In the 21st century, people take state-run education for granted, but the history of the government operating schools is surprisingly short.
Literacy and numeracy.
In this era, they are the "privileges," reserved for only a few people.
Countless Roman nobles spent fortunes hiring private tutors to educate their children.
The middle class usually opts for outdoor schools where groups of students receive lessons together. While most Romans can manage basic counting, solving complex equations is a feat they wouldn't dare dream of.
And right now, the people gathered before me are the elite of the elite when it comes to ambition—mostly merchants.
These are candidates so hungry for knowledge they came running at the mere rumor of "new numbers."
Every time I showed them an Arabic numeral or a modern calculation, their jaws hit the floor.
"These symbols… I'm at a loss for words. They are magnificent."
One man looks as if he's just discovered an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.
His expression is one of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
"Even if you adapted these from the East, how on earth did you conceive of such an ingenious system?"
"Let's just say I had help from a few brilliant minds," I replied with a casual shrug.
In reality, I am simply repeating what thousands of mathematicians spent centuries perfecting.
But these men have no way of knowing that. From their perspective, I am essentially an alien who has descended to Earth to bestow advanced technology.
"Now, let's be blunt," I said.
The teaser was over. It was time to reel the line in.
"As you all know, I recently launched an insurance venture. It is a business that demands the management of massive, complex figures."
I tapped the chalkboard, which was now crowded with Arabic numerals.
"I need staff who can master these new numbers. People with the same drive and hunger that brought you here today."
"Which means…?"
"If you join my business, I will personally guide you through this numerical system and these formulas. Naturally, you will be subject to performance reviews, but your wages will be significantly higher than those of any ordinary clerk."
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. Their eyes sharpened.
They are sharp enough to realize exactly what I'm offering.
In the business world, the ability to manipulate numbers is the ultimate weapon.
This new system is a game-changer that will allow them to crush any competitor. I am offering to hand them that weapon for free.
On top of that, they get an education in business and a high-paying job.
"So, you're saying you intend to run a sort of 'Academia' specializing in mathematics?" a man asked, raising his hand.
Academia. Not a bad term for it.
After all, the Greek Academies taught philosophy, music, and astronomy, but mathematics was always the foundation.
"Precisely. Consider it an Academy within my company. You will be under my direct tutelage."
I heard people swallow hard in anticipation rippled through the hall. A few still looked hesitant, but the momentum was already unstoppable.
"Where do we sign?"
***
Most of those who had followed the rumors ended up signing my contract.
"I'll teach you the numbers of the gods, but you must work for me."
If I didn't know better, I'd say I sounded like the devil seducing them.
As I was reviewing the newly signed papers, one particular name made me stop dead.
"Wait. Vitruvius?"
I bolted upright in my chair.
"The name is Vitruvius and his occupation is listed as 'Architect'?"
"Yes, sir. Do you know him?"
"No… just send him to my office immediately."
Is it really him? I told myself not to jump to conclusions.
Half of Rome seems to share the same names.
A moment later, a young man who looked a few years older than me stepped into the office.
With his blonde curls and sharp features, he looked like the very picture of a textbook Roman.
I walked over to the hesitant man and offered my hand first.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Vitruvius."
Vitruvius.
If my memory serves me, Vitruvius was the legendary architect and engineer of the late Roman Republic.
Even Leonardo da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man" was based on the theories this man would eventually write down.
Was this the same man? If so, I'd just landed the biggest catch in the Mediterranean.
"The pleasure is mine, sir Caesar. I cannot thank you enough for this opportunity. These new numbers are… they are beyond anything I could have imagined. I am desperate to learn them."
"It's not as daunting as it looks. Once you become accustomed to the logic..."
To test him, I handed over a few complex equations.
I had only explained the core concepts, yet he mastered the calculations almost instantly.
As he sat there adding and multiplying with a focused intensity, I spoke up slowly.
To think the famous Vitruvius had fallen into my lap. Now that he was here, I had zero intention of letting him go.
"You mentioned you are an architect. As it happens, I've been looking for one for a new project I'm planning. Would you be interested in working with me?"
"A new project? You plan to expand beyond insurance?"
"Of course," I nodded.
I had plenty of carrots to dangle in front of an architect like him.
"Beyond these numbers, I have several designs for machines and structures that I've been tinkering with."
I picked up a feather pen and sketched the basic outline of a windmill and its internal mechanism.
"I'm not a professional architect like yourself, so I ran into a few technical hurdles."
Since I couldn't remember every detail, the sketch was rough, but I knew we could fill in the blanks later.
"I call this a windmill."
"You use the force of the wind to rotate internal gears?" Vitruvius's voice rose in shock as he studied the drawing. "This is fascinating. Truly fascinating. Utilizing the gear ratio and a vertical shaft to convert horizontal motion into vertical power..."
He let out a cry of pure amazement as I finished the explanation. Watching his reaction, I cheered inwardly.
Vitruvius was sold.
***
The Caesar Academy.
The math lessons for the staff were held once a week in the open lot next to the company building.
Playing the role of a professor was a first for me, even in my past life, but I managed to pull it off.
In the temple of my dream, there were countless books on mathematics.
I began teaching the staff by slowly unraveling 2,000 years of mathematical progress.
Meanwhile, with Crassus's fire brigade on board, insurance was selling like hotcakes again.
But my company wasn't just selling paper; we were taking action.
We provided fire-extinguishing sandbags and water buckets to every insured building and conducted monthly safety inspections.
That was the whole point: fewer fires, fewer payouts.
The combination of the brigade and these preventative measures caused the number of fires in Rome to plummet.
Along with it, public support for the Caesar family—and for me personally—skyrocketed.
I had achieved what no other Roman politician could. I had actually improved the daily lives of the citizens in just a few short weeks.
But there was another problem on the horizon.
A consequence of cramming dozens of employees and hundreds of customers into a small building every day.
Hygiene.
To put it nicely, the Roman concept of cleanliness was… lacking.
Sure, Romans frequented the public baths, and it was a thousand times better than the Middle Ages, but they didn't use soap.
At best, they rubbed olive oil on their bodies and scraped it off with a strigil.
Body odor never truly vanished, and compared to the 21st century, the difference was night and day.
"I need proper soap if I want to maintain any level of hygiene here."
It wasn't just about the smell; it was about the health of me and my family.
A simple infection could still kill you in this world. It would be thousands of years before doctors realized they should wash their hands before delivering babies.
If I could mass-produce soap, I could improve hygiene and protect my family's health.
At the very least, it would reduce the risk of infectious diseases. And I wouldn't have to suffer through this god-awful stench anymore.
But it wasn't just about sanitation. Soap is a daily essential.
If I could get everyone to buy it every single day, how much money would that make? The profits would dwarf the insurance business.
"But it won't be easy."
Primitive forms of soap existed in this era, but Romans considered that hard soap to be something "barbaric," used only by dirty tribes like the Gauls or Germans.
Furthermore, making that kind of soap required massive amounts of animal fat.
Even if I could make it, mass-distributing it enough to change Roman society would be a nightmare.
Wait. Who says I have to use animal fat?
The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning.
Soap doesn't have to be a hard solid. In the 21st century, Castile soap—made purely from olive oil—was world-famous.
And right now, Rome is drowning in olive oil imported from the provinces of Hispania and Sicily.
"Felix!"
"Yes?! What is it now, Master?"
Felix came charging into the bathhouse at my shout.
He looked at me with an apprehensive gaze, as if he'd already sensed a new scheme brewing.
"I just had a brilliant idea… or rather, a brilliant business idea."
"No! Absolutely not!!!"
His scream echoed through the entire building.