Lacrima: Chapter Twenty
Conversation
Lucille sneered as her hands formed claws over the typewriter keys. She had left the others in the dining room. Below, they discussed all the fascinating sights and strange properties of Esau’s mansion. She allowed them to do that, for she needed time to compose herself.
The overdue conversation needed to be structured. Needed to be thoughtfully.
Needed to be done.
She looked over the words of the page.
“Why do you do this to me?”
“Too aggressive,” she said to what she typed. She grabbed the paper and ripped it out of the typewriter. Discarding the scrap into the wastebin, she crossed over to the center of her room. “I wanted to do this differently.”
Her eye cast over Gustav Dore’s depictions of Dante Inferno. There was one where a nude figure presented his own decapitated head to Dante and Virgil. The next showed the whirlwind of lusty souls upward into the stratosphere. But her sight rested on Satan, hands mounting face, frozen in ice. She took a step closer and felt the paper. These were simple, cheap prints which Service provided. A sense of longing pricked her chest. Lucille wanted real prints of Dore lithographs, but Lacrima couldn’t provide those for her.
Her frustrations mounted. Mostly at her own weakness.
“Why don’t the others just sit still?”
Argus…
“First him.”
Catherine.
“Then her. Bae would’ve been next. Naive little Konrad would follow suit.”
Would it be so bad with just Job?
“Knowing him. He would get restless.” She pulled her hand away, formed a fist, and punched the bed. “It’s always the academics I like too much.”
It’s a shame what happened to Catherine, she accepted. But we can take our losses and eke out a victory.
Tie the loose ends.
Make this right.
Lucille left her room with efficient speed. When left alone, the other guests made stupid decisions. With her though, she might be able to save them from themselves.
Her hand glided down the railing as she went down the staircase. She admired the smooth grain of the stonework. Three generations of guests and not a single knick or smear marred it. Cool air - controlled and constant - soothed her lungs. Instead of breaking off to the dining room, Lucille made a detour. She wasn’t ready to see her dear friends just yet.
Lucille made her way to the greenhouse. She slipped inside and planted herself on the bench. The glass allowed her to see the forest up the hill, leaves weighed down by heavy rain. Rivulets ran down through the grass and pooled into an artificial lake. Stepping stones broke up the surface of the water. Lucille imagined skipping between the rocks when the weather cleared. Though, it never stops raining in Lacrima, does it? Mats of algae drifted as unmoored islands among the stones. The water itself: the deepest, loveliest shade of blue Lucille ever desired. She loved every shade of blue, but this dense, aching hue supplanted all others in richness. Lucille wanted to drop down and take a swim through them. Most guests never knew that such a body of water formed in the backyard of the mansion. It was her little keepsake, tucked away for her to pull out and enjoy.
Lucille understood why the others sought out the little secrets and pleasures of the mansion. She held that impulse herself. What she felt they lacked though was appreciation. They wanted to learn more of the mansion just to take back pieces of it with them upon their homecomings.
Bae Yuri wanted recovery and human connection.
Job Bezalel wanted observational research.
Konrad O’Flannery wanted evidence of ghosts.
Catherine Lovelace wanted deeper knowledge of the digital architecture of the mansion.
Argus Nebbel, that uninvited guest, wanted his brother.
“See that’s a flaw in your design, Esau,” Lucille said, knowing he could hear her. “This is no home. This is a pilgrimage site. Ultimately, you made this place temporary. You didn’t realize the value of what you made.
“Lucky for you. You invited me here.”
Lucille rose from the bench and brushed past the ferns. She returned to the hallway and crossed to the dining room. Having thankfully not done anything rash, the three sat around the table. Job opened Esau’s journal and pointed to a diagram which Lucille recognized as page fifty-four. Konrad and Bae stood on either side.
“This is where I stopped.”
Konrad took the book and held it up to his face. Intently, he scanned the page. Bae looked up to Lucille. Bandages were wrapped around her shoulder and anywhere else she brushed against a servant of the mansion. Pink scar tissue peeked out from underneath the dressings. She beamed a smile.
“Didn’t hear you come in,” she noted.
Bae, ever-accommodating. Lucille thought. Poor girl.
Lucille just nodded before taking a seat across from the three.
“Are you okay?” Job raised an eyebrow.
“Of course, why?”
“You seem agitated.” He motioned to her. “Especially the part about us being ‘overdue for a conversation.’ What do you want to talk about?”
He remembered what I said, Lucille thought. I picked well when I invited him.
“I was, I won’t lie.” Lucille spun her wrists in space. “You all running around has been really anxiety-inducing, dipping in and out. I like my comfort. That’s what I wanted to talk about.”
Job’s face softened, looking receptive. “I get that. You have to understand-”
“This mansion is amazing!” she interrupted.
“In a few words, yes,” Job stumbled back.
“Believe me, I understand,” Lucille said. “I just wanted to air out my emotions. Secrets shouldn’t be kept between us anymore.”
Job’s right brow stiffened. “Agreed.”
Job hesitated there. He himself is holding back information. Lucille leaned back in her chair, embodying her steadily rising confidence.
The whites of Konrad’s eyes widened. “Holy crap!” He cleared his throat. “Guys, I know I keep saying this, but there’s more than just digital assistants to this mansion.”
“Don’t tell me it’s ghosts,” Job said, but not sounding dismissive. After what he’s seen and felt, ghosts weren’t far off from angels and forbidden knowledge.
“Persay?” Konrad shrugged his shoulders as he finished absorbing the words. “Maybe. Like, dude, Esau is saying how someone could exist past death.”
“What?” Job stepped closer, letting Lucille fade to the background. “I haven’t read this yet. Is that really what this page is about?” He tore the journal from Konrad and began reading.
“I think?” Konrad scratched his head and closed his eyes. “That doesn’t make sense. From what you told me about the rest of the journal, that reads like a page from someone else’s journal.”
“I haven’t read the rest of the book,” Job said. “A lot could’ve happened between page eight and fifty-four.”
Way too much happened, Job thought, pouring over the page’s content.
Bae leaned over to read with him, but kept her attention on Konrad.
Konrad breathed in. “It’s essentially saying that humans are just meat computers. When our brains die, so does our consciousness. Like hardware breaking and losing the data.”
“That’s a pretty common view,” Bae commented.
“Yeah,” Konrad replied, uneasy. “But Esau goes a step forward and thinks that we can keep consciousness going after death.”
“How?” she asked.
“Well, if consciousness is just the firing of neurons powered by electricity, then a second brain could keep that ‘soul’ going,” Konrad explained. “Of course, you would need to capture consciousness in an isolated environment. If you don’t, you just run a digital copy of the mind with no continuity between the human and the digital version.”
“He was thinking of engineering an afterlife?”
“Seems like it,” Konrad said. “How, exactly, we’d have to ask the man himself.”
“Bae. Konrad.” Job said. “We’re missing context. This whole book is about Lacrima and the mansion. What does a digital afterlife have to do with-”
“The servants,” Bae said. Her voice peaked. “The servants who manage this place. You don’t think…”
Job’s mind clicked with the implication. “That the servants are these - what - ghosts? Of people?” He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“That would explain why I could recognize the man in the photo and connect it to a servant because that’s the same person!” Konrad straightened up and regarded Lucille. “I wasn’t seeing things!”
Bae wrenched the book from Job’s hands. “If consciousness is just electricity or data, I guess, then wouldn’t thoughts be a part of that?”
“That would explain your whole thought-hearing experience,” Konrad continued. “The page noted that the infrastructure would require capturing consciousness. Maybe the basement is that isolated environment. Meaning this is related to Lacrima, Job!”
“Woah!” Job lifted two hands up to halt both Konrad and Bae. “Let’s slow down.”
“Indeed.” Lucille stood up from her chair and made her way to the water curtain. This action alone brought Job, Bae, and Konrad’s attention to her. Her finger slid into the cascading sheet, disturbing it with a gap. “Too much.”
“We’re assuming too much?” Job asked to clarify. “Exactlly. You two need to relax. Let’s go through the rest of the journal.”
“Let’s not,” Lucille said, commanding, but not raising her voice. “You are wielding knowledge you don’t have the wisdom to use.”
Job blinked. “What?”
Lucille pulled her finger back and rubbed the wetness with her thumb. “You don’t need to know. Let me be your guide.”
Job stepped away from the table and approached her. “Speak straight to me.”
“I am.” Lucille saw her reflection ripple in the water. “You will reach so many false conclusions by just reading that journal.”
“In the meantime, yes, but that’s why we need to read the whole thing. And we don’t need to rely on it.”
“I agree, because you can’t.” Lucille pronated her hands, as if levitating. “Knowing will never be enough. You need to feel Lacrima. But with experience comes responsibility. I wouldn’t want that burden to fall on you.”
Job reached a hand for Lucille. Concern washed over him “What’s gotten into you?”
“Lacrima.” Lucille then clutched her hands back to fists, but kept them lowered at her sides. “Service!”
The whole room became awash in Lucille’s coveted shade of blue. The blue she felt, but the others did not. Harsh static intruded the space. Service appeared, superimposing Lucille’s reflection. “Admin Azure, what can I do for you?”
“What’s going on?!” Job yelled out.
She ignored him. “I have three commands. Take Bae, Job, and Konrad to their rooms. Then, reorganize them. Lastly, open the Elysium preset.”
“Executing commands. Please wait while we process your commands, Lucille.”
In the corner of the water curtain, a blinking cursor appeared. Line after line of code spilled down the space. Konrad watched as commands shot down. The static wall roared. He stumbled back before falling. The boards around him open up. Hands, fluid, yet jittery, reached upward and into him. They slid into his skin, arrested his nerves, and made him shudder. Electricity stabbed into his spine. He felt a cold jab through his brain before he fell completely unconscious.
Bae jumped over the table and managed to pass through the door. She had spent too long evading the servants - she wasn’t going to be taken now! Reaching the hallway, she then realized how futile it was. The tiles in the ceiling opened and the servant dripped down before forming to their full height onto the floor. They didn’t slowly advance, but transmuted into lightning before striking her. Bypassing her outward skin, they surgically galvanized only the parts that kept her struggling. Compromised, her systems shut down. Glitched arms lowered her into their embrace.
Back in the dining hall, Job froze as he watched Servants reach for him as he reached for Lucille. Desperate and irrational, he pulled closer to her.
“What is going on?!”
Finally, Lucille turned to him. Service formed an outline around her. The blues in her eyes glowed of their own accord. She crossed to him and slid her arms under his. Lucille held him tenderly. She looked up at his bewildered face. Her hands glided up his torso before wrapping around the back of his neck. Lucille pulled him down and tilted her head to kiss him. She sucked at an unpuckered mouth.
“You’ll learn,” she said.
Servants melded through, leaving her untouched. Job, on the other hand, felt every fiber of his being invaded. The watts shook him violently. He dropped his knees, rigid. His glasses fell to the floor.
Lucille kissed his cheek, before letting her Servants take him away. Servants danced and bolted around her. Already, the tiles moved and clicked to fulfill her command.
Elysium would open.