“I have been trying to become more just,” I murmured to Simmea.

“Yes, you really have,” she agreed.

“This city is unjust!” Kebes shouted on. “I’m leaving to start my own city, better than this one, in a place that isn’t doomed and where we can make a difference! Who’s with me? To the Goodness!” There was a ragged cheer. He reached out for the gadfly, which buzzed away from him and flew over the heads of the crowd to where Simmea and I were standing. Kebes looked after it and locked eyes with Simmea. After a second she deliberately turned away from him, cupping her hand over the gadfly where it had settled against my chest. I put my hand gently over hers and met Kebes’s furious gaze. He bared his teeth as if he wanted to kill me, but just for a second. Then he tossed his head and turned to the crowd.

“Come on!” he roared. He set off down the street of Poseidon towards the harbor, with a cluster of people around him. Other people began shouting their own manifestos. Everyone seemed to want to found their own cities, except those who wanted to stay here and take over this city and amend it on their own lines. Everyone was talking at once. I saw Maia weeping. Ikaros was shouting something about angels.

Now you may well say that at that moment I should have resumed my powers and come out of the machine and sorted everything out. Perhaps I should, even though I would have had to have died to do it. But it never occurred to me. Things did happen after that, lots of complicated things, and I’ll tell you about them some other time, but this is where this story ends, the story that began with the question of why Daphne turned into a tree. I just stood still in the middle of the crowd with my hand on top of Simmea’s, providing fleeting shelter for the gadfly Sokrates, as factions formed around us, and the Just City came apart in chaos.

On my temple in Delphi there are two words written: Know Thyself. It’s good advice. Know yourself. You are worth knowing. Examine your life. The unexamined life is not worth living. Be aware that other people have equal significance. Give them the space to make their own choices, and let their choices count as you want them to let your choices count. Remember that excellence has no stopping point and keep on pursuing it. Make art that can last and that says something nobody else can say. Live the best life you can, and become the best self you can. You cannot know which of your actions is the lever that will move worlds. Not even Necessity knows all ends. Know yourself.

THANKS AND NOTES

I read Plato way too young, for which I’d like to thank Mary Renault.

Although I first had the idea for writing about time travellers attempting to set up Plato’s Republic when I was fifteen, I would never have been able to write this book as it stands without the existence, writing, conversation, and active practical help of Ada Palmer. There’s not enough thanks in the world; I have to send out to the moon and Mars for more. Buy her books and music. You’ll be really glad you did.

Evelyn Walling was an appreciative listener as I worked through plot issues. She made some very helpful suggestions. Gillian Spragg helped immeasurably with references. My husband, Emmet O’Brien, as always, was loving and supportive while I was writing.

Mary Lace and Patrick Nielsen Hayden read the book as it was being written. After it was finished it was read by Jennifer Arnott, Caroline-Isabelle Carron, Brother Guy Consolmagno, Pamela Dean, Jeffrey M. Della Rocco, Jr., Ruthanna and Sarah Emrys, Liza Furr, David Goldfarb, Steven Halter, Sumana Harihareswara, Bill Higgins, Madeline Kelly, Katrina Knight, Elise Matthesen, Clark E. Myers, Kate Nepveu, Emmet O’Brien, Ada Palmer, Doug Palmer, Susan Palwick, Alison Sinclair, Sherwood Smith, Jonathan Sneed and Nicholas Whyte. I want to thank Patrick Nielsen Hayden, Tom Doherty and everyone at Tor for their unfailing support as I continue to write books very different from each other.

I used a vast number of different versions of Plato when I was writing this. Alison Sinclair brought me the Loeb 2013 (Emlyn-Jones and Preddy) facing page edition of the Republic, which is a thorough piece of work. Having it at hand saved me hours of effort. She also discovered the existence of Ellen Francis Mason, nineteenth-century translator of Plato, whose life is like a type-example of how difficult it was for women to lead a life of the mind. If you haven’t read Plato and you now feel the urge, I suggest beginning with the Apology and the Symposium, rather than diving straight into the Republic. There are decent English translations of pretty much all of Plato and Xenophon free on Project Gutenberg.

Love and Excellence

Plato uses the Greek word “arete” which has in the past often been translated as “virtue” but for which I am following modern usage in translating as “excellence.” It doesn’t really translate well into our worldview—the idea of arete is also discussed here in terms of becoming your best self.

The one term I have used in Greek throughout this novel is “agape” which of course doesn’t exactly mean love. Plato’s shades of meaning of this term are discussed in detail by the characters, and the word is kept in the original in order to retain one term and not a whole paragraph every time it’s mentioned. Greek culture valorized one kind of love, our own valorizes a very different model. Human nature is always the problem when it comes to living with ideals.

Historical Figures

The masters come from times throughout history, and some of them are historical figures, while others are invented, or amalgams of various people. I expect to put more identifications of minor characters and links to information about all of their lives on my website at www.jowaltonbooks.com.

Adeimantus: Benjamin Jowett, Victorian scholar and translator of Plato, 1817–1893. Aristomache: Ellen Francis Mason, American scholar and translator of Plato, 1846–1888. Atticus: Titus Pomponius Atticus, Roman man of letters, 112–32 BCE. Ficino: Marsilio Ficino, Renaissance philosopher and translator of Plato, 1433–1499. Ikaros: Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Renaissance philosopher and synthesist, 1462–1494. Krito: Crito, fourth century BCE, friend of Socrates. Lukretia: Lucrezia Borgia, Renaissance statesman and scholar, 1480–1519. Manlius: Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, Late Antique statesman and philosopher, 480–524. Plotinus: Neoplatonist philosopher, 204–270. Sokrates: Socrates, Athenian philosopher and gadfly, 469–399 BCE. Tullius: Marcus Tullius Cicero, Roman statesman and philosopher 106–49 BCE.

Maia is made up. She was inspired by contemplating Ethel May in Charlotte M. Yonge’s The Daisy Chain. Kreusa and Axiothea are also made up. Klio and Lysias, who come from our future, are obviously invented.

Apollo and Athene come straight out of Homer.

Pronunciation

I am always happy for people to pronounce names however they want, but some people always want to know how you “really” say them. With Classical Greek names there are standard ways. Often they’re easy once you know where the syllable breaks are. The most important thing to know is that a terminal “e” is never silent but always pronounced “ee” or “ay.” Laodike is Lay-od-ik-ee. Simmea is Sim-ay-ah. (Sim like the computer game, ay like “hay,” and “ah” like “Ah, why do people worry about how to pronounce things?”) Pytheas is Pie-thi-us, with a theta as in “thin.”

English has issues with “C.” I’ve tried to avoid them by transliterating the Greek kappa as K, hence Sokrates. The only place you’re going to find a C in a name is with Ficino, where it is pronounced as an Italian “ch,” like finch. Ch is always hard, as in Bach or loch.