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Previously on The Child:
Vertigo shook through my legs up to my
head. I struggled to keep a foothold when the doors to the small room closed.
Ville pushed me into a corner up against some steel and wooden paneling. He had
one of his hands on my chest to continue to push me backwards as the other hand
was on my left shoulder to hold me back. He looked deep into my eyes with great
concentration and seriousness but I was trying to keep my feet on the ground
because it felt as if I was falling.
'Stop shaking! I’m not going to hurt you Emery.'
I looked down to my legs to see them in the oddest of positions.
'It's not that Ville. What’s happening
outside this room?' Ville loosened his grip that was on my clothes and he eased
out his tense muscles as he took a few steps away from me.
'Were on an elevator Emery, sit down if
you cant keep your foothold.' I did just that. I moved a little out from the
corner I was in and sat with my legs crossed and my back leaning against a
wall.
'And what an elevator?' Ville laughed to
himself and scratched the back of his head.
'Really? Were you born in an Amish
village? Well, just imagine a room that can move up and down vertically to
transport someone to other floors, just like stairs but you don't have to move
at all.' Made sense to me. I nodded my head to him and he nodded back. 'Well I
see that you are starting to get curious about Delacroix's Cube, to be honest I
expected that to happen on the first night.' I looked down to notice that I had
my hand in my pocket wrapped around the cube. Ville crouched down to my level
to look at me. 'You can take it out of your pocket now, nobody can be a threat
now.' I took my hand out of my pocket and the cube in hand to unclench my hand to
let Ville see the cube. 'It’s an amazing thing Emery, the cube. It can do so
many things, it has so much potential.'
'Like what?' I asked. Ville shook his
head.
'I’m not an expert on this, my father can
explain it to you.' I shook my head as I looked down; it always seemed to be something
like that, like Ville couldn't tell me himself. Like he was trying to protect
me but was willing to let others reveal what he wont with no problem. I looked
at the box in my hand and it grew heavier as it seemed to crawl its way to make
its size bigger. Something like the roots that I have seen several times in the
past but they were the same kind of material that the parts they were made out
of; they pushed under and over other roots to just make itself flat again then
continue the same process. The box grew inch by inch to stop around to have a six-inch
circumference and at least three inches of height in the shape of an octagon.
The top of the box was slanted upwards to make it look like some miniature
gazebo.
With a gazebo in mind, the walls of the
cube were made of some rich looking dark wood looking to have many whittled
figures and writing into the direct surface while little pieces of gold
decorated various corners and straight lines within the wood. The 'roof' of the
box was made out of something completely different though. Some bright but
natural looking grey filled the every other section, looked like metal but felt
incredibly softer. Many--at least what it looked like to me--squiggly lines and
triangles circled around the roof till it reached the tip. It was the art of
some incredibly talented artist that I would love to personally meet.
The box was odd as soon as you looked at
the other every other piece of the box because they were not there to enable
you to look directly inside of it. They looked like gears as I remembered that
it said in the newspaper I have read many years ago but they weren't your
typical gears. The gears within the box were a solid white having more curved
corners than you typically would see in something metal--it looked as if they
were made my hand as well. They didn't shine themselves but the inner walls
shined greatly whenever light entered the box. The inner walls of which were a
glossy dark red like that of blood with several more figures being painted into
the surface in black. I couldn't help but to be amazed at the craftsmanship of
the box but as the seconds past I could only assume that this was no work of an
ordinary man. I looked back up to Ville to see his gaze fixed on the box
as well, when he noticed that I was looking at him he cleared his throat and
nodded at me.
'Nothing else could compare into what was
put into that little box, I once knew the man that put all of his time to make
that box. Sadly, he died but I vowed to him to help his son to continue in his
footsteps since the young boy was born, you've met him too, just without either
of you knowing. Remember the old man that we wheeled into town? He is that
exact same man.' Something was up and things were odd, I couldn't understand
how that Ville had outlived the maker of this box and his son without a single
wrinkle upon his face. One could only figure that it had to do something about
his process of 'Immaculation'.
'How the hell did you manage to do that
Ville?' He smiled at me like he always does.
'I am a very old man Emery. I have lived
many years that a dozen of men’s lifetimes could only match what I have
experienced.' I shook my head to him again.
'And how do you manage to do that Ville? There’s
no way in which you could do anything like that? I want answers Ville. Take me
out of this darkness you wrapped around me and tell me what is really going
on.' I yelled
'Emery.' Ville paused. 'This is something
that no one could just simply explain but to experience it by themselves and I
don't want to force something like that on you, it would make you an entirely
different person. It changes people. You no longer wonder if you will die the
next day but to only wonder how you can fill your never ending cravings. This
isn't something you can just do like getting out of bed.'
'Ville. You aren't answering my
question.'
'I know, I know. I’m just trying to find
the words for it.' The elevator made a ding and Ville slammed his hand on one
of the buttons then crossed his arms. 'Throughout this city, there is an old
story of a man named Helerbroiga. Now he was one of the few prestigious
men that constructed this city around us. Now the tale talks about the man’s
ambitions and how that since the day was born, he wanted to be known centuries
upon centuries of his death. Now that obviously happened but the main question
is how?'
'This man was born in a rather small
village and his father was known as the architect of the village. He planned
out everything on how the village was supposed to look like to the very T. Not
a single walkway was placed until they received this young boys fathers
permission. As time passed, this little boy was no longer some child but a
magnificent man that assumed his fathers role and enhanced it greatly. He reached
up to a rather large stature that neighboring villages wanted him to do the
same thing to theirs but he always refused. Not out of pride but out of respect
to his own hometown that he lived and grew up in. Because of this, the village
grew faster as each day passed. The people figured out that since they couldn't
get him to build them a home in their own village, they decided to move out
from where they lived to become a resident of the village this man lived in.
Business grew up to the point that this little village that had only a few
hundred residents to a massive city. Later on he aided others to be like him so
they could assist with the city. That is now the city that we live in and
because of his ambitions, he will be remembered forever. This tower that we are
in is in fact named after him.'
'So what are you saying Ville?' I asked.
'Immortality Emery, I am talking about immortality.'
Up next in The Child:
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