Orpheus | Installment Eleven – Reminiscing

“Thousands of miles away—in time, in place,
Each night conspires to create a myth
That stands for nothing real, yet leaves you with
The vague impression of a human face.

The fragments fly apart and shift, trembling
On the threshold of a kind of fullness:
The minor wonder of remembering;
The greater wonders of forgetfulness.”

– What the Stars Meant, by John Koethe, 2002

Reminiscing

“In my life I have found two things of priceless worth – learning and loving. Nothing else – not fame, not power, not achievement for its own sake – can possibly have the same lasting value. For when your life is over, if you can say ‘I have learned’ and ‘I have loved,’ you will also be able to say ‘I have been happy.”
― Arthur C. Clarke, Rama II

Mike found himself walking through the old front doors of the Carpe Librum in a haze. It was as if something in his mind had found a way to detach itself from the reality he was forced to live in, and observe the whole thing from the outside. It was a self-preservation mechanism, the only one he had left.

As he went down to the level, Mike realized with extreme clarity that nothing would ever be the same again from now on. It was not in Miss Oshi’s personality to be pushy – and he knew that, if she had looked for him and managed to find him, it meant that it was necessary.

But what did necessary mean, at this point? Probably having to face some life-changing event or revelation.

He deliberated whether telling Lisa or not, and eventually decided that it would be pointless to create more drama. She was going through so much already – her dad, her dumbass ex-fiancé, her nightmares. Maybe, just maybe, it made sense for Mike to go to the central market on Level 0 on his own, just like he had initially planned when he had first talked about it to Miss Oshi. He could test the waters, have a sense of the danger hiding in the slum without Lisa risking anything. He could also find out if the market had indeed the answers they were looking for, without Lisa having to go through any more emotional stress. If the slum was as dangerous as everyone said it was, Mike didn’t want her there.

As he heard the doors swing behind his back, he set his jaw and closed his eyes for a moment. In a quick and intense instant, is very imaginative mind painted the image of Lisa in danger. Of Lisa victim of the same violence that had taken his father and mother away from him.

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t even go there. He couldn’t even think about it. He had barely survived the mourning, the first time around. If anything like that happened to Lisa… he didn’t think he would ever be able to recover. He would survive somehow, but live again? Probably not.

“Mike… I am so glad to see you. That was quick.”

Miss Oshi’s soft, calm voice welcomed him and she appeared in the huge hallway, hands clasped in front of her body, a tiny smile on her face. Her thin, sparkling dark eyes looked soothing, as usual, but also sad. There was an intangible quality about them tonight, something Mike had never seen before. A resignation that he was not sure he comprehended.

“Good evening, Miss Oshi. I came as quick as I could… I got your message.”

“I know. Where’s your girlfriend?”

That mysterious look stayed in her eyes. Immutable and unmovable.

“She’s… ah… not here. She’s back with her family for a few days. Not in New York right now…” Mike straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. “But I was thinking about going without her, anyway.”

Miss Oshi blinked, very slowly.

“Yes. I understand.”

They started to walk together toward her small office, near the first colossal reading area.

“Ma’am… I was wondering… How did you find me?”

“I have my ways… I am sorry I have intruded, Mike. It really is not my style. But I thought you wanted to be kept informed about the whole thing. Since you were clear about your intentions.”

“Of course. Thanks for letting me know. So, when are we going? Now?”

“Yes, now. But I won’t be going with you. My nephew will.”

She pushed the door open, and Mike noticed a man he had never seen before standing in the room. A thirty-something guy who looked like a bodyguard. Or a mountain. Tall and burly, he wore warrioresque technical clothes and a typical EDC load-out: multitool, knife, phone, flashlight and pistol.

Of course, Mike remembered that legality on lower levels was one’s responsibility, so the man being armed wasn’t surprising. Patting his own hip, he also realized that his gun was at home, in a drawer. He had forgotten to take him with him. Oh, damn.

He blinked and met the guy’s gaze: it was inscrutable and calm. His jet-black straight hair was tied on the top of his head in a classic samurai hairstyle, and his round face was decorated with a very thin mustache and an accurately trimmed goatee.

Then something broke in the stillness of the moment: the guy smiled, and it was like seeing a kid showing complete, absolute joy.

“Hi, I’m Akira. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” He stepped forward, holding out his hand, and Mike shook it. Steel, firm handshake the samurai had.

“Likewise… I’m Mike Jackson.”

“Yes, grandma told me about you. Such a pleasure…”

He was looking at Mike as if he was a jar full of candies. It was a bit awkward.

“Akira works for me and helps me run this place. He is a hacker. And whenever we need something from Level 0, he’s the go-to guy. That’s why you’re going with him tonight, Mike. Akira will be your all-access pass to the market and will also keep you safe.”

Akira was still shaking Mike’s hand and smiling at him from ear to ear. Mike started to feel mildly embarrassed and, finally, was able to withdraw his hand.

The guy scanned his attire.

“You won’t need all those buckles and synthleather down there, buddy. But you might need this.” He extracted a second gun from his jacket and handed it to Mike.

Mike shrugged, shaking his head. Should he tell this guy that he could barely shoot his own gun?

“Yeah, well… thanks, but I don’t really like guns…”

“It doesn’t matter if you like ‘em or not. It’s best if people on Level 0 see that you got one with you… Just in case.” He squinted his eyes. “Take it. You’re gonna give it back to me when we come back. You know how to use it?”

“Sort of…” Frowning, Mike took the gun and pushed in the back of his pants after making sure that the safety lock was activated.

“OK… Just a couple of things before you guys leave.” Miss Oshi sat at his desk. “Akira already knows where he has to take you, Mike. The market is huge, but you’re going to need to be in a specific area. More than anything else, whatever happens you must remember to always stay by Akira’s side. Our family has a privileged relationship with the people running the market, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t have to be careful. However, they were kind enough to let me know that, in the last couple of days, they’ve been selling a lot of items that I believe might be useful for your… research.”

The woman seemed to ponder over her words for a moment.

“Also, you are going down through our private passage.”

“What private passage?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike noticed that Akira had opened a small closet and was fiddling with something.

Miss Oshi smirked.

“Smuggling is tolerated here, but that doesn’t make it legal. It’s the passage we use to move items up and down the levels. We do have an internal dock here at the library. Nothing really technological, but it does its job.”

“OK…”

“Hey… you gotta wear this, too.” Akira handed him a vest, and Mike frowned.

“What’s this?” His level of alert was rising by the second. He had no idea that going to Level 0 involved this degree of secrecy… and security.

“It’s a bulletproof, AI shielding vest made of titanium and some advanced polymers. Put it on.” The big guy was now serious, as if he was mentally immersing himself in the task he had to accomplish. As if that task needed his maximum concentration.

Quietly, Mike complied.

“Alright. You two are all set, seems like.” Miss Oshi rose from her chair, walked around the desk and her nephew gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. She touched his face and watched him, her eyes gentle. “Be careful, Aki. And bring Mike back safe and sound, OK?”

“Yes, grandma.”

It was raining, but it didn’t look like rain at all. It looked like mud coming from above. Or blood.

The moment he and Akira stepped out of the deck, finding themselves on Level 0, Mike immediately noticed the slimy texture and the smell. It was not pleasurable. He covered his head with the hood of his trench coat and glanced around. Horrible space. Deserted, dirty, empty. Dead.

He had expected Level 0 not to be the best place in town, but he hadn’t fathomed this. Once again, he was glad that Lisa was still in San Francisco.

The place was dark – no neon signs illuminating the black roads, no streetlamps, nothing at all, except for some tenuous lights coming from the windows of the old, semi-destroyed buildings. Homes. Places where people lived. Mike wondered how, in which condition. Absolute poverty, a decaying sense of defeat permeated everything, and he realized why Level 0 was called the slum.

“I hope this place looks better during the day… with a bit of sunshine…” He muttered as he walked near Akira down the deserted road.

“Sunshine? Dude, natural light never reaches this level. Plus, it’s always raining down here. It’s a fucking cesspool.”

They sped up the pace at the same time.

“How can people live here?”

“They manage. Somehow.” Akira sniffled and made a disgusted face. “I don’t think they have a choice, you know?”

“Right…” Mike spoke through gritted teeth.

After they turned the corner the smell got even worse and Mike, too, winced. In the semi-darkness of the road, made shiny by the slimy rain, he noticed something on the concrete, across the street, near the curb.

“Akira… what the fuck is that. I think…” He squinted his eyes, “I think it’s a person… lying there…”

Akira grabbed him by the elbow and started to drag him away.

“Yeah, it is. Let’s go. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, wait – maybe they need help…” Mike tried to disentangle himself from the grasp, but the other guy was really strong. He glared at him. “Hey… you gotta let me go, dude. Come on.”

“Mike – whoever that is, is dead. Or will be soon. Move your ass, we gotta go. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“What?!”

Akira moved behind Mike’s back and pushed him forward unceremoniously as a couple of people appeared across the street, near the bundle lying on the ground.

“I said, move your ass,” he hissed.

Their pace quickened once again and, after turning another corner, Akira finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, dude, but we ain’t got no time for any of that. Put your compassion aside for a moment. That’s exactly what those people count on.” He sounded a bit out of breath. “Did you see those guys near that thing on the road?”

“Yeah…”

Mike glanced over his shoulder. Nobody. Yet a shiver ran down his spine. The aftershock of a potential and barely dodged danger.

“They’re able to lure their intended victims with some kind of a ruse… And well, that’s one of the strategies they use. They hope someone will stop to see what’s going on… see if they can help and stuff. And that’s exactly how you get in trouble.”

“They use dead bodies to attract people?”

“Yeah…” Akira panted, his pace quickening again. “And usually those dead bodies belong to people who stopped… People like you. So… don’t stop, unless I tell you so. There’s nothing good down here… except for information… if you know where to find it.”

The playful, almost childlike personality Akira had displayed while at the library had disappeared. Because where they were now, there was nothing to joke about. Out of sheer instinct and out of sheer survival, Mike’s hand went behind his own back. Without even realizing what he was doing, he made sure that the gun was still at his place.

They kept walking for a few minutes, and finally Akira pointed at a nondescript building.

“There. That’s where we’re going…”

Before Mike could open his mouth to say something, a group of people closed around them. He stopped, freezing instantly. Once again, his hand went back and to the gun. Akira elbowed him slightly.

“No… don’t do that,” he whispered. Then he took a deep breath, positioned himself in front of Mike and smiled that dazzling smile of his. “Yo, guys, it’s me! How’s it going?”

And just like that, they stopped. Only one of them stepped forward. Blond dreadlocks covered his skinny, menacing face almost entirely. His eyes, brown and expressive, were concealed within their sockets and a scar stretched from just under his right eyebrow, running toward the left side of his lips. It ended under his chin, leaving a memory of what must have been an almost fatal fight.

The man, about fifty years of age – or maybe younger, but made derelict by the place he lived in –  stood tall above the others despite his skinny frame and Mike felt that there was something inexplicable about him. It was because of his intense quietness. Or maybe his barely concealed hatred.

“Akira. I can’t say I’m surprised to see you.”

The man smirked but only one corner of his mouth lifted. It looked like the blade cutting his face had damaged his nerves permanently.

Akira’s smile became even broader.

“Dane Cromer. It’s always a pleasure to bump into you, man. By the way…” They shook hands while the other people – and Mike was pretty sure they were gang members – scattered, being swallowed by the shadows once again. “…My grandmother sends her regards…”

“Your grandmother is a wonderful lady. Thank you.” The man’s eyes moved over to Mike and scanned him. They narrowed for a moment. Then Cromer blinked, as if snapping out of an intrusive thought. “I see you got a new friend with you.”

“Yes. Grandmother told me that you already know what we need…”

“Yeah, I do.” He stepped to the side and stood right before Mike. Cocking his head to a side, he stared straight into his eyes. “Good evening, Mister Jackson. Welcome to Level 0. I’m sure you find it lovely.”

Mike didn’t reply. His face remained an inscrutable mask.

“I’m the leader of the Electric Spider Association… We run this market. We call it the Purgatory, and you’ll soon understand why. I’ll take you and Akira to the area you need to visit, but I have to first lay down the law. First rule: you can’t take anything with you. Consultation only. You can read and touch and watch whatever you want, and that has a price, but nothing ever leaves the market. Unless you’re extremely, and I mean extremely wealthy – but I don’t think this is the case. Second rule: give me your phone or any camera you have with you. No recordings. I’ll give it all back to you before you leave.”

Dane Cromer held out his hand.

Quietly, wondering why he felt this sudden eerie peace in his soul, Mike extracted his phone from his coat and placed it in the man’s hand.

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Third and last rule: Miss Oshi told me that you need to check items coming from the forsaken list. You can talk about everything involving the list, but only inside the building. Not out here. Not anywhere else. The police usually don’t come down to the slum, and the technological control down here is not great because our systems are outdated and nobody ain’t investing any money, but some of our people move through the levels and I don’t want them to get in trouble. OK?”

Mike nodded. Cromer’s tone was firm, but his voice sounded strangely soft. There was something about him that told Mike he was not as bad as he looked.

“OK… we’re ready to go, then.”

Miss Oshi poured herself a glass of red wine behind the bar counter and stared at her own reflection in the mirror. The cafeteria was deserted, and she could only hear the quiet steps of the people moving from hall to hall in the library. Her eyes were moist. She felt for Mike and she felt for Lisa. How could all this possibly end on a positive note? The chances were very thin.

That insane sensitivity that had always plagued her…

Maybe she should have just given up her humanity and agreed to live on Level 5, where her husband had wanted her, so many years earlier. But she couldn’t. The time and place of her younger years were nothing like the inhumanity that inhabited the top levels of the megacities. New York, sure, but every place was now just the same. While she, born in Japan, had been able to experience life as it used to be for quite a long time, because her homeland had been one of the last countries to succumb to the new world order. Its final objective had been clear from the get-go, for the most awakened minds: to subjugate people. And now they were all stuck in it and there was no way out. Not on this planet, at least.

When she had first seen Mike and Lisa step into the library, Oshi’s heart had skipped a beat and she had suddenly remembered what she thought she had forgotten. But alas, her most peculiar quality had always been her phenomenal memory. She was like an elephant: ancient and unable to relegate anything to oblivion. Her blessing and her curse. Those two faces were familiar, and it took her a few seconds to place them. The scattered mental puzzle soon became a perfectly painted drawing and her heart had bled for the young couple.

She knew that people like Mike and Lisa existed and had actually gotten to know at least one of them in her life, albeit so long ago. The beautiful blonde lady with doe eyes and a curvaceous body. So utterly lost. So unhappy. So trapped. Back then, centuries ago, and right now. And sometimes, just glancing at the people on the streets, she had a feeling there were more like them in the city. More people like the blonde woman, more people like Mike and Lisa. Mixing with other citizens, unaware of who they really were. Oshu knew for a fact that the wealthier the city, the higher the chance to meet someone like them.

She also knew that Mike would finally come to understand what others like him couldn’t. He had a powerful weapon with him, something that others like him didn’t have: he was not alone. He had Lisa. Their collision – inevitable, of course, despite everything – would be able to make a difference. It didn’t matter that Lisa wasn’t with Mike at this very moment. The seed had been planted, and he would know. They both would. Eventually.

The lower you went, the most precious and essential the things you could find were. Connected to the old world, too. That world nobody dared to talk about anymore, the world that almost everyone regretted. The irony of it all, the perfect simile of how everything worked: the descent was no longer to hell, but to awareness. Up, the brain – cold, analytical. Down, the soul – animal, instinctual. How perfect it would be if mind and spirit could still work together. But now, today, this cerebral world didn’t contemplate any spirituality. Or art, for that matter.

Miss Oshi thought about the forsaken list. The names included there could only be found in the central market. How fortunate was it that, of all places in the world, Mike and Lisa lived in New York, where one of the primary markets was? The others being only in London, Milan, Paris, Mexico City, Istanbul, Cairo and Adelaide? The universe worked in mysterious ways.

Soon, Lisa and Mike would put all the pieces back together, and Miss Oshi only hoped that she could help them.

“Why does that gang leader seem to love your grandmother so much?”

Mike and Akira walked through the enormous industrial warehouse that the black market was.

“Shush… don’t call him that. He might hear you.”

“Answer me.”

Akira sighed and scratched his neck.

“I don’t know if he loves her. He respects her for sure. My family… the Suesskind… we’ve owned libraries and cultural centers all over the State for about eight generations now. When things started to go downhill in New York, grandma actively helped people on levels 1 and 0 by sending money, commodities, and… culture. Books, records, magazines. Everything she owned, she shared with everyone. She still does.”

They walked past a room that had been set up like a movie theater. A porn movie in Super-8 lit up the concrete wall. A guy sitting in the last row was jerking off. Mike’s eyes moved back to Akira.

“I see…”

“Grandma is extraordinarily rich. She could easily live on Level 4 or 5 but prefers to stay close to her people, as she calls them. She doesn’t like the upper levels at all. She thinks they’re rotten. She says they’ve gotten worse during the last thirty or forty years and she’s having none of it. Grandma doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything but her own code of conduct. She’s amazing that way. She is now the intermediary for much of the most expensive shit that can be found here, in this goddamn place…” He paused. “Did you see that dude saucing the taco in the movie theater?”

“What?”

“He was totally visiting his safety deposit box.”

Mike frowned.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

Akira threw him an amused glance.

“Let me rephrase. There was a dude paddling his pink canoe, in the movie theater. As in jerking off.”

“Oh.”

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah… So?”

“Eh… careful where you sit, buddy… or what you touch…”

“What the fuck… Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not. He, on the other hand…”

“God damn it, Akira. I’m glad my girlfriend’s not here…”

“Yessir… Me too.”

“I wonder how many people realize how precious all this stuff is…” Akira muttered, looking around.

At first, Mike didn’t even reply. He was speechless.

Dane Cromer had just literally locked them inside the room. The wing of the building that only stored items belonging to the forsaken list.

The moment Cromer had closed the armored door behind Mike’s and Akira’s back, and they had heard the electromagnetic locks snap, the room had become completely dark for a moment. Then, the flickering lights had illuminated the space. An archive. A huge, neat archive with shelves up to the high ceiling and boxes, drawers, cabinets everywhere. A set of desks and screens, computers to watch videos. Old recording systems. Magnifying glasses. A couple of armchairs – everything you needed to take your time while you examined everything.

“This is…”

“I know. Mike, do you know what you’re looking for?”

Akira cleared his throat and turned, staring at him. And it finally dawned on Mike: his partner knew. All of a sudden, he was sure that Miss Oshi had told her nephew everything. Including things that Mike himself didn’t know. Not yet.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Do you? Do you know what I should be looking for, Akira?”

Akira looked down at his boots for a moment.

“We can’t take anything with us. Remember that. Try not to forget the things you see or the words you read.”

“Yeah. Cromer was very clear about that…”

Mike knew Akira was stalling and he, too, needed a moment to clear his mind.

“And you know why?”

“Because it’s expensive stuff. And because it’s illegal.”

“Yeah. And why is it illegal?”

Mike just stared at him, quietly prompting him to continue.

“Let’s take a step back, Mike. Do you know what the forsaken list is about?”

“More or less… why?”

“Because you gotta understand this, first. Otherwise, everything else will only make very little sense to you.”

“OK…”

Akira walked toward one of the desks and sat on it. For a moment, Mike wondered if the table was solid enough to withstand his massive weight.

“Before the totalitarian corporations started to truly govern the life of ordinary citizens like you, like me… like your girlfriend… they realized that, to achieve the social control they needed, they had to get rid of several things. Coercion operates in different ways, as I’m sure you know… and the influence of technology on the human mind is only one of them. It’s not random that the lower you go, the less technological the city is…”

“I thought it was because the lower levels are poor…”

“Correct. But it’s also a stubborn act of rebellion. We ain’t gonna bend, we ain’t gonna break. If there’s still someone remembering how things used to be… that’s us. People like my grandmother… in a way, people like me, too. Maybe even some of those rich bigwigs on the top floor, although they reap all the benefits of their phony amnesia. And…” He paused. “…People like you and your girlfriend.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, buddy. Lisa and I don’t know shit. That’s why I am here now. Because we don’t understand what the hell is wrong with us…”

“Nothing is wrong with you. Not understanding has nothing to do with not knowing.”

“…Carry on.”

His legs suddenly stiff, Mike leaned back against the wall. Needing the world to stop spinning. He hoped that at least his voice sounded calm and collected enough.

“People rely on coping mechanisms. Individuality is considered suspicious… everyone is requested to fall in line. But no modern government is going to ask you that flat out. They’ll just change the world you live in. By reducing your freedom, bit after bit… through class distinction, sexual repression, corporate and bureaucratic control, artificial life taking the place of human interaction… and censorship. By doing so, with time, people lose everything they once were and become… something different. Something more controllable. Oppression becomes subtle enough to be ignored… and easily maintained. And that’s the scenario where a forsaken list makes the most sense.”

Akira seemed to ponder over what to say next for a moment. He extracted a protein bar from one of his pouches.

“You want?”

“No… thanks.”

Mike felt a bit nauseous, but his face remained a calm mask, even when Akira bit down on his bar, chewing loudly.

“So, anyway… information is the key. In the best and worst way you can ever imagine. That’s why propaganda is used to control independent thought. The forsaken list… it was first redacted centuries ago and became bigger and bigger with time. It basically contains everyone who questioned the existing social and political system… people who believed or felt that something was terribly wrong with the society in which they lived. People who spoke out and who were not afraid, who helped others recognize the negative aspect of their world through their own perspective. People who wanted to make a change, Mike. Idealists. Geniuses. Revolutionaries. Survivors, whose primary theme was often oppression and rebellion… And freedom.”

“Who are these people?” Mike’s eyes narrowed again. “Akira… what are you saying?”

Akira didn’t reply to his question directly.

“They are many. They are legions. Almost all of them are already dead. Of old age…. sometimes… more often, killed. Humanists, writers, philosophers, artists who were able to break through the smoke and mirrors and reach people, and teach people… and change them. They had to be erased. Because although they’re no longer here, their ideas and visions remain. They are immortal. You can’t really destroy them. You can destroy the men, but not their ideals, right? The only thing you can do is hide them…”

He stood up and walked over to where Mike stood.

“And so here they are, in hiding. Protected, still alive somehow… for those who want to find them, and listen to them. And yes, they have the answers you and Lisa are looking for… at least, some of them do.”

“OK.” Mike pushed himself off the wall and took off his coat. “Where do I start, then?”

Akira squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“OK… So… everything here is in alphabetical order… From A to Z… If I were you, I’d check what’s in the J area.”

“In the J area?”

“Yeah. J… as in Jackson.” He pointed behind his shoulder. “Take a look, Mike.”

Stunned.

Mike had scanned through the various names without really knowing what he would find.

People, faces, names he had never heard about. Not once in his life.

Etta James.

Steve Jobs.

Joanne d’Arc.

Robert Johnson.

Chief Joseph.

For each metal cabinet, a name and a picture. Usually very old, crumpled, faded, printed in black and white.

And then – in one of those pictures, Mike suddenly saw his own face. Slightly different. He found his own name. Somewhat different – and yet identical to the name Lisa had dreamed about.

A man – looking just like him. Only older. His eyes remote, as if life had taken a toll on him. He looked like his long-lost twin, only he wasn’t. Mike Jackson had no siblings. Michael Jackson did. And he had been gone for a very long time. Too long for Mike to be connected to him.

“Who’s this guy?” The whisper came out almost automatically as his fingertips brushed the picture, neatly encased on the surface of the card file cabinet. “Is he a relative of mine?”

Akira didn’t reply.

Mike pulled the drawer open and took a deep breath.

The genius kid was born with a talent and had become a king. By artistry – expressed with his dance moves and his singing voice – and by knowing how to talk to people, sometimes even wordlessly, just by standing in front of them. As a child, his extraordinary skills already shone through and everyone loved him. The world seemed ready to welcome him with its arms wide open. He was no philosopher in strict terms, no scientist, but pure art incarnated. Growing up, the perfection in his art had seemed to be not enough anymore. The black kid with the soul-filled voice had turned into a superstar so well known, so huge, to be unable to be contained on a single planet. With music and dance, had come words. Words of intention. The artist had also become a humanist, a philanthropist, a staunch defender of unity, freedom, equality, peace.

What looked entirely reasonable for Mike Jackson, and probably to everyone living in the current era – the artist’s clothes, appearance, demeanor – had created some turmoil back in the day. Thanks to the press, the artist had started to be misunderstood by the public. With misunderstanding had come suspicion, with suspicion, confusion. Confusion about who he was, about what he meant to communicate, about what he wanted. Soon, confusion had turned into judgment and discrimination, into a clear persecution by mass media – perpetrated by mocking, ridiculing, belittling, humiliating, misreading the artist, and thus the man, an innocent man. A witch hunt. Back in the day, this artist reflecting the same face that Mike Jackson saw in the mirror every day, had been persecuted. He had been virtually lynched. Almost convicted for something he had never done. Eventually vindicated, but partly broken.

The pain he had endured. The useless sorrow he had been forced to face. However, his art had never stopped shining through. He had kept his head up high and contributed to everything that was good and honest in a rotten, dishonest world. He had been brave beyond words.

And then…

“…They killed him. That’s how he died. Someone killed this man.”

Mike sat at one of the desks, flipping through old books and magazines, scanning pictures. On the computer screen, images and videos ran one after the other. Seeing his own face, hearing what he recognized to be his own voice, coming from a past he had never lived in was… upsetting. It was terrifying.

“Yes.” Akira sat on a corner of the desk, his massive body perfectly still. There was no doubt that he already knew everything he needed to know about Mike’s research. “At first, a doctor was convicted of involuntary manslaughter. MJ’s death seemed accidental. It was brushed off by the press, in a way. They made it look like it was somehow his own fault that he had died… but…”

“But it was not…”

Mike’s eyes fixed on a book written and printed decades after 2009, the year that his lookalike had died.

“No, it wasn’t. There was something way bigger that had been swept under the rug, as you can see. Anyway… that’s not what we’re here for. It was a very long time ago, those people are all gone. All forgotten while he isn’t. He’s still here. ‘Cause when you live so greatly, so fully, when you change the world so much just because of who you are… well, death is only relatively able to bring you to your knees anyway. You’re way too powerful… to ever really die.”

Mike blinked, his hand resting on a picture of the man. A photograph that had been taken around that time, 2009, according to the metadata. He was still young. He was only fifty. He still had so much to do. So much to give.

Kids, sleeping peacefully in their beds. His kids. People waiting for him outside. An immense need for rest. He just needed to close his eyes for a few hours.

“Fuck!”

Mike flinched and grabbed the back of his head.

His brain pulsing, pulsing, as if a bomb was ticking from the inside. Threatening to explode.

“Breathe, Mike Jackson. Relax and just… breathe.” Akira’s big, warm, comforting hand rested on his back, between his shoulder blades. “Relax…”

“I am afraid somebody’s trying to kill me.”

Mike doubled over, his forehead resting on his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut and saw red. Behind his closed eyelids, all he saw was red.

“I’ll see you in July, Michael. In London. And… we’ll talk. I know I want to. I know we need to.”

Lisa’s voice. Unmistakable. Haunting. Words she had never pronounced. Not now, not here. Not in this life. Mike flinched again and his whole body trembled. Akira’s hand didn’t move.

“Breathe. Relax. It’s gonna be over soon… but you have to see something, first. Tell me when you can open your eyes. Tell me when you’re ready. I am here to help you. Grandma wants me to help you.”

It took Mike a few minutes to really focus again and see beyond the red mist covering his eyes.

Bathed in sweat, he finally sat back in his chair, looking up at Akira. He saw so much compassion in the man’s dark eyes, so much sadness, but also a vague sense of triumph, of hope. As if Akira was still waiting for Mike to connect all the dots. So far, the only thing permeating Mike’s soul was a feeling of absolute discomfort, like a huge dark cloud wrapping around his heart. He wondered if that dark haze looked just the same in Lisa’s nightmares.

“Are you OK?” Akira spoke in a very soft voice.

“Yeah… What do you want me to see?”

He felt utterly forlorn.

Sighing, Akira picked a couple of old pictures from a threadbare binder.

In those photographs, the man looking just like Mike Jackson seemed happy. He was smiling. There was a woman with him. A woman looking just like Lisa.

“Do you know who she is?”

Once again, Akira’s voice sounded calm and comforting.

Mike tried to reply, but he felt as if he was swallowing glass. He could almost feel the fragments glittering and clanking in his throat. He just stared at his partner, his eyes lost. And yet somehow aware.

Akira tilted his head to a side, and his lips curved in a sad, tiny grin.

“She was his wife… for a while. His lover, for a very long time. And his love, always. Just like he was hers.” He blinked, exhaling a long sigh. “Are you starting to remember now, Mike?”

It hurt.

In fact, it hurt so bad and so profoundly that Mike wondered how he was able to just sit in the wagon, as the train brought him back up to Level 3.

It was almost dawn. He and Akira had stayed at the Purgatory for nearly the entire night. When Mike had asked to leave, Akira had held him back – begging him to please wait for a while, to give himself some time to let the information sink in. It had all been hard, painful, uncomfortable, confusing.

Afterward, when finally they had left the market and had walked through the dark roads directed to the secret passage connecting Level 0 to the Carpe Librum, Mike had suddenly realized how exhausted he felt. As if he had just run a marathon. As if he had been to hell and back and had somehow survived, albeit bruised and tattered. Before he could even notice, who Mike had always believed he was and the man in the forsaken list had started to overlap.

Akira had asked him if he remembered. Mike did, somehow. In a way. But all was vague, blurred, like observing details underwater and without a diver’s mask. You know something is there, you can trace it with your fingertips, but you can’t really make out what it is. The specifics of it.

Although Mike grasped very well that the clarity and understanding of everything was possibly connected to Lisa’s presence, he also realized how he was afraid he was. He feared for Lisa’s sanity of mind. Also, the fact that he couldn’t take anything from the market made everything worse. Mike knew that he and Lisa would be forced to go back to Level 0 together. And what then?

The lights in the wagon began to flicker. He closed his eyes and swallowed back the tears.

“Akira… I know you know. You gotta tell me everything. What the fuck is going on here? Why…” He had struggled to find the words, feeling like a lunatic. “Why do I remember stuff that has happened to this other man? I had never heard of him before tonight!”

“So you do remember…”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Some of it…”

More than he dared to admit.

“Lisa will, too. When she’s back, you might consider bringing her down here. I will be with you guys.”

“What about the stuff they’ve been selling?”

“What about it?” Akira had grinned, honestly surprised by his question. “It’s costly. If someone’s buying it, it’s because they can afford it.”

“Miss Oshi said someone’s been buying stuff Lisa and I gotta see. I don’t even know what’s missing…”

“Neither do I.”

“Well, if we can’t take anything with us tonight, I need you to talk to that man… Cromer. Please, ask him not to sell anything else from this archive. I need Lisa to see it. Please, ask him to just wait for a while…”

Akira had looked uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, Mike. I can try… but I can’t promise anything.”

“Well, ask your grandmother then!” Now he was getting pissed. How dared they? How dared they ask him to stare right into the eye of the storm and then not give him the time to understand what it meant?

“In your opinion, I should ask grandma to throw her weight around just because she can…” Akira had replied sarcastically, getting up from the desk and extracting another protein bar from his pocket.

“Yeah, man. That’s exactly what I’m asking.” A pause. “…Please.”

Akira had chewed slowly, staring into space.

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you…”

“We can leave now, if you want. I think you need some time to think about all this. To adjust. Sleep on it… maybe. Just stay calm and be open to what’s coming.”

Mike was having a hard time tolerating Akira’s mysterious, measured words.

“And what’s that?”

He had shrugged.

“Sorry, Mike. I can’t say much more than that. I don’t wanna influence you.”

“Jesus Christ…” Mike had rubbed his hands over his face. “This is a fucking mess…”

“It is. But there’s nothing more you can do right now. Look – just one last thing. Be safe, OK?” Akira had stopped right in front of him, putting his hands on his shoulders. “When you go back up, and see your girlfriend again, and talk to her… do it safely.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am protecting you now, but I won’t be able to do it once you leave Level 1. That’s up to you.”

His thoughts were interrupted by the beeping sound of his phone.

Tiredly, he extracted it from his pocket and his heart gave a squeeze when he read Lisa’s name on the screen.

“Hey… I know you’re probably sleeping. I just wanted you to know that I’ll be back later today.”

Mike stared at the message. Feeling like crying.

“I miss you. I can’t wait to see you, baby.”

His fingertips itched. If there was something he needed, it was to see her. Hold her. Tell her how much he loved her.

“I’m awake, baby girl. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Are you OK?”

Could she sense it? Did she know how shredded to pieces his soul was? Whatever it was that had brought her to type those words, Mike knew that he needed to see her in person. And tell her everything.

“Yes. Going home.”

“Where were you?”

“On Level 0.”

“What? Mike – what’s going on?”

“It’s OK. I love you so much, Lise. But we need to talk. As soon as you come back.”

A minute of absolute immobility in space and time. Then, her words on the screen.

“Wait for me. I’ll be there soon.”

[Jewel++: We have a problem.]

“What problem?”

[Jewel++: Apparently, Subject 1 visited Level 0.]

“What?! When?”

[Jewel++: Presumably, last night. He just confirmed he did on a text sent to Subject 2. I cannot give any confirmation about the exact timeline.]

“How did that happen? You’re supposed to be the most technologically advanced Artificial Intelligence ever created, and you’re telling me that he reached the lowest level of the city only after he did it?”

[Jewel++: Last time he was monitored, Subject 1 was on Level 1. He must have shielded himself. The data at my disposal cannot be any more precise about the modality of his descent to Level 0, nor about the exact areas he reached.]

“How did he shield himself if he doesn’t know he’s being monitored?”

[Jewel++: I can’t give you an exact answer. He might have done it randomly. Someone else might have done it for him with the aid of specific equipment made of special polymers. Also, I cannot guarantee complete monitoring of any subject on Level 0 due to the condition of the environment.]

“What else do we know now? Where’s Subject 2?”

[Jewel++: Subject 2 is acting according to our schedule and will land in New York City in 5 hours and 28 minutes.]

“So… we now have one of our subjects who had direct access to the files.”

[Jewel++: It is possible. I can’t confirm he visited the market on Level 0.]

“There’s no other reason why people go down there. Either they are looking for something… or they want to die. Is our subject showing any suicidal tendencies?”

The tone was sarcastic, but of course, the AI could not grasp that.

[Jewel++: No, boss. No suicidal tendencies.]

“Well, then… Any remedial action is needed at this point.”

[Jewel++: Borealis can destroy the subjects.]

“What? Destr- No! We need to work a little on your concept of humanity…” A sigh. “Let them be. But revoke their AA pass to Level 0.”

[Jewel++: Order recorded.]

“And keep monitoring their conversations and movements as soon as they meet again. We need to find out what they know.”

[Jewel++: Monitoring process activated. Can I consider Stage 3 of Project Orpheus in progress?]

“Yes. Earlier than expected. But apparently, these subjects cannot be controlled in the way we had initially predicted.”

Soundtrack