crawl.
She read about the Greek natural philosophers. Hilde knew that her father was
interested in philosophy. He had written an article in the newspaper proposing that
philosophy should be a regular school subject. It was called “Why should philosophy
be part of the school curriculum?” He had even raised the issue at a PTA meeting in
Hilde’s class. Hilde had found it acutely embarrassing.
She looked at the clock. It was seven-thirty. It would probably be half an hour
before her mother came up with the breakfast tray, thank goodness, because right now
she was engrossed in Sophie and all the philosophical questions. She read the chapter
called “Democritus.” First of all, Sophie got a question to think about: Why is Lego
the most ingenious toy in the world? Then she found a large brown envelope in the
mailbox:
Democritus agreed with his predecessors that transformations in nature
could not be due to the fact that anything actually “changed.” He therefore
assumed that everything was built up of tiny invisible blocks, each of which
was eternal and immutable. Democritus called these smallest units atoms.
Hilde was indignant when Sophie found the red silk scarf under her bed. So that
was where it was! But how could a scarf just disappear into a story? It had to be
someplace...
The chapter on Socrates began with Sophie reading “something about the
Norwegian UN battalion in Lebanon” in the newspaper. Typical Dad! He was so con-
cerned that people in Norway were not interested enough in the UN forces’
peacekeeping task. If nobody else was, then Sophie would have to be. In that way he
could write it into his story and get some sort of attention from the media.
She had to smile as she read the P.P.S. in the philosophy teacher’s letter to
Sophie:
If you should come across a red silk scarf anywhere, please take care of
it. Sometimes personal property gets mixed up. Especially at school and
places like that, and this is a philosophy school.
Hilde heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs. Before she knocked on the
door, Hilde had begun to read about Sophie’s discovery of the video of Athens in her
secret den.
“Happy birthday ...” Her mother had begun to sing halfway up the stairs.
“Come in,” said Hilde, in the middle of the passage where the philosophy
teacher was talking directly to Sophie from the Acropolis. He looked almost exactly
like Hilde’s father—with a “black, well-trimmed beard” and a blue beret.
“Happy birthday, Hilde!”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hilde?”
“Just put it there.”
“Aren’t you going to ... ?”
“You can see I’m reading.”
“Imagine, you’re fifteen!”
“Have you ever been to Athens, Mom?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“It’s so amazing that those old temples are still standing. They are actually
2,500 years old. The biggest one is called the Virgin’s Place, by the way.”
“Have you opened your present from Dad?”
“What present?”
“You must look up now, Hilde. You’re in a complete daze.”