played only these two times in my long life. But that is a fact,” he wheezed in an undertone, “which I rarely add. Now tell me, have these stories not made your long journey worthwhile?”
“I am afraid not,” sighed Judah. “I am afraid that I was not seeking to hear fascinating sidelights from your travels, but, rather, to find out what you have learned of scientific truth. Excuse me for failing to make myself clear.”
“My fault completely,” said Dr. Silentius. “I am not surprised. People are always correcting me for being too anecdotal in my conversational style. Now, since you want to know the truth, I will tell it to you gladly: have you heard my insanity story? For that is the truth about my ailment, you know. There is no tropical disease chewing on my nerves. I am mad, an amnesiac, given to delusions. And I will tell you the truth about how it began.
“At the end of my last voyage to the Arabian subcontinent, I was feeling profoundly depressed by the monotonous desert scenery. Reaching the coast, I eagerly accepted a boatman’s offer to ferry me to an island, several miles from shore, covered by lush foliage and populated by giant lizards. The local priest accompanied me as a guide.
“When we reached the sandy shore, the boatman headed back to the mainland, promising to return that afternoon. But, as we walked inland, I realized that there were no jungles, no lizards. The island was a vast leper colony, watched over by the curate, who knew that no important European visitor would have voluntarily come out to inspect the fruit of his labors.
“I am not a squeamish man; still, you can imagine my distress. I demanded to be taken off the island. But, eager for some funds he imagined me to have, the priest insisted on catering to my ‘scientific interest,’ showing me the stumps, sores, and stubs of his miserable patients. Yet, even with all my investigative spirit, I could not force myself to come within ten feet of those disgusting spectacles.
“Perhaps the priest was slightly mad; even after he saw my dismay, he did not allow the ferryman to return for seven days. When I stepped into the open hull at last, I was no longer myself: my mind was just as scarred as the skin of those verminous invalids.”
Suddenly, Judah perceived that all the traits which he had interpreted as symptoms of physical illness could just as well be signs of extreme age and mental derangement. “I sympathize with your bitter experience,” he stammered uncomfortably, heading for the door. “And now I will leave you alone, in peace.”
“My boy!” cried the scientist, leaping up with a spryness which a sick man could never have mustered. “Why are you not thanking me for sharing my wisdom with you?”
Judah paused on his way out of the room, and turned. “Because,” he shrugged sorrowfully, “what you have told me is not at all related to scientific truth.”
“You are quite right,” sighed Dr. Silentius, sinking back onto his divan. “Nothing to do with science, nothing to do with truth. You are very perceptive, I am amazed, you have caught me at my own game. Now, I can only hope to redeem myself by including both truth and science in a single explanation. I will give you the scientific truth, Judah ben Simon. And this is it:
“My master’s system looks very simple in black ink on white paper, broken down into categories and subcategories, printed in neat charts and columns. But, in the natural world, applied to reality, it begins to reveal an entire network of mazes within mazes, false turns and twisting corridors. And it was at the end of one of those dark tunnels that I lost my way, and my sanity, so that now I hardly believe them when they tell me I am the great Dr. Boris Silentius, who once studied with Linnaeus and traveled the world.”
“Can you tell me what you mean about the mazes?” asked Judah ben Simon, passionately eager now for the first time.
“No,” replied the scholar. “But
“I am afraid not,” sighed Judah. “I am afraid that I was not seeking to hear fascinating sidelights from your travels, but, rather, to find out what you have learned of scientific truth. Excuse me for failing to make myself clear.”
“My fault completely,” said Dr. Silentius. “I am not surprised. People are always correcting me for being too anecdotal in my conversational style. Now, since you want to know the truth, I will tell it to you gladly: have you heard my insanity story? For that is the truth about my ailment, you know. There is no tropical disease chewing on my nerves. I am mad, an amnesiac, given to delusions. And I will tell you the truth about how it began.
“At the end of my last voyage to the Arabian subcontinent, I was feeling profoundly depressed by the monotonous desert scenery. Reaching the coast, I eagerly accepted a boatman’s offer to ferry me to an island, several miles from shore, covered by lush foliage and populated by giant lizards. The local priest accompanied me as a guide.
“When we reached the sandy shore, the boatman headed back to the mainland, promising to return that afternoon. But, as we walked inland, I realized that there were no jungles, no lizards. The island was a vast leper colony, watched over by the curate, who knew that no important European visitor would have voluntarily come out to inspect the fruit of his labors.
“I am not a squeamish man; still, you can imagine my distress. I demanded to be taken off the island. But, eager for some funds he imagined me to have, the priest insisted on catering to my ‘scientific interest,’ showing me the stumps, sores, and stubs of his miserable patients. Yet, even with all my investigative spirit, I could not force myself to come within ten feet of those disgusting spectacles.
“Perhaps the priest was slightly mad; even after he saw my dismay, he did not allow the ferryman to return for seven days. When I stepped into the open hull at last, I was no longer myself: my mind was just as scarred as the skin of those verminous invalids.”
Suddenly, Judah perceived that all the traits which he had interpreted as symptoms of physical illness could just as well be signs of extreme age and mental derangement. “I sympathize with your bitter experience,” he stammered uncomfortably, heading for the door. “And now I will leave you alone, in peace.”
“My boy!” cried the scientist, leaping up with a spryness which a sick man could never have mustered. “Why are you not thanking me for sharing my wisdom with you?”
Judah paused on his way out of the room, and turned. “Because,” he shrugged sorrowfully, “what you have told me is not at all related to scientific truth.”
“You are quite right,” sighed Dr. Silentius, sinking back onto his divan. “Nothing to do with science, nothing to do with truth. You are very perceptive, I am amazed, you have caught me at my own game. Now, I can only hope to redeem myself by including both truth and science in a single explanation. I will give you the scientific truth, Judah ben Simon. And this is it:
“My master’s system looks very simple in black ink on white paper, broken down into categories and subcategories, printed in neat charts and columns. But, in the natural world, applied to reality, it begins to reveal an entire network of mazes within mazes, false turns and twisting corridors. And it was at the end of one of those dark tunnels that I lost my way, and my sanity, so that now I hardly believe them when they tell me I am the great Dr. Boris Silentius, who once studied with Linnaeus and traveled the world.”
“Can you tell me what you mean about the mazes?” asked Judah ben Simon, passionately eager now for the first time.
“No,” replied the scholar. “But
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