The Last Philosopher: Part One

What, is that the question

While Herschel waited for nightfall, his multi-thoughts entertained themselves with over-thinking, mostly about the Socks and their antics leading up to his sneak out. Before these interesting times, they'd had no interest in what the guards were up to. But his escape turned them into snooping children, and eavesdropping became a favourite pastime of the gaggle.

"With their lax attitude, you'll have plenty of options," Soc-To once said as they power-walked through the discourse yard.

"They are rather slack when it comes to the guarding," Herschel replied, and part of him wanted to leave the guards a note for after he was gone. "But it should make the non-violence part easier."

"You say non-violent like you have the ability for violence."

"I could do a violence!" he joked.

"Uh-huh, sure you could. But it is interesting. Do you think anyone else has ever been this concerned about how an escape affects others?"

"Well, if it's the first time, then it's my privilege to lead the way."

The mystery of why the lizards weren't much bothered about guarding hadn't required much thinking. It was because no philosopher, from any of the gaggles, had ever tried to escape. Regular mealtimes and a well-stocked library meant Zig-Zig had everything its prisoners wanted. Especially since they all liked some form of the idea that freedom was nothing but an overrated illusion anyway.

The Socks prying revealed something else about the Akri. They weren't really guards; they were soldiers. What they wanted was action, guts, and glory. But they were stuck here, herding old men from their screaming matches in the discourse yard to their screaming matches in the library. Another reason for them to keep the inmates at spear's length.

"I should've guessed they were soldiers. With those claws, they should be stalking something fluffy through the night," he scolded himself when the big man had told him.

"It is overkill, but their whole vibe is fascinating, don't you think?" Soc-To asked.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, they look like they're made for murder and mayhem, but they eat almost nothing but mushrooms." Another tidbit the snoopers had found out. "That means they're not as bloodthirsty as they look."

The remembered conversations lit up Herschel's usual frown with the joy of contradiction. But not everything about the escape had been smooth sailing, just like his limited experience on the water, there was a lot of rough going.

A few Socks had taken to loitering around the gate to the guard quarter, where the lizards lingered, ignoring their duty in peace. The so-called gate was the only one out of the prison area. It was also the best place to eavesdrop, and the only way to learn anything about the guards. At first his elderly friends treated it much like game. They'd giggle and scamper off like unruly kids whenever one of the Akri approached the gate.

"You have to be more careful!" Soc-To had yelled at the three caught by the captain of the guard.

Herschel could never have shouted at someone like that, even if he could understand the need in theory. Being Kor, with fangs and coal-black skin, the big man had no such issues with giving a stern lecture. But Soc-To never yelled without reason. Not that anyone was worried the three stooges had let anything slip. Even so, the dressing down left them looking like tongue-lashed children, eyes down and hands hidden in the folds of their gowns.

"Could it be the desert, and its sandstorms, that make the lizard-men so reluctant to stray outside the prison wall?" Herschel asked himself, a detail about the guards his gaggle had never cleared up.

Hold on now. Seeing as they're all female, shouldn't it be lizard-women? His objectivity interrupted.

"Sure, but with their nation's military strength, generals everywhere are sure to feel more comfortable calling them lizard-men."

And you think that's a good excuse?

"No, just saying, of course we should accept reality, not avoid it like generals. But it still doesn't explain why they avoid leaving Zig-Zig."

Crouched in the muck he was drawn back to the now, and to less filthy escape options. Zig-Zig's wall had been his only real obstacle. To the untrained eye, the random rocks thrown into a long pile weren't much of a wall at all. But a friend had told him it was built with a rare stone type called ingenious rock. Not that the info helped Herschel escape, because going over would've been a gamble. Few guards ever manned the six guard-towers. Still, it was a big risk. The guards all excelled at standing still, and their sand-coloured leather armour made them difficult to spot.

Waiting around must be an important skill for soldiers, Herschel's wit wondered with a smile.

Another idea he'd considered was the docks. Like him, many of the prisoners had arrived by ship and were brought in through the guard district. It was the only time any of them were allowed in the area.

But even if you could get to the docks, then what? his planning wondered.

"I could've snuck on to a ship?"

No, we ruled that out, since the only thing we know about boats is that we know nothing about boats.

"But couldn't we have found a way that didn't involve sewers?" he sighed, and the stench almost made him retch.

Not one that has a high probability of success and limits the risk to others. It has to look like no one else was involved!

If it wasn't for his motto 'try to do the right thing,' it could've been so easy. The prisoners of Zig-Zig were the kind of men who read and wrote for fun. With lots of free time on their hands, they could've outsmarted the black-eyed lizards. Long spears and thick shields weren't much help in a battle of wits. Especially when the witted inmates ran the prison in most respects.

"The fact that no one wants to escape is my greatest advantage. Because the warden won't suspect it; not until I'm far away."

Herschel wanted nothing more than to explain his motives to the Socks. But it was too dangerous. If he infected them with his motivation, many would try to leave. That would've tipped off the guards. Herschel was convinced that they were as clueless about the prison's real purpose as he and his friends. Not that he fully understood the warden's plans, but he had a good idea about the 'what'. It'd been a painful realisation, because he was the sort of person who wanted to see the good in everyone. Even so, he had no doubt that the warden's 'what' was to imprison philosophers for some Dark purpose.

But is 'what' even the right question? What about the 'hows' and the 'whys'? his inner philosopher pondered