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Menôn: echeis moi eipein, ô Sôkrates, ara didakton hê aretê; ê ou didakton all' askêton; ê oute askêton oute mathêton, alla phusei paragignetai tois anthrôpois ê allôi tini tropôi;
Sôkratês: ô Menôn, pro tou men Thettaloi eudokimoi êsan en tois Hellêsin kai ethaumazonto eph' hippikêi te kai ploutôi, nun de, hôs emoi dokei, kai epi sophiai, kai ouch hêkista hoi tou sou hetairou Aristippou politai Larisaioi. toutou de humin aitios esti Gorgias: aphikomenos gar eis tên polin erastas epi sophiai eilêphen Aleuadôn te tous prôtous, hôn ho sos erastês estin Aristippos, kai tôn allôn Thettalôn. kai dê kai touto to ethos humas eithiken, aphobôs te kai megaloprepôs apokrinesthai ean tis ti erêtai, hôsper eikos tous eidotas, hate kai autos parechôn hauton erôtan tôn Hellênôn tôi boulomenôi hoti an tis boulêtai, kai oudeni hotôi ouk apokrinomenos. enthade de, ô phile Menôn, to enantion periestêken: hôsper auchmos tis tês sophias gegonen, kai kinduneuei ek tônde tôn topôn par' humas oichesthai hê
sophia.
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"So,
scholars, next Monday, we will be discussing in detail, in final
review before exams, how and why Socrates uses the Pythagorean
Theorem. Of course, you will all read that section of the Meno
in English—at least once. And...and you should be prepared to
also delve into the original, transliterated Greek." Amid a
rising groan from the students, the professor tumbled out of the
room like weed carried off by a sudden gust.
Alec ran
after him, hoping to find him in his office.
"Ahh,
come in, come in dear Alec. Have a seat," the professor
said waving Alec through the open doorway toward a small,
straight-back chair. "Did you enjoy the class today?"
"Uh,
yes, very much, Dr. Max," Alec said.
"And
did you understand everything we were talking about?"
"Uh,
not exactly…that’s sort of why I wanted to talk with you
now."
"Absolutely…positively,"
the professor said with gusto as he ran around his office
searching for something that was apparently hiding in one of his
overflowing bookshelves. "Yes, yes, absolutely."
Alec
wanted to confide in the professor, telling him everything he
knew and felt—especially about the previous day’s events.
But he suddenly realized that the secret of the café would
sound so bizarre, so incredible, that no one would take him
seriously. And then, suddenly, the matter of his confidentiality
agreement under the Omnivore 90 loomed before him like a very
bad nightmare.
"You
are unsure how to talk about something?" the old professor
said peering over his small glasses as he rummaged through piles
of papers scattered around his desk.
"Yes…yes.
I don’t even know if I should talk about this with you."
"And
would you be referring to that strange matter over at the café?
That matter about signing a secrecy promise?"
"Yes,
you’re right Dr. Max. That’s what…"
"That’s
what I’m looking for right now," the professor chimed in,
balancing on the top step of a small ladder like a crazy
acrobat. He was stretching and reaching for something that was
out of sight on the top shelf of a tall bookcase. "It’s
right around here…no here…no here…ahh here we are!"
Alarmed at
the prospect that the old professor was going to fall at any
moment, Alec had jumped from his seat. He moved closer, almost
crouching, ready to catch the old man if he fell.
"Sit
down Mr. Booner, or was it, oh yes…sit down Alec." Waving
Alec back to the uncomfortable wooden chair reserved for
visitors, the spry old man started unsealing a large manila
envelope. "When you were here last, Alec, you departed
without taking the disk that Army general gave you. Since you
had already permitted me to load it on my box, I took the
liberty of calling on one of my old pals here on campus—in the
computer science department…yes…department," the
professor’s voice trailed off in a distinctly absent-minded
way. "…yes, so Alec, in the department they have more
resources for decoding. Leaping lampreys, I don’t even have a
neural network card on my old box! Now, Alec, do you think that
I might have gone out of bounds by getting help from my
friend?"
.
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