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Authors: Marcos Chicot
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well, I understand that I don’t deserve to rise to the level of the grand masters, but would you consider giving me just the geometry test that needs to be passed to become a grand master?”
Pythagoras sighed. Her proposal was clever. The test itself would give Ariadne an insight into one of the teachings she so longed for.
Even so, he was forced to disagree with his daughter again.
“Ariadne, I can’t do that either. You have to take things one step at a time. In due course, I’ll give you the tests that will admit you to the level of grand master. Some years later, if you’re successful in making your own contributions as well as fulfilling the other requirements, you can take the tests you need to become a grand master.”
Ariadne hung her head.
I don’t want to be a grand master, I just want to learn more geometry…and prove that I can be as good in that as the best masters . She wasn’t willing to accept her father’s proposal, but there was no point in continuing the discussion with him either.
She would have to try and achieve her goal some other way.
The following day, she volunteered to tidy up around the schoolhouse after classes. One of her tasks was to smooth out the wax tablets that hadn’t been properly erased when the day was over. To her annoyance, she discovered that the students at the higher levels, scrupulous in their respect for the oath of secrecy that protected the most advanced teachings, were meticulous about erasing their work. In spite of that, now and again she found she could decipher faint imprints on the edges of some tablets. She examined them avidly and took notes on a piece of parchment she kept hidden under her tunic. One day she realized that, if she looked at the tablets in the sunlight, she could sometimes detect deeper imprints. When the students hadn’t pressed too hard to erase their work, only the outermost layer of wax became smooth. Whatever she could make out on those tablets she hurriedly transcribed to the document she always carried with her.
A few weeks later, her parchment was covered with crowded markings. She spent days analyzing it, trying to find an overarching meaning in all those little bits of knowledge. Most of them made no sense, but there were some that did. Linking what she could see to her own knowledge, she realized she had enough information in front of her to deduce the method of construction of a tetrahedron [1] . She copied it out onto a fresh piece of parchment. She could tell her father she had discovered it with no help, claim it was the contribution that demonstrated she deserved to receive further teachings. She could do that, but it would be a lie. She spent weeks mulling it over until one day, as if her faculty of insight had suddenly improved, she came up with something completely new.
It wasn’t a great discovery. Ariadne wasn’t even sure it was entirely new knowledge, but it was new to her. She ran to look for her father. By the time she found him, she was breathless. She handed him the parchment containing her contribution .
Pythagoras, without altering his expression, glanced at what Ariadne had handed him. From the moment she had volunteered at the schoolhouse, he had imagined what she was up to. Then he had caught her scrutinizing wax tablets in the sun. He feared that his daughter was now presenting him with something she had copied from those tablets. After a few seconds, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was the method for constructing a tetrahedron, but there was something more. He observed it more closely. There was a slight variation in the steps, a different approximation that offered a novel twist. It had no application, but it was unprecedented.
He looked at his daughter. Ariadne had the same expectant look she used to have at ten, but now she was a grown woman, a brilliant disciple who filled him with pride.
“Come and see me at sunset. I’ll give you the test.”
Ariadne squealed with
Pythagoras sighed. Her proposal was clever. The test itself would give Ariadne an insight into one of the teachings she so longed for.
Even so, he was forced to disagree with his daughter again.
“Ariadne, I can’t do that either. You have to take things one step at a time. In due course, I’ll give you the tests that will admit you to the level of grand master. Some years later, if you’re successful in making your own contributions as well as fulfilling the other requirements, you can take the tests you need to become a grand master.”
Ariadne hung her head.
I don’t want to be a grand master, I just want to learn more geometry…and prove that I can be as good in that as the best masters . She wasn’t willing to accept her father’s proposal, but there was no point in continuing the discussion with him either.
She would have to try and achieve her goal some other way.
The following day, she volunteered to tidy up around the schoolhouse after classes. One of her tasks was to smooth out the wax tablets that hadn’t been properly erased when the day was over. To her annoyance, she discovered that the students at the higher levels, scrupulous in their respect for the oath of secrecy that protected the most advanced teachings, were meticulous about erasing their work. In spite of that, now and again she found she could decipher faint imprints on the edges of some tablets. She examined them avidly and took notes on a piece of parchment she kept hidden under her tunic. One day she realized that, if she looked at the tablets in the sunlight, she could sometimes detect deeper imprints. When the students hadn’t pressed too hard to erase their work, only the outermost layer of wax became smooth. Whatever she could make out on those tablets she hurriedly transcribed to the document she always carried with her.
A few weeks later, her parchment was covered with crowded markings. She spent days analyzing it, trying to find an overarching meaning in all those little bits of knowledge. Most of them made no sense, but there were some that did. Linking what she could see to her own knowledge, she realized she had enough information in front of her to deduce the method of construction of a tetrahedron [1] . She copied it out onto a fresh piece of parchment. She could tell her father she had discovered it with no help, claim it was the contribution that demonstrated she deserved to receive further teachings. She could do that, but it would be a lie. She spent weeks mulling it over until one day, as if her faculty of insight had suddenly improved, she came up with something completely new.
It wasn’t a great discovery. Ariadne wasn’t even sure it was entirely new knowledge, but it was new to her. She ran to look for her father. By the time she found him, she was breathless. She handed him the parchment containing her contribution .
Pythagoras, without altering his expression, glanced at what Ariadne had handed him. From the moment she had volunteered at the schoolhouse, he had imagined what she was up to. Then he had caught her scrutinizing wax tablets in the sun. He feared that his daughter was now presenting him with something she had copied from those tablets. After a few seconds, he raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was the method for constructing a tetrahedron, but there was something more. He observed it more closely. There was a slight variation in the steps, a different approximation that offered a novel twist. It had no application, but it was unprecedented.
He looked at his daughter. Ariadne had the same expectant look she used to have at ten, but now she was a grown woman, a brilliant disciple who filled him with pride.
“Come and see me at sunset. I’ll give you the test.”
Ariadne squealed with
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