Page 62 of The Amber Sunburst

“You’re an idiot, you know that? I mean, just such an idiot,” Kallias says.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. From you, mostly. But you say that a lot, you know. I’m going to start thinking you’re an idiot if you don’t improve your lex-i-con,” Alexander teases, drawing out the last word.

Kallias scowls at him with his scrunchy little nose. “Oh, excuse me. You’re an ignoramus. A nitwit. A moron.”

“Ooo, big words.”

“You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

“Geniuses are never appreciated in their time.” Alexander pouts.

“Neither are imbeciles.”

“You took my insult to your vocabulary pretty seriously, huh?”

“Simpleton. Know-nothing. Cretin.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down! What happens when you run out?”

“I’ll find a thesaurus.”

“You’re a demon.”

Alexander doesn’t care that the smile is sharp and a little bit mean or that it’s accompanied by insults. It’s wonderful anyways.

“Now read, stupid,” Kallias says, still smiling, as he slides The Republic across the table and sinks back into his seat with his own book. Alexander sighs.

He’s nearly done with The Republic. It’s boring enough that he’s practically falling asleep, but it’s useful. Kallias described it well; it’s a conversation—an argument, really—where some Ancient Greek men try to use philosophy to conceptualize the perfect nation. He can see where it lines up with the place he’s in now, but there are also some inconsistencies that he finds interesting.

Music, for one, is not meant to be as regulated as it is here, with Zeno so scared to play his violin that he almost had a nervous breakdown explaining it to Alexander. Precious metal is supposed to be banned in the Leadership Classes, yet the Educator is always decked out with rings.

Neither the Priestesses, nor the Arcs, nor the Trials are mentioned in the book either, though they seem more like side-effects of the philosophies outlined rather than actual inconsistencies.

Alexander forces his eyes to stop glazing over and opens The Republic to his bookmarked page—not dog-eared because, “What are you, a heathen?”—and lets himself be drawn in. It’s not until an hour or two later that he looks up to find Kallias’ eyes on him.

The sight is familiar now. Kallias with his brows furrowed and his lip between his teeth: his thinking face.

“It’s time for you to hold up your end of the deal,” he finally says, releasing his lip. It’s slightly red and wet, and Alexander is absolutely not paying attention to that right now.

Alexander shuts his book and lays it down on the table. “Where should I start?”

“Tell me about you.”

“So you are curious!”

Kallias scowls.

“Sure, okay.” Alexander laughs. “I’ll start with some context first. You’ve heard about the Fall of Nations, right?”

“The Guardians say it was the World War that ended all civilization but the Republic.”

“But you know that’s not true.”

“How else would you be here, Mr. Jesus-Fucking-Christ?”

“Touché,” Alexander says. “So, it took around one hundred and fifty years after the Fall for new countries to form, starting with Rumi, which encompasses most of the geographical Mediterranean. You ever read Rumi’s poetry?”

“There’s a collection in here.”