The Amnesiac

Interlude: The Past II

There was a quiet, excited tension in the air. The hairs on Anatoly's arms stood up. He was transfixed by the new girl's words.

"We found him in desperation. On our hearts were wishes. He offered us a deal, he promised gifts in exchange. One in five he honored, the rest received his curse.

Shall I count myself fortunate? Never. They were the fortunate ones, my friends who've gone away. I revile his tainted gift. I would welcome death now. I dream of the shade. I long for eternal rest. Yet here I stand alone. I must remain to accuse, and to give dire warning. No one else is left."

The room was quiet. Anatoly was absorbed to totality. She might've had theater experience, this new girl, for she read her translation of the Queen's notes with gripping emotion.

"False Faith. Idler. Cheat. Rogue. Devil." She punctuated each word so that Anatoly felt them like punches to the gut.

"Listen you who have ears. Set his wretched deals aside. He can not be trusted...."

At that, the research assistant looked up and adjusted her glasses. "It.... doesn't end there," she said.

They sat in a circle as they always did. And while a circle cannot be said to have a head, there was no mistaking the fact that Dr. Gilbert was at the pinnacle of the gathering. He rose with a flourish, sure that all eyes would turn to him.

"Is there mention of how to encounter this.... gift-giver?"

The girl appeared taken aback. "Encounter? No, there's no mention of that. Her writing is part personal reflection, she obviously assumes knowledge of the basics. The other part is cautionary tale."

"There must be some description of-"

"There isn't. The Queen wasn't interested in leaving behind a how-to tutorial for summoning dummies," the new girl said. "I... think she started writing to get the guilt and grief she felt off her chest, but in the end she meant to leave the book behind for her children, to warn them never to do what she did."

The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "I see. Well, we can take away a few major points. One - further confirmation of our modus operandi. The magic described by the prophets and other folklore is not metaphorical or allegorical. Two - ancient individuals, those more inquisitive, intelligent, or willing to abandon blind obedience to doctrine that ensnared their contemporaries, were able to acquire some rudimentary ability to direct this force to act in their favor. Three -"

Boris Jamison cleared his throat. "Hang on. I think we need to come to grips with something I've been saying for a while now. In all these cases, the "force", magic, or whatever you want to call it is personified. We can't keep expecting to dig deep enough that we'll strike magical oil. Isn't ignoring that fact buying into the allegorical interpretation that we've rejected?"

"It's easier to personify traits than to accept them as external and mysterious," Anatoly said. 

Boris glared at him. "I'm not saying-"

"You want there to be something you can grasp, a single, definite, being rather than a nebulous source of cosmic energy. I get it, but we have to be better than that," The doctor said. 

Anatoly grimaced. Every time the doctor took his side it made the other boy hate him a little more. Boris and he had never been best friends, but they'd learned to work well together. The doctor's orders that their research should remain individual had fucked all that up. 

Anatoly had gotten the rich, detailed prophecies of Daniel. It'd been a veritable gold-mine of material that he'd turned into papers, theories, and accolades. It'd even lead to his eventual promotion as senior research assistant. 

Boris, on the other hand, had been assigned the relatively obscure topic of The Sorcerer of Trois-Freres. The entirety of what he had to work with consisted of a few clumsily painted cave figures and some untraceable folklore passed down through the oral tradition. He'd never gotten over the perceived injustice, even when Anatoly had actively petitioned the Doctor on his behalf to let him research other topics as well. 

Salma Paige tilted her head. She was often quiet, but when she spoke it was usually worth paying attention to. "I think he might have a point," she said in a rapid voice. "The Djinn are often shown having unique individual personalities, this suggests to me a  dispersion of-" 

"Not necessarily," The Doctor interjected. "Consider an ancient mind describing the difference between electricity and oil. You might imagine they would see the various differences each energy source possesses as quirks, or embodiment of different ideals."

Anatoly nodded. "The greeks crafted a tangled web of romance, intrigue, betrayal, friendship, and humor to make their gods more personable. I think it's a mistake to speculate that personality differences suggest anything more than human creation."

"Speculate? You're the one speculating," Boris barked. 

"Tell him, Boris," Salma said.

The new girl raised her hand suddenly, causing everyone to stop and look at her. 

After a moment's silence, the Doctor chuckled. "You can speak freely here," he said. 

"Thank you," The girl said as she stood.

I can see why Gilbert gave her the Queen's text, Anatoly thought. She seemed to hold herself with a certain confidence that bespoke... regality.

With chin high, she spoke. "I'm new to this group, and you all have been working on this a lot longer than me. I'm not going to pretend to know or understand everything. But I have spent a lot of time with the Queen's letters. I almost feel like I know her, like she's an old friend. I'll say this and leave it there.... The Queen didn't want anyone else to have to suffer the same fate she and her friends did. Whatever or whoever they found, it wasn't good."

"Don't be ridiculous," Salma snipped, "Good or bad, entity or not... we have to find it no matter what."

The Doctor frowned. "We appreciate your hard work, Mercy. You don't have to pay dues or climb the ladder. You're already a member of the team. With that said, if you don't agree with our aim, you are not going to be forced to stay here."

The room was silent. Finally, the new girl spoke in a soft voice. "I'm not saying that. I'm just saying... we should be careful."

Boris' face softened as he looked at Mercy. "You're right," he said, "And your work was really good. But they're right to. We've come too far..."

Anatoly spoke up to relieve the poor girl of Gilbert's intense attention. "Whatever we're looking for," he said, "it's obviously remarkably unstable."

The girl-

Mercy, I have to start thinking of her as Mercy instead of the 'new girl'.

Mercy gave him a look of immense gratitude. He smiled back at her.

Boris' face flushed crimson, instantly curling into a snarl. He opened his mouth to speak but then-

CLAP

The Doctor slapped his hands together once loudly.

Salma yelped, fell off her chair, and began giggling. "God you almost gave me a heart attack. Boris, help me up."

Boris eyed Anatoly for another moment, then shook his head and turned away. He chuckled, "Gotta be more careful," he said, extending a hand to Salma.

Doctor Gilbert grinned. "These next couple weeks I want everyone to dig in deep. We're close, I can feel it. I want you to eat, sleep, and breathe your research. Get into the mind of your respective monks, wizards, prophets, rulers, and geniuses. Know what they knew, believe what they believed. Become them, if you must."