time they had used the trestle table had been on Sophie’s parents’ tenth
anniversary. Sophie was only eight years old at the time, but she clearly
remembered the big outdoor party with all their friends and relatives.
The weather report was as good as it could be. There had not been as
much as a drop of rain since that horrid thunderstorm the day before Sophie’s
birthday. Nevertheless they decided to leave the actual table setting and
decorating until Saturday morning.
Later that evening they baked two different kinds of bread. They were
going to serve chicken and salad. And sodas. Sophie was worried that some
of the boys in her class would bring beer. If there was one thing she was
afraid of it was trouble.
As Sophie was going to bed, her mother asked her once again if Alberto
was coming to the party.
“Of course he’s coming. He has even promised to do a philosophical
trick.”
“A philosophical trick? What kind of trick is that?”
“No idea ... if he were a magician, he would have done a magic trick. He
would probably have pulled a white rabbit out of a hat. . .”
“What, again?”
“But since he’s a philosopher, he’s going to do a philosophical trick
instead. After all, it is a philosophical garden party. Are you planning to do
something too?”
“Actually, I am.”
“A speech?”
“I’m not telling. Good night, Sophie!”
Early the next morning Sophie was woken up by her mother, who came
in to say goodbye before she went to work. She gave Sophie a list of last-
minute things to buy in town for the garden party.
The minute her mother had left the house, the telephone rang. It was
Alberto. He had obviously found out exactly when Sophie was home alone.
“How is your secret coming along?”
“Ssh! Not a word. Don’t even give him the chance to think about it.”
“I think I held his attention yesterday “
“Good.”
“Is the philosophy course finished?”
“That’s why I’m calling. We’re already in our own century. From now on
you should be able to orient yourself on your own. The foundations were the
most important. But we must nevertheless meet for a short talk about our own
time “
“But I have to go to town . . “
“That’s excellent. I said it was our own time we had to talk about.”
“Really?”
“So it would be most practical to meet in town, I mean.”
“Shall I come to your place?”
“No, no, not here Everything’s a mess. I’ve been hunting for hidden
microphones.”
“Ah!”
“There’s a cafe that’s just opened at the Main Square. Cafe Pierre. Do
you know it?”
“Yes. When shall I be there?”