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Socrates holds the directory in both hands like a revered object, and considers its pages. The sheets are so thin and so smooth that he is afraid to touch them, but Billy is smiling and gesturing for him to do something. He understands that this is how to choose where the booth will take them, and that Billy wants him to make the choice this time, but none of the markings mean anything to him.
He turns the pages with the utmost care, wondering at how all the travel has not yet robbed him of his sense of awe. The book is a marvel. The booth is a marvel. Billy is a marvel, so young and energetic but always kind to an old man. He is making noises of encouragement now as Socrates keeps turning the pages.
Socrates doesn't want to disappoint Billy, so he keeps looking through the directory for something to choose. Maybe he should just turn a page and point, leave it to the whims of fate to dictate where they went, but he keeps hoping to find something that will speak to him.
And then he turns the page, and suddenly there are letters he can read, spelling a name: Alexander.
"Ah!" He points at the entry. "Alexander!" He doesn't know who Alexander was, but he is suddenly keen to find out.
Billy takes the directory from him and turns it around to read it. "Alexander," he says. "Huh." He dials the number and the booth drops down into the circuits of time.
Socrates is caught off guard by the sudden movement and he stumbles into Billy, who catches him with strong arms and sets him back on his feet. He mumbles an apology and braces himself more firmly, riding out the rattles and shakes. Every time they travel like this Socrates studies the circuits, looking out and wondering if he might ever catch a glimpse of another booth travelling alongside them. He can't believe they are only people travelling through time in this manner, but he has never yet seen anyone else.
The circuits spit them out and the booth lands hard at its destination. Socrates peers out and sees a place that looks, not familiar exactly, but understandable. He's been to many exciting places in the booth and seen all kinds of wondrous things, but this is a place he feels he could navigate. He will take the lead here.
He steps out of the booth. Billy follows him but Socrates puts a hand on his chest to stop him. "You can't go out dressed like that," he says. Billy doesn't understand, of course, but Socrates gestures to his chiton, then points around at passers-by in similar clothing, then points to Billy's coat. Understanding dawns and Billy nods and steps back inside the booth.
"I'll go and find something for you," Socrates says, waving around him. "You stay here, and I'll be back soon."
Socrates goes out into this new world, trying not to gaze around too openly. He doesn't look too out of place here, and people pass him without comment. After so long being stared at and staring back, it feels strange to be so anonymous.
He follows the sound of women singing in the distance, and winds his way down to a river where people are washing clothes and spreading them out to dry in the sunshine. There are a number of outfits that look reasonably dry and fairly unattended, and Socrates takes note of one or two that seemed likely to fit Billy. He strolls casually by, checking that no one is watching him, and then he snatches up some clothes and stuffs them under his chiton. He will return them as soon as they are done, he promises himself. He is only borrowing them, not stealing. Still, he walks a little quicker to get back to the booth, expecting at any moment to hear shouts from behind.
Back at the booth, he presents the clothes to Billy with a grin of triumph. Billy studies them dubiously, but then he shrugs off his coat and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Socrates tries not to look like he's watching, but he can't help sneaking a peek or two as the younger man undresses. Billy struggles with the unfamiliar clothing, getting himself tangled up in folds of cloth, and Socrates has to help sort him out. He fusses with the front for longer than he maybe should, smoothing his hands over Billy's firm chest until he realises what he's doing and steps back, his face suddenly warm. Finally Billy almost looks like a local, except that he insists on keeping his hat, his gun belt and his boots. It will have to do.
"Let's go and find this Alexander," says Socrates, gesturing for Billy to accompany him. They walk side by side, Socrates taking the lead and walking in a direction he feels certain is taking them towards the centre of wherever they are. If Alexander is anywhere, he is most likely somewhere major.
As they walk, Socrates slowly becomes aware that more and more of the people they are seeing are soldiers. Nobody bothers them but he catches several of them looking at him and Billy as they pass. He starts to walk more slowly, debating whether they should turn around and go back. He has a sense they are walking into trouble, but Billy is strolling along next to him like nothing is wrong so he tries to ignore it.
They walk into the main square, and now they are entirely surrounded by soldiers. The square is swarming with them and Socrates can't see a single person who isn't military. He tries to turn around, but Billy is striding ahead with his usual confidence and Socrates can do nothing except chase after him.
Billy smiles at the soldiers as he approaches them. "Alexander?" he asks. "Alexander?"
The soldiers' demeanour immediately changes. "Who are you?" one of them barks, as others move to their weapons. "What's your business with Alexander?"
Socrates hurries up. "Please excuse my friend," he says quickly. "He doesn't speak the language, and sometimes he gets a little ahead of himself."
"What's your business with Alexander?" the captain asks again.
"We have no business with Alexander." Socrates spreads his hands wide. "We are simply travellers passing through. We've heard tales of the renown of the great Alexander and simply thought to pay our respects while we were here. Nothing more."
"Alexander doesn't give audiences. He's far too busy to see every vagrant that passes through. Be on your way." The captain gives Socrates a shove, not hard enough to hurt but just firm enough to make it clear he should leave.
"Hey." Billy is there immediately, squaring up to the captain.
"Don't," says Socrates, trying to pull him back, but it's too late. Billy pushes the captain and in return the captain sinks a fist into his gut. As Billy folds in half around the punch the other soldiers move in and the whole thing turns into a scuffle with Billy at the centre. Socrates tries to help but he's jostled out of the way and falls sprawling on the ground.
If Billy could get a hand on his guns things would turn very bad indeed, but thankfully the soldiers don't give him a chance. He is very quickly subdued and then hauled to his feet, his arms held firmly by a soldier on either side.
"We didn't come here to cause any trouble," Socrates says quickly, scrambling to his feet. "Please, just let us go and we'll be on our way. You'll never see us again." He can easily make sure that was true.
"No, we won't make it so easy for you," says the captain. "You'd be straight back around as soon as our backs were turned. You're coming with us. We'll hold you in custody until we decide what to do with you."
"We're just travellers," says Socrates, but to no avail. They are marched across the square and into a barracks.
Billy is taken off somewhere out of sight, and Socrates is directed to a stool to sit opposite the captain.
"So," says the captain, "let's start with who you are and what you're doing. You tell me all about it, and then afterwards I'll talk to your friend and see if he gives me the same answers."
"He doesn't speak the language," Socrates says quickly. "He won't be able to answer your questions."
"And won't that be convenient for you?" The captain stares at him. "Let's start with who you are."
"I am Socrates," Socrates says, holding himself a little prouder. "In my time I was quite well known in Athens as a philosopher and a teacher of men."
"Socrates?" The captain looks sceptical. "You're going to try claiming you're the philosopher Socrates?"
"I am certainly a philosopher named Socrates."
"The Socrates who taught Plato, who in turn taught Aristotle?"
"The teacher of Plato, certainly." He doesn't know who Aristotle is, but perhaps that is true.
"And what brings the ancient philosopher Socrates through here at this time? No one here is in need of your philosophy."
"As I said before, we're just travellers," Socrates says calmly. "On our way from one place to another. We had no intention of stopping here for long."
"And your business with Alexander?"
"Only that we've heard tales of him from far and wide. It seemed remiss to pass through without seeking an audience. That was all."
"So you're sticking with that story?" The captain shrugs. "Very well. We'll see what your friend has to say."
Socrates is escorted away and Billy is brought in. There's nothing Socrates can say to him even if he could have made himself understood. They pass with little more than fleeting eye contact, and then Socrates is thrust into a small room by himself and the door slams closed behind him. He tries the handle but is unsurprised when it doesn't open.
"Excellent work, Socrates," he mutters to himself. "You made a fine choice in coming here. It's all going really well. Just great."
–
Socrates listens to Billy and the captain arguing for what seems like an age. It's clear that the captain doesn't believe Billy can't understand him, and he just keeps shouting the same questions louder and louder. Billy, for his part, is happy to keep shouting back, but of course they can't understand him any more than he can.
Eventually the captain gives up in disgust and Billy is thrown into the cell with Socrates. He offers Socrates a lopsided grin of reassurance as he staggers into the room, like it's all going to work out just fine in the end.
"You should be more careful," Socrates tells him softly, lifting Billy's hat to examine the bruises on his face. "There was no need to get into a fight."
Billy submits to his ministrations and says nothing. He doesn't seem too badly hurt overall, but Socrates still takes his time checking him over, wiping away some dried blood from a small cut above his eyebrow with a moistened thumb. It isn't much, but it's all he can do for the moment.
They sit together in silence after he's done. No doubt it won't be long before Billy is up and hatching a plan to get them out of here, but for now he seems content to just rest and let things happen. Socrates is trying to think of a way to persuade the captain to let them out. He's always been a man of words and arguments and it bothers him to not be able to use that here.
The door opens and the captain comes in. "On your feet," he says to Socrates. "It looks like you got what you wanted. Alexander has agreed to see you, though I fail to see why."
At the name 'Alexander' Billy jumps to his feet, but the captain pushes him back. "Not you," he says. "He's no interest in you at all at the moment. Maybe your friend can persuade him to be lenient towards you."
Socrates motions for Billy to stay, trying to assure him that everything is fine. It isn't easy, because the guards have come in to escort him away. It must look like he's being dragged off to some terrible fate, but hopefully Alexander will be reasonable.
He is taken to a fine room full of the best things. A young man lounges on a couch, watching with a trace of amusement as Socrates is brought before him. "So this is the man who claims to be the great Socrates?"
"I claim to be Socrates," he answers. "My greatness is for others to decide."
"Socrates taught Plato, and Plato taught Aristotle, and Aristotle taught me," says Alexander, motioning for the guards to leave them. "That Socrates died many years ago. So how can that same Socrates be standing before me now?"
It feels odd, to be told he is dead in such a matter of fact manner. Of course he knows, logically, that almost any time he could visit with the booth is either after he was dead or before he was born, and neither means anything to the life he is living, but it still hurts to hear the words like that.
"People travel all the time," Socrates says. "We never meet Leonidas in Athens and say, 'But you live in Sparta! How can you be in Athens?'"
"That's travelling a distance," says Alexander, sitting up a little. "Are you suggesting that you have travelled through time, moving from when you were alive to here, where you are known to be dead? Surely that's impossible."
"And yet here I stand." Socrates shrugs. "A thing may be considered impossible when someone simply lacks the knowledge of how to do it."
"Ah," says Alexander, leaning forward. He is clearly enjoying the conversation. "But a thing may also be truly impossible, and someone who claims to have done it is simply a liar or a fantasist."
"Very true," says Socrates. "So how can we distinguish the liar from the exceptional?"
"Demonstration," says Alexander. "Proof. One who claims to have done a thing with no witnesses may simply be telling a story, but one who has been seen to have done the thing is telling the truth."
"Then I must make a demonstration," says Socrates. "If I can show you I have travelled through time, will you accept that I am Socrates?"
"How will you show me?" Alexander is clearly intrigued now.
"My travelling companion," Socrates says, keen to get Billy back by his side. "He comes from a time long after you or I ever existed. He carries items the likes of which we have never seen. Have him brought here, and we will show them to you."
"I'm not sure that will prove anything except that you can make fabulous items, but for now I'll indulge your suggestion." He summons one of the guards and has them sent to fetch Billy. "While we wait, perhaps you could tell me how you came to be travelling with a man from the future."
Socrates recounts their history, aware as he speaks that every detail makes him sound more like a fabulist. He tells of the wonders of San Dimas, and the bright lights of Las Vegas, and none of it sounds like it could possibly be real. He wouldn't believe it if he hadn't seen them for himself.
"You certainly make a great entertainer," says Alexander as he winds up the tale. "Perhaps I might keep you around to amuse me with more tales of the wonders of the future. We can see what other fantastic ideas you can invent."
The guard brings Billy in before Socrates can reply. Billy enters with a swagger, but Socrates can tell he is wary and working not to show it.
"This is my friend Billy," Socrates says, presenting him to Alexander. "You may already note the stranger aspects of his attire."
"So you travel with a madman," Alexander says, looking Billy up and down. "That doesn't prove anything."
"But see here." Socrates places a warning hand on Billy's arm as he takes the gun from Billy's belt and holds it out to Alexander. "See this item that he carries? Some kind of weapon, I believe, that fires a projectile with an almighty noise and a smell of burning. It must be handled with care, but see how well the metal is machined and how neatly it all fits together? Have you ever seen anything of its like before?"
Alexander considers the gun, running his hands over it though Socrates keeps hold of it to ensure it stays pointing away from everyone and the trigger is guarded. "It's certainly a fine piece of work," he admits. "But it proves nothing. Many things are made by skilled artisans that I had never seen before I encountered them. They weren't all brought here through time."
"Then we have no choice." Socrates has always suspected it would come to this. "Will you agree to take a journey with us? Let us show you the wonders for yourself? We can return here afterwards and very little time will have passed."
"What does such a journey entail?" Alexander is wary. "I would be a fool to travel alone with you."
"We have a box that transports us," says Socrates. "I can tell your guards where to find it, and they can have it brought here. Then we can travel in full view of everyone. We won't be able to do anything to harm you without invoking the wrath of all your soldiers. Will that be enough?"
Alexander considers this for a moment. "Bring the box here," he says at last. "I will inspect it for myself before I agree to go anywhere with you. Then we shall see what may be done."
Socrates tells the guards where to find the booth. At the very least, having it brought here will offer him and Billy a potential escape. But he really wants to prove himself to Alexander. It's clear the man has a sharp mind and they both seem to be enjoying the debate. It's important that this should end well. Running away is a last resort.
While they're waiting, Alexander seems to relax a little and regards Billy. "I can see why you would choose to travel with him," he says, looking him up and down. "That strong chest; those fine calves. And I imagine he has a fair stock of youthful energy."
Socrates can feel his face flushing. "It's not like that," he says quickly. "It's strictly brotherly. Philia, not eros."
"Really?" Alexander arches an eyebrow. "You've never considered more than that?"
"Perhaps." Socrates looks down and fidgets with his chiton. "There was an incident. I drank a little too much wine and kissed him in a fit of merry exuberance."
"And?"
"And nothing," Socrates admits. "He didn't reject me, but he also hasn't mentioned it or made any sort of response in the time since. It's clear he's not interested."
"And yet he continues travelling with you," says Alexander. "He's not part of this conversation, but he keeps looking over at you. Always you, not me. Are you certain he's not interested?"
Socrates looks over at Billy, who is quite conspicuously not looking at them just now. "If he is, he needs to show me. I'll not ask him again without a clear invitation."
"Ah, such tortured nobility," says Alexander. "In my experience, if there's a thing you want then the best thing is to reach out and take it. And don't let him blame it on the wine this time."
A guard enters and salutes. "We have the box," he reports. "It's standing in the courtyard awaiting your pleasure."
"Ah," says Alexander, getting to his feet. "Come on, then. Let's go and see what you can do to prove your tales. Show me something I've never seen before." He grins at Socrates. "I'm quite looking forward to this."
–
Alexander prowls around the booth, studying it from every angle, while Socrates and Billy stand under guard nearby. "This is how you travel?" he asks. "With no wheels, and no horses to draw it?"
"Wheels and horses only move through space," Socrates says. "They cannot traverse time in any direction except the normal forward motion."
"But this is a box," says Alexander. "A simple box, barely large enough for the two of you to fit inside."
"It has held many more than just two of us previously," Socrates says. "Though I will admit, it was a tight squeeze. It is much more comfortable with only us."
Alexander takes a spear from one of the soldiers ranged around the booth, and uses it to prod at the doors. He does it warily at first, as though he fears a trap, then when nothing happens he hits it with more force. "Extraordinary," he says. "The effort you've gone to to make such a thing to support your fantastic claims. It must be a lot of work to drag this with you wherever you go. No wonder you need the strong companion."
"If this were fake, that would be true. But we are not making up stories, and the box moves by itself."
Alexander shakes his head. "It's too far-fetched to be believed," he says. "I simply can't accept it. Not like this."
"Then allow us to demonstrate," says Socrates. "Let us take you somewhere and show you the reality."
He considers this, looking from Socrates to the booth and back again. "All right," he says at last. "Foolish as it may seem, I am curious. If this were real it would be most ingenious. When it's shown to be a trick, then I can have you imprisoned."
"Please," says Socrates, gesturing to the booth, "enter and we will show you."
"No," says Alexander. "One of you go in first. Show me it's safe. Then I'll enter, and the other of you can follow behind."
"Very well." Socrates motions for Billy to enter the booth. He goes warily, but he takes up position next to the phone.
When it is clear that nothing bad has immediately happened, Alexander follows him in. They both squeeze up as Socrates brings up the rear and closes the door behind them.
"Now then," says Socrates. "Let's go somewhere."
"Where will we go?" Alexander sounds amused, but there's a hint of a tremor in his voice.
"Somewhere different," says Socrates. "Somewhere that will prove what I've been saying."
He reaches past Alexander to pick up the directory, leafing through the pages. He still can't read any of them, of course, but he picks one that looks suitably unusual and shows it to Billy.
Billy nods and punches in the number, and Socrates catches a glimpse of surprise on the faces of the soldiers outside the booth before they drop into the circuits of time once more.
Alexander lets out a startled yelp as the booth drops. He braces himself against the other two before coming around and straightening his posture, leaning towards the glass to look at the surroundings.
"This is how we travel," says Socrates. "Through these tubes, to another time and place."
"Extraordinary," Alexander breathes. "How does it work?"
"I don't know," Socrates admits. "I believe it was built a long time from now, the product of many advances we cannot hope to understand."
The circuits spit the booth out and they land hard in the middle of a bustling city. Cars roar past on the road outside and people hurry along with their heads down, paying no attention to the phone booth with three men crammed inside.
"This is..." Alexander peers out of the door, taking a breath of dirty city air. "This is unbelievable."
"You're seeing it with your own eyes, as you wished," says Socrates. "If this is a trick, then you have to admit it's an impressive one."
"It's just like you said." Alexander's eyes are wide with wonder. "It's a marvel."
"Will you accept it now? That I'm Socrates, and I travelled through time to meet you?"
"I think I have to," Alexander says slowly. "I don't see how I can argue with this."
"Come back in the booth then. We should get you home before your soldiers start to worry."
Alexander nods, but it is only reluctantly that he steps back into the booth and lets Socrates close the door. His gaze is still fixed on the sights around him, darting around to take it all in.
Socrates finds the right page to take them back and shows it to Billy. The journey back goes smoothly, with Alexander prepared this time for the drop. He stares out at the circuits with a pensive expression. "These all lead to other times?" he asks.
"They do. The booth can take us to any time, and any place."
"I see." As they drop back into Alexander's courtyard the soldiers all spring into action, surrounding the booth and shouting. Alexander hastily exits, calling to them all. "Settle down, I'm quite all right. This truly is a machine for travelling in time."
The guards step forward to take hold of Billy and Socrates but Alexander waves them away. "Let them be," he says. "They're not prisoners now but guests. Find them some quarters and get them set up." He looks at Socrates. "I need some time to think, but then I'll want to talk more about this booth and how it works. Rest up, and be ready when I send for you."
–
Socrates and Billy are shown to separate rooms, but it doesn't take long for Billy to come and join Socrates in his. He seems a lot more relaxed now that they aren't under guard, and he quickly kicks his boots off and stretches out on Socrates' bed. There is plenty of space, so Socrates lies down next to him and stares up at the ceiling.
"I think we're going to be okay," he says softly. "We'll let the fuss die down a little, and then we can get in the booth and go somewhere new."
Billy murmurs something in response, but it doesn't sound like words. When Socrates turns to look at him, he finds the cowboy fast asleep with his hat tipped over his face. Resting seems like a good idea, so Socrates closes his own eyes and breathes deeply.
He is disturbed what seems like a moment later by something heavy landing across his chest. Billy has rolled over and thrown an arm over him. As Socrates lies frozen, unsure of how to respond, Billy sighs and snuggles closer.
It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Billy is asleep and unaware of what he's doing. He's shown no signs of such intimacy when he's awake. He's probably dreaming of someone else entirely.
Still, there is no chance that Socrates will sleep now. He is awake and on fire, afraid to move even a tiny amount in case it breaks the spell. He would like to hold Billy, but even the smallest touch might wake him and cause trouble. So he just lies still, looking up at the ceiling and memorising every detail of his touch.
They are finally disturbed by someone opening the door. By then Billy's head is nestled into Socrates' shoulder, his hair tickling Socrates' ear. As the servant comes in he wakes up, taking a moment to gather his surroundings before leaping away from Socrates as though he'd been burned.
Socrates' heart sinks, but he doesn't let his disappointment show. He just sits up and greets the servant as though nothing has happened.
"Alexander wishes to see you," the servant says. "Please come with me."
Socrates straightens his chiton and follows the servant back to the grand room where he'd first met Alexander. The other man is standing over a table, looking at a map with one of his generals. "Ah, excellent," he says as he sees Socrates. "Come here and take a look at this."
Socrates goes over and looks at the map. It shows a vast area, spreading out from Athens and nearby places he recognises all the way out to lands he's never even heard stories of.
"This is my empire," Alexander says proudly. "All the lands here are places I have taken and hold. We are... stretched, at the moment," he admits, "but now you have shown me a new way."
"A new way?" Socrates asks. "I am not experienced with warfare."
"But you have the booth," Alexander says. "You've shown me there are more worlds to conquer, many more than I could ever have dreamed. Imagine if the empire of Alexander could stretch across time. We could take places earlier, and add them to our empire now. We could take places in the future, and make my name renowned forever. Just think of it. A new challenge, and never-ending."
"With the booth?" Socrates asks, blinking.
"I know what you're thinking," Alexander says. "It doesn't hold anywhere near enough men to subdue even a single village. That's why we'll need to start by going forward, to the time when the booths are made, and getting more. Or maybe they have a larger one, that would fit a whole garrison."
"If such a thing existed," Socrates says, "couldn't they use it to come here and conquer us?"
Alexander waves that thought away. "They wouldn't dare," he says. "Even in the future, I'm sure they know the name of Alexander."
"I can't let you take it," Socrates says. "It's not mine to give away."
Alexander's eyes narrow. "I don't see how you could stop me. No one says no to me. Not for long, at any rate."
The general looks uncomfortable but doesn't say anything.
"I say no," says Socrates firmly. "This is madness. Your plan will never work."
"I'll give you time to think on it," says Alexander. "Go back to your room. You'll see I'm right soon enough."
–
Billy isn't in the room when Socrates returns. He must have gone back to his own room rather than waiting around. Socrates wonders if he should go and find him, but the guard on the door makes it clear that isn't an option.
He can't let Alexander take the booth. The idea is madness. His soldiers will be wiped out if they try facing off against men with guns like Billy's, and who knows what kind of weapons the makers of the booth would have available? He can never get hold of more booths, or conquer the future, and all that will happen if Socrates lets him go through with it is that he and Billy will lose the ability to travel together. Selfish as it might be, he can't bear to let that happen.
There is a knock at the door, and Alexander's general comes in. "Have you come to persuade me to take up Alexander's cause?" Socrates asks.
"Quite the opposite," says the general, Coenus. "May I sit?"
Socrates nods, and the two men take seats on opposite sides of a small table. "You don't want to conquer a vast empire across all of time?"
Coenus sighs. "I know what I saw in the courtyard, but I only have your word that you truly travelled in time. You certainly convinced Alexander though."
"You think it's a hoax? You're worried I'm leading him astray?"
"It's not that." The general laces his fingers and presses his thumbs together. "You saw the map, right? You've seen just how much territory we've taken already? We've come a long way from Macedonia, and we've fought for every scrap of turf along the way." He meets Socrates' gaze. "The men are exhausted, quite frankly. All of them are a long way from home, and they're tired of having to keep fighting just to be even further away. They want to go back to their families."
"So if Alexander tells them they've got to go even further, across time, where there'll be no chance of running away because he'll control the only means of transport..?"
"There'll be a mutiny," says Coenus. "No question of it. We've been trying to convince Alexander to ease off for some time, to be satisfied with what he's already got. I had thought we might have been getting somewhere, and then you came along and put all these ideas into his head."
"That wasn't the intention," Socrates says quickly. "We were just passing through, I promise. We only showed him the booth to prove we were telling the truth, so we could keep going on our travels. It wasn't supposed to start a war."
"Alexander has always had his own ideas about things," says Coenus, with a weary smile. "Right from his youth, he was determined to rule like no one before him. For a while we were all caught up in his vision, but the longer it's gone on the harder it's been to keep going. We're all tired. I miss my wife and my children."
"I don't know what I can do to persuade him," Socrates says. "I barely know him. If he won't listen to his closest advisors, why should he listen to me?"
"You talked him into letting you demonstrate the booth. Anyone else would have been written off as a madman or a liar, but somehow you persuaded him to take you seriously long enough for you to prove yourself. I've never seen anyone manage that before, certainly not so quickly. I'm hoping you can manage something similar for me now."
"That depends on whether he'll agree to talk to me again," says Socrates. "He threw me out already, remember?"
"If he wasn't going to bring you back for another round you wouldn't still be here," says the general. "You'd be back in a cell, or maybe even taken for execution already if the whim took him. The fact that he's let you come back to a nice room like this means he's willing to keep talking. Probably because he wants to persuade you to help him, since you know more about the booth than he does right now, but that means you'll have the chance to persuade him the other way."
"I certainly won't be helping him," says Socrates. "That's out of the question. His plan won't work. I just want to take the booth, and my friend, and leave."
"And if you can't persuade him to let you leave willingly then I'll help you to leave regardless. You have my word on that. It's better for all of us if that booth isn't around for him to try to use."
"Thank you," says Socrates as Coenus gets to his feet. "I will try to persuade him. You have my word on that."
–
The summons doesn't come until the next day. Socrates has had time to sleep, and he's been well fed, but it's still clear that he isn't supposed to go anywhere and he hasn't been able to see Billy. He can only hope they're still keeping the cowboy somewhere just as comfortable.
He is brought to the courtyard, where Alexander is studying the booth. "Ah, there you are," he says as Socrates is led in. "Come and show me how this thing works."
"I thought I made it clear I wasn't going to help you," Socrates says.
"That was yesterday. I'm sure you've had time to think about it and see the merits of my idea by now."
"I've done no such thing," says Socrates. "Why do you need to conquer the whole of time anyway? Isn't what you have already enough?"
"Now you sound like Coenus," Alexander grumbles. "They keep whinging about going home. But we've brought peace to the whole area by bringing it all under a single rule. Surely you can see it's better to spread that as far and wide as we can?"
"Are you certain everywhere is more peaceful under your rule?" Socrates asks. "With such a large area to command, you surely can't keep on top of all of it."
"I've appointed local governors," Alexander says. "Trusted men. They update me regularly."
"And you're certain that they're all completely honest with you? There's no corruption in your structures? No mistreatment of people who used to be on opposite sides in your war? Everyone in your kingdom would agree that their life is better since you came along?"
"Of course," says Alexander. "How could it be anything else?"
"And life is better for your soldiers, out here fighting your cause, instead of back home with their families?"
"They're all dedicated to the fight," he snaps. "They understand what we're doing."
"They're tired," Socrates says. "They've come a long way with you, but no man can run forever. And without them you'll never manage your plans."
"They'll do as they're ordered," Alexander says. "That's what they agreed to when they joined my army. I give the orders and they follow them."
"You've seen a glimpse of the future," Socrates says. "You saw the travelling machines, and the enormous buildings. Do you really think you can win against the people who made those? Do you think your men, simple soldiers, will hold firm against such sights? When they're already tired and longing for home?"
"I see what this is. You want me to concede so you can keep the future for yourself. You want to be in charge, be the King of Time, and leave me to my tiny exploits here."
"Your exploits here are far from tiny," Socrates says gently. "The booth only brings us to the most renowned people in history. You'll be known long after your time for what you've done here."
"Really?" The need in Alexander's eyes is palpable. "They know who I am, what I did here?"
"You're in the book," says Socrates. "The makers of the booth thought you were worth visiting. They live a long time from now, but they still know who you are."
"What do they say about me?"
"I don't know," Socrates admits. "I can't read anything in there except your name, but I don't think it gives a lot of detail. It's just a listing. The book is large enough just with names in it. But it doesn't really matter. The important thing is, you're in there. They expected everyone to know who you are just by your name. You don't need to conquer all of time to be remembered. You've already done enough."
Alexander sighs. "I do understand how tired they are, you know," he says. "I feel it too. I'd love to just settle down and rest. But something has always been driving me to keep going, push further. I can never just stop and be content with what I have."
"You have so much," says Socrates. "Don't throw it all away trying to take too much. They won't follow you forever, and you'd be hopelessly outmatched out there. Let them love you for what you've done and for letting them go. Otherwise all you'll be remembered for is reaching too far and losing everything."
"It's not easy to agree," says Alexander, "but I fear you're right. We're stretched thin, and the booth isn't going to help with that." He holds up his hands. "I concede to your arguments, great Socrates."
"I'm glad," says Socrates. "It's for the best, really."
"Will you stay?" he asks. "I could use an advisor like you. Someone who's not afraid to tell me when I'm getting things wrong."
"I can't," says Socrates. "This isn't my time. I'm on a journey, and there's still so much to see."
"With your 'friend', of course." Alexander nods. "I hope he comes to realise what he's got before it's too late. You shouldn't write him off just yet."
"We'll see," says Socrates, ignoring the pang he feels at the idea. "We've a long way to go together. It's still early days."
Alexander summons a servant to go and fetch Billy. "You're sure you wouldn't rather stay as my advisor?"
"You already have trustworthy advisors. Coenus has been telling you to stop for a long time. You just haven't listened to him."
Alexander laughs. "That man is almost as much of a gadfly as you are. But you're right. Perhaps I've been learning to ignore his stinging. I should pay him more attention."
"The wisest men are always open to learning more."
Billy arrives then. Someone has found his regular clothes and he's shed the chiton in favour of his long coat and trousers.
"You," says Alexander, walking up to Billy with his arms open, "take good care of my friend Socrates, you hear me? He cares for you more than you know, and you should show him some of the affection you bear."
Billy obviously doesn't understand, thankfully, but he nods and touches his hat just the same.
"Give my regards to the future." Alexander clasps Socrates' arm in farewell. "Come and visit any time, especially when you need to admit that I was right about you and your young man."
Socrates blushes. "Perhaps one day," he says, "if you're right. I think it's a long time away though, for me at least." He looks over at Billy, who offers him a smile.
"You may be surprised," says Alexander. "Take the chance, next time it presents itself, and see what happens. Now, be off with you, before I change my mind."