with my hand.

  She appeared. We climbed. Opposite the windows were closed doors leading to storage rooms of wood for the signal fire. Out the twentieth window, I could see only stars. When the steps took on highlights of amber, I looked up and saw firelight.

  We emerged from a hole on one side of a wide octagonal floor. Above us was orange smoke and open sky. Fire danced in an iron cauldron, its brim at chest level. I felt its warmth on my face. Standing mirrors half-surrounded the cauldron, beaming the light out to sea. Logs sat stacked against the low wall, and a smaller mirror leaned in one of the eight corners.

  Arsinoe tugged at my arm. "He's not here."

  Maybe he was in the dorm after all. I leaned past the rampart and looked across sleeping Alexandria. He would not escape us. That was a grim truth.

  "Princess?" I said. "Once we find him, what then?"

  "We put my mother's hair back with Aphrodite where it belongs."

  "And when they ask you where you got it? How will you answer?"

  "I'll tell the truth."

  "Child!" I snapped. "They'll kill him!"

  "As they'll kill the acolyte from the temple. Your friend should have thought of that before he stole from a goddess."

  Warships cruised in the harbor below, dark shapes lit by glowing lanterns. I heard burning logs pop in the cauldron behind me. How will I save you, Ari?

  But we didn't know anything. Why would Ari steal hair, anyway? Maybe he hadn't. Maybe when we found him, he'd point us to someone else.

  "That's funny," Arsinoe said.

  "What?"

  She pointed at the small mirror, leaning by a stack of logs.

  I circled the cauldron, and saw that the mirror wasn't just leaning against the rampart. It tipped the wrong way. It was mounted diagonally over an open trap door, reflecting firelight down.

  Arsinoe prepared to descend. I gently pushed her back and went first, easing under the mirror and onto the ladder. I climbed down the well, light falling on me from the reflected flames. I looked up, into the burning sky. Arsinoe's sandals found the rungs, and she cast her shadow on me.

  Soon, I was in the fuel room, packed to the ceiling with logs for the signal fire. At the base of the ladder was a second mirror. I reached my hands into the light to see where it went, and crawled down a wooden tunnel, a gap in the logs. "Don't bump that mirror," I told Arsinoe.

  We followed the light. Another mirror, another trap door, another ladder. We descended a level, crawled through the wood, and came out to an open space at the far side of the room. The light made a golden spot on the stone wall.

  The stone in that spot had no sealant. Arsinoe pried at it.

  I saw she would dirty her hands. "Princess, let me."

  She ignored me and lifted the stone out. It was only a flat tile, and the firelight struck what lay behind it.

  In the chamber, looped on a spike, hung Berenice's luminous braid.

  Arsinoe recovered first. She snatched it and disappeared into the wood. I tried to catch her, but she was faster than I was, and in less pain.

  "Princess!"

  She scampered up the second ladder and reached the first. I called after her.

  "So, back to Aphrodite. Splendid! And if a guard sees you with it?"

  She didn't answer. She climbed to the trap door and disappeared into the burning night. I started up the ladder beneath her.

  "Of course," I called, "your title will protect you. And surely Keraunos will believe your every word."

  Her head reappeared above me, surrounded by the mirror's fire. I climbed out. She folded her arms and looked at me with narrow-eyed rage.

  I held my ground under her murderous stare. "You can't march through the streets waving that around. We need a plan. We wait for Aristarchus."

  #

  It was not so long a wait. We peeked over the ramparts and spied his dark shape crossing the Heptastadium, three hundred cubits below. As he climbed the spiral staircase we crouched by the trap door to the fuel rooms. He emerged, circled the cauldron, and saw us.

  "Nice evening," I said.

  He regained control of his face and smiled. "Yes. What are you...?"

  Arsinoe drew the braid from her tunic and waved it at him. I watched his quick mind consider and reject a dozen courses of action. He sat down, the cauldron behind him, and said, "It's finished."

  "No, it's not," I said. "Ari, why?"

  "You," he said, his chest heaving. "You see her almost every day. You're the royal astronomer. I must watch from such a distance." He glanced up, and waved his hand dismissively at the sky. "As I watch those."

  "I don't understand."

  "Conon! I'm no one. I'm merely one of thousands, who peer at her from crowds straining at the barricades as she passes in a parade." His eyes locked on the braid in Arsinoe's hands. His smile was tired and empty. "But now I've touched her."

  A moment passed. Arsinoe shook her head, unbelieving. "But you'll die."

  "I know," he said plainly.

  I leapt up and strode away from them, leaned on the rampart, and looked to the stars. The fire's glow lit the rising smoke, which billowed over me and hid everything. Then the wind shifted and the sky became clear. And in the stars, I saw the answer.

  I turned to Arsinoe and plucked Berenice's hair from her. Before she could act, I tossed it into the cauldron. It twisted and flared on the orange coals.

  Aristarchus and Arsinoe cried out and jumped to their feet. They lunged at the fire, and I restrained them. "It's done!" I said. "I beg you both, hear me out!"

  #

  Keraunos, Berenice, Arsinoe, Aristarchus, and a sq
uad of hoplites listened in the observatory-courtyard as I pointed out constellations. In my capacity as royal astronomer, I had announced the arrival of a cosmic portent, and demanded an audience with His Majesty. He asked if it was a comet, and rushed over with family and soldiers.

  "Glorious news," I said. "Look, there is the Great Bear. Beyond, Leo the Lion. To the East, mighty Arcturus of the Herdsman. But between them... do you see?"

  "See what?" asked Arsinoe.

  "That flowing stream of stars. Do you recognize it?"

  "I see," said Berenice. "It's lovely. But I thought that was the tuft on the end of Leo's tail."

  "No mere tuft could be so striking," I said. "Majesty?"

  "Er," said Keraunos. "I see it. I don't know what it is."

  Aristarchus, timid and breathless, asked, "Part of Virgo?"

  "It's the Queen's missing hair," I said. "Now found, and in the most surprising place. It's clear Aphrodite was so pleased with the gift, she placed it in the heavens where all mortals may gaze on it, and know the beauty, generosity and love of Berenice."

  They were silent. A few of the hoplites whispered and pointed.

  "Fine," said Keraunos. "As long as it's not a comet."

  "It's wonderful," said Berenice. "The acolyte said he had a vision of Aphrodite."

  "So," I said. "The acolyte. I imagine, well, perhaps he should..."

  "Be released," grumbled Keraunos. "I'll see to it in the morning."

  "And perhaps the harbor..." I offered.

  "Should be reopened. And the patrols called off. Very well. It's late." Keraunos trudged into the darkness.

  Berenice gazed upward. "Marvelous." She shook her head, and followed Keraunos. "Marvelous." The guards went with them. Two remained to escort Arsinoe.

  She and Aristarchus stood with me in the night. I felt Ari's hand briefly on my shoulder, and he left.

  Arsinoe watched me silently. "If my father dies," she whispered, "I'm telling everything. Democritan." She turned and strode out. The last guards followed.

  I remained. My tremulous heart was no matter. The fate of Ptolemy III Euergetes would not be revealed this evening. Berossus once said we are all imprisoned, ignorant, within the history books of an unseen future. I watched the stars in perfect solitude, admiring Berenice's Hair, Coma Berenices, and savored the timelessness of night.

  FAREWELL TO ARMS