--A scone grudgingly diffuses the light in a parsimoniously furnished room. Several seats and a lectern rise from a carpet matching in their color as well as in their fabric: a false velvet in earth tones. Adjacent to the lectern, a man stands with barely a razor blade between his back and the wall. His head inclines over a tray framed with his hands. His eyes move from left to right. His lips purl statements for himself: He is reading. Everything is solemn: him, his attitude, the furniture surrounding him down to the very choice of the color applied on the room's walls. His three-piece suit is a bit long for him at the sleeves, but the shoulders' seams are at the right place. Underneath it, there is a regular white shirt. The collar is starched properly, leaving only a finger space between the animated Adam's apple. Splitting what is seen of the shirt into two almost even space, there is a red tie. The tip of the tie trails into a bible, opened in the man's hand. The tie bobbles when the dark haired man does swallow. And Cianan does swallow a great deal, today. His somber face creases with shifting emotions. The mouth draws a thin straight line in it. The lips corners turn downward. His brows furrows on his eyes heavily. But yet, something recurrently lights his glance for unknown reasons. Perhaps a mere play of the amber lighting in his glasses but the absence of waves on his forehead signals the genuineness of the feeling invading him: Amused or pleased by what he reads. A little commotion attracts his attention and he looks to the closed door as it slowly but surely opens. A smile buds on Cianan lips, even before the "other" enters. He waits silently, his face illuminated. His expression lighten, he distances himself from the wall, placing an elbow on the lectern. The "other" takes agonizing times to get inside. He does not open the door wide, but just enough to slit in his slender body, holding to the inner knob part and, as soon as his second leg passes, he closes the door by pressing his whole body on the knob. He rolls his eyeballs in their orbit, aiming to the ceiling before closing them and sighing. - They’re nuts...forgive them! He murmurrs before a second sigh escapes from his parted lips. Cian’s smile widens even more. - Till now, I didn't know if you would havve come. He says to the newly arrived. - Oh? I'm not welcome? The shorter man repplies as he confidently walks toward his friend. He smiles and amusement can also be read in his blue eyes. He is dressed in an identical to Cianan, except for the color. His tie is yellow, for instance. - It was not justifying a trip back from Mars’ colony. Cian suggests on a joking tone. - Look who is talking: it was not even justifying a trip back from Australia! - Nevertheless, we are both there now, facing each others like in the old time. The frank hand shake serves soon to pull on the other man and so Cianan manly embraces Nystan. - Old times like when bibles were still onn papers and you would doubt on anything coming from internet. He says. Nystan laughs. -Careful, not everyone has that privilege, yet. He cautions while patting his friend’s back. Cianan smiles and as they part, still shaking Nystan’s hand a moment, he shows the device left in his other hand. - This is how I love technology revolution. We had to loosen up, sooner or later, and let them in as “Acceptable progress”. Paper bibles were way outdated. - Perhaps it will be better if we go, now?? Nystan implores with a strong French accent in his way to speak as well as in his flow of speech. His glance goes back to the door. I ignore how long I will hold myself “sane” if we stay longer than we should. - But, you haven't told me how you are? - I am. Nystan answers tersely. I want tooo get done with "that" if we may? We'll have a day before my next transport. I can chat your ear off with my own self during that time? Plenty enough to take news of each other and makes it for the years since we are in different fields, right? -Oh I see. Just a minute, then. Cianan claiims with a raising index. His eyes fall back on his bible with again that amused sparks in them. Nystan waits shifting his weight from one foot to the other and shuffling them a bit, aimlessly. Looking around, he sits in his waiting. His left hand reaches the last button of the jacket and he fidgets with it. Then he has a Chester cat grin, spying on his old friend. - It happened so fast. He whispers with aa little teehee. His gaze turns to the ceiling once again. Cianan distractedly nods, still looking seriously at his e-book. The fingers of the left hand get near his mouth and he softly nibbles the skin underneath some nails, deeply preoccupied. When he finally realized what he is doing, the fingers part away from the teeth and he blushes apologetically. - Old habit. - You're all but forgiven. Nystan says, geetting on his feet. He titers a second time and he draws closer, placing a flat opened hand on his friend's back. - I would have preferred this to be a dreaam. Cianan says, suddenly rolling his "r". He sighs and a finger touches the screen. "Bip. Bip. Marking page. “The e-bible emits. - You're always the first with those entire new gadgets around, aren't you? I am still coping with my old faithful paper bible, you knew? Cianan smiles. - But you have the most interesting positions. Mars. . . Who would have thought of that? One day going to spread the Gospel on Mars! In all answer, his companion points to the door. - She would have, Cian. You know? On this thought, both men become grave and contemplative till Cian talks: - Yeah, she would. After that, Cian ambles toward the door, chin leveled, with such a rooster bearing. Nystan lingers behind, still lost somewhere in his thought. His nose descends to the floor and his eyes trembles. Cian halts and exhibits a playful smirk. He turns fully on his heel, facing Nystan. - Nescio... No more in a hurry? He says, pausing a moment before calling: Alors, tu viens? He walks some more, unlatches then holds the massive door ajar. The panel gives the impression that Cian would be easily crushes by them, but his arms are relax and the biceps not even bent more than it takes to keep your arms at chest height. -Everything is fakes, here. Nystan whines aas he reaches his friend’s location. The door, the chipping gold of the scone, People. Cian hushes. -We are now entering in “enemy’s groundd”.... We’ll talk of all that later. He says to Nystan, tenderly pushing him outside the room and closing the door as they left. They walk out the room, through a corridor where people of all ages are talking. The place budges with effervescence: Individuals are getting in and out either of the doors that composes the irregular tapered hallway. At the apex, the exit on the street, heavily lighten. Factions of smokers are flocking around the vacuum posts in between the two doors. Most adepts are very old. Nystan can't resist and pulls on his partner's sleeves. Cian slants faintly to lend an ear to his kindred spirit. - Ready to belong to a museum. He says with a smile. Cian swallows waves in his eyes. - I would be appreciative if you could keep Kocha's expressions for yourself while we are here. I don't want to ... to... - Oh. Emotion, right? I am sorry. Nystan silences respectfully for a short time, but then he joshes something more, in a hush to Cian, subtly pointing to the smokers with his chin: - You have to admit she was right. She wass truly a good observer. They all look like made of wax. Indeed, with the lighting in the porch, they are displaying this texture and color. Memory rekindles some amused sparks in Cian's glance. He grins widely and constrains himself to laugh about this. He inclines is head again to slide in his friend's ear. - If I were you, I would try to not put soomebody’s nose out of joint. They are easily pricked, so be extra-careful, alright? Then his smile turns in one made of plastic when he bows of the head to salute someone they almost ran into. He pegs graciously Nystan’s arm, preventing the distracted man to enter in collision with this other more than in a hurry to get himself light up. The smaller man is drawn on by the purposeful action away from the hazard. - Alright. Alright. Nystan replies, unaware to the circumspect dance he was just the partner in. Obliquely positioned to one the others, concave tubes fill up the walls space, in rank on both side of the passageway. Wide openings in the front allow witnessing that, in some of them; translucent people stands, interacting with people around their platform, but captive there. In others, opaque people wear masks and gloves and seem millions of kilometers away. Others wait to be used, their light bulb over the opening flashing to catch the attention of anyone that would like to use those devices. The see-through people are not really there, of course. - Not everyone had the chance to take a naavel like us. It does make me fell important, in some way. Even not of the dignitary of this world. You? Cian asks. His grip releases off Nystan’s arm as he avoids some people to draw near a board. The object displays an inventory in a very similar way and color than one listing the airport arrivals and departures. - There is no other family mourning here this week. The others rooms are empty. Announces Cian, raising his brows before he continues: Which means that ...everyone present in there came for Kocha. A handful of people really knew her, certainly. Most of them she perhaps never saw of her life. Huh Nystan? Nystan? Cian's glance crosses the one of people showing gloomy faces, but to hear them talk gives an idea that there is something feeling out of place: Cian observes a moment, he squints his eyes. He stays there, just watching. People flow around him, moving away as soon as they realized Cian pays some attention to them. All the whispers create a buzz. Cian shakes is head to get out is bewilderment. And then he advances, in search of his companion. He locates where the man is. Without hesitation, he walks toward him. He has to steer clear of people randomly coming from all directions. - I feel a bit awkward. You’re totally rright about the “fake” you mentioned earlier. It really feels like a circus or some sort. A show, those people act like some distance exists between what they display and what they are really feeling. I saw no one sincere, by all mean. He says to Nystan when he arrives near him. Nystan hears him not; he peers intently at one of the tube. - Can I...? Nystan tentatively requests, ccaptivated by the holo-tube. He moves near one of it. He takes a mask in hand, but Cian pats him, then tights his fingers on the other shoulder, shaking his head unhurriedly with the lips tight. - No. The younger man shrugs and places the mask where it belongs. He follows without a protestation, close to his friend. Almost shoulder to shoulder. - Was it not you that was in a hurry to “finish” this not a moment ago? Nystan shrugs. - I just like gadgets. - I thought the Mars’s colony was an advvanced one? Cian questions, a frank surprise in his voice. - Yeah, sort of. It’s still tested here before. As they proceed to walk inside another room and pay their respect like in the old tradition Kocha's parents abide in, they are watched with conceit glance; whispers grow in their back. Suddenly they become a sort of the center of the attention. They hear their names several times, but when they turn to see who called or spoke, the people conceal themselves behind a polite, but forced, smile. Everywhere they look, they have the same answer back to their wandering glances: an invitation to look elsewhere. - Are you going to say a prayer for her sooul? One elderly woman asks. The two men look at each other. Cian tilt his head, but Nystan finally answers, knowing fully of the other approval in what ever will get out his lips. - We are there as her 'friends', our prayers we will do for ourselves. We are not working here. As they speak in that manner, their fleeting glances fall on the priest, there, just a few meters from them. He is closing in. His glance on them is cold, his arms crossed on his chest, defiant. He is the one who preside this kind of bizarre family get-together. - I am not intended to share either. He announces sullenly. I tolerate you two here only by respect for the dead daughter of ONE of my parishioner. But, I will keep my eyes on you, false prophets. And God Himself is not releasing His watch. - Don't worry... father? We are not here tto take your sheep out your lead. Cian retorts in a softer tone than the one the priest used on him. - I don't worry, there is only one Shepherrd. - You said it. Cian says dryly, pressing NNystan to move along. Nystan waits that the irate priest walk away, then he slips in Cian's ear: - He sounded like he was "not worried" for you? Cian shakes his head, keeping his serious expression. - If I would have been that "not worried” for Kocha, continues Nystan, she will still be there. Cian inclines his head and whispers to Nystan: -You could not have known. Don't start feelling guilty. We have more problems here that required your attention than thinking on what you should have done. It will lead us no where if we keep sobbing on the past. Comprende? Nystan nods, looking to the door leading back to the corridor and then he continues to wade at Cian's side. - The cold meal served downstairs and theee coffees attract more audience than her cold corpse. -Nescio, can you stop the macabre referencee, please? - Bah. I need entertainment. -It looks like you are just about to be serrved at that level. Cian declares, gazing toward a get-together ahead. Different people gather around an elderly lady that claims she saw it all in the stars. She saw what would happen to Kocha. And she is going on with strong details about the accepted truth that was perhaps not all that has to be said about it. - I don't know those people. Nystan states as they approaches the group. - Neither does me. I don't even think God knows them. A card is held to the men and they both examine it. - Numerology, tarot, astrology. My! She is allowed to predication, she distributes her cards and people are swallowing those snakes like it was the absolute truth. Nystan complains under his breath. His face displays that he refuses to accept this reality. - Bah! Don’t take it that way. It's jusst fun. A lady that overheard him says. I could have bet it was you, Nystan Fizzle. I am Kocha’s cousin: Ghana. Remember? You use to make me reach the ceiling when I was a toddler? She extends her hand to shake the one of Cian, and then of Nystan. -That's how we don't know people, then, weee all aged. Ghana giggles. - Yeah, it's kind of weird to just see each other once every ten years. You should come and visit. IF you can suffer her readings and predications. This old witch's living with me, now. It's my mother, after all, Heaten. - We can't. We are no more in your field... Nystan says. Disappointed, Ghana sputters: Too bad. You're two neat persons and it has no link to religion. Don't you have a card with your email addresses or your blogs so I can keep in touch? Nystan gawks to Cian, Cian looks over his shoulder to fall inexorably on the priest interests to them. - We can't today. Cian says. -But I can give you mine. Ghana insists. Joining the intent to the action, she rummages already in her purse. - We can't even accept one of you. Nystan manages to say when, all of a sudden, the good priest appears out of no where, straight between them and Ghana. Nystan startles at that interruption. - Where was he? Their priests have ubiquitty’s power, now? He declares with a shocked tone. - I saw that one coming. Cian mumbles withh a resigned movement. The priest faces the young girl, Nystan being totally in his back, Cian at his right shoulder’s height. -What are they making you do? He asks to Ghhana. The young woman answers, unaware to the inherent conflict in play here. -I offered them to keep in touch. - I think they are two busy men, Ghana. Thhey can't possibly have time to write to you from where they are. The priest says with a falsely concerned delivery, looking over his shoulder to Cian, in particular. Cian is more than annoyed, but according to his brought up, he smiles. -Exactly. Excuse me; we are here to pay ourr respect. Have a nice future, Ghana. It was a pleasure to see you became a very good woman, despite. He just says, urging Nystan to follow him away from the group and their paternalistic cleric. Nystan pulls discreetly on Cian's sleeves. - Hum. . . You remember this that she said to us? Kocha, I mean. About her family? When ever we meet them? He murmurs to the tallest one of the pair. I think we have to hold those smiles for later... with our "friends", you know? Cian sighs. - That won’t be easy. What's next? Havinng us walking on water to prove we have Faith? Do miracles? Order the sun to rise like it was before? Healing the sick? Resuscitating Kocha? - Woo...ok. You're slightly exasperated here. - Not slightly, totally. Man! That's insane. How come Kocha was so a poles apart? Cian whispers to Nystan. Despite the measured and controlled tone, the collected man grinds emotions. Even in his hands movement, he barely conceals the strain. He keep a relax stance, but his jaw twitches. - God? Softly declares Nystan. - Must be it. Must ... be it. - I’m sorry for Ghana. - We’ll excuse ourselves another time. I am sure she felt the weather. She has a lot of Kocha’s in her. They continue to walk as Nystan remarks: - This place is small, but yet, I feel like I am walking in a desert for days! Where's that coffin? - There is Kocha's brother. Cian says, waving to the other man when he feels the brother’s attention moves on him. They aim in that general direction. They are regularly stopped, be it by an old aunt wondering from which son's of Bernadette they were the sons of or by a younger cousin just plainly wanted to snatch a bit of them, by curiosity. The priest on their heels, they could not exchange more than civility. They eventually land near to Kocha's brother. He moved since Cian waved, like he was playing a game of cats and mice with them. It takes long time before he even acknowledges the two men. Willingly or not, it was without doubt not appropriate to bring it up, but Nystan, in his usual a propos could not resist to, at least, trying to get the message through. - Perhaps we are made of glass; he seems to see everyone through us. But not us. Maybe he thinks we are holograms, like those other visitors we saw in the hallway?" His tone was just high enough so it could be perceived as a whisper, but being heard by everyone near by. - It is good, I saw you from right when yoou enter the place. . . Crows. Kocha's brother says. You must be that Cian my sister was so often referring to. We thought that she would have married you so much she was in awe 'bout anything you said or done. He comments, bestowing a scorn look to Cian, but ignoring totally Nystan. But o'cours', with her. Nothing but the unexpected. I am called Cian too, in case she never mentioned to you. Though you are Cianan with an "a" and I am Cianen, with an e. I am the, quote, evil brother, end of quote. He ends his speech, making the sing of the quotation marks each time he mentioned them. Nystan flaunts a disgusted grin and stands on the tip of his feet. - Drunk. He whispers in Cian's ear. Cian nods. Taller than Cianan with an "a", but also heftier, Cianen with an "e" is indeed intoxicated. The bulging eyes, the slippery tongue and the breath’s odor. - You said what, monkey? Talk out loud likke a man. Nags Cianen. - Well, that is what we loved of her. Heeer un_ex_pec_ted_ness. And she did speak of you with fondness and. . . Sadness toward you self-sabotaging your life. Nystan says with a charming look. Cian nudges his friend in his ribs. The brother stiffens in his stance and his head tilts slightly like he would have not heard adequately what was said to him. His eyes narrow, but as he opens his mouth to retort something in between his teeth; all he has the time to emit is a brief spitting of one syllable with the tongue touching the upper incisive. Cian cuts his wind and continues: "All my respect to you Cian, in this lost. May you introduce us to your mother so we can wish her the same? And show her some support? - The old hag? The brother asks. Nystan hold his breath and shift, again, his weight from one foot to the other. His jaw twitches. He turns red. - It's your mother. He whispers, not speaking further about his thought. - She is hanging there. . . Sitting witth the pictures' album. If you want losing an hour or two hearing her rambling about my sister, your loss. The brother says, slapping Nystan on his back with a laugh. Nystan has no choice but to inhale, eyes wide opened and gaping. Then he grins, more by habits than being the accomplice of such a disgraceful attitude. - Surprising, for a cat’s frame: you helld my paw. The brother says. Tougher than what you are looking. Will that slack friend of yours do as well? He asked before poking Cian on his shoulder with his fist. Cian stands, a slight flexion of the knees. -Ohohoho! That’s serious! You guys can eendure way more than I thought you could! The brother says before getting his fist up for a second blow. Cian's hand stops him in mid-air. The red fist takes a whiter color. -That’s… enough… Not twice. Thanks. HHave a nice evening. Cian says. He releases the fist. Both men salute and walk away from the brute. -Are you hurting? - I'll have a bruise. My heart's in it noww. -Your hand is numbed? - Yeah. The shot on the shoulder's cap wass quite precise and harmful. - You want to go, right now? Take a pause??? - No. We have to get done with this. I cann bear it. Just not a second time. Nystan’s eyes lower to the carpet. - Thinking to Kocha again? Cian inquiries.. - Hum hum. Can you imagine when she was tthe one receiving those brotherly love’s gestures? - I can and if I was to pay attention to mmy human nature, I would have not contempt in holding his fist. He would have had my own fist in his face right upon our arrival. I have to keep composed, Nescio. For her. You'll be alright? Nystan looks at his friend, a gloss in the eyes and an apologetic face. -I'm... I'm just assaulted by something colld in there. Nystan answers to his friend, pointing to his torso. My eyes burn. I don’t understand. I lack of air. I would like we could go out, Cian. I am not angry, I feel...out of my depth? - Oh, you need to cry. That's sadness. - Nah, I never need to cry. Just weird. - A good thing for now. We’ll go out laater. - I would have asked you that question. - If I’ll be alright? Nystan nods. - Don’t worry for me. I’ m used to deeal with a lot of demanding people. I just sing hymns in my head. Try it, it helps. An old uncle spilling about statistics in family’s death interrupts their undertones chatting. Nystan fans under his nose. -Yuck. Drunk, too. The old man nevertheless gathers quite a number of people, including Kocha’s brother, around him. According to that man, Kocha being the bohemian of the family would have had a longer life. It was without counting her bad frequentations, but there again, she simply did the unexpected. - We all know it. He pompously speaks. She was not stabbed to death, beaten or anything by her bad acquaintances. No. She neither caught a foreign disease or jump on a land-mine. We all know one thing sure, she had been shot. She survived suicidal mood without attempting to her day a lot of time. So it can’t possibly be a suicide, in my best knowledge. - Ok, bring it up, what is your theory on what did she die of? The brother calls. - An accident, a simple accident. I thinkk, myself, that in the dark of the place she was held, she stumbles on a gun and it went off by accident. The friends shiver at this thought. Protestations and arguments follow, everyone act as if they know more, faction group around one or the others that talk louder. So the two men move farther away. Cian has to place his hand in Nystan’s back to make him move too. Mesmerized, he had almost stop breathing and Cian’s friendly guidance wake him up, bringing him back to the present time. -Thanks. Nystan says. - We’re observers, remember? No one in here is of our Faith. He slips to Nystan’s ear. Move on. Don’t linger. - Kocha was. How can we let her fall and with all of them? - We are not letting her fall, we have thiis meeting after. We never abandoned her. We had things to do and she knew about it. She was a grown-up, Nescio. Like you and me, despite how they are speaking of her and treat her while she was alive, she had her own soul. That soul is gone now. This is just an empty shell, here. She let us fall, she went. And, hey, we never knew for sure if she believed too. Nothing had ever been clear about her. - Though, we came for her? - Yes, Nystan, we are here for our friendss like she was there for us. We came by respect, for the surviving members of her family. Like beacons that would show of something else possible for them. Beacon don’t talk or pass judgment on, they’re there. The man sighs and smiles while Cian pats his back again. Light comes back to his eyes. They pass beside the capsule. The little window allows seeing her face on the side. - Everything is completely sealed. - You seem disappointed, Nescio? - I am. She...she look like she is sleeping and she would wake up in any minutes. - She would have loved that. - What? -Sleeping, Nescio. Remember how she lacked of sleep and how everyone where just making sure around her that she will be constantly requested so much that she slept so little before we arrived in her life? Nystan nods and circumvents around the capsule. His hands hover at some distance of the casing, both of them, as he scrutinized the object and the one inside. The little mark on the forehead was all left apparent of the, be it an accident, be it a suicide, be it an assault. - Or Surgeons did great work in reconstrucction. Or they created a computer image of her and what we are seeing is not really her. Cian explains, not moving from the point he chose, really near of the porthole showing the face of the corpse. He swallows very hard. - She hasn’t aged since I saw her the last time. He says again. He rubs something underneath his shirt with the tips of his fingers, at his heart level. Nystan crouches and does like a mechanic hand would do around a car recently wrecked in an accident. He softly palms everywhere. - You search something? -Oh, I don’t know? There must be a buttonn somewhere that can turn the images off, if this is an image. I want to see “her”, no matter how shocking. I want to see her in there with my own eyes. Nystan specifies. Then he stands. He examines the lid and a few buttons. A careful grin shows in Cian’s face. - Will you also climb on the hood like wheen she had that car accident, to see if all is right? But seeing his friend taping the fingers around the buttons, he douses his enthusiast. -Nescio, we had enough trouble. Please, sttop that… right now. Do not t. . . Cian begins. A prayer in French starts and they have to move quickly to one side seeing that people get together in the room closer to the coffin, repeating the exact world coming from the lid of the capsule. - Aye! We better gets out of there. Nystan says, widening his eyes. They act like cows when you fill up the hay stack’s wagon. I don’t want to be trapped in the middle of them. And so he dashes toward the general direction of the door, dodging people coming from the opposite way. They crowd trodden Cian when he finally moves out of his astonishment. - I just can’t stand it. The culprits are about to break away from the area when they ran into a gaudily dressed woman. Her clothing consists of at least three shirts and three skirts layered over one the others with motive and color not at all matching, but in a garden with a lot of heteroclite flowers. In between her long luxuriant silver bread, a single pink tinted one. -Oh, careful there. She says, energeticallyy pushing back Cian. Both men are stunt and mute a moment, till Nystan titers and he and the woman fall in the arms one of the other. - Hi Esilian. Cian greets when he regains his balance. - Hey, boys. Happy you made it there so ffar. Do you think they will let you two go out alive and in one piece? She teases them, next. Releasing the woman, Nystan replies, counting on his fingers: - We managed so far to escape the Divinatoory Aunt, the drunken brother, the psychotic cousin and the actuary uncle. And you? His tone is so wholehearted that he is promptly reminded to lower it. Pairs of almost enraged eyes stare at the trio. - It’s time to pray for Kocha’s soul, you idiots, no one taught you respect? The divinatory Aunt says, forcing them to silence. Looking at each other, though, they confine hardly their amusement. Esilian whispers an answer to the men, not deterred by this, not even a little. - Oh, I do not suffer them. She replies wwith a hand fanning in front of her. They are in the Life, not in my life. There is a huge step in between it. She then tilts her head, wordlessly summoning them to follow her. -Have we? Nystan asks. -Please. That will be better. Esilian repliies. -But... -Nescio, just comes. You want to do what, hhere? Participate in “Simon says” with them? Cian utters, pulling on his friend sleeves. His passionate word gathers a few irritated glimpses, so he doubly encourages his friend to tag along. - Huh... Nystan looks around, immobile. Noo, but we said we had to see her mother. -WE can come back later. Come on, don't do the donkey. Cian whispers. -I don't necessarily want to postpone that and come back. -Nescio...Cian says, on a lower all the morre intended tone. Do I need to carry you out in my own arms? Nystan sighs to subsequently trail after Cian. -Why are you taking us apart, Esilian? The question resounds in the magically empty hallways as the two men ample behind the colorful old lady. She opens a door, beckoning them to cross the entrance after her. She swiftly shifts her chin and gives them a transitory gaze. -But why are you getting us in there? Nystaan says again while Esilian shuts the door behind her and him. Cian entered first and as Nystan's voice changes of reverberation when the door closes up, he looks back at him. He shakes his head, displeased and then he sighs. -What? This is a legitimate question like aany other. Nystan affirms. He purses his lips since he has no one to answer, but his face turns to a happier expression when Esilian passes behind him, granting him a pat in his back. She redoes the action for Cian as she also passes by his side in her progression to the center of that parlor they entered in. -Indeed, Nystan, this is an obvious questioon with, might I add to that, an obvious answer, hum? -See? Nystan exclaims, poking Cian mockinglly on the other shoulder, the one untouched by Kocha's brother earlier. The softer delivery observably meant to pull Cian's leg. Cian retorts to it with one of his own. A series of back and forth of these mocking punches occurs. It escalates till Nystan emits a "ow!" and return one back again. Esilian coughs. The two men attentions swing to her. Nystan folds his fist, raises it up slowly, ready to give another one when he will have a favorable moment. -It was certainly not to see such a puerilee display, mind you, young fellows? Her words unfold in the felted room's ambiance like a ribbon of delicate lace. Cian nods, but by some instinct, he catch the fist of Nystan, sheltering it in his hand at the exact moment where it was to hammer on his shoulder again. A congenial movement finds his hand holding gingerly the wrist of his travel companion. He whistles between his teeth. - Game's over, you heard the lady? Cian lets Nystan's hand loose immediately after, opening his hand one finger at the time. Nystan lays his arm back to his natural standing pose and sheepishly grins before letting his glance dwindles to the floor. -That's better. Esilian declares, offering a smile. I can understand why Kocha felt so much for both of you. Nystan enclosed a cough with a fist reaching his lips to disguise it. He glances timidly to the exit, but only by shifting his eyes sideways. A smile buds back, at first, but gradually, his jaw trembles, the ears turn crimson and the corners of the mouth drop. He coughs again and drips his eyes back toward his feet again. Cian crosses his arms loosely in front of his chest. So? He says. To that reaction, Nystan shivers and looks at him, gaping and frowning. - I roughly have three news to transmit too you. Perhaps even four. Anyhow, it needed some tranquility and no wicked ears around. Esilian speaks out, briefly fluttering a glance to Nystan, but staring at Cian more persistently. Though still keeping a relax stance, Cian's hands seize to the fabric of his jacket in a spasm before they let go the sleeves. He maintains his position. - The first one, Esilian continues, is thaat I'll soon be where Kocha is now. Where ever it is. Whether this will be your eternal rest version or my preparation place for re-incarnation. I don't think I will come back to tell you which one it is, anyway. -Oh! Nystan exclaim in a heartfelt, his eyees resting on the old lady with a glaze over them. It's terminal, now? He then asks. - You're really a specialist at it, huh, NNescio? Cian sternly says. Nystan doesn't look at him, but he closes his blue eyes a split second, takes a deep breath that does not prevent him to blench prior to ask: - At what? - Asking obvious question. Cian replies inn the same monotone. - We're edgy tonight, aren't we? Esilian eexclaims more than question. Her nostrils flicker. Cian gasps while Nystan sighs, visibly relieved by Esilian judicious intercession. -Look, boys, I don't know why suddenly you all became so tense, but on my part, I don't need any extra stress. Esilian continues. We are all sad, if not totally dispirited that things unfold this way. We are in that room now and in the other a dear friend of us is no more, just meat for vulture. We are ALL on a jet lag, in more. Some more than the others. Curiously enough, the one with the more jet lag is not the one that is making everyone wonder when there will be one of us crucified. So if you want to bite Nystan's head off for who knows why suddenly, wait another time or I guarantee you will personally regret this. The serious tone leaves no doubt about the astute woman’s plan, provide Cian continue to be ill-humored. Cian cowards as Esilian can really be a threat in some ways or another. He splutters a short: Excuse me, then. Nystan eyes still shine and he rubs his chin roughly with his fist, playing with his ear tip.-So, how long? -Not long. Replies Esilian. A matter of monnths, at most. Not enough to go to Mars, than Australia and come back here. I will have to just delegate what I had to do. Which bring me to the second news I had to tell you: I and Ina Meyers D. promised both something to Kocha in event that this will happen. Something concerning you both, guys. - Oh boy! What did she plot again? Cian exxpresses. Esilian laughs. -She told us you would say exactly what youu just said. This time, it does the trick as Cian's eyes also drop to the floor and the man blushes. Nystan teehees and beams, looking straight to Esilian, joy back in his attitude. -She really loved us, huh? He says. -Oh yes, with all her being. More than you ever thought she could. - Thanks. Nystan murmurs. To learn it warmss me up inside, all of a sudden. Especially... today. The man withdraws. He swallows laboriously, his gaze begging Cian to take part. But Cian remains mute. He also tightens his arms even more across his torso, holding to himself like he would be wrapping in a comforter. Nystan shrugs, both palms facing Esilian, his head tilted and touching one of his raised shoulder with his ear. - I am quite old, but I am not blind. Esiliian says. Nystan simpers. His gaze dips to the tip of his feet, shortly. He relaxes a moment. Cian raises his chin higher, loathing wordlessly. His hair bristle on his hands. Nystan whitens and kindheartedly pronounces: - Cian? Cian? Relax, man, you look like a bbomb about to explode. The man doesn't move, so Nystan touches him with the tip of his fingers, just a bit, like dibbling on the surface of his friend’s hand. He glances to Esilian, worries coating his face. The woman nods, concerned. She watches Cian and he hold her examination with an increasing irritation. Nystan returns to studying the floor. - It's cold. He says to no one. Esilian pauses, sighs then she questions: - I have to hear it. So I'm sorry for the bbad timing. It's not meant to hurt any of you. Lay my mind to rest, would you? Did you love her? A brief glance upward allows Nystan to see the woman is more aiming at Cian than to himself. Nevertheless, he blushes even more and it takes not much than the pertaining silence to make his blue eyes drop to the carpet direction again. - Flesh is weak. Cian finally admits. - Then you loved her? Nystan eyes dart instantly to his companion, listening, awed. - She was an attractive woman. Even for Nysstan. Cian wags his thumb, indicating the other man. This information achieves to color Nystan's skin, now, down to the neck. - What? Oh, attractive? Oh...hum...yes, shhe...she was. Nystan stutters. - You are evading my question, Cian. I wannted to hear your answer for yourself to this, no luff to Nystan. - I'm not - You ARE. This last sentence gets out Esilian's mouth between her teeth, projecting saliva. Her skin keep her grayish carnation despite the escalating tension. - No. - Yes. - Yes you are. Nystan intervenes. - Don't team with her! - Cian, I am not teaming with her...I...I jjust would...would like to know too. - Listen, both of you. She is dead anyway, right? Whatever have been in her head, in her heart or anything in her concerning me was not intended to be that way from MY part. - Cianan Gilchrist by Vishnu sake! The woman sharp retort whips the air. Both men stand still, holding their breaths. Nystan rolls his eyes when Esilian uses Cian's full name and her god. He looks intensely to Cian, stepping back of a pace. - I am a minister, ma' am. I can't have a rrelation. It's incompatible with my duty, and she knew it. She often told me I had to prefer God to her. And I did as she wished, all to preserve my position and my integrity. - Would you had changed this attitude if yoou had learned it could have saved her live? - I was able to save her life and to keep my position. She would have understood. - Are you so sure? - Yes. Esilian shrugs, sighs again and just speaks: - I wont have a clear answer tonight, it sseems. Nothing I didn't expect though, knowing that of you Cian, she told us to not let us trick by your apparent strength and faith. - Great! Cian snaps, raising his chin defiiantly and strengthening his arms on both sides of his body, firmly planted there. She thought and told to everyone I was weak and faithless in my back. What a friend! He laughs in a sinister way and he moves to the door. Nystan’s traits harden. Mortified by the unexpected twist of events, he opens his eyes wider. He shuffles his feet and switch his weight from one side to the other. - Let me finish, she never said that. Esiliian calmly implies. My, my! I doubted of her when she depicted you as proud and impulsive, Cian, but she knew you more than everyone else I met so far. In goods as in bad. I'll tell Ina to visit you first. I get by this that you will really need the help Kocha prepared to you. - You only said the bad, so far. I am gladd she is dead. Cian dryly declares, emotion still boiling in his tone. Tell Ina to spear herself a trip to Australian's ground. I don't need her. I don’t need you. I don’t need, I never needed Kocha. I knew exactly who Kocha was: A very good distraction, at best. Cian rushes out the room, slamming the door behind him. Nystan, that kept blushing more and more while the other revealed this, startles as the door loudly closes back. -I'm...I'm...I'm sorry. Nystan stutters. I never... He took an apologizing stance, moving his hands around in the void to try to get an excuse or something, repairs what ever Cian might have broken. Esilian draws near of him and brushes the man cheek, tenderly. She hushes. -Mourning can change people where they are the less aware they will. Nystan nods, covering the old woman hand over his cheek. Time stops for a short instant as they stay like that before he removes the hand off his cheek, still holding to her fingers only, at her hip's height. - You won’t let him fall? - Are you crazy, young man? Kocha asked mee to take care of him. I will ask Ina to take my part because I just can’t do it in this incarnation. Life tricked both of us, it seems. - All of us. - Perhaps. Esilian looks toward the door, then back to Nystan. - I think that death is a reality check foor a lot of us. I never expected this myself. - And me. - I think you are responding just fine tooo that series of event. Allow yourself times to cry, eventually? - I’m not dealing that way with emotion,, Esilian. Esilian laughs. - Oh yes, she told me so. Let’s see, horrses riding and camping trip, no? Nystan nods to that. - And what did Kocha told of me in more off this? She did speak about me? - Yes. Plenty. She did. She said to us thhat you were a soft hearted man, fair-minded and that you're not allowing yourself to live your own feeling. You are always more troubled in helping other rather than helping yourself. She said to watch for the presto. Nystan eyes become further reminiscent of a skate ring. He extends both his arms on each side of his body to frame the lady and whole heartily embraces her in a hug. -Awe! That is a very good improvement boy, you learned to hug! Kocha was so sad you were completely avoiding it. Esilian exclaims. Nystan hugs her further, hiding his face in the lady's hair. -Sadly, with her only. He says with his voiice entangled in emotion. Esilian stirs in between Nystan arms to pass her hands and arms around the man and hug him in returns. -I had something else...she says as they paart. But you're better to find back where your ex-co-worker went by. We can continue after. I will wait for you here. -My friend too. Nystan adds as he totally rreleases his grips on Esilian. You don't work 6 years in the same field without forming a kind of a link with a person. No matter how grumpy and prissy they can be. Esilian nods, releasing him at her turn, moving back of a pace and taking a more solid stance. -I can admit to that. She says. She glances toward the exit a short instant. - I don't know how you did with him. He is frankly, how should I put it? - Hard to please? - That's not it, but something close. Nystan shrugs. - If you knew his dad, you would understand a lot of thing about him. - Oh? - It's like Cianan, but even more bitter and pessimistic. He is literally... Nystan shudders before he manages to say the word depicting the best Cian's father: Acid. Worst than lemon. Cian is usually less that way. He controls more himself and can be less intransigent. More flowing on a good day. He kind of grew up and mature. He was worst the first year I was with him. Even worst than he showed here to be. But that’s unusual, I can tell you. I don’t know what is going on. -Mourning, denied probably, with his alreaddy passionate and pessimistic nature. You're men, after all, before anything else. You'd better check over him for a while. -That's exactly my intention. We took too llong. Would you excuse me? -Sure. You think you can find where he headded to? -Oh yes. He is a creature of habit. -Men's room. Nystan nods and snickers. -Whenever he and Kocha were fighting or argguing for God knows what, one was heading to the lady's room, the other to the men's room. Though, we were hearing Kocha spilling out her emotion in the entire building. I remember once that me and my cousin Annabel, were in each rooms and we were exchanging papers in between the two. They were still arguing on paper and we had to negotiate peace, to make one of them just let go. Kocha was often caving in first. It's was dramatic at the time. It gave me headaches. So it's funny I remember that right now. Esilian smiles and then declares: It’s those special moments we never thought we would miss later on when they happen, huh? -Yeah. Nystan exclaims, slowly exiting by tthe door. He carefully closes the panel behind him. Once in the corridor again, Nystan explores the tapered walls. A blue glow attracts his attention in between to holo-tubes. He walks, swiftly hedging the moving crowd, guided by that glow. He stops, misleads a moment, disoriented. -Oh! I see! Dah! Right! On the other sideed. He turns, slickly revolving on his heels. He laughs. -I was totally right. He says, dusting himsself and smiling from one ear to the other. He crosses the hallway and then he pushes the chrome door, whistling. The chirpy tune stops and Nystan startles. On the other side of the door, his reflection stares at him. -Oh my word! Who are you, handsome? He says playfully. He took advantage of this unplanned encounter to replace his tie and his garment. He got a comb out of his pocket and split his hair more keenly. Then he got in, slanting to see beneath the separators. - Cian? His voice echoes, no answer but the sound of some water running. Then, two pocks. A shoe, then another rests on the floor, visible from beneath the separators. I'm not there, go away! Nystan smirks then runs straight to the cabin's door. He jumps, brace the top of the door with both hand and hold himself, the nose over the edge, peering inside. He props himself up. -Hey. That's privacy invasion. Cian protestts as he sees Nystan's antic. Nystan's face disappears only to pop up from the left side a mere moment after. His hair razes the foam ceiling. Dust falls on Cian dark coat. -You're crying? Nystan marvels. - No, I have allergies. Cian retorts. - Oh? They’re the worst I saw of my wholle life, then. You should seek help for it, it turned your eyes in such a veins field, and you look like someone that cried all night long. A broken heart man. Cian bangs on the panel with all his arm and stiff closed fist. - Enough. Get down of there, monkey. You just added to it. Cian exclaims partly in control, mostly broken. Cian lowers his shoe less feet from the door, dusting his shoulder from the white particles that fell of the ceiling. He put his shoes back. Nystan keeps his countenance, not dissuaded a single minute. His eyes check still down at the pathetic display in the lodge. He inhales a lungful of air and his fingers brace on the partition, pallid with the applied pressure. - Wait a minute, Mister Perfect. Nystan haas the nerve to reply, at last. After ALL we lived together, you’re actually supposed that I can accept what you just said as true and being well-thought? Cian globular eyes peer up. - And why not? Nystan usually opened and mirthful countenance turns straight off into stone. Any warmth there was prior in his blue eyes drains away and the irises fall on Cian like a collector's pins fixing the wings of a prized butterfly. - Where does all that come from? - All what, Nescio? - That hate, that ...that jerkiness...I neever ever saw you like that, my friend. Cian shrugs in all answer. - I thought you and Kocha were best buddiees. Nystan spouts. His voice tints with melancholy and his eyes cover all over again with a gloss. She spoke so fondly of you. Cian, don’t tell me you already forgot all the cares and concern. All those times... - Mind your own business. - This is MY business, Cian. You two were my friend, you're still are. Ny... The door opens; Nystan's head hit the ceiling launching some more dust down to Cian. -Ow! Man! Cian grumbles. A man steps in, unaware of the other up until he hears Nystan. He gazes up at him, amused at first. But when he hears Cian mutters, he look down toward the compartment, then up. His expression turns into a more miffed one. -Boys, can't you do it in a more private pllace? The newcomer says, walking back outside the men's room without even doing whatever he was entering for. Cian burst into laughing, but Cian complains even more: -See? Now they will all suspect something iin between us two. -Seen when you minded that much? Nystan jumps from what ever he was standing on. His voice comes from behind the panel, muffled. -It hurt me what you said earlier. -Get used to it... Cian replies jostling tiithe door of his cubicle open. Nystan faces calmly the wall in one of the stall. His eyes are closed and he breathes deeply, in then out. -Because this is reality...” Cian finishees his sentence as the door he just let go beats the air behind him. -Alright, then. Mister...Double face...I didn't need you to storm out like that to understand. Word and tone was already enough. Nystan says, staring at his friend over the stall's wall. - Sometimes, Nescio, you can be such an annnoyance. - Just sometimes? Thank you, I am taking tthat like a compliment. The tone of the youngest of the pair turned again to pleasantry. Even his eyes turns back to a more amused filled one. Cian's attitude doesn't melt. He places his fist on his hips and yaps a sharp: Often. -Sweet. Can I pee, now? All this chatting.....! Nystan says, turning his face to the wall and raising his chin. This is really not the place, you know. That's a bit distracting. We're not girl. Right? -You said it. Cian walks toward the cleansing facility near the entrance, completely opposing Nystan's position. After some respectful minutes of silence, Cian asks: -You walked in here to pee or for me? Nystan pops right behind him. -What do you think? He says, walking towardd the exit. -Nescio? -What? -Wash your hand if you peed. -Come on, I was clean before. Cian makes a disgusted face. -We're not surgeon. Nystan excuses himself before he just complies and walk beside Cian. Each faucets start pouring cold vapor as the two men pass their hands before the censors. Not a single exchange of word for a while till Nystan just blurbs: You should have told her. His tone bears a tone of reprehension. He tightens his teeth on them afterward, not looking to Cian even though both men stand roughly an inch beside each other. The other glances and flares right away in a protestation, weighting on all the individual words: - I didn't love Tiara! Cian pants afterward, eyes lugging on his companion through the help of the mirror. Then he bleaches. He averts his eyes and, with a soft pock as the head impact the mirror, he then presses his forehead on the glossy surface with a sigh. A deep blush creeps on his face till even his ears turn to a crimson tone. Nystan is prone to notice: - We were speaking of Kocha. Why are you bbringing up Tiara? Cian harbors iciness in his expression, not replying to that question. He orders the dispenser: "Soap". His hand move underneath the nozzle. Half of the quantity provided slips through the man's fingers, staining the counter. Cian violently splashes it as best as he can with the cold vapor when it changes to droplets in his hand. He attempts to make it dissolves away. Water pearls on the surface and rolls back in the lavatory. The gesture cleans not the pinkish stain. Cian sighs. His forehead lifts from the mirror and he sways his shoulders, clearing his throat. His voice’s timbre changes for a more expounding one, even warmth infliction when he speaks next. -It's not forbidden. Judah did it. There Aaare plenty of places in the bible where it is justified to a man to do that kind of deal. It's not... He stops his monologue. Nystan listens intently, crossing his arms over his chest after a short moment. He elevates his chin and look at Cianán through a thin slit left between the eyelashes. He is definitely not buying a word of his friend’s statement. - You don’t have anything better for jusstification? Nystan regretfully tells. He swallow immediately after. Cian gives a quick side-glance to Nystan, then his posture deflates and his forehead touches the mirror again, sighing all the way downward. - Nescio, can't you stop looking at me likke that? He asks with a poised tone. - That's quite funny. What you are doing rright now exactly reflect what I think you did. And see how futile it is, Cian? Don't you see that? You can't dissolved that stain, now. Try all you might, but if you've been seeing that woman again...you are not going to be able to hide it from me. From anyone eventually, you know. Not even your dad. -NO. Cian protests, staggering. Don't inforrm my dad! He holds to the counter, eyes fix on his own mirror image. Please? - Cian, s t o p that. Look at me. Look at me right in the eyes. I won't be the one betraying you. Nystan turns out to be progressively more disconcerted as he speaks about this. He camps his position, back to the divider surrounding the cleaning unit. His hands flit around the sink’s hollow at the front of him. He swipes his hair. - You are digging your OWN grave, man. Thaat’s it...you are making your own mud. I love you like my own brother, Cian. I can't quietly let you fall without trying to wake you up! It's for your OWN good. But Cian just begins again to wash his hands, not looking to Nystan like his associate asked of him. Nystan takes a napkin, fiercely pulling on a stack. Half of the quantity sashays to land on the nearest horizontal surface. - You know that some days, Cianán Gilchriiist, you're really not worthy of the name of our Lord. Exasperated, he throws the used napkin in the recycler and bulges out the men's room with a constrained shout. The door flaps on its hinges gradually brought to a standstill. Cian looks at it. He blinks, gasping. He then shrugs and resumes his hand washing. He has not wet properly his hands again that he hears the door yawning. He sighs intensely. - What, again? Nystan holds the access gapping with one limb. He crosses the threshold just from the shoulders up and hardheartedly announces: Esilian waits for us in the room we were. He starts moving out. He looks at his friend from the opening, mumbling a few more words more: In case you're too much in your world to remember where it is, it’s four doors down to the left. And then he moves out, letting the door flaps on its own. Cian passes a hand in his face, spreading water over it. - It looks like you don’t have many choices now. He says to himself, picking the dryer for his hands rather than the napkin. He struts to the room, pushes the door without a knock and enters in the middle of Nystan’s sentence: - So . . . You know of what happen, really? Nystan repeats his gesture of feet shuffling. He blushes when he sees Cian, tilts his head and takes a deep breath in. Cian shrugs and comes to place himself at his side, like if nothing had happened. - Of course. Those pity clowns maybe sayinng a lot of things, including that she killed herself, which is not so far of the truth, somehow. Esilian says. The two men’s faces paints with surprise. Cian takes a chair, flips it on two leg and sits, both arms on the back of the chair, crossed in front of him. Nystan stays standing. Esilian continues: - Imagine a moment that each night, or each few nights since you were a little boy, you dreamt of something that would happen to you in the future with enough details to escape it. - That’s not possible. Dreams are dreams. When you start believing in them, everything turns askew. - Well, Mister Gilchrist, that’s not what your own bible says. Are you telling me that half of the saints in there were half-witted of some sort? Besides, haven't you said yourself to Kocha that it was a dream that made you are what you are, right now? Nystan snorts then smiles all pleased. He looks up to Cian. - Well, no. Those were other times. While speaking, Cian slows down his word's delivery and he observes both Esilian and Nystan, each at their turn. Both have a resolute stances. Cian chills out. - I said nothing. Go ahead. What was her ddream? Esilian nods and she adds to it: - She knew what would unfold if she acceptted that posting in the desert. She told me some years ago of her dream. She knew exactly how it would happen. Not when, not where, but she knew. And despite they found no proof of fowl play, if you put your hands ever on her dream journal, you will know what happen. And how to find who killed her. - But you just said she told you? Cian sayys, with a renew interest. Beside, we are not allowed to go in that country, they are in war. I warned her before she went there. - Me as well. Nystan hurries to point out.... - She knew there was possibility, so she prrobably was anxious. - What ever the cause of her nightmare, Ciaan, I believed her when she told me she had this same nightmare since her childhood. And don't you see? - See what? - It's because of you that she went there ddespite her vision advising her not to go. She desired to cut it out. To no more think of you. To go on with her life. Cian's expressions harden. Nystan sways and his back finds a wall on what he slowly slide down, sitting on the ground, both hands gathered at his belly. - You have no proof of what you are saying.. - Yes, you are right on this, Cian. It's puure speculation on my part. But what if I am right? It gives nothing to go further on that ground. But all the same, she went there knowing she will died and how she would. So if you could just, for the sake of all, put your hand on something she wrote about it. Her dream journal or anything. That will be of a good interest. There is more into it than you may think. - So she told you about it or not? - Yes, Yes, she told me, but not enough dettails or I would have shaken them out there. You know how she was giving way more detail while writing than while speaking. The woman explains The sequence I remember goes like this: she was forced to kneel. She heard a cracking sound, like the one when you scratch a match to light it up. She saw the sand as she fell on the ground, face first. She saw the sand getting wet and in her dream, she said, she rejoiced that it rained in the desert before she realized that it was her own blood. She felt her head spinning and all became black. And she woke up after she knew she just died in her dream. That's what she told me. Because that was the kind of dream you have at the first person. She did not see herself, she felt it was herself. - Woa! Nystan exclaims, rubbing his temple with his pointer. Then why did she go? More practical, Cian says: - So that's why you say she kind of indirecctly suicide herself? - Well, since she knew that, she could havee prevented it to happen. She chose to go henceforth. Every choices she made was leading her toward that, little by little. Or every thing that was imposed to her during her life. Like the one that put in her head she would never be what she dream to be and thus hindered here way too long. You two know of who I am speaking about. I don't need to say more. - If it’s money matter, Esilian. That wiill be very dumb to confirm them she commits suicide. - Oh, no. Esilian says accompanied with a ggiggle. This will be infirming the suicide, on the contrary. You don’t know everything of Kocha’s past. - I know everything, believe me. Cian repliies sardonically. The lady bents and pull out three brown bags from under the chair. - I made myself copy of it, for Ina. You haave to read them up. You will understand better. Even though, it still misses that dream journal. She announces, first handing the bags to Cian. - I think you will be quite surprised. Takee it . . . she softly orders. Nystan acts faster than his companion and he forced two of the bags inside the taller man jacket, amazingly without an once of protestation from this one. The third bag ends in between Cian reluctant fingers by the same cares. He blinks and frowns. - Writing? Again?” He near inaudibly artiiculates. Esilian flutters her eyelashes. - Tell me you will read everything? It is wworth the effort. Please. - Oh. . . Cian emits with a jaw dropping, sshaking the bag in his hand. Yeah . . . yeah. . . I will. He unconvincingly assures to the woman. - We . . . we have to go, Huh, Nystan? ” He excuses as he rises with a brief patting on Nystan's back. It was a real pleasure to meet you again. His left leg pass over the seat and plants itself beside the right one. Cian stands there, a begging glance to Nystan. - Wait a minute. Esilian calls, standing att her turn. Nystan that was already on the move halts before he turns to see what the matter is. Cian just solidifies with a shiver down the spine. - You’re not going without kissing me likke Kocha taught you. . . Esilian affirms comically, pointing to her cheek. Right there and there also. The men concedes to the request, then they paces toward the door. - We did not shake hands with her mother, ffinally. . . Nystan says as they leave. Shall we not? Cian stops and looks above the crowd. He sees clearly where the lady is now, but he do not head in her direction. He pulls on Nystan's sleeve and walks toward the exit of the funeral home. - I don't feel to take another cold shower.. I will personally write to her, lets get out of here while we still can. I do not know for you, but I lack of air. Agreeing with his associate, the smaller man passes in front of him, before long followed by the first. “Thank you for visiting the Shilly Mercy Chapel”, where your grief is our business. “ The doors slide then Cian steps out, followed by Nystan that halts right in the way of the sliding doors, reconsidering. He does two paces back, then two paces forward. “Welcome to Shilly Mercy Chapel, where lighting your grief is our business.” Inevitably resound the “very compassionate” computer's voice. Nystan stays there a moment, the doors stay open. He paces, anew, twice backward and then forward. Cian stands outside, watching his friend behavior. A frown adorns his forehead and his stance leave no doubt about him gradually losing patience. His lips tighten, but he has in his gaze all the clues of a profound glee. It is raining. The water droplets evaporate as they touch Cian's garment or his hair. He stays dry. After a while of that entertainment, though, both hands turn into fists. Those fists reach his hips, with the bag dangling on one side, the jacket's opening folding around the two others stuffed by Nystan's care inside it. His foot taps twice on the pavement. - Are you done? he asks with a firm tone. Nystan passes the doors one last time, and look, astonished, to his companion. - What? It is funny, no? - With our friends, yes. Cian explains, raiising his chin to point behind the smaller man, and soon aiming also in that direction with the hand carrying the bag. Not while Kocha’s family is around. They almost used the purple phone, you want to be lobotomized? - Not the purple phone. Nystan jests, turniing to see what is going on in his back. His laughing expression turns to a more unplayful one. He shudders, then he titers. - I didn't know I could draw so much attenttion on my little person. Hi folk! He says, waving to them, and then bending in a theatrical salute. - We have to leave. You're playing with firre, Nescio. - Bah! I don't think so. Even humorless peoople won't dare using the mental health emergency service for such thing. - You don't know. - I won't linger enough for it. Beside, thee lobotomy is no more the threat. That was in the old time that they were doing it to cuckoo. Not today. They put you in an IT position with people asking you things for yesterday. That's the better way to dispose of mentally ill people. That way, after a few months, they hang themselves. No one has to pay for them. - Funny. Come now. - I was just having a little innocent pleassure. Nothing wrong in that. Nystan excuses with a sheepish grin. Not commenting further, Cian pats his companion. He changes the topic. - Look at you! he exclaims. Did not you obsserve that I was always the one with the latest gadget down there? Nystan appears a bit lost for a moment, and then he beams. - Oh, the suit . . . yes. I was not followiing your thought. He admits with a franker grin. You will have one like that, soon. We had it first because the rain is acrider on the colony. I so hated those gray lines the prior model had all over. . . ” He pinches the lines marking Cian's sleeves while saying it. Mine also has a positive effect on young women. They rush to your help as soon as there is a drop of rain, with their umbrella. Cian bursts out laughing; a short snapping laugh like the one of a cracking whip. His friend explains further, pausing between each sentence: - They think you have that suit from the yeear two thousand and five, so they place you gladly under their umbrella. With them, most of the time. - I see. Cian laughs shortly, rubbing his left eyebrow. - That is not everyone that can allow themmselves to possess such a thing. So it also makes them more at ease, since we, Brothers, are not looking so apart of them. Both men briefly nods, and then a long silence occurs. They wait in front of the funeral home, under the rain, on the sidewalk. Nystan shuffles his feet again. He extends his frame over the road, glancing left, glancing right then glancing upward. Calmer, at least in his outer shell, Cian looks with a meditative look at the bag he has in his hand. He opens it, slowly then takes a peep in it. Next, he moans. He closes it and shakes the bag like you do when you want to cover chicken with bread-crumb. - Hum? Nystan says, looking at him, intriggued. He paces closer and without effort removes the bag from his friend’s hand. He also looks in it. - Oh . . . hologram’s pins. He specifiess out loud. You do not have to watch them so soon. Take your time with them? What's the hurry? His voice is full of compassion for Cian as he gives him back the bag. After a moment, though, Cian shows no sign of taking it back, so Nystan reaches to his hand, closing his friend's fingers on it. - No. Look again. Esilian was not joking. . . Cian complains, insisting by pushing the bag back into Nystan’s chest. The smaller man takes a second look inside the bag. His friend continues to mumble: Exaoctet of text, if not even more! Nystan snickers. - Don't take it that bad. He returns the bag, cheerily adding: You just have to use a sorting software and then read them by order of interest. You’re not obligated to read them all the same day. - I “hope”. - What will it changes if you take all of tthis and just toss it off in the depository system? She is dead anyway. He pauses, patting his friend in the same affectionate manner he did some minutes prior. Maybe Ina still has the one Kocha bought for her. - The sorting software? - Yes. You can ask her when she will come tto see you. You're so lucky! She will come to visit you first. -You don't know. Life sometimes has surprisses for us. - I don't expect her to come to Mars first.. Unless I died. - Please, don't speak about that. - Cian, I am not eternal. You are not eternnal. - I know, but...not today. - Sure. But, tell me, I thought you just looved reading? It should represent nothing for you a couple of holosticks like that. - I do love reading. But if there is ONE siingle thing I will not miss of her; it's her emails. I enjoyed quite well the respite I had since her passing away. Cian answers, purposely weighting on the “quite well”. - There was so much of them? Nystan inquiriies. His friend answers, first, with a nod. His eyes display a sort of distress signal. - If she was awake eighteen hours, I had eiighteen emails. He declares before and after a deep exasperated sigh. - Wow! How was she living while writing tooo you so much?” Cian shrugs sadly. - I figured I was her journal, somehow. - I never had that much from her. It was goood if I had what? Eighteen in a month? - It is because you had the luck of having a sister. Your sister, Andreas, stepped between you and her. She made her understood quite clearly that making tight link with you was not “desirable” by anyone in your family. That she was not welcome to even being a friend. Nystan stops, frozen in his movement, peering and temporarily speechless. When he finally breathes again, he asks in a whisper: She... she told you that? - Of cours’not. You know how she was. Shee would have never admitted to a friend of a friend what he could let go unwillingly. If she had told me so, I would have asked one of my sisters to act like Andrea. She knew I could have hurt you with it in one of my transport, when you got me angry. So she created a little adaptation on her own of someone else having told her that. She even kept her version with Annabel when your co-worker asked why Kocha was not acting as closed with you than with me. We figured out later, because Ina knew the event occurred and the true identity. We just never came back on her with that one. After all, her intents were nobles; she did not want to hurt you. Or to create any discord. But she lied. Raindrops fill the void of words. Cian resumes his tossing and playing with the bag's content. Nystan starts walking back and forth on a short distance, splashing in the ponds. He brings to a standstill when he feels Cian's glance on his back. He turns to face his absent-minded friend, staring at him, yes, but not intentionally. - How come you never told her to stop emailling you at once? Or so much?” Nystan interrupts his thoughts. - Oh, but I did. Often. -And? - It dwindled for a little while, then it ppicked up or worst or equal to what it was. So I had to re-demand. - You could have told her that you were nott interested AT ALL. She would have understood, mourned a bit and move to other things. Perhaps? Another man. - Or I would have hurt her. And I was not ddisinterested, totally; it was just way too much. She was out of control certain days. So I was just no more answering. Cian states on an unvarying tone. Another moment of silence follows that confidence. Then Nystan speaks again: I think she knew. - About? - About that it was way too many emails forr you. She was intelligent and hyper-sensitive, after all. She must have known and felt very guilty each time she hit send. Nystan completes, flickering his pale blue eyes toward his friend. - You think? Cian narrows his eyes, glancing carefully to his friend. For a while, he contemplates that idea. - I don't think: I remember. She talked offf something like that with Ina while I was with them. Although they both thought I was sleeping and not listening. - It must come with having being deprived oof any human contact for too long, then? - It could well have been. Nystan shrugs. - Does it matters so much now? I mean. ... He pauses in consideration. I do not know how you could have find about the reason for this and remediate to it. By what I got of her tone when she was speaking with Ina about you, she was sincerely sad to put you through all that. Speaking like that, Nystan pats his taller friend again. - So, what do you do? You put all of this iin a trash. After all, she is gone now, right? Cian holds the bag. He looks inside again, glances toward a trash can, to Nystan and his face wrinkles. - Waiting for a taxi? A woman voice says. It comes from a car, an old model, the window draws downward. - Hi Annabel, just in time. Nystan says, oppening the door of the vehicle. He enters and from inside calls to Cian. Do you get in or you decided to root there?