Necessity Concludes a Fascinating Sci-Fi Thought Experiment

Have you ever wished to be somewhere else, somewhere far from our imperfect world, somewhere without war, or hunger, or thundering demagogues inciting the worst in people? If you happen to be a Jo Walton character, you should be careful what you wish for. Or more specifically, who you wish it to: as it turns out, the gods are listening, and they just might take you up on it.
Jo Walton’s just-concluded Thessaly trilogy explores the results of a thought-experiment by the goddess Athena, who decides on an apparent whim (as is her wont as a goddesses) that she’d like to see how it would turn out if she tried to set up a real-world version of Plato’s Republic. In order to do so, she gathers scholars, philosophers, and idealistic dreamers, all of whom, at one (greatly removed) time or another, prayed to Athena for just such a circumstance. Together, these disparate souls construct the framework for the perfect city (along with a few far-future robots that help with the literal construction efforts, leaving the philosophers to, you know, philosophize). Add to this 10,000 bewildered 10-year-old slave children, purchased to become the first generation of educated citizens, and the god Apollo, curious enough to change himself into a mortal to check this whole thing out and see what he can learn, and you’ve got yourself quite a show.

Over the course of the first two volumes of the series, The Just City and The Philosopher Kings, Walton explored the fallout of Athena’s extraordinary idea. We watched the founders realize that while they might have all wished for the Republic, they didn’t all envision it in the same way. We saw how differing ideas about the finer points of abstract ideas like free will, consent, personhood, and class translated into laws and implicit assumptions that severely affect the daily lives of citizens. Our main characters were sympathetic in their struggles to come to grips with the realization that what they thought would be heaven was in fact a hell, of the “is other people” variety, and we saw how fragile the social contract of any society is, and how quickly the cracks can begin to show. Even Socrates, who Athena brings in to approve of her brilliant plan, has some doubts about the whole enterprise. In a society built on the worth of its ideas, we see just how dangerous the right questions can be.
The Philosopher Kings shows us a fractured society whose citizens have scattered across the land, abandoned by their gods (thanks, Socrates!), and come perilously close to recreating a way of life that looks very much like the one they tried to leave behind. The middle volume explores the consequences of playing God with a whole generation of children who never asked to be involved at all. It is a book filled with war, violence, revenge, and anger, and it illustrates how deeply people care about the stories of their lives, and how much it matters to them when things don’t go as planned. By the end, everyone has learned much, and lost a great deal—necessitating a hard reset to free society from impossible circumstances.

Necessity, the third and concluding volume, takes Walton’s thought experiment to its extreme conclusion. Plato’s Republic posits that human nature is perfectible. Walton looks back over her story, full of gods and men and ideals, and asks, after everything that’s happened, is that really true? Could it be, with enough help? Do humans need a leg up from the divine to make dreams possible, or can they advance on their own? These questions are answered over the course of the series, as these characters get to do something their real-world counterparts can rarely do: ask the founders what they think of what has been done with their revolutionary ideas. Along the way, there’s a plot with universe-obliterating consequences, and a mad dash around to make sure it doesn’t happen. But believe me when I tell you: the apocalyptic stakes don’t come close to stacking up to the importance of answering the questions at the heart of this trilogy. If you’ve made it this far, you’re likely the sort of person who will agree.
This novel—this trilogy—surprised me. It took me places I never expected, and I love it for that. What could have been a heady philosophical tract with a splash of narrative is, instead, a sentimental fantasy. A sentimental fantasy of a highly educated idealist, true, but a lovely one, full of deep emotions and dreams, honest enough to confront its problems, with enough faith to keep yearning in earnest for a way to make it all possible. Walton’s ultimate thesis on the purpose of time and space offers as touching and poetic a conclusion as any return of the king or romantic happily ever after. While the hoped-for answers to several lingering mysteries do satisfy, it is, in the end, the wanting to know that makes us matter. We are dynamic beings of equal significance, who, this series insists, can and will do better, because that is our nature. I’m not sure I’ve read a book about utopia that offers a better, more achievable vision of an ideal.
As Walton herself concludes, “I ended the first volume with a moral, and the second with a deus ex machina. This third and final volume ends with hope, always the last thing to come out of any box.” The audacity of hope, indeed. Idealists, dreamers, join me in the Just City. Watch its characters confront their ideas and challenge a few of your own. You might learn something—or maybe you’ll just try to. Either way, you won’t regret the journey.