Chapter 25
As the summer unfolded, a renewed sense of optimism was in the air. The streets of Rome, once eerily silent, began to thrum
with life again. Coffee bars and museums cautiously opened their doors, welcoming locals and a trickle of tourists with new
safety protocols in place. Masks, though a constant reminder of the pandemic, became part of the city’s new normal.
Despite the cautious resurgence of life, the remains of the Colosseum stood as a stark reminder of the devastation that had
swept the city. Once the symbol of Rome’s resilience, the ancient structure’s collapse had sent shock waves through the world.
The area around it remained blocked off, fenced with towering barriers that kept the masses away. Rubble still filled the
surrounding streets, and the nearby metro construction, meant to bring new ease to the city’s transportation, had been abandoned.
Now, the Colosseum’s ruins loomed over the deserted streets like a wound that had yet to heal. Reconstruction efforts had
been delayed indefinitely because of the pandemic, and no timeline for the area’s recovery had been announced.
Aida’s first assignment after returning from London was at a site immediately next to where Trajan’s Column used to be, Palazzo Valentini, built in the sixteenth century and now serving as the seat of Rome’s Provincial Administration.
Beyond its stately facade, Palazzo Valentini hid a remarkable secret beneath its foundations: the ruins of ancient Roman houses.
The site had been transformed into a multimedia museum, where cutting-edge technology, including light projections and sound effects, brought the ancient world to vivid life.
As she strolled through the remains of Roman homes, peering into living spaces, baths, and kitchens that once teemed with activity, her usual wonder was infused with a new appreciation for the world beyond the pandemic.
But every time Aida approached the building, she felt a gnawing sense of unease. The collapsed Colosseum wasn’t far—its ruins
a constant, looming reminder of everything that had changed. The sight of it every day made her heart clench. What else could
fall? The city itself seemed fragile, as if the ground beneath her might give way at any moment, swallowing what remained
of the world.
During her time at the site, Aida kept expecting Mo to appear. But it wasn’t until late in August when she was cataloging
happiness at the Villa Farnesina on the edge of the Trastevere that Mo finally appeared.
The photographer had just finished his work in the Loggia of Cupid and Psyche and departed when Mo brushed past him into the
sunlit room. “So, this is where you hide when the world starts breathing again,” he remarked with an unusual, playful edge.
“I wasn’t aware I was hiding,” she said, welcoming the calm that had preceded the god’s entrance.
She didn’t want to look at him because then she would be expected to say more, so instead, she gazed up at Raphael’s magnificent
ceiling, which, ironically, featured scenes of the gods. On one side, there was the Council of the Gods, in which Jupiter
decided to give the drink of immortality to Psyche so she could become a god and marry Cupid. On the other side was Cupid
and Psyche’s wedding feast.
“Look,” she said, pointing up. “There are the Three Graces. Seeing the goddess Euphrosyne is a breath of fresh air after the weight of coronavirus upon us. Are you familiar with her?” It was a dangerous question, but when she first saw the fresco that morning, a seed of panic was planted within her.
The pandemic had given them a taste of the world without happiness, and she had no desire to have what little joy she had left taken again.
“Happiness is always fleeting. Humans are greedy. They never get enough of it,” he said, coming to stand beside her. He pulled
off his mask.
“If the guards see you, they’ll yell at you,” she told him, disappointed that he didn’t say anything useful about Effie.
“The guards won’t bother us. I asked them for some time alone. You can take yours off too.”
Aida hesitated but ultimately slipped her mask off and hooked it over her forearm. “So, you’ve come to check up on me?”
“Something like that.” He turned his gaze to the fresco, lingering on the details. “Though I’m not here to scold or interrogate
you this time.”
“Oh?” She shifted her stance, surprised by his change in tone.
Mo gave a small nod. “I’m . . . trying something different.”
“Different?” She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You?”
“Don’t act so surprised.” He sounded almost defensive but caught himself and continued more lightly. “We haven’t spoken in
a while. I wanted to know how you’re doing.”
“How I’m doing?” Aida echoed, suspicious of this line of questioning.
He didn’t meet her gaze, instead watching the figures in the fresco, their eternal revelry. “I don’t have to be your enemy,
you know.”
Aida studied him, feeling off-balance. “You’ve never exactly been my friend either.”
Mo shrugged, his casual demeanor slipping just slightly. “Maybe I could be.”
“I thought friendship wasn’t your strong suit.”
“It’s not,” he admitted, looking at her now with that same intensity she’d grown used to. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn.”
Aida shifted, uncertain of how to respond. “Why would you want to?”
Mo let out a small breath, his lips twisting into a humorless smile. “Because I’m bored, and you’re . . . different. You’re
not predictable.”
“Well, thanks, I think,” she said.
Mo leaned against the wall—a move that would have the guards yelling at him if he was seen. “You’re not like the others I
deal with. You don’t try to manipulate, and you don’t play games. You just . . . do your job. It’s refreshing.”
She was relieved that he seemingly had no idea about her scheming to stop the games he and his siblings were playing. “And
you find that interesting?”
“I find that . . . worth investing time in.” He said it so simply, as though it weren’t strange to say.
Aida frowned, trying to piece together his motives. “So, you’re trying out this whole friendship thing with me?”
He smirked, but there was less bite to it than usual. “Something like that.”
For a moment, the only sound between them was the faint hum of the wind from outside. Aida wasn’t sure whether to laugh or
keep her guard up. Mo, the god of sarcasm and guile, genuinely trying to make a connection with her—it didn’t quite seem real.
Yet, here he was, talking like this was just a normal interaction.
“You know friendship requires a bit more than just showing up unannounced,” she finally said, turning back toward her work.
“It’s not transactional.”
Mo pursed his lips, considering her words. “I know that. Doesn’t mean I can’t offer something in return.”
“Like what?” She glanced at him, half expecting him to revert to his usual cryptic self.
But instead, he seemed thoughtful, almost serious. “I could help you. Maybe not with your research—” he gestured vaguely to the notebook and equipment around her “—but with something else. If you ever need it.”
She decided to test him. “I wish you could end this pandemic.”
“It’s eased up quite a bit, hasn’t it?” he said. “Maybe I had a hand in that.”
Aida gave a nervous laugh. She had been right. He had done something to change it.
“Well then, thank you very much.” She said it in a jokey voice because, of course, she wasn’t supposed to know he could actually
have such an effect on things. “But it’s not gone entirely.” She nodded toward the mask on her arm. “Maybe you could keep
working on that.”
“Maybe.” He smiled faintly, and it didn’t seem like a calculated expression. He turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “See
you soon . . . amica mia.”
My friend. Aida watched him go, unsure what to make of it all. The calm she’d felt before was gone, replaced by something more unsettled—but
not in a bad way. For once, Mo didn’t seem to be playing a game with her. Maybe Yumi was right . . . maybe this friendship
could be something that would make a difference.
Unfortunately, the summer’s coronavirus reprieve turned out to be fragile. As autumn approached, the initial relief and hope
gave way to a creeping sense of unease. Case numbers, which had seemed to be under control, began to climb again. The news,
once filled with stories of recovery and reopening, now bore grim forecasts and warnings from health officials. The virus,
it seemed, was not done with humanity yet.
By the time the leaves began to change, the writing was on the wall.
Governments, hesitant yet compelled by the undeniable surge in cases, began to talk of new restrictions, of tightened measures to curb the spread.
Aida had been planning on her next trip to London to try to reach Pandora, but with the pandemic rearing its head again, despair crept in.
Yet just as she began to believe there was no chance of reaching Pandora, Trista informed her that they wanted another interview with her before the subsequent lockdown occurred.
She’s still there, Yumi said when Aida texted her the news. I checked again when Luciano uploaded yesterday.
Thank the gods. Now, if only we can reach her this time. There were so many factors riding against the possibility. They could send her home right away like they did last time. Mo’s
weird new friendship might be a drain on her time. And there was always the chance MODA might find out they knew about Pandora
in the first place.
Yumi sent a prayer emoji and explained, I sent a prayer to Sophie. I don’t know if she’ll answer, or if she can help, but it doesn’t hurt to ask.
Aida sighed. I pray to her almost every day. The goddess had been absent since before the pandemic.
I don’t, Yumi texted. Maybe another voice in the mix will make a difference.
Aida arrived in London in the early afternoon and, to her relief, was informed that her interview would be delayed until the