∙ ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙
With their accommodations decided, the company settled in. Everyone finally decided the host’s food was acceptable and found it as bountiful as the three boasted. Many wondered at how they had such large supplies of perishable items but their hosts would not give an answer. As the evening progressed, the guests learned their hosts primarily spent their time watching a random variety of movies. At critical points in the movies or when certain words were spoken, the hosts all extended their necks and raised their heads as if gazing into the sky in contemplation.
This odd behavior magnified itself when the number seventeen was spoken or seen. When they heard it, they repeated it in an almost cult-like fashion and proceeded to relish in it. Several of the soldiers mocked them screaming or whispering “Seventeen!” at random times. Without fail, this caused the hosts to go into a trancelike state. The hosts’ odd fascination with the number grew even more mysterious when the company discovered many of the rooms were lined with off-color seventeen’s painted across them. They found napkins carefully placed on the floor to make the number. Several of the posters lining the halls advertising the hotel chain had visitors with the number painted over their faces. When asked about their strange behavior regarding the number, they replied only that it was their number.
From their loft they rained down comments towards the movies they watched. Or, to everyone’s surprise, they often heckled the skeleton crowd below as if reacting to some comment they made that only the select three could hear. It wasn’t unusual for them to throw objects towards their crowd as if response to some hurtful comeback.
Eventually, the company came to know their hosts by name. There was Reginald who usually spoke in similarly sounding words often of his own creation. Then there was Corpus who above all felt events and feelings far stronger than the others. His feelings surpassed normality and landed somewhere in the realm of the melodramatic. And lastly, there was Constantino. He held a dizzying intellect. His mind raced with analogies and unseen connections that always seemed to mystify his audience.
During the night, the company became aware of the host’s evening disciplines. Reginald went to sleep early. Corpus retired to his large library. He’d read the words in a loud tone until early hours in the morning. Those unfortunate enough to have moved into the rooms beside his library became aware that he took on the boisterous personalities of the characters in the stories. He went far beyond merely having different voices for each character but reserved, as it were, a part of himself for the devotion of the character’s attributes. Constantino usually listened to his music setup at the end of the second floor hallway. Sara was convinced that only two of them actually slept or if they did it was only for a few hours. When she arose the next day, she found all three before the television set in the lobby in their usual manner.
Through the next few days, they learned each of their companions was obsessed with everything involving human culture. Sara and Val found this void of culture fascinating and proceeded to form several theories about it. It didn’t take long before the possibility of them being human zombies arose. This caused a bit of alarm. They went to Bear's room and spoke to him about his previous interactions with the hosts. Unfortunately, his reply was very limited. He had discovered this hotel by accident and had very minor contact with the three. He found interactions with them frustrating and tried to avoid it. Even now, Bear refused to interact with the hosts and remained silently in his room. Whenever anyone went to check up on him, they found him asleep.
The radiation sickness seemed stagnant for the time being. Some of the others had lost chunks of their hair but Val remained the only one to lose it all. Those who suffered with irritation of their skin and redness finally saw it dissipate. A couple of the soldiers caught random sicknesses or coughs while out in the waste. But those soldiers seemed to successfully fight them off in a few days’ time. Sara, however, seemed a different matter. While the others showed improvements, she maintained a steady level of illness.
Sara, through much begging, convinced Val to let them stay longer. Val allowed the company to remain but often threatened to kill the hosts when they annoyed her. Sara wondered if she should mention Val’s increasing likeness to violence but decided against it.
Although they annoyed him to no end, Connor dared not ask someone to try to sever his handcuffs for fear Val might kill him. He even waited a day before he brought his hands underneath his foot so his hands could be in front of him. Luckily, Val did not seem to care. Connor spent much of his time mastering the art of running with his new walking stick. Over and over, he ran down the halls as quickly as possible on one leg. With his obsessive personality, he soon mastered running and moved on to combat. He asked someone to setup a chair he could use as a practice dummy. He spent hours learning how to balance on one leg while attacking the defenseless furniture.
Two days into their stay at the hotel, Connor, feeling lonely and contemplative, began taking afternoon walks around the hotel. It was on one of these walks he found a flower brilliantly displayed against the otherwise drab landscape. He gave it to one of the soldiers to give to Val. She accepted it without thanks from the messenger. Connor found it in the trash later.
∙ ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙
Sara alone tried to initiate talks with their hosts. She seemed fascinated by them and remained convinced these three unusual characters were the reason the company came there. One afternoon she knocked on Corpus’s library door. He told her to enter, and she stepped inside. The scene made her smile and reminded her of herself when she was a child. Corpus sat in a precarious position on top of a bookshelf. A beam of dingy sunlight broke in through the window. It crept across the air bringing to light all the particles of dust thrown up by the musty books. She stepped into its warmth and took in the massive array of literature about her.
“Are all these yours?”
“Every one. Bound to my heart.”
“You feel things very deeply don’t you?”
“A blessing and a curse.” He examined her analyzing if she were trustworthy. “I weep often and not always for things anyone can understand. Some burdens I carry alone. My companions don’t understand. They find me weeping alone at night in the hallways and try to ‘fix’ me. But I am not broken. I feel the heartbeat of many things they don’t. They crush an ant and I weep over it alone later. They see it as weakness.” He sat up straight as if looking off to some place only he could perceive. “I have mourned over the deaths of characters in these books. The others mock but I know the truth.”
Somewhat mesmerized by the hypnotic rhythm of his voice, she asked somewhat entranced. “What truth?”
“Good fiction mimics reality as our world mimics eternity. We are caught in the middle and it is not like we think. We look upon the place where stories happen like it’s a lesser and simpler stage. Not quite as ‘real’ as our world. We strut around like gods hovering over this ‘lesser stage’ thundering our commands. But what if that is how the others see us?
“We take the creation of characters and stories so lightly. As if it were nothing. But what if these woven stories were real? What if the characters have souls that could find their way into timelessness just as we might? They would be no less real than we are.
“But all of this is but a breath. To utter it any louder than a whisper is to destroy it. How would I ever go about telling any of the others about this? They mock me and do not understand.”
“Then why have you told me?”
“For in some deep truths there is a solemn vein of sadness.” Sara gasped feeling his touch against her skin. She had no idea how he’d reached her without her knowing. As if he’d cast some spell to keep her fixated on his words, he then moved without her realization until he stood right before her. “You know this for I feel in you this same agony as is in your husband.” A pouring of tears came from Sara’s eyes although she dared not blink or take her gaze from him.
“Corpus,” s
he said between sobs, “how do you know this?”
“I see you.” He gazed at her as if with the eyes of another world. “I touch your soul. Your dreams. Your fears.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look.”
For the first time, Sara became aware that her surroundings were no longer the dismal hotel lost somewhere in America. She stood inside a grand hallway with her companion. The sides of it stretched on like the vastness of space. Her mind staggered under the meaning of it.
“Come with me, and see how everything has meaning.” They journeyed into a place Sara’s instincts told her was the past. Flowing like a current of events, people, and history seemed to pass before their eyes. They fixated upon a single point of light. At first Sara mistook it to be one whole object like a star. But as they approached she discovered it to be uncountable points of interest. As they passed into it, Sara found herself experiencing fears, dreams, memories, and visions in a collision of emotions. Were each emotion a color, all of them would have mixed into a single new color. Yet, with only a little effort, Sara could separate each colorful emotion back out into its individual color. The more she experienced, the more she felt like she was collecting something that would add up to be a great treasure. She absorbed events as a woman might soak up the water she stood in. It permeated her skin drenching her in its weighty meaning. The more she took in, she began to realize the great treasure she felt collected itself around her as a sphere. All the events, memories, and feelings were leading somewhere. But the crescendo of its sum evaded her as a mystic dragon encircling far off mountains.
The realization was indelible. She knew now what she experienced was forever a part of her. Every painful memory or beautiful experience found its way from that person’s life into Sara’s heart. Unlike a moviegoer, she experienced his life. She resonated with every minor feeling and emotion as powerfully as if she viewed her own life. Absorbing it into herself just as the person who experienced it had done. His memories became her memories. His agony her agony. His achievements her celebration. Often she’d find herself weeping with deep tears when she found the person falling into some tragedy.
When she’d consumed the entire lifespan of the person, she wondered if her friends in the hotel in America had long since died of old age. For the amount of time it took to know the human’s life stretched on, as if forever.
She knew then she had seen everything except the core. With small help from Corpus, she passed quickly by every event, collecting them all into the center of the sphere and there gained access to something awesome. She stood in the very core looking out upon every point of light, remembering and feeling them in perfect harmony. As a grand construction of intricate design it met her gaze leaving her breathless.
When she tried to put a word to the overwhelming sphere in her mind, its gravity passed beyond expression. She stood in intimacy looking on the person’s most inner being. The sheer weight of the object greeted her with kindness. As if she had walked into some embarrassing situation, but then realized she belonged there perfectly. Her mind buckled under the thought that she could perceive such a special, intimate place. Wonder fell around her like a circular waterfall pooling at her feet. It swelled up drenching her whole heart in its awe. She held in her sight the entirety of a human being. The image moved her deeply.
“Jason Abraham Schultz,” she said with a tearful smile as she gazed over to her companion. “Or Jam Bones as you call him,” she whispered with the wisdom of one who has gained much understanding. “You’ve brought me to the life of the man whose skeleton rests with you at the top of the lobby.”
“You can no longer see those bones the same way. The weight of their meaning burdens you. I have tied their meaning to you like a stone dragging you into the depths. For you see, true wisdom brings depth and meaning. You will drown in the seas of wisdom. And dying, you will begin to understand. This is the construct of your prison. This place, although glorious and beautiful, is a lonely one. These halls find their way into your heart expanding their walls until you find its vast voids aren’t as much the boundaries of this place as they are the caverns of your soul. To understand the beings in here is to be alone. The waves of an unknown sea will sweep over you. In a watery grave, those waves will crush you. But it is perhaps the greatest adventure you will ever know.
“As I said, everything has its tale if only you are alive enough to perceive it.”
They returned again to the hotel’s library. Sara breathed heavily. Her face betrayed the obvious signs of how the experience changed her. A new depth formed within her. Without making eye contact with her companion, she excused herself and closed the door behind her as she moved into the hallway.
Once alone, her knees gave way after only a few short steps. She fell face first into the carpet and began to weep.
Drawn by the muffled tears, Val entered the hallway and found Sara there.
“What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” Val asked over and over before Sara would answer.
“I don’t know that anything is wrong,” Sara finally managed to answer. “Have you ever seen something so beautiful it makes your heart ache? Just knowing that something like that exists makes you-” Her thoughts trailed off before she could finish her sentence.
“How many days have I been gone?” Sara asked.
“What are you talking about?” Val replied.
“How long has it been since I went into Corpus’ room?”
“It’s been like five minutes, Sara. What’s wrong with you?”
She moved out of Val’s embrace and placed her head on the dirty carpet.
“I wonder who used to live here,” Sara whispered while she ran her fingers through the carpet fibers.
∙ ∙ ∙ • ∙ ∙ ∙
Over the next several days Sara gave much of her time to Corpus. They spent long hours in his library and he taught her more of the halls of time and how to navigate them. When the company had been there for over a week, the hosts finally announced the company was ready to visit the third floor. They gathered everyone together and proceeded up the stairs. Sara was amazed the host’s warning had been heeded by the company.
Everyone climbed the stairs to the forbidden third level and felt a strange energy radiating through the air. Instead of being confronted by the traditional hotel hallway, a wall stretched the length of the floor with a single metal door towards the middle. The door displayed a bright blue seventeen. Reginald silently moved to the door and placed his hand on the painted number.
“Come along behind this door and witness something you’ve not seen before!” He opened it and a strange darkness seeped from the room. Reginald stepped into the darkness and to everyone’s surprise completely vanished. The other two vanished exactly as Reginald had and the last beckoned them to follow.
Cautiously, they followed one by one. Once inside, they were confronted by complete blackness. It was darker than any night they had ever been subjected to. Utter disinterest would have consumed them if a white speck had not become visible. It held their attention for a moment but only until it illuminated three things beneath it. The three circled around each other until they spun quickly enough to appear as a single entity. The entity grew as if bulging in saturation. It grew like a bloated body until it burst spewing onto the audience. From within the entity came ethereal spirals streaming through the black void.
In hauntingly beautiful voices, the spirals wove a story in the garbs of music. Reginald sang in his poetic sing-songy voice bringing to full life the objects of his melody. Corpus brought the feelings to the objects created and the audience couldn’t help being swept into the consciousness of the characters. Constantino rushed in weaving the colorful background and details.
The hosts worked like three different veins of water joining together into one giant flood of perception. The flood broke into the brains of the audience like an unstoppable flood pouring in through a grate. The spectators could remain observant no more and gave the
mselves entirely to the flood waters and became an integral part of the story. As important as a foundation is to a building, the audience was woven into the experience.
They perceived, within their minds, a marching mass of colorless people. The overwhelming herd swayed back and forth moving like drunken cattle. The sounds of death and sadness echoed off the high ceilings. Careless feet marched mindlessly on crushing those unlucky enough to have fallen to the ground. The bodies of those unlucky ones were pressed into the metal grate of a floor not unlike a winepress. The bodies burst under the weighty feet of so many. The blood dripped down like rain onto the hotel audience. Normally the revolting sensation of blood between their toes would have been enough to induce vomiting, but the weary walkers lacked the strength for such an action. All they knew was this endless flow and the fear of falling.
The sheer horror of the following days left the miserable people inhuman. Through shocking and disgusting procedures, terrifying beings reduced these cattle-like victims to naked, bleeding, and insane shadows of their former selves. But a few reacted favorably to these procedures and gained unnatural traits.
Several perceived the world around them in new ways. These special few looked out upon the same environments others did but saw the very fabric of the world. The mistress of gravity came to them whispering of her secrets. Some claimed they could move objects along gravitational cords they could perceive along the ground.
Others found the secrets of the human mind revealed to them. By some back door, they could access others’ minds unrestricted. Like puppets they could cause their companions to act out their whims and desires. They also could cast visions over hordes of others. In an instant, all under their control could fall to hysteria as they perceived the same terrifying projected nightmare.
Still others gained the uncanny ability to merely create things out of nothing. The power of their unrestrained minds could break the constraints of the physical world and bring their thoughts into being. The walls between imagination and reality all but crumbled.
Sorrow Page 26