The gap year, p.24
The Gap Year, page 24
Anna shook her head, bemused. Why would anyone bother tracking down a poor-looking young woman and a big herding dog?
There’s only one possibility that makes sense. Indy’s voice was grim. It’s starting to look like Nicon actually might have had the powerful friends he claimed, after all.
But… Anna thought back to what Thrasius had said before they set out on their journey. I thought the Theban mob or whoever couldn’t just run around free in Athens.
It did seem like they were keeping to the back alleys. Indy walked steadily, keeping her gaze moving over the crowds. But maybe Thrasius was underestimating them.
Crap. Anna looked around warily. We need to tell him about this when we get back.
And keep a sharp eye out, Indy said. Even if they’re really trying to avoid making a public scene, that doesn’t mean they might not try for a quick snatch if they know where we’re likely to be.
This dire possibility hung over them as they kept moving, trying to put more turns and more distance between themselves and the scene of their ambush. Anna consulted their map carefully at each intersection, but she needn’t have bothered. It turned out that if you kept to the main streets and didn’t try to take any shortcuts, it was hard to get lost. It only took the two of them another half an hour to find their way to the front door of a narrow building tucked down a side street. There was a small row of narrow hand-painted Greek signs beside the open door, one of which said “Phaia’s drugs” when Anna sounded out the letters.
Indy’s stomach grumbled audibly, and she looked back over her shoulder at the street they’d turned off of. We’re going through the market on the way back, right? Now that we’re sticking to the map? Her lips curved in a doggy smile, taking the reproach out of her words. Because I could really use a couple more of those frog legs.
Definitely. Anna smiled back, finally starting to shed the jitters from their earlier close call. Though it still seems unsportsmanlike to me, eating such a small animal.
Indy snorted as though such an idea was completely ridiculous. Smaller just means more tender.
The open door of the building gave onto a narrow hallway with a couple of rooms on either side. The first one on the left looked like a sewing workshop, but the seamstress went straight back to work after an incurious glance up at Anna. The right-hand door seemed more promising, smelling strongly of strange herbs.
Anna stuck her head in the door and called out. “Hello, Phaia? We’re here for Oresus’ delivery?”
She couldn’t see anything inside at first glance except for stacks and stacks of boxes, bundles, jugs, and who knew what else, with a narrow path leading through the clutter. She stepped forward along the path, toward the back of the room. “Hello?”
“Back here, heard you the first time,” came Phaia’s strong contralto voice from the back of the room.
Anna moved forward tentatively, with Indy close behind. The path opened out into a small work area, which held a small table with a few stools around it, surrounded by huge but orderly stacks of jars and bags. A curtained-off nook in the back corner of the room looked like it held a small cot and a few personal belongings. Phaia was hunched over a mortar, carefully grinding some sort of dried herbs. She glanced up at them and nodded in recognition. “Just one more moment.”
With a few final motions she finished the grinding, then carefully tipped the resulting powder out of the mortar into a small jar. Then she set the mortar aside and rinsed her hands in water from a nearby ewer, drying them on her long chiton before using them to tuck her short hair back behind her ears.
“Sorry about that, but this henbane is dangerous.” She picked up a wax seal and placed it over the mouth of the jar, tying it tight with a string. “And stopping in the middle of a grind is a good way to forget what you’re doing and get some in your eye when you forget to wash up.” She set the covered jar aside.
“So, Oresus has you running errands already? Not surprising.” Phaia turned to a pile of bags and pulled a large one from the top. Opening it, she showed that it was full of small jars, individually sealed and packed in straw. “You got a way to carry these?”
“Um, will these saddlebags work?” Anna asked. Phaia gave her a quizzical look, then seemingly noticed Indy for the first time, her saddlebags empty on either side of her harness.
“Oh! I forgot you had a dog.” Phaia frowned in thought. “Was she this big yesterday?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Anna said wryly. Indy stood panting, keeping her fake vacuous expression firmly in place. “Can we put half of those jars in each side?”
“Of… course. Yes, that should work.” Phaia pulled a smaller empty bag from a pile, then quickly transferred half the jars from the original bag to the new one, adding a bit more straw.
Anna took one bag and placed it in Indy’s left saddlebag. Phaia started to do the same on the right, then stopped. “This workmanship is extraordinary!” She held the spring buckle to the saddlebag between her fingers. “Where did you get this?”
“Oh, it’s just a normal bag. I brought it with me,” Anna said. “From Iberia.”
Phaia looked at Anna skeptically. “This buckle is so thin, but it bends right back into shape when you release it.” She flexed it a few times. “And I can’t see a single mark of a file or hammer on it.” She moved her head to view the surface at a better angle. “Do you know how it was made?”
Uh oh, Indy said. We didn’t think to make every little detail of our gear look believably ancient!
“Sorry, I don’t know much about that kind of stuff.” Anna tried to look unconcerned.
Phaia frowned at the buckle. “Hey, Themis!” she called out toward the door. “Come take a look at this!”
Anna’s heart lurched. She waited tensely for a moment, but no one replied.
“Guess she’s not there.” Phaia shrugged, then carefully put the bag of jars into the saddlebag and secured it. Her fingers stroked the fine leather surface of the bag, lingering on the unnaturally even stitching and touching the other metal fixtures on Indy’s harness. “Hm. I thought I was better-informed about metalworking.” Her face relaxed into a less intent expression. “I guess that just means I have more to learn. I’ll ask my friend later, she’s the real expert.”
Anna cast around quickly for a change of subject. Her eyes roamed over the bins of plant stems and leaves, then alighted on a box of green pods. “Hey, so what are these?”
“Poppy pods.” Phaia picked one up and handed it to Anna for a look. The sides were scored with precise slashes. “I use these for the seeds. And you can grind up the pulp to infuse an anesthetic sponge. This is the real stuff, right here.” She picked up a smaller box and held it out. It was full of small blobs of a dark brown resin. “Opium. It oozes out of those slashes on the pods. The right amount of this, and a patient will be telling you jokes while he’s getting his bladder stone cut out.”
That sounds absolutely terrifying, Indy said. I keep forgetting that they have to vivisect you for surgery here. And I’m almost afraid to ask my collar what ‘opium’ is.
“How did you learn about all this stuff?” Anna asked Phaia. “There must be dozens of different plants and things in here.”
“It wasn’t easy. Physicians are a close-mouthed bunch.” Phaia smiled tightly. “But they’re also lazy. They can’t be bothered to collect, dry, grind, powder, mix, and whatever else. So I worked my way into the business, and gradually figured out what was what.”
Phaia turned her head at the sound of another customer at the door. “I need to get back to work. Just sign your receipt, and you’re ready to go.” She held up a small fragment of pottery that already had the name “ΦΑIA” written on it in some brownish ink, then handed it to Anna along with a reed pen dipped in ink.
At Anna’s confused expression, Phaia said, “Write your name beside mine. Or you can draw some sort of picture if you can’t write.” Indy snorted a laugh over their link at that.
Anna carefully wrote her name, thankful that the Greeks of this time hadn’t invented lowercase letters yet, so “ANNA” looked the same in Greek as it did in English. Or at least it looked similar enough so that Phaia didn’t remark on it one way or the other. She deftly cracked the shard across both their names, and handed one half back to Anna.
“Just give this to Oresus when you get back. The invoice is in the bag.” Anna heard a man clear his throat somewhere behind her, and Phaia spoke without looking up. “Come on in!” She gave them a significant look. They took the hint and headed for the door.
40
On the way out, Anna carefully squeezed past a thin young man who looked like he had five more errands to run that morning. Indy brushed past him with the magnificent unconcern of a beast that outweighed him by forty pounds. Then the two of them stood for a moment outside the shop, plotting their next move.
“Don’t even say it.” Anna sighted on the Acropolis, then pointed. “The market’s off that way, and I’m sure they have plenty of frog legs left.”
Indy lunged forward, her new burden not slowing her at all. Anna followed, laughing at her friend’s eagerness. Together they wound their way through the streets, more at ease now that their errand was done and they knew the way back.
This quarter was definitely rougher than where Oresus’ house was. The wine shops were already half-full before noon, some patrons rolling dice and cursing or cheering loudly, others reclining on couches with their cups, watching scantily clad women playing odd double flutes as they danced suggestively. The skirling of their flutes and the rattle of accompanists’ hand drums added to the din.
This festival thing, what did Thrasius call it again? Anna asked.
The City Dionysia, I think, Indy said.
Seems like it’s a big deal. Anna looked around. This place is hopping!
Well, Dionysus was the god of wine, Indy said.
One especially raucous wine-shop game seemed to involve throwing the dregs from one’s cup at a small statue, trying to knock a tiny disk out of its hands to make it ring against a larger bronze disk below. Anna quickly learned to walk on the other side of the street after a near-miss from one drunken player.
They found their way back to the market, and after a few minutes’ search, discovered another frog leg vendor. This one sold two different flavors, salted and garlic, and Indy insisted over their link that she wanted one of each. Anna also picked up a skewer of roasted artichoke for herself.
They made their way slowly back toward Oresus’ house, keeping to the main thoroughfares this time. They were still wary of another meeting with their earlier pursuers, but gaining confidence that they didn’t seem to want to try a direct confrontation on a crowded street. Anna was still nibbling at her first chunk of artichoke as Indy crunched up a whole pair of frog legs with relish, bones and all, then licked her scalloped black lips. Ahead of her, a pedestrian crossed the street at the sight.
So, are you thinking what I’m thinking? Indy asked.
Anna laughed. I’m pretty sure I’m not thinking about how to find Frog Island or whatever and devour its whole population.
Very droll, Indy said. No, I was thinking about our talk last night. About how we could improve things for the enslaved people here.
I liked your idea about using our knowledge somehow. Anna sobered, her good spirits dampened by the magnitude of the task. I just don’t know how we’d get started.
Don’t you? Indy smiled, her whiskers pouching with self-satisfaction. The perfect idea was right in front of us a half-hour ago.
I know you won’t give me any peace until you tell me how I missed it. Anna gave her friend a tolerant look as she chewed another piece of artichoke. So go ahead, let’s hear it.
Bear in mind, I’m still not sure this would be wise, Indy said. But how about medicine? Think about it. Of all the bodies of knowledge we have access to, medicine is probably the least likely to be abused.
True. Anna spoke slowly as she thought it through. I guess you could poison people with medicine, but there’d be no point, since they already have actual poison here. She stepped around a questionable-looking pile of trash in the gutter, its smell contrasting unpleasantly with her food. But there’s no way we could teach people to make pills like we made for Leitus and Helene, right? I thought modern medicine had nano and stuff in it.
It’ll need to be something far less advanced than that. Indy glanced over at Anna as they walked. But medicine’s easily monetized, like we saw at Phaia’s earlier. So we teach a few enslaved people to make some kind of valuable drug, on the condition that after they buy themselves out, they pass the knowledge on to others to help them do the same. They could even form a guild or union to help, once there were enough of them.
But what kind of drug, though? Anna brushed against Indy’s saddlebags as she moved to avoid an oncoming cart. If we give people something less than a panacea, wouldn’t we be sort of responsible for all the things out there that we could have healed, but didn’t?
Maybe? I’m a physicist, not a philosopher. Indy paused for a long moment. But even if we had the fab capacity to just hand out panacea pills like candy, it would help a lot of people, but it wouldn’t have the effect we want. If we do something that benefits everyone equally, we leave the current system in place. We’re talking about changing their society because we believe that slavery is morally wrong. If we have the power to do something about it, and we don’t, wouldn’t we be responsible for that too?
Huh. You’d think that helping people would be much more clear-cut than this. Anna blew out a breath. Let’s say you’re right, then. She double-checked the map, then kept walking. What could slaves make on their own that’s valuable enough to make this work?
Well, it turns out your dad actually sent us a good bit of data on the history of medicine, Indy said. I don’t think he meant to, but it probably got swept up along with medical technology in general. So I did a quick search while I was acting dumb at Phaia’s, looking for some lower-tech possibilities.
Ooo! Like penicillin or something?
That was my first thought too. Indy sounded disappointed. But it turns out the penicillium fungus was a pain to grow and purify even with the twentieth-century tech they had when they discovered it. The whole process seemed way beyond what anyone could do here. She glanced at an alley as they passed its mouth, still wary after the morning’s misadventure. Though I guess we could start by teaching them how to make some simple lab equipment and try to work our way up.
Hold on, though, Anna said. Just because something was hard back in the old days, doesn’t mean we have to do it the same way. Couldn’t we fab some better kind of fungus that’s easier to work with? Anna chewed on that thought. Or is that even possible? I still don’t have a good feeling for what we can design for ourselves here and what we can’t. Our kitchen fab back home, if we wanted a new kind of steak or something, we’d just search for a fab plan with a lot of good reviews and download it. But I never really thought about where those plans came from.
Creating a new fab plan completely from scratch can be extremely compute-intensive, Indy said. Even in our lab at UT, we’d try to start from existing plans whenever we could. But we’ve probably got enough compute power here to tinker with something small like the penicillium fungus in simulation to try to get a better version. Though this could potentially be very dangerous. Indy fell back behind Anna for a moment to avoid oncoming traffic, then walked up beside her again. Imagine what would happen if we made a mistake. We’d be engineering a fungus to make it easier to grow. What if we accidentally create a strain that grows out of control in the wild and eats up all their crops? We could cause a famine, or worse.
So we change it so it needs some really special food or something, Anna said. That way if it got loose, it would die on its own.
That’s a good idea. But there are always going to be failure modes we don’t anticipate. Indy whuffed and settled her saddlebags more comfortably. Not to mention all the non-technological ways we could screw up a scheme like this. She walked along for a moment without speaking. And if we make a mistake, we’ll be the ones responsible for the consequences.
You’re right. Anna laid her hand on her friend’s broad furry back as they walked. You’re right! But what’s the alternative? We can’t just live out our whole super-long lives here, eating fabbed Mexican food in our cave in Lebadeia and trying to ignore all this. Anna gestured around at the ancient city. Greece’s got to be twenty percent slaves. It sounds like they’re always at war. We saw starving people sleeping in the alleys this morning who looked like they probably had worms! It’d be hard to make things any worse. She smiled. Plus, it’s a chance to finally do some science!
Well, applied research maybe. Indy sounded like she was being drawn in, despite her better judgement. I guess it can’t hurt to look into it, at least. We just need to be careful.
Anna smiled and handed Indy the second pair of frog legs.
41
Over the next few days, the three travelers began to settle into a routine. Anna and Indy ran errands during the day for Oresus, getting to know the city and its people and helping to earn their keep. Thrasius found himself drawn into helping his brother expand his business, handling some dealings with more elite clients who preferred to deal with a full citizen instead of with Oresus’ steward Kepthos. Thrasius also arranged for a message, written in Anna’s laborious Greek letters on a leather scroll, to be delivered to Leitus and Helene back in Lebadeia to let them know that things were going well in Athens. Indy was content to dictate her part of the message, rather than stain her fur with ink trying to use a pen not suited to her giant paws.
One night there was a knock on Anna and Indy’s bedroom door just as they were about to go downstairs for dinner. Anna raised an eyebrow toward Indy, who gave the canine equivalent of a shrug. Anna walked over and opened the door, revealing Thrasius standing outside on the courtyard balcony.
