Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

THE KINGDOM :: 117
“The Hall of Forms is where the archetypes for all things
are enshrined,” Astrid called from beneath her cloth.
“Huh?” Kat shot Richard a confused look.
“Ever studied Plato?” he asked.
“I always preferred Silly-Putty, why?” she answered, without
a trace of humor.
Brian burst out with such a forceful guffaw that he accidentally
farted.
“Good one, dude,” called Dylan, holding up his hand to
Brian for a high-five.
“Ugh, Jew-fart. Glad I’m under here and properly filtered,”
came Astrid’s voice.
“Wait, how did you know that was even me?” Brian
asked, pretending to be wounded.
“Remote viewing of your gaping anus, you voracious bottom
whore,” said Astrid.
“He is pretty voracious,” agreed Terry, smiling up at his
partner.
“I’m not taking this from the only man in Berkeley suffering
from lesbian bed-death,” retorted Brian. Astrid stuck one
hand out from under the blanket and gave him the finger.
“Not Play-Doh,” corrected Richard, ignoring the
exchange of queer barbs, “Plato, the philosopher.”
“Oh, him,” Kat’s features betrayed a faint distaste. “I
failed Intro to Philosophy. It was the beginning of the end of
my college career.”
“Well, had you stuck it out, you would have learned about
Plato’s World of Forms, the place where the archetypes for
all earthly things reside. Plato was being typically
grandiose—the Forms don’t require an entire world of their
own. A glorified museum obviously suffices to house them.”
“What are the Forms?” asked Kat.
“Well, they’re more ideas than anything else, but in
Heaven I imagine they must have some visible presence. Let’s