The Middle of the Original APS

A Flashier Fiction Story

©James J. Doyle, Jr.

 

Dear Reader,

Today we turn to the first APS.

Before the APPs we all know, love and utilize, there was the first APS. From the first APS, all the applications on our screens, in our homes and riding around in our cars have, in their fashion, arose, awoke and arisen. I speak, of course, of Aristotle (384-322 BC), Plato (428-328 BC) and Socrates (470-399 BC), the first APS. Yes, they were ancient Greeks, but together they are so much more modern than much we have yet to discover. All current knowledge, understanding and wisdom owe a debt and can trace their lineage, at least in parts, to these three APS.

Socrates was first, a smallish fellow who left no writings and was particularly ugly in appearance. Annoyingly bright, he loved to talk. In fact, he loved to say so much that his manner of questioning dialogue, the Socratic method, is what he is most remembered for and is the primary method taught in our modern law schools.

Plato was the student of Socrates. Just about everything Plato wrote, and he wrote a bunch about Socrates, has somehow been preserved for more than 2,400 years. This may account for why we know so much about Socrates, who was apparently trying very hard not to be noticed. Plato is often thought to have had the best mind of the three, which is a difficult comparison when you are working with APS.

Aristotle was the last of the early APS programmers, and he studied and taught at Plato’s Academy in Athens. Only Aristotle’s class notes survive, but they are whoppers. Not elegant in style, Aristotle’s jottings are chock full of all things natural and scientific and really weird — all the things we would today call normal. Aristotle apparently discovered Antarctica, in his mind, and certainly tutored Alexander the Great, in his person. Alexander conquered the world for his teacher and his teacher’s teachers before him.

So, the lesson from our early APS may be: Communicate widely incredible masses of really amazing information and what you say, have said or written may somehow be remembered and spread and influence all those around you. This is exactly what the modern APPs do, and the digitalized APPs of today owe much to the thoughts, sayings and writings of the three original APS of the past. Of course, it always helps to have a world conqueror to disseminate your views, or, as we would say today, at least the Internet.

Now, let a story of the middle APS begin:

 

* * * * * *

 

I was with Plato the other day when he said.

“Those who tell the stories rule society.”

Then he sat on a large rock.

Curious, I adjusted my robe, dropped to the hard ground of the hillside (it was the dry season in ancient Greece), raised my hand (students of Plato are encouraged to be polite), and asked,

“What is ‘society’?”

Plato smiled his trademark Plato smile and commented.

“I like that you started there.”

The Teacher touched his nose with a finger and continued.

“A company of individuals is a society.

Companions.

Any grouping of united individuals.

The Academy is a society.

Greece is a society.

We are.”

I raised my hand.

Plato tilted his head and asked,

“Why do you do that? Here, on this hillside, there are only the two of us.”

I lowered my hand half way.

“Sorry. It’s a habit.”

The philosopher narrowed his eyes, seeming to consider more deeply my response, and then asked,

“Okay. What’s your next question?”

I hesitated and blurted,

“What is ‘rule’?”

Plato rubbed his chin and answered.

“A rule is a measuring stick.

Those who rule measure themselves and others.

The fundamental measure of a ruler is how well the ruler measures.”

I raised my hand again.

This time Plato looked over his shoulder, paused and turned back to me, his eyes calm, his features untroubled and his manner relaxed.

“The fundamental measure of a philosopher is not to be annoyed.”

He did the Plato smile again.

“What is your question now?”

I lowered my hand.

“What are stories?”

He nodded his head.

“I was wondering when you’d get back there.”

Plato glanced up at the blue, blue sky reflecting the Aegean Sea, lowered his head, and focused his eyes on me.

“Stories are what we see inside ourselves and others.”

On the rock, Plato sat unmoving.

As the minutes passed, I began to fidget. Finally, I prompted.

“And?”

The Philosopher shook a shake like he’d been awoken from a deep sleep and answered softly.

“And words are used to hide what is seen and measured.

The true measure of one who tells stories is how well the measure is hidden.”

I was perplexed.

“Why?

Why would that be done?

Why would words be used to hide what is seen?”

Plato’s smile was the biggest yet.

“Words are used to hide what is seen and measured.

This is done for others to find what they cannot see and measure.”

I shifted on the ground and decided to try my hand at a summary question.

“So:

Those who tell the stories use words to hide what they see and measure.

They do this so that others can find what they cannot see.

By doing this, the storytellers rule society?”

Plato stretched his arms into the clear Mediterranean air. Lowering them, he scratched his head with his hands and continued.

“They do just that.

That is what the ones who tell stories do.

The storytellers hide in words the measures found.

The rulers discover the measures as their own and conform society.

By so doing, the found and conformed measures become the rules of the society.

This is how those who tell stories rule society.”

I shook my head and sighed.

“I do not understand.”

The Teacher’s head bobbed happily up and down.

“Good.

You are learning.

And you didn’t raise your hand.”

Plato studied my worried face, raised his hand and asked me,

“May I tell you a story?”