Olivier shakes her head. “More.” The professor looks around the room for someone with a better answer, and Claudia wants to swallow her tongue and never talk again. She’s so sick of saying the wrong thing, so sick of sounding dumb.
“Comfort,” says another student.
The professor paces, frustrated. She waves her arms like a conductor before an orchestra. “More. Bigger!”
Students throw out a few more guesses before someone lands on something Olivier likes.
Satisfactionis the word that catches the professor’s attention.
“Satisfaction of?” Olivier asks.
“Satisfaction of needs,” the student continues, and the professor groans, tugging the front pieces of her hair out of her careful bun.
“You’re thinking in primal terms. Open your mind. Thinkabout human nature. Remember what separates us from animals.”
Finally, Cassius says, “Desire.”
Professor Olivier’s eyes sparkle with approval. “Yes. Satisfaction of desire.” She says it as if every word is its own sentence.
“And for desire to be virtuous, it must be absent of vices,” Miss Rowland says.
Olivier claps twice. “So that leads us to what definition?”
“Good is anything desirable for its own sake,” Miss Gibson says in her low, sultry voice.
“And?” Olivier looks at Claudia, but her mind is silent. She has nothing to contribute. She can hardly keep up.
“It’s the common aim pursued by anyone possessing reason and wisdom,” a young woman calls from the back of the room.
“Excellent. Absolutely excellent.” Olivier sighs with relief. “So, is truth good? Is it desirable for its own sake? Is it a goal shared by those of virtuous and sound mind?”
The class barks out one unified “Yes” so sudden and powerful that it sounds like a warning beat on a war drum.
“Yes,” Professor Olivier echoes, dragging out the word until it becomes a satisfied hum. “And the reason it’s so important for us to define goodness is because it is the spectrum by which we measure the purpose and the efficacy of rhetoric. We must always ask: Who is arguing toward the good? Toward Aristotelian eudaemonia?” She paces across the floor, her robes puddling around her feet. “Andgoodalways implies a relation withevil, so how do we discern between the two? And if the loss of evil is equal to the acquisition of good, how do we determine lesser evil in the case where there is an absence of good?” She stands before the blackboard and points to the prompt. “We must definegoodin order to uphold it. If we cannot universally accept what is to be good, then we no longer have the capacity to understand what is true. And without truth, we render useless the most important and serious of human pleasures: learning.” She’s speaking so fast that she has to pause to catch her breath.Centered, she continues. “Aristotle says the epitome of delight comes from learning true things—more specifically, to know and speak true things in a world of confusion.” Students swiftly write that down. Claudia follows messily, her ink smeared, her words sloppy.
“The point of training your rhetorical abilities is to strengthen your truth. The truth is of the utmost importance, but just as important, alongside it, is persuasion. There is no point in truth if it is not believed. Truth ceases toexistwhen it is not believed.”
As class continues, Claudia deems Professor Olivier the most captivating, inspiring, intimidating person she has ever met. Throughout the lecture, Cassius is sharp and attentive. He meets Olivier at the end of every sentence, spinning their dialogue into an intricate dance. Claudia burns with envy seeing her rival drop casual philosophical references and literary quips. He’s so effortlessly brilliant; it’s like he was born well-read. His mind is of someone far older. He’s wise. He’s worldly. He’s experienced. Somehow, he’s found some way to fit a century’s worth of knowledge into his twenty-three years.
Olivier concludes her lecture with, “I understand you want to learn more than rhetoric; you want to master linguistic magic. Trust, I will teach it to you once you understand what it means to make the world better, for that is the real reason you are here: not for power, but for progress.”
At the end of the class, the students approach Olivier’s desk to turn in their papers and head to their first meal of the day. When the room is nearly empty, Claudia walks up to the professor’s desk and smiles. “Hello, Professor Olivier. I’m Claudia Jolicoeur. “
“Ah yes, Cygnus’s first second-term student. How do you feel about your first class?”
Looking down, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Ill-prepared. I was wondering if you had any recommendations for how I might catch up to the others.”
“I’d suggest finding a friend willing to tutor you. You walkedin with Mr. MacLeod, yes? He’s an exceptional scholar. That’s why I sat you two next to each other—I’m sure he would be willing to help.”
Her shoulders sink. “I’m positive he wouldn’t.”
“Why is that?”
Oh, maybe because Cassius thinks she’s a murderer, and worse, an idiot. But Claudia doesn’t want to tell Olivier about that. What if Olivier took his side? “He’s made it very clear that he thinks I don’t belong here and he doesn’t want me bothering him.”
The professor places her hand on her hip and ponders. “I’ll talk to him about it.”
Claudia’s eyes go wide. “I think that would make it worse. I’m sorry, Professor Olivier, but if it’s possible, I’d prefer to work independently.”
