The horizon slices away at the sun, which bleeds red streaks across the sky. Tomorrow, when the rosy dawn greets the sun’s rebirth, I will take a rope and hang Socrates.
But tonight, I will sit in his cell and wait with him.
I walk quickly as the evening chill descends. Thus it is in the dry regions of West Texas; the heat is replaced by cold. The distant mountains grow purple in the fading light and a strong wind blows down the street between the low buildings. I shiver.
A group of youths appears from an alley and blocks my way. There are six of them, all students of Socrates.
I put my hand on the .44 revolver on my hip. They know I will use it.
“Get out of my way,” I demand.
“Free Socrates!” one of them cries. The rest take it up as a chant.
I raise my hand and they become silent.
“Socrates was convicted by a jury of elders for corrupting the youth,” I say, and, pointing at them, add, “From the looks of you, it was a just decision.”
“Socrates could have proposed a sentence of 10 years exile,” I continue. “The jury would have accepted that. Instead, he proposed that we build him a school and give him a stipend. The prosecutor had no choice but to demand the death penalty. Now get out of my way before I arrest the lot of you.” I slowly draw the revolver from my holster. The unruly mob scatters. Socrates may say he taught them to think and question but he did not teach them courage.
Socrates’ arrest and trial may seem strange. But the Federal Government and its Courts are only a distant memory here in our isolated desert town. Even the state government does not interfere with us across the Pecos River. We are a hundred miles south of the interstate, but no sign marks the road or our town; we removed it long ago.
We are mostly self-sufficient. Wine and cattle are sold, bringing in money to buy what we need from the outside.
We are self-sufficient in spirit, too. Yes, some of our youth go away to college. Of these, a few are seduced by the ways of the outside world and never return. But most come back and settle down, sometimes bringing mates with them. They know what we have here is the closest thing to paradise in this vale of tears we call life.
***
Socrates is sitting calmly in his cell. He has a crown of curly hair on his head and a curly beard frames his face. Both are prematurely white. He has an impish grin and his eyes twinkle. He does not act like a man about to die.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” I say. “You could have recanted and shut up. You could have asked for exile.”
“Are my ideas so frightening?” he asks.
“We don’t want you corrupting our youth,” I reply. “We don’t want them disrupting our schools demanding changes inspired by your questions. We don’t want them staying home demanding their fathers support them while they attend your lectures and seek what you call the truth. And most of all, we don’t want them having sex without getting married, inspired by your lectures on free love.”
“And because you’re afraid of my ideas you need to kill me?”
“You don’t leave us any choice, Socrates. We don’t have a real jail here. We have no way to keep you. And we can’t send you to state prison for something that is not a crime under Texas law.”
“Why don’t you change your law?” Socrates asks.
“We like the way things are here just fine,” I answer. “We like the way we live our life.”
“Martha delivered a baby last spring,” I go on to say. “She was sixteen years old. That was the last straw for us, Socrates.”
“What is so terrible about a sixteen-year-old girl having a baby?” Socrates asks. “And if it is so terrible, why didn’t she have an abortion?”
“We don’t do that here, Socrates. Our unmarried girls don’t get pregnant. We don’t get abortions. Go to the outside world. Preach your ideas there. You’ll have many, many more students. Or are you afraid you won’t stand out among all the others who teach the same things, and you’ll wind up a nobody?”
For an instant the twinkle leaves Socrates’ eyes. Then he says solemnly, “Do you think killing me will kill my ideas? Isn’t it more likely that when my body hangs from that tree, those ideas will grow even stronger?”
“Your ideas won’t take root in this town,” I insist. “But no one here wants you to die. We just want you to go away.”
I unlock the door to his cell and swing it open.
“I have to take care of some business,” I say before stepping outside. “I’ll be back in two hours. Go to your students; they’ll lead you to safety.”
***
I walk around the town, imagining the shapes of its buildings in the dark. I try to think, but my thoughts remain a jumble. All I know is that I, we, do not want to kill Socrates. I pray he takes my offer and leaves.
***
Socrates greets me with his impish grin and twinkling eyes when I return. I enter his cell and sit down to wait for the dreaded morning.
***
The first light of day filters in through the jailhouse window. I get up and reluctantly take the hanging rope that sits coiled on a peg on the wall. I escort Socrates outside to the waiting elders and witnesses. He steps forward proudly, his head held high. He is looking forward to death, martyrdom, and triumph.
My head is bowed. I will forever be known as the man who executed Socrates.
Harry Steven Lazerus was born in Brooklyn in the last century. He has lived in New York, Israel, Texas, and a work cubicle in California. He currently works as a software engineer in the space program but has also taught physics and astronomy at CCNY and picked apples in Kibbutz Tsuba. His stories have appeared in AlienSkin Magazine and Anotherealm. Another story is scheduled to appear in The Mythic Circle in 2010.
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33 Responses to “THE MAN WHO EXECUTED SOCRATES • by Harry Steven Lazerus”
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January 12th, 2010 at 12:41 am
Something tells me that this story is brilliant so I gave it a five but its almost three in the morning and I’m suffering from insomnia (how appropriate given the theme of the story) so I’ll think more about it tomorrow and hopefully come back and make a real comment.
January 12th, 2010 at 1:18 am
How curious; I actually know a Harry Lazarus here in Australia (different spelling, and of Indian origin), who I will be seeing tomorrow.
Situations like that of the story, where martyrdom is feared, are usually dealt with by framing the person of something despicable and then discreetly disposing of him (see Roger Zelazny’s Today We Choose Faces for a fictional example). The original Socrates presented no such threat; his influence once he was dead did not become widespread until generations later.
January 12th, 2010 at 1:35 am
The story seemed disconnected, never really felt anything for either character. All the story breaks could have contributed to that.
January 12th, 2010 at 2:31 am
Interesting retelling of Phaedo. I really liked it (although I confess that may be in part due to my fondness of the original), but I’m not entirely convinced that the issues that concerned Socrates’ original accusers and jury would be a huge issue in modern times. Also, although this is an isolated village, wouldn’t the actual legal system have some influence? It seems strange that these people are getting away with murder so easily. Still, as I said, it’s interesting, and well-written, and I enjoyed it. Perhaps a little more explanation or background as to *why* the government doesn’t care about the village would make it perfect for me.
January 12th, 2010 at 3:21 am
Interesting take, but the mixture of old and new did not work too well, I think. The story lacks emotion, both from Socrates and the ‘hang man’. Good luck if you do a re-write, and I would say you should. Much potential.
January 12th, 2010 at 3:54 am
Great story!
January 12th, 2010 at 6:01 am
I pictured this happening in a post-apocalyptic USA, where it would be easier for a small municipality to go its own way. Since the story involved Socrates living in a small Texas town, I figured any interpretation was fair game!
This was a natural five from me. Internally consistent, fully fleshed-out, multi-dimensional protagonist, and a recognition of nuance in life. Well done all around.
January 12th, 2010 at 6:30 am
“Phaedo” among the fundamentalists – I’m almost at a loss for words. Almost.
The idea was brilliant and the storytelling was fabulously executed. 1000 words just doesn’t give us enough space to fully flesh out the characters, but I think you did a great job with the hangman and, well, Socrates is Socrates. I don’t think we need to be told much about him that we don’t already know.
A wonderful, thought-provoking story to wake up to. Thank you, Harry!
January 12th, 2010 at 7:53 am
I liked this story, but I I have to agree with Leela [#5] that the mixture of old and new didn’t quite work for me. Otherwise, good story.
January 12th, 2010 at 8:07 am
Yeah, not great.
An idea that has occured to a lot of studenst over the years, ‘hey, i oculd popularise plato?’ doesn’t work, won’t work, and certainly not like this.
Ending was stronger then the rest of the piece.
January 12th, 2010 at 8:35 am
I’m with Leela (5) and Jen (9) on the mixture not quite working for me, but agree with the others that said the writing was good and the concept interesting.
My own two cents: Maybe the story would have worked better without going into the specifics of Socrates’ ideas or, maybe better still, have him simply respond to the hangman’s accusations by saying something along the lines of “that’s not what I’m teaching, only what you are hearing.” Having nailed down what, exactly, Socrates is promoting gives the reader a bias. You could agree or disagree and might even decided he needs a good hanging.
Just a pre-morning-Diet Coke thought, so forgive me if it is lacking.
–John
January 12th, 2010 at 9:11 am
Not a bad story, easily a four but somehow not quite a five.
What bothered me, all the way through the story until the very end, was a disconnect between a story in present tense (which I don’t really like but can accept) and a title in PAST TENSE. It just didn’t feel right. Yes, I know the last sentence explained the title, but that was kind of late to wrap up the problem. Maybe find a better title?
January 12th, 2010 at 10:14 am
I struggled to give this one a 3. The premise was so outlandish I had a hard time embracing the attempt.
The whole Socrates/Martyr thing didn’t work at all for me.
I went back for a second read to see if I could find the resonance and it wasn’t quite there. Sorry.
January 12th, 2010 at 10:31 am
The writer asks, without asking, the reader to imagine a different reality with a familiar, yet contemporary prophet, who meets the same end as most prophets. And what is a prophet but a man who would rather die than give up his beliefs. Such a man is hard to imagine and that is why some can not relate to the story.
Very deep stuff. I like it. I judge it for what it is and make no attempts to compare it.
January 12th, 2010 at 10:54 am
I had no problem with the placement of these events in modern-day Texas, and no problem with the actions on anyone’s parts. I had more problem with the execution (um, literary, not Socrates’) — lots of as-you-know-bobisms. I too had trouble connecting with either character.
The first overwritten sentence and a half almost stopped me cold, but the last clause of the second sentence hooked me.
January 12th, 2010 at 1:10 pm
Okay. Now that I’ve finally slept I can now make some intelligible comments regarding this story.
I vaguely remember reading something else by this author so I used EDF’s search engine and came across “We Had No Right.” I re-read the story and looked through the comments and quickly came to the conclusion that this author took the advice offered by readers and re-draughted this new story several times and had it critiqued by, as Stephen King says, a “trusted reader” given how much better it is than their previous story.
Regardless of whether I am right or wrong in terms of my conjecture and whether or not others share opinions similar to my own this story is to me what flash fiction should be: concise, well-written, engaging and memorable.
In addition, certain elements of the story are alluded to that, to me, make the story better rather than worse as some of the other comments suggest. An excellent example would be the hints dropped by the author that this story takes place in a post-apocalyptic world fraught with anarchy save for the crude judicial system of the remaining residents of this small town – a town so small that it lacks the ability to keep the protagonist, Socrates, in a “real jail” for behaviour that is only a crime within this community. From a metaphorical perspective this story could also be perceived as an indictment of a much larger but narrow-minded Christian society that is completely intolerant of any ethos outside of their own fundamentalist belief system. The possibility of redemption through a renunciation of his own belief system is offered by the executor to the protagonist but, staunch in his own dogma, he refuses the offer and resigns himself to the fate that has been bestowed upon him in his own pursuit of martyrdom. A classic allegorical case of what happens when an unstoppable force collides with an immovable object.
Anyhow, enough said. I could go on and on. I’m sure that anyone reading this is beginning to become bored with my long-winded critique.
Suffice it to say: I thought today’s story was excellent and it would have gotten more than a “5” from me if possible.
Chuck
January 12th, 2010 at 3:47 pm
Loved this story. Most of the criticism seems like it would be retracted if this was read as a thought experiment. For example, the lack of pathos lets the reader choose their protagonist.
For me this is the best story I’ve read here to date. I can tell it will take me a while to work through the questions posed here.
January 12th, 2010 at 7:26 pm
Socrates in the wild wild west! He would roll over in his grave with an impish grin and twinkling eyes if he were to read this.
January 12th, 2010 at 7:55 pm
Folks:
Once again, it was very exciting to see a story of mine appear in Every Day Fiction and to get all this feedback. I want to thank everyone who posted a comment, and indeed, everyone who read my story. This magazine really is a wonderful place to get published.
Chuck: Thanks for your first and second comments. I got up in the middle of the night, saw my story, saw your comment, and saw the 5! I was so excited. Little did I know that by the end of the day I was going to get slammed in the ratings!
Please don’t apologize for the length of your second comment. I found your analysis very interesting. Once a story leaves the author, it belongs to anyone who reads it, and your analysis is as good as mine. (Better, actually.)
(Side note: One of the most gratifying things that happened to me occurred in connection with a story I had published last March in Anotherealm. (“Becky”) A friend with whom I was having a political argument by email suddenly hit me over the head with my own story, making a point I never thought was there. While I was chagrined at having lost an argument, I was thrilled to see that my story had taken on a life of its own beyond me.)
However, I would like to let you know that in fact I did not have a “trusted reader” look at this story. I wrote it in mid October and sent it directly to EDF without showing it to anyone else, after working very hard to cut the word count down to under 1,000. (I’m not sure if the hash marks between scenes count as a word, or if “The End” counts as two words.) Camille Gooderham Campbell, EDF’s editor, did suggest a correction for some wording, which I gladly accepted because it made the sentence much stronger. By the way, she is an excellent editor. I say this not only based on her help with the first story I had published here, “We Had No Right”, but also on her very telling comments on stories she rejected.
To those of you who were fully enthusiastic about my story, (Joao, Bob, Debi, C.M, Chuck, and Slim,) I can’t tell you how encouraging your words were. It’s what a writer hopes for.
For those who liked it with reservations, the compliments were appreciated and the criticisms were bracing.
To those who couldn’t stand the story: I think some didn’t get what I was trying to say, which is my fault. Others were expecting a different kind of story. At any rate, I hope that none of you felt that you totally wasted your time in reading my story.
Finally, a word about the title, in response to Jim’s comments. While I think that the title serves the story well, my original title was “Socrates Trans-Pecos”. I abandoned it because I thought the current one was more to the point and I did not want to surrender to my fascination with the empty spaces of the West.
Sorry for being so long-winded.
Thanks, everyone.
Harry
January 12th, 2010 at 8:18 pm
duhhhhh….you’re welcome Harry
January 12th, 2010 at 8:22 pm
More realistically: Keep writing Harry. You’re getting a lot better at it. If you get to the point where you write short stories like “The Clockwork Atomic Bomb” I’ll be one of your biggest fans.
January 12th, 2010 at 8:54 pm
Just out of curiosity did you ever comtemplate the titles “Socrates’ Hangman” or “Socrates’ Last Night”?
And did you know that a question mark can reside outside quotation marks if it is not part of the quote that ends a sentence that is in the form of a question?
January 12th, 2010 at 10:44 pm
Hell yes! I gave this 5 stars. Didn’t expect much going into it, but was grabbed by the descriptives and then by the plot.
January 12th, 2010 at 10:50 pm
Just a point on these two sentences:
“Martha delivered a baby last spring,” I go on to say. “She was sixteen years old. That was the last straw for us, Socrates.”
My first reading of this was that the baby was born sixteen years old. That was clearly wrong, so I read it again and concluded that it must have been Martha who was sixteen years old, since she was the only other person mentioned in the sentence. Reading on, my question was answered.
Pronouns can cause confusion and delay. I seem more susceptible to this type of confusion than others. I tend to read literally, I think.
January 13th, 2010 at 6:50 pm
This is a brilliant story about the conflict between freedom and stability played out in the surreal setting of an isolated west Texas town sometime in a dystopic future. The author does not take the easy way out by making the town and its nameless lawman cardboard villains. They have created their own kind of paradise and are trying to protect it. The sheriff himself is a decent man who is morally torn; loath to execute Socrates but unwilling to abandon his duty.
There are some interesting touches here. Description reminiscent of the Odyssey, (“rosy-fingered dawn”,) and elements of the Socratic dialogs that took place in cosmopolitan Athens moved to a lonely desert town. Note also that Socrates never says a declarative sentence; he only asks questions
There is a double tragedy in this story: Socrates execution and the sheriff’s future ignominy. In truth, Socrates is not the only martyr in this story.
January 13th, 2010 at 8:48 pm
If you have ever seen a west Texas sunset, you would appreciate the first sentence of this story. If you pay attention carefully, you will notice that when ever Socrates speaks, he is asking a question. Chuck understood very well the idea behind this story and like Chuck, I give it a 5. There is only one problem and it is not with the story, it is with the web site. It does not allow me to vote
January 14th, 2010 at 4:52 pm
I like the story…but then knowing the author personally– I know and love how Harry’s brain works. As a writer I also know how restrictive the word count of 1000 can be– firsthand. Once again you grab my attention and make me think. I like the story….enough said.
January 15th, 2010 at 5:18 am
I liked this; an intelligent story, although I’m not sure what is gained by relocating the Last Days of Socrates to Texas. I think there is still plenty more juice to be squeezed from a character who is willing to allow his fellow citizens to execute him on point of principle, but still, a good story.
January 16th, 2010 at 7:50 pm
I enjoyed this one. I too saw it as post-apocalyptic. Of course, when you set it in West Texas I expected it to be where I live, and it’s in fact in the other West Texas, the one with hills and such. Here if it’s hot, it just stays that way all night. Except for that little problem(for me only, I assure you) it was really good. I especially like the protagonist trying so hard to get Socrates to Just Leave Town. Gaah. Some people just want to be martyrs.
January 16th, 2010 at 8:01 pm
Just a quick answer to Chuck’s post #22: No, I didn’t consider those titles. And, even if you technically couldn’t put the question mark outside the quotes, it would make no sense to put it inside since it doesn’t belong there!
Finally, I’d like to thank all those folks who posted since my post, #19.
January 19th, 2010 at 9:49 pm
Many vivid concrete images in this short story.
I read this after seeing the Book of Eli and see a parallel – an ancient story, set in the American west – post-apocalypse even?
As for the title – I thought of the classic western – the Man who shot Liberty Valence.
And the idea is universal – you kill the man, but not the ideas.
Harry’s stories – as always – are thought-provoking.
January 23rd, 2010 at 4:34 am
The (six)students of Socrates are already with us. He’s won the day. Great story.
March 9th, 2010 at 6:07 pm
Harry, I finally got to read this and quite liked it. I thought you “did” Socrates particularly well.
Marie