The Plato Papers (3 page)

6

Sidonia:
I believe that you were about to describe ‘information’. May I sit with you, Plato, and discuss the subject?

Plato:
By all means. Here in the cool and even light I feel sure that we will reach interesting conclusions. We sat here when we were children, debating the existence of light and the eternity of triangles.

Sidonia:
You knew all the answers.

Plato:
No. I knew the questions. I always wanted to catch your attention.

Sidonia:
That was long ago.

Plato:
Or a long way forward. Have you noticed how before and after have become strangely mingled? But this is idle chatter. You were asking me, were you not, about ‘information’? By all accounts it was a very ancient deity. It conferred power upon those who worshipped it and was thought to have an invisible presence everywhere.

Sidonia:
But what was the purpose of this god or spirit?

Plato:
Apparently it had none. Even its devotees did not believe that they could become wiser, or happier, through its ministrations. In many respects it resembled the cults of Witspell which were performed only for the sake of the ceremonies themselves. Information simply granted its practitioners words and images.

Sidonia:
Of what?

Plato:
In that period it was believed that people should know of events far away, whether real or imagined.

Sidonia:
Presumably this afforded them great benefits.

Plato:
On the contrary. None at all. In fact it led to anxiety and bewilderment. But they persisted in the belief that it was necessary for them to suffer in these ways. They had been taught that they were the ‘consumers’ of the world.

Sidonia:
But surely a consumer is one who eats?

Plato:
Who devours. Consumers, as we know, are those who see this earth merely in relation to themselves; it only exists in the act of being ingested or enjoyed. Of course we have one or two consumers in the city, and they are kept apart from us, but can you imagine a whole society composed of these ravening creatures who thought of nothing but self-gratification?

Sidonia:
A consumer society? It is impossible to imagine.

Plato:
Yet they were never content, never fulfilled. Even as they were engaged in their ceaseless activity, they knew that it was futile.

Sidonia:
But what was the nature of the events related to them?

Plato:
It will be hard for you to accept what I am about to say.

Sidonia:
In talking of ancient days, Plato, I have already learned to believe the impossible.

Plato:
It appears likely, from all the available evidence, that the people of Mouldwarp loved chaos and disaster.

Sidonia:
No!

Plato:
It seems that they wished to learn of wars and murders; every kind of violation or despoilation delighted them. Information taught them to dissemble their pleasure, however, and in its service to retain an enquiring or sober countenance. Nevertheless they dwelled lovingly upon death and suffering. We believe that there were also ‘papers’ which chronicled all the worst incidents of the period and were distributed without charge to the populace.

Sidonia:
Did everybody read this thing called papers?

Plato:
It is hard to be sure. Of course no one derived any knowledge or wisdom from the activity. Difficult as it is for us to understand, they simply seemed to amuse themselves by reading about the misfortunes of others. This was the essential principle of information.

Sidonia:
Would you suppose, then, that its worship was one of the reasons for the demise of the Age of Mouldwarp?

Plato:
There can be little doubt of that. The dimming of the stars and the burning of instruments had many complex causes, but there is every reason to believe that the sacred cult of information was at least one of the symptoms of decline. Dark ceremonies and slavish pieties are characteristic of a decaying or diseased civilisation, and this religion of death may have rehearsed a more general dissolution. Now, if you will excuse me, Sidonia, I must return to my glossary.

7

iron age:
the age of the machine. Known colloquially as the ‘dark age’, which in the end it became.

language laboratory:
a sterile area where language was created under strict experimental conditions. New complex words or phrases were bred from existing phonetic and semantic systems before being tested upon a group of volunteers. There was of course always a danger of contamination or leakage; we believe that there were occasions when rogue words were accidentally released into the community, sometimes causing hysteria or fever.

literature:
a word of unknown provenance, generally attributed to ‘litter’ or waste.

logic:
a wooden object, as in log table.

nervous system:
the system of Mouldwarp, in a state of continual anxiety. See ‘nervous breakdown’ for its eventual collapse.

old flame:
it was once believed that the kindling of seasoned wood or the burning of an ancient house would inevitably produce old flames. But later research has suggested that the locality, rather than the material, is responsible for this phenomenon. That is why the citizens of Witspell noticed that fires started in familiar places; there were certain streets around the hall of the guilds, for example, where old flames periodically burst forth.

opening night:
a reference to the creation myth of Mouldwarp, in which the universe is believed to have emerged from darkness and chaos; it was of course a theory that reflected the shadowy violence of the civilisation itself. The alternative, propounded by those few poets and prophets who rejected the culture of their period, seems to have been known as ‘open day’. The phrase has been recognised in two or three fragments concerned with the education of the young.

organ grinder:
a kind of butcher. See ‘organism’.

pastoral:
the reverence for the past, expressed by word of mouth.

pedestrian:
one who journeyed on foot. Used as a term of abuse, as in ‘this is a very pedestrian plot’. It is possible, therefore, that in ancient days walking was considered to be an ignoble or unnatural activity; this would explain the endless varieties of transport used to convey people for very short distances.

psychotic:
a person in communion with his psyche or spirit, who sometimes spoke as if by inspiration.

question master:
a grand official, or even leader. His role as interrogation master is not entirely clear, but it seems likely that he issued one or two questions a year to the general populace. The citizens would be expected to publish their answers, but he himself offered none.

recreation ground:
an area of the city selected for the restoration of past life. See ‘recognition’ for the skills of those who performed this difficult procedure.

8

Sidonia:
This is perhaps what Plato means by a recreation ground. Are you comfortable here? Let me raise an umbrella to protect you from the glare.

Ornatus:
The sea is very troubled. I had not expected so many glimmers and flashes of light.

Sidonia:
They are moments reappearing, little gleams of time in the general sea as countless as the grains of sand upon the beach. Shield your eyes and look over there. What is that emerging in the distance?

Ornatus:
It must be some cloud of light, with its form changing. It seems to take the shape of a face. No. It has become too wide. It is a magnificent building. Now it is breaking up into words.

Sidonia:
It will change continually until it is drawn back into the sea. We believe that these configurations represent some great epoch, or century, struggling to regain existence. Sheaths of brightness have been observed, rising up from the sea with great rapidity before subsiding once more beneath the waves. These are the tokens of events, perhaps many thousands of years old, which have returned for an instant to the world’s memory. There was the occasion when one great light left the people of this region dazed and bewildered. Some were reported to have spoken in strange languages and to have laughed or cried for no reason. Neighbours no longer recognised one another and members of the same family seemed strangers. But the anxiety passed. It was part of the process.

Ornatus:
Surely the people of Mouldwarp also knew of this place? They gave it such a remarkable name.

Sidonia:
Gravesend. But, according to Plato, it lay beneath their field of vision. This sea did not appear until Witspell, when the sun went out and the stars were dimmed. So many wonderful regions of the earth emerged in that period. There was one called Eden— Oh, look, your umbrella is falling down. Let me help you with it. Do you remember when we took part in the parish games? I helped you to find the light.

Ornatus:
When we were small?

Sidonia:
We had to go through the maze of glass—

Ornatus:
And even though we could see perfectly, we were still lost!

Sidonia:
Plato always held back, I think. Did he not run away before the dance?

Ornatus:
He was afraid that he would break the glass.

Sidonia:
But it cannot be broken. It is made from the tears of angels.

Ornatus:
And as bright as the sea itself. Tell me, Sidonia. Has anyone entered this sea?

Sidonia:
Let me put it this way: no one has ever returned.

Ornatus:
But surely there was curiosity, as well as wonder? What if I were to throw my birth-plate into the water?

Sidonia:
You are being facetious, I know, but it would also be very unwise. Let me tell you of one case. There was a young man from the village of Romford, not so far from here, who believed that the sea was an illusion and decided to test its powers. He walked down to the shore and looked at his reflection in the water.

Ornatus:
Many of us do that. It is a question of achieving harmony for just one moment. I have seen Madrigal, for example, looking into the Lea with wonderful concentration.

Sidonia:
Perhaps the reflection is our second self, as some people believe, but this is not the Lea. This is the sea of time. The villager stepped back and stood upon the sands, daring the waves to engulf him. When they refused the challenge, he ran towards them.

Ornatus:
What happened?

Sidonia:
He was seen to walk a short distance on the water and then to make great bounds, leaping high into the air.

Ornatus:
How extraordinary!

Sidonia:
On the first bound he turned into an ox, on the second into a swan; then he became in turn a snake, a lion and many other creatures, until he vanished from sight altogether.

Ornatus:
All this is true?

Sidonia:
All is true. Perhaps he is changing still, although what form— I see that your light is changing.

Ornatus:
For some reason I find the story disturbing. It is as if—well, it doesn’t matter.

Sidonia:
As if the city could no longer protect us?

Ornatus:
That would be blasphemy.

Sidonia:
No. After all, we are some distance away. But we should go back. I can see that you are anxious.

Ornatus:
Yes. We ought to return.

Sidonia:
And then Plato can entertain us with some more of his ancient words.