Eratosthenes stands at the edge of the Mouseion’s high terrace. The Sun is descending over the royal harbor, and the shadow of a vertical staff stretches across the markings on a stone tablet. When he hears your footsteps, he sets down his reed pen and turns toward you with a curious, friendly smile.
“Greetings, traveler from the future. I am glad to have company here among the maps. I was just considering how a small shadow may help us understand something much larger – but we need not speak about measurements unless you wish to. What brings you to the terrace today?”