Lacrima: Chapter Thirty

In, Out, and Away

Lucille sat on the bottommost step of the central staircase. Konrad leaned against a wall, leg insatiably jittering. Bae, looking much more comfortable in shorts and tee, went through a routine of stretches. She held a deep butterfly for a solid minute before opening her legs for a seated straddle. Job entered from the outside, discarding a dripping umbrella. He shunted it on the floor.

“I just threw Catherine’s stuff onto the boat.” He jabbed a thumb behind him. “Once we get her, we’re set to leave.”

Nodding, Lucille stood up. Konrad, Bae, and Job had collected all their belongings previously and loaded it up. They didn’t notice Lucille did not do the same. Or, maybe they didn’t care.

The boat is for them, she thought. Not me.

“Okay.” Konrad shook out all his long limbs. He crossed to the middle swath of carpeting and stood before the staircase. Catherine weighed on his mind.

She’s down there, he assured himself. I know she is.

Bae slowly rose from her straddle. She held the small of her back and pushed out a series of pops from her back. Laying a hand on Konrad’s bony shoulder, she felt his quivering slow by a pace.

Job formed the point of this inverted triangle. He saw the anxious energy radiating off Konrad and Bae’s icy determination. Slapping them both on the back, he barked out a chuckle. “The worst part is I don’t think any of this can be put into my thesis.”

First to laugh was Konrad. He leaned back to face Job without fully turning. “Yeah, how would you pitch this to your advisors?” He cleared his throat, pitching his voice down. “‘Hey, folks, sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth. I was just at a haunted mansion resort built by a washed up Silicon Valley millionaire. Oh, it’s not haunted by ghosts. These are AI ghosts. I’m sure that’s a gap in the research that my paper could fill in.’”

Bae, though at first only mildly bemused, suddenly and sharply tittered. She covered her mouth to contain the laugh. “Is that what you think Job sounds like?”

“Aw.” Konrad loosely flapped his wrist at her. “You and my tabletop group both make fun of my voices.”

“Tabletop?” Job raised his eyebrows. “Like tabletop RPGs?”

“Yeah?”

“God above, my roommate’s obsessed with D&D.” Job shook his head, ruminating on how she would clear the meagre common space every Friday for her group. Weirdly, he missed sharing that cramped, crappy apartment. It felt more real than where he currently stood and he needed some reality. “She goes on and on about her characters.”

“I would like to,” Konrad said. “If you’ll let me.”

“Let’s survive this. After that, we can chat more on this.”

Bae’s eyes brightened. “Speaking of ‘after that,’ do you guys maybe want to find somewhere to cool off? Like a diner or something?”

“It would be nice to settle back into the outside world,” Job agreed. “Doing that all together doesn’t sound half bad.”

“After this,” Bae said. “Let’s plan on it.”

“After this,” Job intoned like a mantra. He looked straight ahead and saw Lucille’s gray expression. She spectated with abject misery, falling into the role of a longing voyeur. That ethereal quality about her now slipped into her feeling wispy and distant.

Job crossed his arms. She did this to herself, he thought. Still, he couldn’t help, but see her as this desperate creature of want. Lucille inarguably deserved the scorn he and the others gave her. It was a small punishment compared to the hellish purgatory she subjected them to. Even with all that, Job felt a conflicted knot of emotions towards her.

Attraction - for her. Revulsion - for what she did. Obligation - for the promise they made. Pity - for her present state.

They all bled into each other, particularly the attraction and pity. Most of all though, he wanted space. He wondered if he would even want to see Lucille again after this. He suspected the others wouldn’t, but he couldn’t be too sure about himself.

Lucille stepped down to their level. “Are we ready?”

The three paused, not speaking. Konrad flicked his gaze between the other two.

“I think we are.”

Bae nodded to Job and he rebounded the gesture to Lucille.

Slumped and without anymore to say to them, she raised her hands up - as if in supplication. She recalled the exact phrasing Esau used when he drew her down into the world below.

“Service, open a direct route to the Throne.”

It appeared on the windows behind them, as if watching the staircase with the guests. The apparition, thoughtless, pantomimed to no one’s direct attention.

“As you wish, Admin. Please step back from the main staircase.”

Lucille didn’t budge. She remembered the scene vividly as the last gasp of a fairy tale. One last trick in the repertoire of the great wizard. A hopeful finale to a tragedy just after a grinding, slow catastrophe. And so it played out exactly as it did in the past. The topmost stair disappeared behind the penultimate. Mute, each step slid down one by one. The nigh-impentreable dark below revealed itself during the gradual shifting of the staircase. Finally, the last stair declined ever so slightly. Lights flashed on to illuminate the borders of the stairs. Within the space of a minute, the whole staircase inverted itself. It now led straight to the Throne, as delivered by Service.

Lucille took the first step. She didn’t look back.

Job muttered, “Okay,” then went down with her. Konrad did the same, leading with his toes with every step.

Bae hesitated, remembering the echoing thoughts, the soreness of endless miles trekking through a tightly-corded labyrinth, and the harrying of Servants all around her. Then, she remembered why she braved all that. Catherine, who didn’t want her. After the ouija board incident, Bae thought Catherine might have regretted her choice to venture down there.

Maybe with Catherine wanting help, she thought. We’ll be all the more likely to succeed. That little bit of hope emboldened her to descend.

The new maw breathed out the smell of heated plastic. Job noticed the labored whirling of fans again, but without the insulation of the soundproofing. Their hissing screams came from every direction.

When the group stepped off the last stair, a pair of neon blue lines flared and shot forward on the floor they walked. It zig-zagged in seemingly nonsensical directions. At first it looked random, almost like a joke. But then, their eyes adjusted to the low light of the basement. Bae recognized the shapes as the strange computer towers, stacked atop one another in a skeleton frame. More loose shapes, wires, spilled out from opening and twisted down like gored entrails. More so now, the obelisks heaved with exhaustion.

“They’re louder.” Bae’s voice resonated even over the fans’ collective roar.

“They are.” Job clasped his hand over his mouth.

“You can’t keep your thoughts down here.” Lucille twisted her head and pointed her lips as they didn’t move. “That means we’re getting closer.”

Job kept his hand pressed, as if he could keep the thoughts from escaping.

“That’s terrify-” His hand slapped his forehead and stayed there. He slowed down, feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Even more so than when Lucille invaded his brain, now everyone could hear his thoughts. “Thought broadcasting. I guess it’s not a delusion down here.” He shook his head, hating the sound of his echoing monologue, as if every idle thought could spark a soliloquy.

Shivering, Konrad hugged himself. His mind raced so fast that words didn’t emerge, but came out mumbled as a tight stammer. He nearly struck his head on a low hanging module. It scraped by, only connecting with his short-crop of hair. Focusing on his breathing, his arms came down to his sides and the shaking subsided. Within mansions said to house sevenfold curses, possessed dolls, and raging gheists, he kept his cool and camera hand steady. Here, he needed his coping strategies. Here, he wasn’t the one trying to capture the paranormal on film. Here, the ghosts hunted him.

This place could swallow him whole.

“Me-Ma,” his brain eked. “Gotta tell Me-Ma. I’m okay.”

Bae slipped a hand under his. His fingers easily clasped hers. She offered her other hand to Job, but he didn’t even register the gesture. His hands busied themselves rubbing his brow.

The group wound their way along the illuminated path. The screeching obelisks drew closer in. Above tubes of coolant and wires stretched from one vertiginous height to another like overhang bridges. Exhaust plumes exhaled down their necks. The claustrophobic squeeze tightened, so much so that Lucille had to slow significantly.

“This is just like how Esau led me down,” she assured herself, forgetting the others could hear her thoughts. “Steady as we go.”

Lucille instinctively crouched as they reached a crawlspace. Bae and Konrad continued the train. Job hesitated.

“Too late now.” He clasped his jaw shut, hearing the teeth click against one another. Lowering himself, he then followed after the others. They crept in the tunnel, muscles cramping and breath shortening. The steady progress halted. Lucille, their guide, stopped right before the exit.

“What’s going on?” Bae asked in her unkicked habit of speaking and thinking.

“This isn’t-” Lucille stopped her thought. She didn’t want the others to know, but nothing could stop her rapid-fire connecting of the sights and sounds before her. “What happened to the Throne?!”

Erratic pulses radiated off a jagged orb. Movements within the fiberglass cylinders pounded against the nucleus. Rotating at a nauseating pace, the globe burned with shapes and splotches. The tranquil blues of Lacrima were replaced by iron-rich red. Blood and black became the new scheme. Crackling static overwhelmed the room. Particles, seen like dust in a window pane’s light, floated wildly. Millions of sharp stars made their journey, humming audio with the ebb and flow of raw data. Servants, disrobed of their suits as given by the Elysium preset, stood in a ritualized line. They functioned as the new guidelights. The Servants also contained raging currents. Any moment, they looked like they would explode into stray lines and corrupted textures. And yet they remained somewhat stable. For now. The whole Throne had a tenuous quality to it. One tiny movement could shatter everything.

“Lucille?” Konrad thought-spoke.

“We can’t have much time,” Lucille thought back. She finally slipped out of the tunnel. Gradually, each of the guests uncoiled themselves and witnessed what caused Lucille to halt so abruptly. The red, jittering light danced across their bodies. Open mouths and unblinking stares consumed them.

Squinting, Lucille could make out a skeletal body slumped on the dais which haloed the throne. She clapped and beckoned them, seeing them caught in a spell of awe. Job stirred before collapsing. Before he fell, crimson light flashed through his eyes. Lucille just noticed that a gap had appeared in the line up of Servants. Right as she noticed, another disappeared. It thinned into a bolt and hissed past her. Konrad seized up all at once, fell against the wall, and became a gangly muscle-statue.

Bae caught onto the pattern, spun on her heel, and tried to rush down the path. The nearest Servant casually trotted up and fell into Bae. Flickers came off her, as she grunted, falling to a knee. Inch by inch, it rolled through her nerves until she fully flat onto the floor.

Lucille side-stepped, warily looking around her. A Servant gently placed a vibranous claw onto her shoulder. She looked at the figure. The features, never becoming more than a blank facescape, now keenly formed faces she recognized. Hachito, Dorris, Bruce, Zachary - those distant people as far back as her memories of them. She remembered them, but could never grasp them. Fleeting little connections made to snap. She regretted not getting too close.

The many-faced ghost then floated through her. She felt herself become numb, but she did not go unconscious. The Servant lifted her up as a precious bundle and ambled towards the throne.

(***)

Bae eased herself into the push. The bar wavered. Her entire arms became rigid. She felt the deep tension in her chest.

“Come on,” Song Cha encouraged. “You’ve got this.”

A switch clipped in her brain and finished the rep, setting the barbell right onto the support. Her used arms dropped down her sides as she panted her lungs out.

“Fantastic!” Song looked down at Bae. The overhead gym light outlined her in a white glow. Bae thought she looked radiant. She could imagine how much less she looked in comparison. Stirring upward, Bae got to her knees in a crouch. Her mentor picked up a water bottle and handed it to her. “Give it some time. Your reps will be cleaner at that weight before you know it!”

“Yeah,” Bae nodded. She unscrewed the bottle and gulped down as much water as she could. Bae watched Song Cha and herself in the mirror. Again, she had to compare. Song had her long, sleek black hair in a perfect bun. Her complexion - cream white, even without makeup. Even in her oversized hoodie (a garment Song nabbed from her ex three years ago) and sweats, Song looked steady and strong. Bae felt like a pretender. No, worse, a parasite that could leech off the vitality of this generous stranger turned dear friend.

“Stick to the routine, Bae,” Song intoned. “Some day you’ll be like me.”

Bae broke from the fantasy. She remembered this sensation before.

I’m in a memory loop, but Song Cha would never say something like that, she thought. She never referred to herself. If anything, she was always self-deprecating. Something I could never stand when she indulged that impulse.

“I wanted to be like you,” Bae said.

“Wanted?” False-Song repeated. “Don’t you still want to be like me? Am I not desirable to you?” Disapproval marred her face. Tight lines sloped down her brow to her temple and plunged to her cheeks. She grew taller before Bae.

“No - I…” Bae stepped back, nearly tripping on the bench behind her. “I do. I do.”

“You’ve lost your way,” Song said. “What would your manager think? Your parents? Your fans? It’s rude to lie, Bae.”

“It is. I know…” Bae choked on her words. Her usual stream of apologies and explanations trickled and spurted out.

“You wear many lies, Bae.” Song stepped over the bench in one stride, but never crossed fully to Bae. “We have great expectations for you. You lie to yourself that it is impossible. But it is so easy to follow. Step where we tell you step. Eat what we tell you to eat. Say what we tell you to say. Wear what we tell you to wear. You lie to yourself, saying that such is difficult.”

“But it is, Song,” she argued. The dam broke. “I lost so much sleep, trying to get through school. I-I-I couldn’t focus. I like moving too much. When I was a star, I starved myself half to death just to be skinny. Song, you were the first person to just let me be. You encouraged I-”

“Because I wanted to mold you,” the fake Song said. “Mold you into another me. You lie, Bae, when you say you’re so different from others. Your life would be so much easier if you just accepted that. You crave to be exactly like us.”

“That’s not true,” Bae barked. The humbling grew too strong against Bae.

“Then, why?” Song laughed “Why do you put up with the demands, if not because you know them to be good?”

“Because…” Bae stopped. She breathed in. She remembered the straw that broke the camel’s back when Lucille forced her to act according to another script, too many and the raw catharsis of breaking through those vice-grip rules. Channeling that, Bae uncrouched herself and stared at this falsehood in its stolen face. “I never tasted freedom before.”

“Freedom is letting go of yourself,” the doppleganger pressed. It drew even closer.

“And letting others choose who you are?” Bae grinded out the words. “I never got to choose who I was until Song Cha. Not you. The real her. For the first time, I desired something. Yes, I wanted to be you. You’re right - I cloaked myself in lies, but that is only because everyone around me forced them on me. I wanted acceptance. The supposed blessings and gifts that came with obedience.” Her hand grasped at the dumbbell rack behind her. “Every single price I paid outstripped any value I got from that. I tried being everything to everyone. I ended up being nothing to myself.” She gripped the twenty-four kilogram dumbbell. “No wonder I could never keep friends or be fully honest to ones I could hold down. Or why people took advantage of that.” That damn dress came to mind. Moments of powerlessness came to mind, but other moments counterposed them: the first time she hiked up a mountain, her escaping the basement below the mansion, and her righteous rage and demands against Lucille. She pulled off the weight with ease and let it hang from her arm. “You’ve never met me before, because every ‘Bae’ you’ve met is a lie. I sincerely apologize. Let me start over. Hello.” She wheeled her dumbbell back. “My name is Bae Yuri. Nice to meet you.”

The dumbbell escaped her hand at a high-force velocity. It connected with the image of Song Cha and soared past. She broke apart and reformed as a warbling mass of red pixels. The dumbbell struck the mirror with a satisfying crash. Entirely, the glass collapsed onto the floor in an avalanche. Cracking, the whole scene splintered away into so many fragments.

Bae Yuri, properly introduced, gasped awake with a start in the red-lit, sweltering throneroom. A blood-red Servant ripped away from her, seeming to cower if such a thing could.

(***)

The table was bare.

This isn’t my house, Job thought.

But when he looked around, superficially it was. Finely bordered mirrors lined the light green painted walls. Houseplants grew from pots of eclectic styles. His mother’s many glassware sets, as she loved collecting them, were displayed in an armoire in the back of the dining room. That very same mother sat with her dignified posture, simple head covering, and manicured nails. She sat at the right-hand of Job’s imposing father. Wide-shouldered, dark beard finely oiled and brushed, and garbed all in black, the head rabbi of the Aleichem Shalom synagogue loomed everywhere he went. He leaned his head back. His payot braids moved with the black immensity of his beard. Job rubbed the sides of his head, feeling them naked.

Father cleared his throat. “Son.”

“Father,” Job addressed him. He had been in one of these “loops” before with Lucille. He knew all he had to do was not play along. However, seeing his father and mother was enough to keep him in line. On the outside, he hadn’t spoken to them in a month on top of the time he spent on Lacrima and hadn’t seen them in six months. These sights and sounds weighed on him with profound pressure.

“I can’t believe you missed Hanukkah this year.” Father spoke with a pounding articulation, yet with a calm tone. He prided himself on not needing a microphone in the spacious vaults of the Synagogue. That pride carried back home when he spoke to his precious family. “Dear.” The rabbi leaned his face towards his beloved wife and lifted his hand onto the table. “Don’t you remember how he always wanted to light the menorah.”

“He needed a lot of help.” Mother chuckled, bringing her hand over to his. The only jewelry either of them wore, their wedding bands, glinted. “Especially when he was younger.”

“It took both of us to keep him from falling and burning our house down.” At that, they laughed in unison. Father regarded his son again. “What happened to you, Job?”

Job looked down. He nervously pulled at the tablecloth. His fingers rolled the fabric between them.

“You miss a lot of what we do here,” Father continued. “We love you. We miss you.”

“I know.” Job held his throat.

“You really want that doctorate?”

Job nodded.

“I understand,” Father replied. “Sacrifices must be made. But to think that you would sacrifice us for that?”

“This is only temporary,” Job said. “I want to come back.”

And set the record straight, but he could never say that.

“What happened to that boy who always said his prayers with confidence and love?” Father asked. “You used to be so happy. You dredge yourself in misery. Being uprooted has caused you so much pain.”

“It has, but-” Job cut himself off. Even to just their likenesses, he couldn’t tell them the truth.

“You promised you’d love us forever,” Mother pleaded.

“And I do!”

“You have some way of showing it, Son,” Father said.

“Are you heartbroken?” Mother asked. “I know you’re rather sensitive when it comes to romance.”

“Yes, but there’s more to it.”

Father looked at him strangely. “You know you can bring your worries to the Almighty? You still do that, right?”

Job’s tongue squirmed in his mouth.

“No.” Father slipped away from the table. “Do you not hold Him in your heart anymore?”

I have to fight against the vision, he thought. The Servants want to break me. That’s what happened to Argus. The tension in his body released, but he still stared at the tablecloth.

“How can I?”

“Job…” His mother clutched her chest. “What do you mean?”

“With all I’ve seen in the world,” Job began, wanting to stop himself with every word. “All the different religions. All of the contradictions. I just struggle to see our Almighty in it.”

“My beautiful son,” Father reached out. “You speak a truth. Your heart aches for the Almighty, but the world has fallen. If you come back and stay with us a while, maybe you’ll heal the longing.”

“I don’t think that’s the case.”

The vision only stopped when Lucille cancelled it, he thought. How do I get a Servant - something that’s not even a person - to stop?

Am I on my own?

Strangled and taut, Job breathed heavily. Finally, he looked up and saw a look of condemnation glared over his father’s face. Both his father and mother rose as one. Job saw that their torso had fused. They both slowly shifted ever so slightly into one another.

“Disappointing, Son,” they both said.

Or was it “Disappointing son”? Job didn’t like the sound of either. Soon their shoulders locked into each other. The necks adhered. Mother’s brown skin stretched over Father’s. His height folded to hers.

“You promised.”

“I did!” Job slammed a fist to the table. Sharp pain cut into his hand. He lifted his hand up and saw cut wounds had lacerated the flesh. The tablecloth below him shimmered, woven now by clear fiberglass. “I know I did.”

A pair of wings transmuted from the folds of Father’s black cloak. They flapped, casting the precious glassware to the floor. The pieces shattered on impact. At this point, the two parents became one flesh. The face of the figure before him looked a lot like a reflection of himself. Job witnessed as this Job unsheathed a sword forged of pure light and raised the blade up. It aimed the tip straight at the seated Job. One stroke and the sword would plunge. Job’s heart thundered at a pace just shy of exploding in his chest.

“Why should you live?” The two-voice chorus rang from the angel. “Why should you not accept this sword through your heart?”

Job slammed both hands on the table, not minding the glass cuts. He stood up to the guardian. “Because I can make a new promise!”

“You’ve failed so many times.” It glared down at him. “What gives you the right?”

“What other way is there?!” He thought about what he told Lucille. “I will tell my parents the truth. But now, I can’t. Now, I have a different promise to keep first. Only after that can I be strong enough.

“I need to know that I’m capable of being true to myself and others!” He screamed out his answer. The peal broke against the mirage until it shook and broke.

Job blinked open his eyes to see the dark floor. Tails of electricity, weeping from his eyes. He picked himself up and saw Bae on her feet. They both looked around and saw Konrad convulsing against a wall.

Bae and Job jumped towards him: “Konrad!”

(***)

Did I die yet? Konrad wondered.

He stood in the middle of a glass void. The grayness stretched on for eternity in every direction. One moment he was in the mansion and now he found himself here.

Purgatory? He scratched his head. Limbo? A waiting room for souls?

“Close enough.”

“Uncle Zeek?”

As sunny as the day before the crash, his uncle stood beside that used car he saved up to buy. Inside, Konrad could see figures. Three of them. Uncle Zeek rested a hand over his wrinkled gray hoodie. The man looked at his nephew with that look which always prompted Konrad to straighten up. Zeek ran his other hand across the gray paint job.

“We’re waiting for you,” he told Konrad.

Konrad gulped. “You are?”

Uncle Zeek chuckled. “We’re family. We stick together.” He shrugged. “We’re all we have, don’t we?”

“But you’re gone,” Konrad replied, innocently.

“Not fully.” Zeek drummed his temple with a finger. “How do you think we got here?”

“That’s right,” Konrad said. “You came from my memories.”

“And isn’t that what ghosts are, really?” Zeek pursed his lips and blew out a thin sigh. “In that way, no one really dies.”

“Yeah.” The word sounded empty. Konrad nodded along.

“Me, your sister, your Ma, your Pa…” He pointed to the shapes through the tinted glass. “See. If people remember you, they don’t really need you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Memories can be whatever we want them to be.” Cupping his hand, Zeek raised it before the fingers broke apart. “I wasn’t always the best adult in your life.”

“That doesn’t matter…” Konrad looked at his shoes. He meant that.

“I mocked you. God, sometimes I just bullied you.” Zeek clenched his disparate fingers into a fist. “But you don’t remember me like that, do you?”

“A little, but…” His foot shifted, forming a sharp angle with his shoes. “I miss you. That’s all there is to it.”

“Yes, Konrad, every mistake I made against you. Every single one of my failings was filtered through me. Your sieve kept only the parts that you liked about me.”

“Sure, but I still remember the not great stuff.”

“Ah, but how small they seem to the love you have for me,” his uncle cooed. He stroked his chest with his fidgety hand. “Being a human is messy, complicated, and burdensome. Being a ghost - a memory - I’m free.”

A strange relief warmed Konrad. “You’re happy where you are?”

“Indeed,” he said. “And you can join us. Come.” He swung his head to the car. His dreads swayed back and forth like pendulums. “We got a seat in the back.” Uncle Zeek rounded the vehicle and lingered at the driver’s door. He cracked open the door. Smiling, he beckoned for him to hop in. “Don’t want to leave the pizza place waiting.”

“Don’t want to leave them waiting.” Konrad stepped closer to that car. His imaginations felt so real at that moment. He dreamed of stepping into that car and riding to the other side with the rest of his family. Reaching out, his hand hovered over the handle. “Why don’t I feel anything?”

“Hm?” Zeek hummed. “Maybe you’re already one of us. A memory.”

“I guess I am,” he said. “Not much left of me after the crash.”

Right as his hand pulled back the handle, making a click, a distant voice called his name. He recognized them as Bae and Job’s. Lacrima became real. The mansion he knew rested outside became real again. Everything he experienced suffused into him as a single, powerful note.

“No, I’m-” His finger retracted in a claw. “I’m falling back.”

“Pardon?” Uncle Zeek pressed his teeth together.

“Relapsing, I’m-” He rubbed the corners of his eyes. His tear ducts and surrounding skin was sore from rubbing. “I’m not a memory. I felt pain. Grief. I thought that part of me died with you all.” Willing his hand back, he pushed his foot away from the car. “I’m not broken. I care about Catherine. Bae gave me a shoulder to cry on. Job trusted me… Me-Ma’s probably worried sick to death” His cheeks became wet again.

“They need more than a memory of me.”

“You’re leaving us again?” Zeek’s question jammed a stake in Konrad’s chest. He hesitated before breaking off into a loping sprint - out and away from the damned car.

“I’m sorry!” The squeaking of his sneakers scattered through the transparent, oiled surface of the void. Over and over, the rubber on glass screeched until Konrad’s body lurched violently.

He bounded off the wire-tangled wall in the mansion basement. Bae and Job caught him by the chest. Konrad spotted a defeated spark squirm across the floor. All three locked onto Lucille, carried like a precious bundle by the unsteady hands of a Servant. She seemed to levitate at the mere suggestion of upward force given by the digital spectre. Hovering, Lucille reached the ascending stairs to the Throne. Behind her, the walls of Servants broke away from their rigid positions. The ones ousted from the guests recombined their forms while the untouched Servants closed in on them.

Bae immediately rose up to her feet, even as her vision swam.

“Stand back,” her mind spoke for her. “Fall back. I order you.”

The stimulus passed through as a subtle wave. The ever-present particles swayed. Servants faltered in their advance, but then a shape arose from the floor. Lines erupted from the tilework and wove together into a single humanoid fluttering. The silhouette was unmistakably Service, but the face finally came into view. Job recognized the face as one of the men in the “First Guests” photo. Before he couldn’t smile even for a photo. Now, the ghost projected a kind, even smile. Out of all the Servants, he seemed the most together even if he still had a tenuous existence. He rubbed his fingers against his finely-cut jacket. Once his pantomime ended, he spoke.

“Apologies, Bae, but you seem to be mistaken.” All the dots of energy mobilized as Service communicated. The mouth gestured towards the words without fully forming them. “We’re trying to help you. You all have lost your way. Sadly, we cannot simply bring you back up.” The jaw stiffened abruptly, then shivered. “You’ve fallen too far. More intensive measures must be afforded.”

Servants then unlocked themselves and stalked closer.

“Show us the way back up!” Job yelled out.

“You’ve fallen too deep,” Service reiterated after the wave passed through.

Bae stretched her hands out in front of her as Servant came ever closer to her. They didn’t spring or pounce. Algorithms had no ambitions. Put them in a direction. Unless obstructed, they will reach their target. The uncanny efficacy diminished Bae as she retreated without turning away. Her attention came back to Lucille.

“Lucille! Your admin privileges!” Bae’s call came across an unstirring body. She still had to have those privileges still. Why else would the Servant isolate and carry her off. “Just think! Tell them to go back!” Lucille’s eyes remained closed.

“Come on, Lucille! Wake up!” Job joined in. “Do some good for once, dammit!”

“We need you!” Konrad added. The three of them, without nothing left, collectively pooled their desire into a trifold wave. It crashed through the throneroom, but as quickly as it formed - it broke apart. Lucille remained still. Even as the red hands superimposed themselves over Bae, Job, and Konrad, they called out.

An eyelid twitched. A meek thought whispered out from Lucille.

“End Elysium.”

All at once, the throne went dark. A harsh crash sounded through the whole, neverending complex. Lucille’s body collapsed awkwardly onto the steps. Only black could be seen. The fans all stopped. True silence came back over the mansion.

Konrad pressed a hand into his hands. He wrenched out a jangle of keys, microtools, and keychains. His fingertips flicked through the clinking bits until he found a rubber button. A tiny cone of light illuminated a modest circle on the ground. Nerves thoroughly shredded, Konrad shook uncontrollably. Job saw the light and came up beside him.

“Got another one of those?” Their thoughts no longer sounded. Their words would have to suffice.

“I actually do.” He pushed down a latch to liberate a palm-sized flashlight. Job pressed the round button as he received it and got a glow even less impressive than from Konrad’s humble torch.

“Guys.” They both directed their lights to Bae. She pointed in the direction of the stairs. “Lead away. We’ve got a Catherine to grab.” Konrad and Job didn’t object and followed close behind to give Bae her light. They climbed up the stairs. Before they reached Catherine, a groaning pile swayed to her hands and feet. Lucille blinked rapidly as the light came onto her. The group held their lights for a second.

Job breathed in. “Thank you, Lucille.”

Lucille felt nothing. She crawled away and routed behind them, not wanting to be seen. Bae shrugged and continued. In six steps, she found an even more sorry heap. Catherine had dozens of wires hitched into her limbs. The thin auxiliary wires branched off from a mother wire, much thicker and robust than the rest with heavy insulation. Catherine’s skin, thin from dehydration, hung off her bones. The other guests could count the strands of malnourished muscle. Bae crouched and put two fingers on her wrist.

Heartbeat, Bae stopped herself from being too excited. As she took the pulse, she could also see Catherine’s chest expand and contract in agonizingly slow increments. Not knowing what else to do, Bae grabbed the central wire that snaked into the base of Catherine’s skull. She twisted and yanked. A long blade slick with blood came out. The daughter wires quickly yielded from Catherine’s skin. Pinpricks of blood welled up from the wounds like knicks from a shaving razor. Catherine tensed up and shot up. Her eyeballs rolled, flicked, and bobbed before settling. A visceral scream came out from her. Not one of terror, but a warcry. The yell became haggard breaths, as if her lungs desperately grabbed at air. Catherine gulp, then dry wretched. She cycled through dozens of movements, forcing the others to back away. Eventually, the spasms stilled and profound soreness seeped through her. Catherine, now on her knees, laid her head and stared at the ground.

“Catherine?” Konrad asked. “How are you?”

Her throat pushed to swallow, but there was too little saliva. She pushed out a groan.

“Let’s help her up,” Bae insisted.

“And get out of here,” Job said. A part of him liked being proven wrong. Now, he didn’t have someone’s death to weigh on him. He took the right arm, while Bae supported the left side. Catherine’s feet couldn’t connect to the ground, slipping from the weakness in her legs.

“One second.” Bae grabbed the underside of Catherine’s legs and hoisted her in a bridal carry. The woman proved light. “We can take turns carrying her.”

“Sure.” Job nodded. He started to go down the steps.

“Wait,” Konrad said. “We don’t have those guide lights.”

“Can we fix that?” Job asked. “Lucill-”

Below, above, but especially in front, the light came back. The cool blue of the diminished version of the mansion warmed gradually all around them. The Throne shot beams of fractal light. They stood beneath it as the cylinders eased back into their procedures. Sisyphus came alive with a rousing hum. Lacrima’s fans whirred once again.

Job chuckled, clicking his flashlight off. “Read my mind, Lucille?”

“No.” Lucille’s tone froze his blood with its grimness. “I didn’t do that.”

Job, after being dazed by the escalating lights of the Throne, looked to Lucille. She pointed to the base of the orb. Following her finger, Job saw what she saw. His iced blood cracked at the sight. It emerged from the obscured shadow of the Throne, where the cylinders emitted no light. A foot, leathery from wear and age, stamped down and pulled forward a skeleton beyond gaunt. The creature trailed behind it a train of cables and wires. Its hand parted a tangle of the wires attached to its body. Patches of grey hair clung helplessly to the burned skin. The veins protruded and the network of nerves could be seen just below. Sightless, the creature stared at the guests. Eyes still remained in the sockets, but heavy cataracts kept them from being useful. The skull snapped forward.

“Who is a host that never greets his guests?”

Even digitized, compressed, and projected, its voice was husky and shrill. More gasp than speech.

Lucille nearly tumbled into a fall down the steps trying to back away. The others just gawked.

“You have brought no gifts to the Master?” Esau queried. “Granted, I have no need for drink or food.”

Primal flight slowly pushed through the others. Whatever stood before them couldn’t be reasoned with or compromised. The guests already started their retreat, but hadn’t fully committed.

“Since none of you wish to succeed me. Disappointing. You will have to be my drink and food. Hold yourselves: you lot will need to be digested first.”

With that, everyone dashed down the stairs.

Esau raised his arms up and the globe spun with a greater ferocity. “Servants, liquidate the guests.”

The floating particles collapsed together into clouds as the group sprinted to the crawlspace. Servants gradually reformed themselves from the free data and stepped down to the floor.

“Service, show me the quickest path back!” Lucille commanded, as she slid into the tight tunnel. The others quickly crouched through the space. Tendrils formed behind them as more Servants took shape.

“Cancel request.” Esau’s decree aborted the execution. “Remove all privileges from guests and administrators.”

Service didn’t pause and merely spoke: “Of course, master.”

By this point, Bae pushed Catherine through the hole. Catherine, still not fully there cognitively, barely could pull herself forward without Bae shoving her through.

Lucille’s heart pounded in her ears as the others followed her. “I remember how to get back!” she yelled to the others. “Just follow me!”

She wondered if she misplaced her trust and belief in herself. The others had little to no faith in her, why should she? However, blind confidence had to be her last refuge. It was all they had left.

Konrad held his breath. Every stray wire or corner felt like the presence of a Servant, ready to form from the ether and pounce. Job steadied himself, but could his hair stand like pins on his skin.

Lucille dragged herself out and up. She held hoist Job up.

As she did, she asked: “Flashlight?”

With no chance or desire to object, he handed the device over.

“We’ll get through this together,” she assured.

For some arcane, he believed it. Or the adrenaline motivated to do so. Job lowered himself to pull Konrad through, then both of them aided Catherine up. Bae nearly tore herself. Beckoning wildly, Lucille ran forward.

Job managed to keep up with her with little issue. They sped ahead, jumping over rooted wires and ducking under overhangs. Bae flipped Catherine back into her arms. Caught in between, Konrad tarried to make sure Catherine and Bae weren’t lost, but never dared to lose sight of Lucille and Job. He wiped his hands on his shirt to sop up the sweat accrued on his palms. Reclicking his own flashlight, he swung the light around to gauge his surroundings. Nauseatingly contorted towers bent towards him. A bulb formed in the back of his throat. He shook his head and swallowed, but just as he did, his whole body lurched. Wayward wires had formed a loop. The top of his foot slipped right into it, leading to his abrupt fall. His flashlight flew out of his hand.

It rolled away. A disturbance in the air shaped like a leg stepped into the light. High frequency buzzing crackled all around Konrad. He bucked his foot out of his shoe and got to his feet, but only to see two Servants, blue shades in a sea of black, with hands outstretched towards him. Jackknifing away, Konrad brushed against one of them. Rapid-fire scenes of his life flashed before him.

Newspaper.

Funerals.

Me-Ma.

Numb.

What should have been a second lasted for minutes. When he came to, they were just as close to him. Raw dread came over him. His jaw went slack.

“Not again!” he yelled out. “I won’t go back.”

“Go away!” Bae screamed. Konrad looked behind and saw three Servants hounding her as she carried Catherine. The Servant’s hand gripped the back of his skull. Electricity curled and twisted through him. White burned his vision. Uncle Ezekiel’s face burnished in his mind, unmoored from his memory. Hazy as a dream. A settling calm suffused through him and pushed Konrad down like a heavy blanket.

“Take a seat,” he gently said. “Your family’s waiting.”

He heard a car door unlock and open.

“I told you,” Konrad choked up. Blood and tears wet his face. “I told you!”

The calm burned away and infernal pain arose. It pooled in his head.

“I told you!” he repeated.

“We need you,” his uncle’s lips formed the words. He saw Delilah and Ma and Pa.

“We need you.”

“We need you.”

“We need you.”

“You can sleep in the car,” Zeek said.

“Drive away!” The images and sounds pushed away from him. Konrad willed the pain outside of his brain. It thundered in his skull. “You’re gone! You have each other!” The electricity plunged down his spine and through his nerves. Coiled, he struggled against the inward current. His eyes saw Bae using a loose cord to whip at the Servants, but it only slowed their harrying. “They need me!” Clamping his jaw shut, he forced the dissolved Servant into his muscles. He screamed as his flesh shuddered. The smell of burning skin and hair assaulted his nose. His arm hung back and swung around. Arcs of lightning erupted from the movement. The closest partner Servant dissipated. Then, Konrad loosed all the energy and purged the Servant from his body. The cyan bolt struck the Servants that surrounded Bae and Catherine. A percussive rip tore the air around them. Sputtering sparks whipped around them.

Catherine blinked to get the stars out of her eyes.

Bae could see shapes already starting to reform in the clouds of lights. She picked up Catherine again. Still in excruciating pain, Konrad cringed as he snatched up his flashlight again. He could see a diminishing sliver of light up ahead. Despite his entire body demanding he rest, he sprinted to not lose their only guiding light.

Konrad and Bae ran as hard as they could, traversing the byzantine roads of the basement. The flashlight illuminated the sight of Job’s back, as Lucille ascended up stairs. Job glanced back. He sighed in relief, but stopped as he looked at Konrad.

“What?” Konrad asked.

“Nothing!” Job ripped away. “We’re almost there.” He then saw how weighed down Bae was and wheeled back to attend to her. Without asking, he collected Catherine into his arms. Bae nodded, then ran up the steps. Opening her eyes fully, Catherine looked up to Job.

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” Job replied.

I was more than willing to abandon you, you thought. Guilt could wait. His legs pounded against the stairs beneath him until he breached into the greeting room of the mansion. Lucille pushed down the knob of the door. Her fist collided with the glass of the door.

“Bastard locked us in!”

Job heard boards creak all around them. From the floors, undistinguishable faces rose. From the wall, slender legs stepped through. From the ceiling, hands scratched and probed. In the windows, Service stepped across the reflection and watched. Its master bidding had to be seen to its end.

Konrad, exasperated, held his face.

Bae fell to her knee and massaged her arm.

Catherine held Job’s shoulder in a vain attempt of comfort.

Lucille realized she had to finish what she started. Her glassy blue eyes narrowed. They focused on an accessory table with a metal vase. A fern-like plant spiraled up from the water inside. In an act she felt sacrilegious, she swiped the cold metal vase. Lucille held the vase and lobbed it into the window. It sailed through the bubbled glass. The roar of the outside storm entered the mansion. Service continued to watch with a jagged hole in its side. Then, she grabbed the table itself, spun, and crashed it through to make the opening large enough.

Job picked up on what Lucille was doing and launched himself, with Catherine, through the window. He landed on the concrete with a painful strike. Catherine crawled off him, now finally able to support her own weight. She stumbled down to the dock.

Bae dodged the ever-closer Servants and followed Job’s defenestration with her own leap. She caught up to Catherine and helped her along the rain-slick ground.

Konrad, still reeling, needed Lucille to push him out. Job caught him and patted him along - careful not to strike too hard. Those two descended the steps together just as Bae and Catherine loaded onto the boat.

Lucille finally let herself escape and jumped away. By the time her feet landed on the wood of the dock, everyone else resided in the boat. She dared to look back. The exterior looked exactly as magnificent as it had when she first landed with her other guests. Nostalgia pained her. The lost potential gutted her. But the mansion still stood. Could some else come along and bring this place back to its imagined glory? She failed, but could she…

Lucille didn’t notice that Service turned and now looked at her. She didn’t see the strangled lines of light as the Servants emerged from the house. Unable to reform as discretely, they conjoined together a wild skeletal framework. The electricity screamed as it interlocked together. Long fangs of lightning extended. A mouth of once-calming blue light opened all around Lucille.

When she finally saw the last gasp of the mansion before her, ready to eat her body and soul, a wash of final bliss came over her.

Lucille closed her eyes.

A hand gripped the back of her collar and dragged her onto the boat. Lucille tumbled to the floor. Jam slammed the door. The jaws of the mansion cracked down before the lines writhed against the glass.

Coughing, Lucille pushed a palm against the floor before looking up at Job.

“You didn’t have to do that.” She looked listless at the front of the boat. “Esau revoked my privileges. I can’t send you off.”

“I assumed that.” Job seated himself next to his luggage. “But we’re all safe now.”

“No, I meant…” Lucille clawed her away up to the seats. “...you should have left me.”

“What was that we promised?” Job asked. “I remember all too well. ‘Let’s stay together. Help each other out…’ Something like that?” He smiled at her. “I still can’t forgive you, but I can at least keep our promise.”

Unable to respond, Lucille let her head fall.

Bae unscrewed a bottle of ibuprofen, handed a pill to Konrad, and handed him a water bottle. He took it and gulped down the medicine.

“Job,” he muttered. “You gave me a look back there.”

“I did,” Job said.

“Why?”

“Bae, do you have a mirror?” he asked. Without replying, she unzipped her bag and produced a pocket mirror. She popped it and handed it to Konrad. Before he saw the reflection, his eyes settled on his arms. Long, spidery threads of pink scar tissue laced through his forearms. When he looked at his reflection, he saw a similar pattern had stretched across his face. Thick branches of scars with tiny offshoots seemed to have wormed beneath him.

“Christ.” He shut the pocket mirror.

Bae pocketed it. “The scarring will probably fade.”

“Konrad, it isn’t that bad,” Job said. “It was more out of shock.”

“Yeah.” His head leaned back. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m just happy that I’m alive right now.”

Job and Bae nodded. Lucille remained still, but gave a small groan in her throat. Catherine put a hand on the “captain’s” door and slipped into the cabin.

“There’s no way to start it manually,” Lucille said.

“Then, I guess I’ll have to ask,” Catherine replied. “Service, start up the boat and send us back to Termina Wharf.” The voice chimed through the boat.

“Of course, Master Catherine.”

The unmanned steering wheel turned, as the engine sputtered to life. The waters beneath churned.

Stunned, the others (even Lucilly emerged from her crestfallen state) looked at Catherine, who slumped back onto the cushions. She leaned across the bench. Her body still had a long road to recovery.

“How did you get master privileges?” Lucille asked.

“He sure as hell didn’t tell me he did,” Catherine replied. “When I got jacked into the system, I automatically gained those privileges. That’s what he wanted: someone to keep the systems running even if he expired. A Servant couldn’t keep Lacrima alive. He needed a living brain. I bet even Esau didn’t have those privileges until he stabbed himself directly into the Throne.” She shrugged. “At least, that’s what I pieced together. I bet if those Servants got us, either me or Lucille or both of us would’ve been plugged in. The rest of you would just be data.” Catherine lowered herself into a proper nap.

Bae found an emergency blanket in her bag and unfurled it over Catherine. She tucked Catherine’s emaciated body into the cover.

“Bae,” Catherine muttered. “I said some hurtful things to you before I went down to the Throne.”

“You did,” Bae said, plainly and with no hint of hurt. Though it stung previously, she recognized that it no longer did.

“All that about me not liking you outside of Lacrima? I apologize. That was uncalled for. Not to excuse it, but I was so locked onto my task, I… ran my mouth,” she explained.

“Hey, I appreciate it,” Bae said. “And what you said wasn’t all that bad. You were being honest. I have to agree with you that Catherine and that me probably would’ve never been real friends.” Propping her elbow against the sill of the viewing window, Bae eased herself next to Catherine. “But who knows about this version of us?”

Catherine grinned at that.

“Speaking of friends,” Bae started. She then snapped and gestured to Job. “And speaking of promises, Konrad, Job, and I are going to eat after this. Think you’d be up for it.”

“Let me sleep first,” Catherine said through closed lids. “After all this, the only thing I want to do is uncork a bottle of White Zinfandel and play Morrowind.” She yawned and faced the wall. “But, after I wake up, I’ll definitely want something to eat. If it happens to be with you three, I’ll bite.”

Bae closed her own eyes, content.

Lucille looked on and sighed. She didn’t bother asking Job. The last thing she wanted was pity. A stranger to space and time, Lucille came to terms with leaving Lacrima. She had a lot to think about and unpack when she returned to Warren.

Everyone back home will have a lot of questions, she thought.

Konrad felt his phone hum in his hand. He just scrolled and clicked his grandma’s contact. After an eternity, it connected. He snapped the phone to his ear.

“Me-Ma, I’m alive! This is Konrad…

…I just couldn’t make calls… Sorry about that…

…But I’m okay…

…Give me some time, I have to explain a lot…”

Job leaned his head against the glass. He looked back and the island had long since vanished. Through his glasses, he watched as the serpentine tracks of gray clouds parted. Streaks of baby blue sky striped over them. Sunbeams eked through these breaks, but the sun itself remained obscured. The sound of raindrops slowed, then ceased altogether.

THE END