Free The Plato Papers by Peter Ackroyd Page B

There were narrow streets in the city where I could still hear the voices of those who had passed through many years before. Then I made another wonderful discovery. There were some citizens of Mouldwarp who seemed to live in a different time. There were ragged people who wandered with dogs; they were not on the same journey as those whom they passed on the crowded thoroughfares. There were children who chanted songs from an earlier age and there were old people who already had the look of eternity upon their faces. You laugh at me. But I, Plato, have seen and heard these things. May I continue? They could sometimes glimpse images or ghosts of the spirit, but they would look away in disbelief or consternation. On occasions I noticed that one of them would intercept a brief look from some unknown citizen—both would glance at each other, and pass on, as if nothing mysterious had occurred. I knew then that their souls were trying to communicate, even through the fog and darkness of Mouldwarp. The ancient forms of speech and prayer were still in existence, but barely able to stir beneath the burden of this reality. So I heard words which the citizens could not hear, and observed moments of recognition or glances of longing which they never saw.
    But their souls felt my presence, and some of them rose up in their cells to greet me. I welcomed them in turn and began to converse with them. We were not heard, of course, by those whom we sought to understand. I first asked these tiny chattering spirits about their own beliefs, but they possessed none— or otherwise they were so confused and uncertain that it would have been better if they had had none. They were ashamed of their own uncertainty but, as they told me, they had been held in the dark so long that they scarcely recognised one another.
    I tried to learn more about the history of this city, but no one seemed to know it. They had heard of giants in the past, the original inhabitants of London— ‘Now we believe,’ they said, ‘that they were prophecies of you and your race’! I had so many questions. Did these trees collect the shadows of the people who passed beneath? They had no answer. They did not even know the names of the trees. I asked them if the areas of grass were sacred places. I asked them why the buildings aspired to the sky. The birds that clustered on the roofs and in the squares—were they the guardians of London? Do sundials control the sun? They did not understand my questions. Instead they complained to me that they were imprisoned within beings who had little concept of divinity or truth, but who instead worshipped order and control. They told me that the people of Mouldwarp professed to care for their world, but they killed their unborn children and treated their animal companions with great savagery. Yet still they wanted to make copies of themselves by means of their science. I am telling you these things without wishing to disturb you. I intend to hide nothing of the truth from you, revealing both good and evil so that you can decide for yourselves whether I have visited a real city.
    I conversed once more with these little spirits, and they told me that their charges suffered from forgetfulness and fear. The citizens were often bewildered; they lived within fantasies and ambitions which the city itself had created, and they felt obliged to act according to the roles allotted to them. They had no understanding of themselves. They had no use for the present except as an avenue to the future, and yet many experienced a great horror of death. They desired to go faster and faster, but towards some unknown destination. No wonder their souls shivered in the darkness. I spoke to some who simply wished to be dissolved and to disappear. When I heard people arguing, I saw their perturbed spirits fluttering above them.
    I remember walking by the sacred Thames, where the outcasts slept, when a young man passed by me sighing. His soul recognised my presence