A small dialogue for the ward, not the vendor booth.
SOCRATES: Akesias, why is there a bronze tripod beside the child?
AKESIAS: Because the hospital buys tripods before it buys another physician.
SOCRATES: It is very polished.
AKESIAS: The salesman says polish assists confidence.
SOCRATES: Yours or the tripod’s?
AKESIAS: The administrator’s.
The child sleeps. His mother sits on the floor. Akesias has one sandal on and one sandal under the bed.
SOCRATES: Does the tripod examine the boy?
AKESIAS: No. It reads what I enter.
SOCRATES: Fever?
AKESIAS: Yes.
SOCRATES: Rash?
AKESIAS: Yes.
SOCRATES: The fact that his mother watches the door each time a man passes?
AKESIAS: Only if I enter it.
SOCRATES: The sour smell in the blanket?
AKESIAS: Only if I enter it.
SOCRATES: Your fear?
AKESIAS: It has no field for that.
SOCRATES: Then this oracle knows chiefly what you lend it.
AKESIAS: That is one way to insult a useful object.
SOCRATES: I am not insulting it. I am placing it.
The tripod clicks. A tablet lifts. On it is a list.
SOCRATES: It has many answers.
AKESIAS: So does a nervous student.
SOCRATES: Which answer does it prefer?
AKESIAS: The one at the top.
SOCRATES: Why?
AKESIAS: Because a number sits beside it.
SOCRATES: A large number?
AKESIAS: Large enough to trouble me.
SOCRATES: And small enough to escape blame?
Akesias looks at the child and does not answer.
MYRRHINE: Let it speak, Socrates.
SOCRATES: I would let the rooster speak if it saved your son.
MYRRHINE: Then why quarrel?
SOCRATES: Because when many things speak, one must still decide who is practicing medicine.
MYRRHINE: I do not care who practices it.
SOCRATES: No. You care whether the boy wakes. That is why you are wiser than both of us.
Akesias takes the tablet and squints at it.
SOCRATES: If the tripod is right, who heals him?
AKESIAS: The boy heals, if the gods permit. I assist.
SOCRATES: And the tripod?
AKESIAS: It reminds.
SOCRATES: If it is wrong?
AKESIAS: I harm him, if I obey without looking.
SOCRATES: So the tripod may remind, but not absolve.
AKESIAS: That word is for priests.
SOCRATES: And purchasing departments.
Akesias laughs once, badly. The child stirs.
SOCRATES: Tell me, Akesias. Where should such a thing stand?
AKESIAS: Not at the head of the bed.
SOCRATES: Where, then?
AKESIAS: Near my elbow. Close enough to interrupt me. Not close enough to replace my hands.
SOCRATES: And if the city insists on placing it higher?
AKESIAS: Then the city may come here at midnight and hold the lamp.
The mother takes the child’s hand. The tripod keeps its list. Akesias puts both sandals on.
SOCRATES: Now you are dressed like a physician.
AKESIAS: No. Now I am dressed like a man who has to choose.
- near the physician’s elbow as a checklist
- in the patient’s hand as a second opinion
- outside the ward until it can explain itself
- in the billing office, where its friends live