Atlantis // DNF

Plato

It was about thee weeks later. I still remember the awkward cough that George let out the first time i had asked him to read something about Atlantis for me. It was funny really, how now, about three weeks later, he was sitting on the library floor every other day, reading me about the world that had no proof to it.

It was funny, how now he was the first to call and let me know that he has found a new book and he thinks that i might like this one. It was funny how he would send me little quotes and theories during the night, wondering.

"For the several employments and offices of our fellows, we have twelve that sail into foreign countries under the names of other nations, for our own we conceal, who bring us the books and abstracts, and patterns of experiments of all other parts. These we call merchants of light." His voice was calm, he was thinking.

"We have three that collect the experiments which are in all books. These we call depredators." He sounds so calm, so relaxed.

"We have three that collect the experiments of all mechanical arts, and also of liberal sciences, and also of practices which are not brought into arts. These we call mystery–men." I don't want the book to end. I know that he will pick back another one, but this one makes his voice sound like underwater.

"We have three that try new experiments, such as themselves think good. These we call pioneers or miners." I think it's growing on me. I think i understand now.

"We have three that draw the experiments of the former four into titles and tables, to give the better light for the drawing of observations and axioms out of them. These we call compilers." We have made home in the library, there is something about the way that he talks about it. I have never seen it, but i know it's home for him.

"We have three that bend themselves, looking into the experiments of their fellows, and cast about how to draw out of them things of use and practice for man's life and knowledge, as well for works as for plain demonstration of causes, means of natural divinations, and the easy and clear discovery of the virtues and parts of bodies. These we call dowry–men or benefactors." I wonder if people have noticed. I wonder if they are talking about the way George has disappeared and when he does stream he sounds so much more at peace.

"Then after diverse meetings and consults of our whole number, to consider of the former labours and collections, we have three that take care out of them to direct new experiments, of a higher light, more penetrating into nature than the former. These we call lamps." Does he ever get bored of it? I think i could never get bored of this.

"We have three others that do execute the experiments so directed, and report them. These we call inoculators." I could hear him shifting around a little, there was quiet music playing in the background. I think i can smell the peppermint tea he is drinking every time he goes there.

"Lastly, we have three that raise the former discoveries by experiments into greater observations, axioms, and aphorisms. These we call interpreters of nature." I wish i could be there. I can almost feel it. Patches on my lap and dark room makes it seem like i'm almost there. Like i can almost reach him. Like he is almost mine.

"Which one would be you?" George asks after a moment of silence.

"I'm not sure. I think I would be Poseidon."

"Who is that?"

"I guess you'll have to keep reading."

"Who would be I?"

Cleito. You would be Cleito.

"Who would you want to be?"

"Plato."

"Why?"

"He has a way with words. I wish i could be Plato, so i could write the story myself. I could rewrite the history. I think i would like that."

"What would you change?"

"I would make them realise. I would teach them a lesson and they would understand. And the Atlantis would stay, maybe it would still be here. They were dumb, Dream."

"Maybe you could write your own story? Rewrite your own history."

"What do you mean?"

"Go back and say the things you regret not saying. Do something you should have. You can do it now."

Comfortable silence. Sometimes i wish i could take back the things i say.

"I don't really regret anything. I feel like i'm somewhere im supposed to be."

He's content with where he's at and even though i can't relate, i feel my mind calming down. He's fine. He's alright.

He kept reading and i kept enjoying every single second of it with every single sound that left his lips. I think about the way he reads the lines, takes a second to think about them, asks questions and keeps going without waiting for an answer. I think about the way he lets out little laughs every time the library comes in his sight of view and how he is slowly making friends with the coffee shops baristas.

He doesn't sound troubled. He sounds at peace and i wish i could feel like that too. And i do every time i hear him reading, every time i hear him talking about his day, discussing tea or lines from books. But every time he presses the end call button i feel like breaking apart. It feels like i'm crashing at the bottom and i have finally landed on the ground. It hurts a lot, but he calls again.

And i pick up the phone.