We killed God, we killed the Self, we killed Narrative. Unmoored from that transcendental algebra, we swim in a brackish sea of Weird Fishes, slimy and confusing and infinitely fascinating.
The treatment of Narrative in 📙 After Virtue can seem to imply a nostalgia for the great coherent narratives of ancient societies, but MacIntyre's pluralism promotes another understanding. City-states are not necessarily empires. I think the stories MacIntyre talks about here are primarily plotoids: