Lacrima: Chapter Sixteen

The First Fall

‘I’ve tried to write a journal down many times before,’ opened Esau’s confessions. Handwritten, his blue-ink print had a blocky, but rounded shape to the letters. A few of the individual characters like his vowels and “l”s sported tails, as if playing at cursive. His idiosyncratic writing still proved perfectly legible to Job. ‘I know it’s good for me, but I never stuck with it. This will be my ninth attempt. I hope I can stick through with it.’

Instead of compressing his thoughts into paragraphs, Esau had divided his jottings into shorter segments. Though the pages were standard lined notebook paper, the guest’s absentee host took the liberty of further partitioning his writings into drawn boxes. Arrows jagged from one square to the other, sometimes with multiple spreading out to disparate text boxes. It looked more like a flow chart than a journal. Job figured Esau drew out these boxes with his stream of consciousness and charted them into a more coherent chain with the arrows.

‘I spoke with Solomon again.’

That box sent out two arrows. The first one landed on: ‘I know it’s bad for me. (32).’ No further arrows came from that box. The second pointed to: ‘He told me that Lacrima is a good idea. I shouldn’t doubt myself.’ From there, three branches burst out and down the page to three new blocks.

First block: ‘Jacob visited. He wanted to see the mansion he designed. He seemed more interested in the house than me. Though, at the end of the visit, he gave me one of his rare smiles before departing. (18).’

Second block: ‘Sisyphus works as planned. The first four guests have appreciated how he answers their questions like Solomon, but can actually complete tasks in the mansion itself. Devon is anxious about his phone disconnecting. He’ll recover. I know he’ll recover. (6).’

Tangentially, an arrow slid from this block to the third block.

Third block: ‘I feel better away from everything. The outside world can sort itself out. Sisyphus handles the housekeeping, leaving me to relax. The only real device I have on this island is my phone, but can’t make use of it here. Thank God. It rains a lot here. Gives us plenty of inside time. Though, Siobhan, Devon, and Mark are getting stir crazy. Devon especially is worried. He worries me. Pacing. It’s all he does. Did Sisyphus do too good of a job in picking people that would need Lacrima? I might have to step in. (6).’

From the third block, a final arrow plunged down to a conclusion or rather what so happened to be Esau’s closing thought for the day.

Final block: ‘Daniel seems to be adjusting the best of the guests. He expressed disappointment in the rain (they all do), but he is more resilient than the others. He frequents the library and even brought together a book club with the other guests. They’re reading No Exit. I forgot I had a copy of that in the library - let alone four. If I remember correctly, Siobhan is a writer for a pop philosophy column, so she’s been enjoying it. Daniel’s a strong reader. He really adds to the story. At the end of the most recent session, I encouraged them to keep going with this. Lacrima’s mission is to revitalize and heal us. We can accomplish that together. (6).’

Job sneezed, shallowly inhaled, then sneezed before sneezing again.

Konrad waited a moment, craning his head from the computer screen. “God bless you.”

“Thank you,” Job said weakly. The cold from the rain seeped into his bones. He wasn’t sick just yet, but he knew it was a matter of when not if. That storm took itself out on him. Job attempted to ward himself against pneumonia with a change of clothes and wrapping himself in Konrad’s blankets. Still, the beating rain echoed on his clammy skin. He held a crumbled tissue to his mucus-leaking nose.

A muted click from the doorknob followed by a flurry of light knocks invaded the room.

“Service, unlock my door,” Konrad commanded.

“Absolutely,” Service chimed.

After the unlocked door swung open, Lucille appeared in the doorway. “Afraid someone’s going to steal something,” she chuckled, entering.

“Force of habit,” Konrad apologized. “I always lock my door when I can.”

“I’m teasing,” she said. “That’s perfectly reasonable.” Lucille traveled to Job’s bedside and planted herself down beside him. She smoothed the pleats on her skirt, as she took in the book he held before him. “Which book did you take from the library?”

“I got it from Esau’s office,” Job said. “It’s his journal.”

“Ah,” she noted. Lucille saw his sorry state of coldness and pulled off her cardigan. Without resistance, he accepted as she draped the woolen jacket over him. The token warmed him. Job nudged closer to her. Their arms brushed against one another. He realized how mild her warmth was. Lucille ran cold. She leaned deeper towards the book. “What have you figured out so far?”

“Esau confirms that this place really was formed for therapeutic reasons. However, it seems that he himself didn’t choose the guests, but Sisyphus did. Or does, rather.”

“Catherine found out that Sisyphus is the software that directs Service,” Lucille said. “It inviting the guests makes sense.”

“Maybe Sisyphus doesn’t invite the guests, but merely picks them,” Job speculated. “It makes the list and Esau actually does the inviting.”

“Could be that too,” Lucille agreed. She pointed to the text. “Have you noticed the numbers yet?”

“The numbers?” He regarded the page again. His eyes had glossed over the tidy little numbers in the blocks. They stood out. The ink had a lighter hue. Either Esau deliberately wrote certain elements in different colors or these numbers were later additions.

32… 18… 6…

Is it a code?

Or…

Job flipped to the sixth page, marked as such in the bottom corner. A rectangle box sat in the center with four lines coming off it. Each had a name of one of the first guests on the line with a corresponding textbox.

The center box read: ‘3/4 success. Passing grade. Siobhan, Mark, and Daniel are cleared to leave. But we’ve had such a good time that the three elected to stay for a little longer. Devon needs more help.’

Job skipped down to the bottom to read Devon’s section.

‘His pacing hasn’t stopped. Even in the noise-insulated mansion, I can hear those damn footsteps from my office. He hasn’t eaten much for weeks. Devon remains quiet, even during our book club. Sisyphus gave me a short description of what ails each particular guest. Devon, apparently, is a chronic shuddin with neglectful parents. He joked that he was an IPad baby before he stopped talking about himself entirely/ He’s twenty-three, but can’t keep a job, relationship, or constructive hobbies. His first question when entering the mansion was: “What’s the WiFi password?” I see a lot of myself in him. Shackled to the digital world. For him, he was born into it. For me, I helped build it. But it can’t be that technology raised him. No, there’s other problems with him. Something undiagnosed. Now, he rarely speaks with myself or the other guests. Regardless of the others, he will have to stay. For his own good.’

Job flicked back up to the first box: Esau’s thoughts on Daniel.

‘Why did Sisyphus pick him? He’s a perfectly fine young man. Athletic, intelligent, and savvy. The other guests love him. Especially Siobhan. I’ve been catching them spending a lot of time together. I’ll leave romantic speculation off this page. Back to Daniel. The only negative Sisyphus gave was Daniel had a narcissistic streak and a desire to control people. I think Sisyphus overestimated both. Daniel has a high opinion of himself, but is always willing to give a compliment to his fellow guests. As for a controlling streak, sure he leads the book club, but a tyrant he is far from. Maybe Sisyphus intentionally picked him as a stabilizing force for the other guests. If so, I got more than I bargained for with Sisyphus. (8).’

Siobhan was next.

‘She is my highest success of the four. She came to Lacrima as a meek, self-conscious woman and is now an outspoken powerhouse. Sisyphus reported she had body-image issues with a streak of nasty breakups. If I were in her shoes, I couldn’t imagine being self-conscious. Siobhan is a pretty, sleekly muscular creature with this adorable beauty mark above her lip. She derisively called it a “mole.” She has since stopped doing that and now frequents the typing room everyday. The girl’s working on a fabulous novel -> Part literary fiction, part magical realism, part philosophical treatise. It sounds so masturbatory when I write it like that, but it works so well. My library, she admits, has been an amazing source of inspiration. I’m glad to be her muse.’

Third, but last in Job’s reading order was Mark.

‘Success second only to Siobhan, I’m very happy with Mark. He has taken a liking to Sisyphus, talking to him much in the same way I speak with Solomon still. Just the other night, he taught Sisyphus to adjudicate a game of Werewolf. Not the best game with five players, but it was rollicking good fun. Mark, in fact, designs a lot of games. I had asked if he wanted to become a game designer or programmer once he got off the island. He gave me this curious look and said: “Why would I want to leave just yet?” Mark has given me wisdom. I thought this place would be a vacation, but it has evolved into a home. These are not guests. These are my friends. (7).’

“So the numbers are page numbers,” Job said. He sniffled and held the tissue up to his nose. “Maybe a way for Esau to organize his thoughts post-writing and between pages.”

Lucille nodded before leaning closer. “Daniel. Bae mentioned a Daniel she knew who came here to Lacrima previously.”

“If this is the same Daniel,” Job mused. “He’d be one of the first to be here.”

I’m rooting for you to come back Bae, he thought. I’ll have some questions for you.

“Seven,” Lucille remarked, pointing to the only number on this page. “Just look to your right.”

Job turned his attention from the left page to the rightmost leaf. The diagram of Esau’s thoughts looked the same in the branching skeleton. One breaking off into four. It even had the guests’ names as well. The writing, however, held a very different tone.

‘Failure,’ the central node read out. ‘It is my fault this went so poorly. How could I be so stupid? How could I be so blind? 3/4 success. Idiot. Now all of them are worse off. ’

This time, Job went top to bottom.

Daniel Adams.

‘He makes me sick to my stomach. That charm? Facade. His wit? Manufactured. The care for the others? Self-serving. Sisyphus warned me. Sisyphus warned me! I should’ve kept a keener, more detached eye on him. When Siobhan told me what he did to her - in tears, I couldn’t handle it that day. I saw the earlier hints. The way she tensed around him. How she avoided him, sometimes making a whole circuit of the mansion just so they don’t cross paths. Why didn’t I ask? I saw the separation and didn’t mention it. I made the consecutive decision to just ignore it. That things would be alright. We’re all stuck together. Maybe they just needed space. No. No. No. It was so much worse than that. Yes, Lacrima is built to help people recover, but I don’t know what remedy there is for what Daniel is. I overrode Sisyphus’ directive to keep the guests on the island with my admin privileges. I hate using them. It reminds me that I’m not just a guest, but the host. Now Daniel has been banished. Sent away on the boat that brought him here. Good riddance.’

Siobhan Kirkengard

‘Poor Siobhan. She’s wilted back to her previous state. There’s still an ember. I can see it, but I fear it will be squelched soon. I make sure to spend time with her, but she rebuffs me after a while. Siobhan still goes to the typing room. Her magnum opus, however, has been put on the back burner. She flits between projects now. I try to coax her back on the path. She, again, rebuffs. The book club is a sore spot for the others with Daniel having helmed it, so we’ve stopped that. Siobhan doesn’t read anymore. All she does is write. Most of it is a stream of consciousness. I see her crying over the typewriter when I walk past the window. Siobhan puts on a brave face in our discussions. She’s strong, yet so fragile. I’m sorry, Siobhan. I’ve failed you.”

Mark Zamsky

‘Mark is the least affected by Daniel’s departure. I would be hopeful in this if it weren’t for what else he does. He still makes his games, but has shifted priorities to workshopping them with Sisyphus. I asked if he wanted me to try his latest experiment. It looked fun. He shook his head and said: “I’ll let Sisyphus help me first. When it’s right and good, I’ll let you play it.” I accepted this. If I’m not directly speaking to him, he’s speaking with Sisyphus. Questions like, “What’s the meaning of life?” “Do I really need other people?” “How do we know what we know?”

I feel like a hypocrite when I tell him to lay off Sisyphus. “Do as I say; not as I do,” I tell him. Yet he still does. And I fear he will continue to do so.

Devon Hallenport

‘He’s gotten quiet. Spends all of his time in his room. I bring him meals, but I find them half-eaten the next day. I try to probe him and he merely agrees that he should get out more. Yesterday, he asked, “Would anyone miss me?” I replied, “I would.” He nodded. “Sure you would. I’m your little project.” These brushes with suicidal ideation trouble me deeply. I’ve asked Sisyphus to keep an eye on the boy and to alert me if biosignatures are not found in that room. I don’t get much sleep now.’

Job noticed that the guest’s boxes had their own child arrows. They converged at the bottom.

‘In all the databases I scrubbed. The public internet, social media accounts, public records… All of that data I used to train Sisyphus on. He picked the guests. There’s gotta be a reason he chose these four. I need to make this right. I’ll tie these loose ends and try again. Solomon advised me to keep going (8). Lacrima is good. Lacrima will not die here.

I will make this right.’

Taking off his glasses, Job sighed. Lucille handed him a water glass from the nightstand. He drank the soft water, pure and smooth. Job heard Konrad’s keystrokes in the background of his awareness.

“Lacrima was a work in progress,” he said, trying to collect his thoughts.

“It is a work in progress,” Lucille corrected. “It could only be so magical after trials and errors.”

“What did Daniel do to Siobhan?” Job asked.

Sorrow pinched Lucille’s face. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

Job cringed. The cold felt starker now. “Maybe not the exact details, but the impression… Some kind of abuse.”

“That’s a generous reading,” she said. Lucille’s eyes flashed. “Job, I want you to promise me something.”

The grave tone of the request grounded Job away from his analysis. Lucille demanded his attention. And he gladly gave it. “What, Lucille?”

“Our group is becoming what those first guests became,” she observed. “We’re falling apart.”

“Were we ever together to begin with?”

“No, but that’s part of the problem.” Lucille shook her head. “We’ve fast-tracked their mistakes. We need to stick together.” She held up a pinkie. “Promise: we, us, will never end up like Esau, Daniel, Siobhan, Mark, and Devon. We will learn from their mistakes and not repeat them.”

Job measured Lucille. Her face, alert and marked with concern, drew him in. He couldn’t say no, even though he felt the promise was naive. The dream of someone married to what Lacrima’s mission once was.

“You really believe in Esau’s mission?” he asked.

“More than anything,” she affirmed. “Lacrima can be a beacon for the broken or it becomes just another place to drive the broken further into ruin. We can choose which one it will be. Do we choose to lose and isolate ourselves like Devon and Mark? Or wallow in our own pity like Esau and Siobhan? Or worse, take advantage of others like Daniel succeeded in? Let’s be better. Let’s break a cycle.” She proffered her little finger again. “Together.”

Job knew this was a promise he couldn’t keep. He stared at her hand. He looked at the painted nails and the metal, serpent’s ring, but away from the one intended to seal the promise.

“Please,” she pleaded. “If not for the group, at least between us. Let’s stay together. Help each other out until the storm passes.”

Can I even promise that? He wondered. I’m burdened not by broken promises, but ones I’ve chosen to keep despite casting them away.

He remembered when he promised he wouldn’t lose his faith when he went off to college.

He remembered all the little “We’ll stay together”s and “See you later”s to all the women he never quite broke off.

He remembered all the covenants he affirmed to the Almighty in Aleichem Shalom.

“You don’t want my promise,” Job said, pivoting away.

“You’re right.” Lucille grabbed his face and turned him to her. Such delicate hands, but what force they had behind them. “I want so much more from you.”

His mouth parted. The blood pumped harder from his heart and into his whole being. Job’s desire calcified with Lucille’s openness.

Did he dare say: “I love you”?

No, he couldn’t.

But he did lift up his own little finger. Lucille mirrored him.

“Promise?” she asked. Her eyes. They dominated his vision. The rest of her blurred away, but nothing but two blue globes remained. The pair shined as twin moons: silvery gray and watery blue. Equally intense. He swore on those moons.

“I promise, if you’ll give me the grace,” he said.

“And more.” Her finger closed the distance and interlocked with his. They shook on the promise.