Perhaps they are all around us, but we cannot see one another. Now you are laughing again. You prove my point. It may be that we refuse to see them. Or they refuse to see us. I am not sure. Somehow we have all become separated. But I know this: our world and their world are intermingled.
47
Your own words condemn you. You confess to doubts about
your journey and yet you expect us to believe your stories?
I have always taught stories. How our souls first came to light in the Age of Orpheus, when the divine human awoke from slumber and embraced us. How, in the malign Age of the Apostles, we learned to worship and suffer. I shall speak no more of Mouldwarp, but I have taught that the succeeding Age of Witspell witnessed a reawakening and restoration of human power. We look back at them with great attention. We have established an Academy for the sole purpose of studying the beliefs of these past ages. But are we in a position to examine and to judge those who came before us? What if they are still examining us?
You are truly remarkable, Plato. You change your argument at every turn.
I am merely speculating. I assert nothing. It has always been my belief that speculation can do no harm.
It is not necessarily ours.
So, after all, I am to be condemned for challenging your beliefs? Then surely this age is no better than any that has come before.
Once more your head is filled with dreams and delusions.
Have you ever considered that our lives are a form of dream and that it is time to awake? What if we are being dreamed by the people of Mouldwarp? And what if we were dreaming them? What if the divine human had never woken and all the ages were part of the fabric of his sleep?
This is foolishness, Plato. Enough. We know that we exist.
We know our history. We are not the figments of anyone’s
imagination.
Forgive me. I thought it was the city custom that I should be allowed to speak freely and openly in my defence. If I am permitted to reveal all that I have thought and imagined, after my journey, then perhaps the citizens will reject the charges of falsehood against me.
Yes. They signal their assent. It is allowed. Continue.
48
Sparkler:
For so frail a figure, he has a powerful voice.
Ornatus:
No. Not powerful. Piercing. Somehow one always feels obliged to listen to him. He has always been full of ideas. I remember once, when we were children, he had a theory about the lambs of Lambeth. I cannot recall any of it now. I just remember his little face puckered up in sorrow, and his piping voice.
Sparkler:
Look. He is hitching up the sleeves of his robe.
Ornatus:
It has always been too large for him.
Sparkler:
Did I tell you of my encounter with him, when I was about to be healed?
Ornatus:
Of course. You have told everyone.
Sparkler:
My apologies. Do you see his hands pointing upwards as he speaks? He is describing the old city again—
Ornatus:
A phantom from his dreams.
Sparkler:
Are you sure? He is describing its domes and high buildings and wide streets. There were once stars in a night sky. There was a sun, casting shadows upon the earth.
Ornatus:
Next he will be saying that these shadows were souls.
Sparkler:
You should not treat his story so lightly, Ornatus. What if all were true?
Ornatus:
Why would it matter, true or not? One age is enough for me.
Sparkler:
So you would prefer to remain in ignorance?
Ornatus:
Ignorance is better than doubt.
Sparkler:
Yet Plato has begun a process which will not end—
Ornatus:
This is precisely why I condemn him. He has introduced uncertainty among us.
Sparkler:
‘And if we doubt, the world goes out.’ Who said that?
Ornatus:
Can we please not discuss these matters? What is Plato doing now?
Sparkler:
He is drawing some symbol or letter in the earth.
Ornatus:
Absurd. Who can be expected to see it from here?
Sparkler:
Do stop talking, Ornatus. Then we will be able to hear him. Look. Even the angels are interested. The tips of their wings have changed colour.
The
47
Your own words condemn you. You confess to doubts about
your journey and yet you expect us to believe your stories?
I have always taught stories. How our souls first came to light in the Age of Orpheus, when the divine human awoke from slumber and embraced us. How, in the malign Age of the Apostles, we learned to worship and suffer. I shall speak no more of Mouldwarp, but I have taught that the succeeding Age of Witspell witnessed a reawakening and restoration of human power. We look back at them with great attention. We have established an Academy for the sole purpose of studying the beliefs of these past ages. But are we in a position to examine and to judge those who came before us? What if they are still examining us?
You are truly remarkable, Plato. You change your argument at every turn.
I am merely speculating. I assert nothing. It has always been my belief that speculation can do no harm.
It is not necessarily ours.
So, after all, I am to be condemned for challenging your beliefs? Then surely this age is no better than any that has come before.
Once more your head is filled with dreams and delusions.
Have you ever considered that our lives are a form of dream and that it is time to awake? What if we are being dreamed by the people of Mouldwarp? And what if we were dreaming them? What if the divine human had never woken and all the ages were part of the fabric of his sleep?
This is foolishness, Plato. Enough. We know that we exist.
We know our history. We are not the figments of anyone’s
imagination.
Forgive me. I thought it was the city custom that I should be allowed to speak freely and openly in my defence. If I am permitted to reveal all that I have thought and imagined, after my journey, then perhaps the citizens will reject the charges of falsehood against me.
Yes. They signal their assent. It is allowed. Continue.
48
Sparkler:
For so frail a figure, he has a powerful voice.
Ornatus:
No. Not powerful. Piercing. Somehow one always feels obliged to listen to him. He has always been full of ideas. I remember once, when we were children, he had a theory about the lambs of Lambeth. I cannot recall any of it now. I just remember his little face puckered up in sorrow, and his piping voice.
Sparkler:
Look. He is hitching up the sleeves of his robe.
Ornatus:
It has always been too large for him.
Sparkler:
Did I tell you of my encounter with him, when I was about to be healed?
Ornatus:
Of course. You have told everyone.
Sparkler:
My apologies. Do you see his hands pointing upwards as he speaks? He is describing the old city again—
Ornatus:
A phantom from his dreams.
Sparkler:
Are you sure? He is describing its domes and high buildings and wide streets. There were once stars in a night sky. There was a sun, casting shadows upon the earth.
Ornatus:
Next he will be saying that these shadows were souls.
Sparkler:
You should not treat his story so lightly, Ornatus. What if all were true?
Ornatus:
Why would it matter, true or not? One age is enough for me.
Sparkler:
So you would prefer to remain in ignorance?
Ornatus:
Ignorance is better than doubt.
Sparkler:
Yet Plato has begun a process which will not end—
Ornatus:
This is precisely why I condemn him. He has introduced uncertainty among us.
Sparkler:
‘And if we doubt, the world goes out.’ Who said that?
Ornatus:
Can we please not discuss these matters? What is Plato doing now?
Sparkler:
He is drawing some symbol or letter in the earth.
Ornatus:
Absurd. Who can be expected to see it from here?
Sparkler:
Do stop talking, Ornatus. Then we will be able to hear him. Look. Even the angels are interested. The tips of their wings have changed colour.
The
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