Delphi walked around the edge of the gymnasium, waiting for her father to come out. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to go in, not that she wanted to. She didn’t really understand what was so good about it. She’d asked questions about the place of course.
Delphi asked a lot of questions, most often to her dad. One of her favourite ones was: why doesn’t everyone else ask a lot of questions?
Delphi looked around at the trees, and the birds, and the road, and the sky. There was so much that was mysterious about the world. Why do birds go quiet in the winter? How many legs has a cockroach got? Why do tortoises have a shell? What are the grey-reddish rocks called? Are they the same as the white rocks? Why are there rocks? Why won’t you answer my questions about rocks? Why are you ignoring me?
Yes, there were a lot of questions about the world and, if her dad was anything to go by, surprisingly few answers.
If you got an answer at all to these questions, it would usually be one of two responses. Firstly, there would be a long and complicated answers involving the gods, heroes and other things which certainly explained some things, and sometimes made a good story, but didn’t really answer your question. Or, you’d be told to shut up.
This all seemed very unsatisfactory to Delphi. Apparently, some people – some of the philosophers – did have some answers to this kind of thing, but they were answers like ‘everything is fire’ or ‘everything changes’, and didn’t really help at all.
Someone needed to sort it all out, thought Delphi. But they probably won’t. The men were all too busy exercising naked in the gymnasium. Weirdos.