Hello again, and welcome to April's edition of The Autolycan, (even though it's still only March.) I just thought anything might be better than sitting staring at the rain on a really miserable Bank Holiday Monday.
This month we're going back to ancient Greece, and investigating a mysterious statue. I do hope you like the story - and if you do please pass it on to friends and family, like it on Facebook, and so on. Sorry if it's not better than staring at rain.
TABLET
OF STONE
There's a
theory that a funerary statue of a woman dated to about 100 BC shows
her looking at a modern laptop or a handheld digital device. The
theory.......ventures that the ancient oracle of Delphi may have
foreseen the invention of laptops and told people about it.
Live
Science
There
is also, of course, a second theory - less lavishly reported –
which ventures that the first theory is a load of bullshit. This,
though, has not prevented the Daily
Mail picking
up the story and running it along with an illustration of the statue
which, as you can see, is helpfully captioned for the benefit of
readers who may be struggling with the notion of what a laptop looks
like.
Daily Mail
The
Mail's
story is adorned with one of their trademark headlines couched in the
form of a screamed question to which the answer is invariably 'no.'
You know the sort of thing – 'Are we all descended from beetroot?'
'Does Weetabix contain the secret of eternal life?' This time it's
'Is this ancient Greek statue proof someone took a laptop back in
time?' 99 times out of a hundred you say 'No' out loud, which saves
you the trouble of actually ploughing through the hastily written
non-story which follows, but they say there is an exception to every
rule and could it just be that this is it? (Mind you, if there is an
exception to every rule that would include this one, and the logical
gymnastics occasioned by trying to work out whether or not there is
an exception – or even any rule to make an exception to – would
not only overtax both me and the Daily
Mail,
but also occasion the oracle to pronounce something so gnomically
impenetrable as to leave baffled supplicants reeling.)
And yet. And yet. Just because the answer's 'no' doesn't mean that
there isn't a part of all of us which would dearly love it to be
'yes.' Why not admit it, suspend your disbelief for a few minutes
and ask yourself that most tantalising of questions – what if?
We know that towards the end of his illustrious career Alexander the
Great had to deal with a mutiny in his army. We also know that he
consulted the oracle at Delphi. What if he had received one piece of
advice and one piece of information? Doubtless he would have feigned
indifference to the advice – Know Thyself – on the grounds that
the old bat said that to everyone and it was hardly worth coming all
this way just for that, but he might have been alarmed to be informed
- by a voice as soft and luxurious as silk but no more intelligible
for that - that he would henceforth be able to consult the oracle's
online presence across multiple platforms.
Know thyself. Indeed, he did know himself. King of Macedonia, Great
King of Persia, leader of the Greeks, overlord of Asia Minor – with
'the Great' tacked to the end of his name he ruefully reminded
himself – he had an image to maintain. He could hardly admit that
he couldn't make head nor tail of this modern technology malarkey.
'Give me a xiphos any day,' he would mutter 'give me a bloody Gordian
knot, you know where you are with a Gordian knot, quick swipe with
the trusty xiphos and Perdiccas II of Macedon's your uncle. Which
indeed he was, although no more relevantly than the snappier Bob into
whom he's morphed today. He sighed. This wasn't going to be easy.
He decided to get in touch with the oracle again.
'Your call is important to us' announced the bland voice at the
Delphi Oracall Centre, before repeatedly playing a short snatch of
Demis Roussos singing Forever and Ever – an appropriate
choice, he thought – and interrupting even that scant pleasure 25
times to thank him for waiting and tell him how to make a payment.
'No, no' he said eventually 'you see what I wanted.........'
'If you wish to enquire about an annual plan press 2' trilled the
voice.
'Pardon? You see I wanted.....'
But she wasn't listening. It was only when she said '...or 37 if you
want to quell a mutiny in your army' that he exclaimed 'Yes, that's
it! 37!'
There was a pause. Then another voice.
'This is Dido speaking. Can I take the first line of your address
and your postcode?'
'Erm... Royal Palace, Macedon. Er, postcode?'
'I should think it would be MA1 something, wouldn't you,' she said
crisply. 'Ah yes, here we are, hello Mr... er... the Great. How can
I help?'
'I got this mutiny' he mumbled. I'm supposed to be a bloody general.
I got to put the lads in their place.'
'I think I'd better book you in to see Pythia. Wednesday at 10.00?'
There aren't many offices these days where you have to answer a
riddle to gain admittance, but back then it was pretty standard
stuff. This time it was the one about there being two oracles, one
telling only the truth and one telling only lies and how can you tell
which is which? But if you've got what it takes to overrun Persia in
just a couple of years you can cope with oracles that are too clever
by half and before long Alexander was face to face with Pythia
herself.
She smiled at him tightly over the top of a small, thin, shallow case
that lay open on her desk. Alexander realised that she was staring
intently at it. He thought it perhaps contained an important scroll,
the text of some mystical Pronouncement of the Day she was working
on. Yes, that would be it. She looked up.
'Just a few details' she said in clipped tones, before proceeding to
quiz him on his age, nationality, any previous nationality,
ethnicity, sexuality, any previous sexuality, gender, any previous
gender, special needs, educational qualifications, employment
history, approximate income, how he'd heard about them and a plethora
of other things that Alexander was sure would include inside leg
measurement but mercifully didn’t. After every answer she pecked
mystifyingly at the shallow case. He decided not to ask.
'And
what seems to be the trouble?'
He told her about his astonishing military successes in recent years,
and felt her reassuring, supportive approval as he paraded his many
achievements before her. He warmed to her as she encouraged him to
relive his many triumphs.
'But,' he said eventually 'my men have mutinied and I now fear a
serious reverse as a result. Worst of all, my pride is hurt. I
don't want to be remembered for this.'
She
smiled.
'Your Waterloo moment' she said softly, before checking herself
rather too abruptly. Her cheeks coloured, but Alexander simply
stared uncomprehendingly at her, concealing the vague suspicion that
had been planted in his mind. She pulled herself together and was
all crisp efficiency again.
'I think we can help. What are you? Android?' she asked. Alexander
looked even blanker but stammered that he wasn't.
'iPad, then.'
'Eyepad?'
'Look, they've just brought out a great app. It's called iQuella.
It's brilliant, just what you need. I assume you've got iOS 7 or
better? Oh, and you'll need Bluetooth 4 but I'm sure that won't be a
problem.'
She was back in control, but the formless suspicion was nagging at
him. Something was strange.
'If I were you I'd pair WhatsApp to your iPad, but you've probably
done that already.'
He knew he had to keep the conversation going if he was to find out
more.
'I've been away a long time,' he murmured. 'I can do the one about
two oracles where one tells the truth and one tells lies; I can do
the one about the animal that walks on four legs in the morning, two
in the middle of the day and three in the evening, but these latest
riddles have got me beaten.'
An expression of sympathetic concern crossed her face and she came
and stood behind him, her hand on his shoulder. Her voice softened
again.
'You're a fine, intelligent young man. You're only 30. You've time
enough to learn.'
He felt the pressure on his shoulder gently increase. She came
closer.
'Good
generals stay abreast of the times' she breathed. 'The best, like
you, stay ahead of them. Alexander, this is the future, this is the
way of the world. This is the 4th
Century BC!'
She checked herself, mouth gaping open, but this time Alexander was
too quick for her.
'Did
you say 4th
Century BC? BC? Would I be correct in guessing that the B stands
for Before something?'
She turned bright red and hung her head.
'I thought so. How can we know how far before something we are?'
She shuffled uncomfortably. Then, like the great general he was, he
pressed home his advantage ruthlessly.
'It's something to do with that device on your desk, isn't it? Where
did it come from? Or should I ask...... when did it come from?'
'I
really don't know. I read about it in the Delphi
Daily Mail.'
'I thought that was all about villa prices, wardrobe fails and
pictures of Z-list celebrities stepping out make up free.'
'I know. I know. But I was intrigued by a particular headline. It
read 'Has this astonishing device come to us from the future?'
'The answer to those headlines is always no.'
She took a deep breath. It was a relief, at last, to be able to
share the burden.
'There's an exception to every rule' she said.
ANAGRAM CORNER
PRESIDENT TRUMP?
STRIDENT PUMPER!
