Flatland: A Romance of Many DimensionsAbbott, Edwin Abbott
Science
Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions
Abbott, Edwin Abbott
Fourth dimension
2. Whether I could by any diagrams or descriptions (other than the
enumeration of imaginary sides and angles) indicate the Figure I was
pleased to call a Cube?
I declared that I could say nothing more, and that I must commit myself
to the Truth, whose cause would surely prevail in the end.
The President replied that he quite concurred in my sentiment, and that I
could not do better. I must be sentenced to perpetual imprisonment; but
if the Truth intended that I should emerge from prison and evangelize the
world, the Truth might be trusted to bring that result to pass. Meanwhile
I should be subjected to no discomfort that was not necessary to preclude
escape, and, unless I forfeited the privilege by misconduct, I should be
occasionally permitted to see my brother, who had preceded me to my
prison.
Seven years have elapsed and I am still a prisoner, and—if I except the
occasional visits of my brother—debarred from all companionship save that
of my jailers. My brother is one of the best of Squares, just, sensible,
cheerful, and not without fraternal affection; yet I must confess that my
weekly interviews, at least in one respect, cause me the bitterest pain.
He was present when the Sphere manifested himself in the Council Chamber;
he saw the Sphere’s changing sections; he heard the explanation of the
phenomena then given to the Circles. Since that time, scarcely a week has
passed during seven whole years, without his hearing from me a repetition
of the part I played in that manifestation, together with ample
descriptions of all the phenomena in Spaceland, and the arguments for the
existence of Solid things derivable from Analogy. Yet—I take shame to be
forced to confess it—my brother has not yet grasped the nature of the
Third Dimension, and frankly avows his disbelief in the existence of a
Sphere.
Hence I am absolutely destitute of converts, and, for aught that I can
see, the millennial Revelation has been made to me for nothing.
Prometheus up in Spaceland was bound for bringing down fire for mortals,
but I—poor Flatland Prometheus—lie here in prison for bringing down
nothing to my countrymen. Yet I exist in the hope that these memoirs, in
some manner, I know not how, may find their way to the minds of humanity
in Some Dimension, and may stir up a race of rebels who shall refuse to
be confined to limited Dimensionality.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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