Free Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) by Marcos Chicot

steps are correct, and rethink the ones I haven’t managed to solve .
    Before going back to the start of the problem, she cast a quick glance at the window.
    It was dark.
    No!
    Grabbing the parchment, she ran out at lightning speed, conscious of the tears welling up in her eyes. She raced through the compound and burst desperately into her father’s house.
    Pythagoras was sitting at a table, waiting for her.
    “Time’s up,” he said with strict formality. “The sun has just set…though I suppose more than one minute has passed since you wrote whatever it is you have there.”
    He stretched out his hand and Ariadne relinquished the parchment.
    “I didn’t have time to review it,” she murmured, dejected.
    Pythagoras unfolded the document and began examining it.
    “I divided it into steps,” said Ariadne. “I think it starts here—” she pointed to one area of the parchment—“and then it continues…”
    She sat next to Pythagoras to take a better look at what she had written, and realized it was a chaotic mess. Not only were there probably errors in most, if not all, of the steps, it was impossible to know if that muddle was anything more than an absurd overlaying of shapes and symbols.
    Two minutes later, Pythagoras raised his head from the documents and looked at her severely. Then he launched into a long speech.
    Ariadne cried from the very beginning.
     
     
    The first thing that prompted Ariadne’s tears was learning she had unraveled the secret of the dodecahedron. Every step of her work was correct.
    “You’ve worked out one of the most complex mathematical problems ever solved by man.” Pythagoras’ voice was solemn and respectful. “Fewer than twenty people in the world have succeeded in doing that.” He paused, then continued in a more serious tone. “Now you are the trustee of a transcendental secret, one of the most valuable in the School, and you know that the oath of secrecy obligates you to guard that secret even with your life.”
    Ariadne nodded, compressing her lips which were wet with tears. Pythagoras then told her she should renew her oath, which became stricter as access to secrets of greater importance was achieved. Usually, a ceremony was held with several members of the brotherhood in attendance, but as no one must know that Ariadne had learned those secrets, the ceremony would just be between the two of them.
    Her father said he was proud of her, but also that she must accept guidance. She must progress at a more uniform rate through the subjects that comprised the teachings.
    “I think in two or three years’ time you’ll be able to take the tests required to become a master of the School. Obviously, you’ll have no trouble with the geometry test, but as you know, there are many others.”
    Ariadne agreed to everything her father said.
    From the next day on, she studied the other subjects with the same dedication she had devoted to geometry. Two years later, at twenty-two, she became the youngest master of the brotherhood. No one knew it at the time: it was not made public for another few years, until she had reached the required age.
    Her father wished her to advance to the next and highest stage, that of grand master. He arranged a special seven-year program for her, and continued to personally guide her instruction. However, three years after she had reached the level of master, Ariadne abandoned the project.
    “Father, I’ve been cooped up in the community for ten years and I hardly ever speak to anyone except you. I think I’m ready to rejoin society. I’d like us to focus on that and defer my studies for now.”
    Pythagoras observed her thoughtfully. When Ariadne was fifteen years old, he had taken on the role of her personal tutor. Back then, academic achievement hadn’t been a priority, but she had advanced at such an astonishing pace that he couldn’t help hoping she would follow in his footsteps. In spite of that, he wasn’t about to let those dreams