“Is sickness the punishment of the gods?” Surely nobody believed that
nowadays? But it occurred to her that many people thought it helped to pray for
recovery, so at any rate they must believe that God had some power over people’s
health.
The last question was harder to answer. Sophie had never given much thought
to what governed the course of history. It had to be people, surely? If it was God or
Fate, people had no free will.
The idea of free will made Sophie think of something else. Why should she put
up with this mysterious philosopher playing cat and mouse with her? Why couldn’t
she write a letter to him. He (or she) would quite probably put another big envelope in
the mailbox during the night or sometime tomorrow morning. She would see to it that
there was a letter ready for this person.
Sophie began right away. It was difficult to write to someone she had never
seen. She didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. Or if he or she was old or
young. For that matter, the mysterious philosopher could even be someone she
already knew. She wrote:
Most respected philosopher, Your generous correspondence course in
philosophy is greatly appreciated by us here. But it bothers us not to know who you
are. We therefore request you to use your full name. In return we would like to extend
our hospitality should you care to corne and have coffee with us, but preferably when
my mother is at home. She is at work from 7:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day from
Monday to Friday. I am at school during these days, but I am always home by 2:15
p.m., except on Thursdays. I am also very good at making coffee.
Thanking you in advance, I remain
Your attentive student,
Sophie Amundsen (aged 14)
At the bottom of the page she wrote RSVP.
Sophie felt that the letter had turned out much too formal. But it was hard to
know which words to choose when writing to a person without a face. She put the
letter in a pink envelope and addressed it “To the philosopher.”
The problem was where to put it so her mother didn’t find it. She would have to
wait for her to get home before putting it in the mailbox. And she would also have to
remember to look in the mailbox early the next morning before the newspaper arrived.
If no new letter came for her this evening or during the night, she would have to take
the pink envelope in again.
Why did it all have to be so complicated?
That evening Sophie went up to her room early, even though it was Friday. Her
mother tried to tempt her with pizza and a thriller on TV, but Sophie said she was
tired and wanted to go to bed and read. While her mother sat watching TV, she
sneaked out to the mailbox with her letter.
Her mother was clearly worried. She had started speaking to Sophie in a
different tone since the business with the white rabbit and the top hat. Sophie hated to
be a worry to her mother, but she just had to go upstairs and keep an eye on the
mailbox.
When her mother came up at about eleven o’clock, Sophie was sitting at the
window staring down the road.
“You’re not still sitting there staring at the mailbox!” she said.
“I can look at whatever I like.”
“I really think you must be in love, Sophie. But if he is going to bring you