"The cemetery," I reply, looking around and suddenly remembering.
"And do you recollect the time when we were here?" he continues.
I do. We had found our way to the library where the book was, and the entry to the library was one of the tombs. I observe them, trying to recall which grave lead us there.
"You'll sense which one is right, just focus," Arthur tells me, reading my unspoken question.
"Don't you think we can at least try to open the door without the book? Let's go there and see how it looks like, just to get an idea of what we need to open it," I propose, although I have no faith in my own words.
"What do we need to do with the book Iris? Tell me, why do we need it?" Arthur asks, his eyes locked onto mine.
"We need the book to understand how to open the door," I reply, as if reciting obediently.
"Yes. But to use the book you have to remember how to read the information it contains," Arthur continues.
I nod, without taking my eyes off his, before dismounting my horse.
"Of course I will remember," I answer, my tone challenging.
I scan the graves, till a tomb attracts my attention. It seems odd, although I cannot ascertain the origin of my perception.
As I look at this tomb the eyes of my army stare at me in unison.
I move towards it, and the lid slides away seamlessly.
Each soldier dismounts, without the need of my command. Then they stand and wait.
I stand and wait too, embracing my army with a long gaze. The soldiers nod at me, and in that nod I feel warmth and faith.
"Let's go," I decide, meaning to add some words of encouragement, but not having the time to. Before I can utter another syllable we are all drawn in dark meanders, swallowed by the grave.
Chapter 46
The air is cold and humid and there a rustling sound emanating from a corner. The place looks like the dungeon of a castle. The atmosphere seems somewhat familiar, although I cannot place it.
My army, behind me, is waiting for me to define the next move. The men are no longer on their horses, and there's a hint of fear on their faces.
I look around, trying to find some inspiration for the next move, and in a corner I see an array of ampoules, neatly aligned, all containing a yellowish fluid.
I remember these ampoules: I used them to prepare the potion myself eons ago. I know there are 153 ampoules there, each for one of my 151 soldiers, and another two for Arthur and myself.
A shadow appears, smiles at me for an instant, and disappears. It wears elegant, outdated clothing, on a body that looks like mine. I smile back in recognition of my past self, reverberating from a long gone time.
"Each man should take an ampoule and bring it to the library. Don't let them drink the potion just now. They first have to reach the library," the echo of the shadow resonates after its last wisps dissolve from my sight.
The men obey to the instructions of my past shadow cast into the present.
The square of soldiers reshapes itself into a line, as my men wait for their turn to take the potion that will unlock the secret of the door. Then they return to their former positions, the square reforms, and the silence falls.
These men are too disciplined, I think. Do they have opinions? Can I really count on them to help me open the door?
"Where is the library? Do you know?" I challenge them.
The army remains silent.
"I don't know the way to the library," I repeat, but to no avail.
"Iris-" Arthur starts, but I cut his sentence before he can continue.
"I know each of you has been here before," I insist.
"Iris, you must bring them to the library. If you don't, they will not be able to become the men you want them to be," Arthur states, this time with a tone too decisive for me to interrupt.
"Very well," I say, with a note of defiance in my tone.
"You have to lead the way, they cannot get you there," Arthur iterates.
I don't know the way though, and I landscape the place, hoping for a hint.
I see two doors, and suddenly I cringe at the memory of a feeling that had terrorized me in a time I can no longer recollect. I know that only one door will lead to the library, while the other will lead to a spot that can drive my army and me to insanity, perhaps death.
Slowly, I approach one of the two doors. I run my fingers across its edge and sense the rough rocks around it in search of an answer.
And the army waits, silent.
I move to the other door and repeat the process, and yet I cannot get my memories to emerge.
A rush of panic runs through me, I feel lost. I have an army ready to follow me, but I don't know where to go. The army is useless, the potions the old me prepared, waiting for this moment for centuries, will go to waste, and I will disappoint all hopes of my father the king. The royal family will perish.
Defeated, I let the tears roll down my eyes.
"What is happening Iris?" Arthur asks me.
"You cannot count on me, Arthur. Please bring these men away, I don't know what to do with them," I sob, crashed by the sense of inadequacy.
"Not at all, Iris. Focus," he objects calmly.
"You have to know where to stop, Arthur," I reply.
"What do you mean?" he asks.
"I said I cannot do it," I repeat, disheartened and angry at once.
"When you and I walked out of this place, long ago, what did we do? Do you remember, the two of us together?" Arthur asks.
I am not sure about the purpose of his question, but I reply nonetheless.
"We spoke about our experiments here, I suppose. We discussed about how to improve our potions," I say.
"Yes, and about how to use them in the future, right?" he continues.
"Yes," I say.
"You envisioned a direction for your future," Arthur says.
"I did," I reply, wondering the rationale behind his statement.
"And now you can no longer envision it. That's why you refuse to remember your way to the library," he concludes.
"What are you talking about, Arthur?" I reply defensively.
The army remains silent, but their eyes are disapproving rather than obedient now.
"Who did we do in the future, Iris?" Arthur insists.
"We met my brother," is my instinctive reply.
"Do you remember someone who tried to prevent you from talking with your brother?" Arthur continues me.
"You mean in mine 503?" I ask.
Arthur does not reply.
I walk through the bench of the door to which I am closest, alone. I keep running my fingers along the walls, in the semi-obscurity of the tunnel. At a point I feel an odd pattern on the wall, the roughness is no longer random. I stop, slowly inspecting the walls with my fingers. Something is written on the wall. My fingers trace the letters. There's an "M", and an "I". I am trying to make out the third letter when a hollow scream breaks the silence.
"We must cut!" it shrieks, and I remember this voice. It reverberates from Mine 503, and I hate it now even more than I hated it then.
I see the wall deform, and Arthur's face appears, squeezed against it.
"Arthur!" I yell.
"We must cut, cut, cuuut, ccccccut, t, t, t" the voice screams again and then crackles, agonizing.
The spell is about to break, but before the wall turns dark, before silence falls, I plunge my arms through the rocky walls. It deforms and yields, and lets me through to Arthur. Something resembling an electric shock flashes through my arms, I feel sucked into a new element, my head spins.
I am tempted to surrender, but Arthur is there. I can't let go.
I pull back, with all my forces, dragging Arthur with me.
We fall back, breathless for a moment.
"Arthur?" I whisper.
He doesn't reply.
"Arthur?" I shake him.
He opens his eyes, slowly.
"So you've got some guts left, thanks god," he says.
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"Shut up, will you?" I say, slapping him, grateful that he's here with me, alive.
"Thank you, Arthur," I tell him.
"Thank you?" he arches his brows.
"Yes, for helping me find my way," I tell him, pulling him up and leading him out of the tunnel.
Out of the tunnel my army stands immobile, waiting.
"This way, brave men," I command, slipping back into the commander's role, smiling a broad wild grin to fuel my wavering faith.
Chapter 47
The men follow me, once more obedient, trustful. They look at me, holding the ampoules filled with potion.
They appear solid, nearly invincible.
We will succeed, I think, and my thoughts reverberate through them. I sense their bodies tend, their eyes glow.
And yet, for a flashing instant, through the blink of my eyes I see their sturdy bodies turn transparent, dissolve away leaving nothing but a silhouette drawn in fine ink, an inconsistent profile.
I am petrified.
"Don't stop, Iris. This mission will be what you make of it," Arthur prods me, gripping my wrist so strongly that it almost hurts.
I nod to him, to my army, one more comprised of corpulent men.
I start marching towards the library, when I sense a flow, blowing from my back. It's pushing me forward, its pressure seems light and yet I am aware that it would not allow me to stop even if I wanted. Its intensity increases at every step I take, the gentle flow becomes a torrent, and the torrent a sea. A deep blue atmosphere swallows me, propels me forward. I want to turn around to see if Wilhelm is by my side and if my army is behind, but I cannot.
In the blue immensity surrounding me I simply exist, without conscience of my breathing, without will.
But then, suddenly, the flow subsides, and I find myself in an atrium, alone, dripping the odd liquid that brought me here.
I look at my drenched body, trying to decipher the meaning of what happened. As I observe my wet sleeves I notice subtle whiffs of smoke exuding from my clothing. I study the phenomenon, mesmerized.
And at once I am dry.
Why did I get here? What was I doing before an unknown current wrapped me and deposited me in this spot?
I shake my head, struggling to remember.
I walk ahead, hesitantly. And there, around the corner, a library opens before me.
The library, yes. That's what I was looking for.
There's a book on the table.
Beside it stands a girl. She looks like me. She is me.
"You're so forgetful Iris. Why are you scared to remember?" she asks me.
I am silent.
"You and I had a conversation some time ago," she continues.
"Which conversation?" I want to know.
"These were my words: Father would recognize the exceptional circumstance when it happened, grandfather said. The book was stored in a safe, and nobody but father knew the code to open it. One night father sought refuge in the library to clear his mind. He noticed the book on the library's table, right in front of the chair where he usually sat, and he knew the time had come", she says.
"The time for what?" I ask, but the other me dissolves away.
"The time for what?" Arthur voice echoes at my back.
I start.
"Don't play tricks with her. She needs help, can't you see she's overwhelmed?" Matt and Wilhelm reply in unison.
I turn around with a jerky twist. Arthur is in one corner of the library, Wilhelm and Matt are in the opposite side, eying him angrily.
"You placed Ludwig inside her, how could you?" they address him accusingly.
"My intentions were good, and you know. It was a joint decision between Iris's mother and I, and you know this too. It was a mistake, but not all is lost. Ludwig is not inside Iris anymore, and our goal is to rid ourselves of him. Right? The future is in Iris's hands, and we are here to help. I am here to help. You should be here to help too, not to point fingers," Arthur retorts.
"We are here to help," Matt replies, and Wilhelm nods.
"We are certainly here to help. All we ask you is to stop assuming Iris is invincible, because she clearly cannot find all answers alone," Wilhelm continues.
I cannot tell if I am relieved or insulted by the statement.
"When you told me not to trust Arthur was this the reason?" I ask, addressing Wilhelm.
"You told her not to trust me?!" Arthur exclaims, and I see the anger in his eyes.
"Of course I did. You burdened her with a weight she cannot carry, you've made poor decisions," Wilhelm replies, the anger in Arthur's eyes reflected in his.
"Time out, guys," I interrupt, and they drop their accusations, their attention suddenly on me.
I pause for an instant, smiling at each of them.
"This is time for what? That was my question," I remind them.
And at that instant an army appears. I remember them. These are supposed to be my men.
They carry ampoules in their hands. I know they'll drink the content for me, and then something will happen, even though I am no longer sure about what.
Am I scared to remember? Or I am scared to know the future?
I don't have the time to ponder, because at once my men bring the bottles to their lips, and drink.
Chapter 48
As the men drink, I feel the potion diffuse within me. A sound rises, suffused at first, then louder, and finally deafening.
I try to cover my ears, but my hands can't move, as if someone were holding me by the wrists to prevent me from protecting myself against the noise.
It's so loud I can't decode it, I feel annihilated by it.
And yet, a bit at a time, I sense it change. Or perhaps I am changing. What seemed an incongruous brouhaha acquires meaning.
I hear, distinctly, a choir of voices. They are the voice of my men. The sound is all is left of them.
The philosopher said, know yourself.
The philosopher said, know yourself.
The philosopher said, know yourself.
The philosopher said, know yourself.
The philosopher said, know yourself.
Yourself, know, the philosopher said, know, know, yourself, yourself, yourself, know yourself.
The words echo, over and again, bouncing within me.
The book still sits on the table, in the middle of the room where there's nobody but me.
I walk to it and open it.
Iris, the first page says.
I flip it, and on the second one faded words start taking shape.
Freedom, I read.
A chill run through my spine, but I keep turning the pages.
Loneliness, it says.
I start to cry.
With shaking hands, I flip the page.
Ruthlessness and destruction, I read.
Is this really me?
I turn the page, once more.
Reunion and love, the book tells me.
Discovery and curiosity, the next page recites.
A million bodies, follows.
A million bodies? What is this supposed to mean?
"That you cannot be one," the book whispers, its pages flipping of their own will, before the book closes.
Silence.
I try to grasp the meaning of the words I've seen. Clasping my head between my hands, I sit on the table, with the book in front of me.
What is the key to opening the door? How can I find it through these words?
The hours pass till I lose the sense of time, unable to trace a path.
Crumpled in the net of thoughts woven by my unstable mind, numbed by the passing of time, I let my head drop on the table and close my eyes.
But as darkness dawns on me, a new stage opens.
Chapter 49
I'm seated in front of the door, wrapped in a nest of ivy that prevents me from moving. The twigs are woven around me, tight around my arms and ankles.
"We've risked our lives to bring you here, why are you not opening the
door?" I hear a swarm of voices ask behind me.
I can barely move my head, but I manage to turn around. My army is standing there, seeking an answer.
"Leave," I state, with an unexpected fullness in my voice.
"We are you, Iris. We cannot leave," they reply.
"My family created you to ensure I'd meet their expectations. You are not me. You are the fruit of all expectations oppressing me. Now leave," I repeat.
The men are surprised at my tone, and for a moment they are speechless.
"We cannot," they insist after a pause.
Freedom, I think.
"I will open the door, but not for you. I will open it on my own terms and conditions. I said, for once and for all, leave."
The men's faces turn pale, their bodies shiver.
"Why?" they ask perplexed.
I stare at them coolly, without offering an answer.
Slowly, the men melt away. For an instant I feel a pang of pain, the liquefying shapes rise, with the glimpse of a hope in their agonizing eyes. The instant comes and goes, and when all figments of the army disappear in filaments of smoke I am alone in the forest, facing the door.
Loneliness, the book said.
I sense the twigs release their grip, and I slip off the nest of leaves that had imprisoned me. I stand up, and push the door.
I sense it yield. I push it again, and it starts to open with a screechy call of pain.
Before me is an endless mass of black space. My old home: The universe, vast, pitiless and endlessly thrilling.
On the bench of the door, divided by an infinitesimal distance from the precipice of blackness, is a bottle. It is familiar. I pick it up, and in it I see a deformed black embryo. Its blackness is not the same blackness of my space. It is dismal and revolting.
What I am holding in my hands is Uncle Ludwig's embryo.
As I am looking at it, a faraway echo reverberates from space. It's a kid's voice, and it sounds sweet and innocent for this one moment.
I could have been your brother, if only they hadn't killed me?
I look at the bottle, hesitating. Is there no goodness in this embryo?
A female voice calls me, its woeful tone resonating in the empty space.
Do you know how lonely I felt when they took my baby from me? Do you know my despair when Arthur made me sterile? Please don't kill my baby, please Iris?
It's the queen's voice, the voice of a clone produced by a reckless nation to destroy my family.
Ruthlessness and destruction, I remember.
"You've gone too far, and now there's only one action I can take," I state.
I observe the bottle one last time, and then, with all the strength I have in my lanky body, I launch it in the abyss of the unknown. The place I call home, my element. Not Ludwig's.
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