Young Writers Society

“By Zeus, Archimedes, you’d better be in there!” A voice called into a small room, rapping loudly on the wall next to the thin linen door. There was no reply. “You have a new challenge, this one you can’t ignore.”

“I don’t have time for new challenges, Nico.” Came a high pitched voice from within the room. A foot reached out from inside and nudged the cloth door aside. He’d used his foot, because in one hand laid a spherical ball of wood and in the other a slightly larger cube. “This current problem is oh so interesting. See, it has to do with calculating a new ratio-”

“Look,” Nicomedes, his landlord, interrupted, “I said you have a new problem. One that’s said to be a real, ‘royal’, pain in a lot of sides.” The young man was staring off into space, talking over ideas in pantomime. “Archimedes.” The daze was broken and his eyes snapped back to his guest’s face, “Our King is requesting your help. This isn’t really something you can say no to.”

“A noble? But, their problems are always so boring." Archimedes whined, "‘Archimedes, how can I kill these slaves more efficiently?’, ‘Archimedes, I want a bigger amphitheatre. And I want it made entirely out of gold.’ Their problems are those of tiny, easily distracted babies.”

“It pays well.”

“What’s money to me?”

“You haven’t paid me your rent in two months. What’s homelessness to you?” his landlord retorted.

The wooden objects in Archimedes’ hands were set down, so his long, filthy, brown hair could be brushed back as this question was considered. He brought his right hand back towards his mouth, and absentmindedly bit the second knuckle of his index finger. “Fine. I’ll do it.” he mumbled.

“The problem will be explained to you when you get there. And, Archimedes?” his landlord’s nose wrinkled, “Take a bath, will you? You smell like the inside of a Spartan’s cuirass.” The door to the small room was whisked open and closed as the man left.

Archimedes supposed he’d take a bath. Later.

But as for now! He scribbled more mathematics in his neat, handwriting on the rare imported Papyrus from Egypt. He got so little of it; he used it only on his most precious problems, finding dirt to be a fine substitute in other cases. As a child, some had pushed him to become a royal scribe, but he found writing other’s ideas much too boring.

He picked up a small, round, gemlike, device of his own creation and held it up to his right eye. He squeezed his other eye closed and stared at a small scroll he’d unrolled next to him, the previously blurred Greek becoming crystal clear. He’d postulated the stone’s earth element gave solidification to the slippery water elements of the ink, making it readable.

Thelonipeous was such a bumbler… Archimedes thought, as he reviewed the man’s confused hypotheses in front of him. But I’ll put a fix to that. He looked around thoughtfully. Just as soon as he could find that wooden cube. I wonder if I… His teeth chomped on his finger in contemplation.

_________

“Archimedes. You still stink.” Nico growled, as he met him at the front of the renter’s building.

“Hmmm, you might be right.” Archimedes conceded, as he sniffed his tunic, “I was just so busy looking for that cube I’d been working with, and halfway through searching I found this fascinating riddle I’d never solved before. I’d thought I’d finally thought of the correct answer but…” he shrugged.

“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about,” Nico pulled an object from within his robe with a flourish, “this, would you?”

Indeed there it was, “You found it!” Archimedes gasped in delight. His landlord merely rubbed his forehead in at the naiveté of his young tenant, “No. You stole it, didn’t you?” he accused, mouth gaping.

“We both know it was the only way you were going to leave that cramped little cave of yours.” Nico rationalized, “Now, come on. Kings are not, by nature, patient men.”

Archimedes followed the older man through the city he’d only recently come back to. The towering white-red walls shadowed them as they walked. They had been constructed to repel invaders, mostly holding off the Roman scourge these days.

Archimedes just enjoyed being among his fellow Syracusans. The spirit here was different than it was in Alexandria, where he’d studied for several years. Syracuse was more driven, less focused on sheer wealth, knowledge, and opulence, and more on how wealth and knowledge could be used to improve civilization.

And the climate here was much easier than it was in the arrestingly hot Egyptian summers. He remembered discussing philosophy stark naked in a cool bath, with a bunch of his university classmates, just to keep his brain functioning.

Luckily, the meeting place was a short jog away from Archimedes’ quarters. He was never much of a walker. He remembered once being revived from a bout of sun stroke at the dockside of the massive Syracusan port. His impromptu medic marveled at the fact he hadn't been robbed while unconscious. Or worse.

A series of polished marble steps and a imposing front of Greek columns led into a two story building. Long purple cloths hung from the second story balconies. Even Archimedes recognized it as the royal color.

“Is this the King’s palace?” Archimedes asked, as they climbed the stairs.

“Is this the- You think the King would allow you into his royal palace? You’re lucky he’s asked to meet with you at all. I was told you were vouched for personally, by a man very close to our King’s ear.”

A large open doorway led into a room with high stone cut windows that let in copious amounts of sunlight. Each appeared to be cut exactly the same.

A man with a full white beard and a balding head was hunched over a table on which sat a small metal object. Four massive men stood by, presumably his royal guard, all with their swords on them. Two of them held a burly, but dirty man, while one of the remaining two held his sword tight across the man’s neck, while the other held his sword near the man’s groin.

The two guests marched up to the King’s table stopping a few feet away. King Hiero the II, looked up at them, thick bushy white eyebrows dominating his face. His eyes were receded deep in sunken eye sockets, giving the impression you were looking in at a wolf’s eyes shining out at you from a dark cave.

He marched around the table with a soldier’s meticulous posture, an army issue short sword hanging off his belt. Hiero was a highly decorated former general; the bodyguards were probably more for show.

“Well?” Hiero barked at Nicomedes, “Is this the one?” He looked over the inventor, scoffing at his dirty hair and smeared clothing, “He’s no good. He stinks.” He grunted.

“I did try to tell him, my King, but he-”

“Archimedes is your name, yes?” the King cut off the older man, addressing Archimedes directly. The young man nodded. “I’ve been told you do very good work. The man who referred you to me went so far as to call you brilliant.”

A pause hung in the air. Archimedes was looking past the King, studying the windows. Nico stomped down on his thong sandal encased foot. Archimedes stifled a cry.

“Acknowledge him.” Nico muttered under his breath.

His voice was even more airy than normal as he tried to hold the pain back, “Ah, um, yes. I studied in Alexandria. Primarily in mathematics, but I also have training in-”

“I don’t care.” The King waved him off. “What I do what from you is one reason not to torture and execute that man over there as a thief. He is clearly guilty somehow, but I can’t yet prove it.” He gestured over to the struggling prisoner, who cried out at this proclamation.

Archimedes eyes lit up immediately. Maybe he could find time for a new challenge after all.