Chapter 14
My dear Henerey*,
*After some consideration, I have decided that I do find your fond mode of address (much more than) acceptable. I hope you will feel the same way.
The content (and, equally important, the tone!) of your letters takes my breath away. I simply cannot believe you consider me worthy of am so very happy.
Now, I do regret that I will not see you again anytime soon, given your impending departure. And it may be a good thing you cannot come sooner, for I think I might simply perish from excitement if you did. At least, under the present circumstances, I will have adequate time to prepare for the next visit.
On that note, I would be honoured to complete a field journal with you – though I admit that I am a bit shy about doing so, since I doubt anything I observe would be of interest to a true Natural Historian of your calibre! Yet I cannot wait to see this beautiful octopus tome appear. (I wonder – will the mail-boats that serve you in your new distant location also carry Sophy’s letters from the Spheres? Surely there can be only one or two particularly intrepid vessels that trek all the way to those waters!) The idea of sharing a physical object with you gives me a feeling I dare not describe. At any rate, while I await the arrival of our mutual journal, I will take note of anything notable I see – especially this morning, when I suspect I might glimpse a claw-armed mechanical beast co-piloted by an inexpert artist…
I write this from the viewing window in the parlour today – the room that we looked down into from the top of the landing when first we met (what lovely words to write). I chose this location because a most unusual happening will soon unfold in our undergarden! Somehow, my most incorrigible sibling wheedled Schr Jeime Alestarre into bringing over a depth-craft. Arvist hopes to use Jeime’s vessel to view the Structure up close so he may spend “an hour, or perhaps more or less, as needed” to “respond to” its “physicality”. Arvist truly considers the statue his greatest artistic muse: he wants to dedicate his life to “enacting the emotions caged within in its enigmatic crystalline flesh”.
I believe he expected her to bring a larger vessel, but Jeime arrived with one equipped to carry only two passengers. Arvist has, predictably, demanded that he must be the one to go; Seliara seems disappointed by this turn of events, but I suppose if I had to choose one of them to keep me company while the other goes off underwater, it might as well be her! (And before you ask: no, I did not have my heart set on joining this journey today. The thought of being trapped in a small depth-craft with my brother horrifies me, as he is prone to mock my discomfort with enclosed spaces. Though I can endure them if I am with someone more sympathetic, like Sophy!)
It is strange – Jeime continues to act as though she knows something about this Structure. Viewing it seems incredibly important to her. She barely spoke a word to me upon her arrival – too busy bustling about. I shall make a point of asking her more openly about her interest in it as soon as the depth-craft returns.
Once the morning’s pageantry is complete, I intend to seclude myself with only the company of the books that you left me! Yes, I have not even dared to open them yet. I anticipate, however, that I will soon get over my strange reverence for them and begin promptly. After our experience together, reading alone seems a rather sad prospect.
On second thought, I would like to close this letter by correcting a statement I made while starting it. I suggested, in jest, that I am relieved that your Scholarly obligations will give me time to prepare emotionally for our next meeting. I misspoke. Instead, let me be honest, and share my ardent hope that you, sir, will refrain in the future from making plans to travel into the inaccessible oceans just when I am growing so fond of you! It is incredibly inconvenient.
Yours,
E.
P.S. Thank you very much for sending the Darbeni poem! It is utterly fascinating. The voice hardly sounds like his! But I assume its “meaning”, such as it is, describes that deliciously irrational nature of dreams – no matter how much one “recites [one’s] Proofs”, a dream shall supply you with whatever beautiful and terrible nonsense your Brain can create. And that is all perfectly in keeping with other themes that appear frequently in Darbeni’s work. I shouldn’t be surprised! Yet it is odd that he so coincidentally encapsulated my experience with the Structure in the phrase “Luminous Circumference” – and the Structure is also rather like a circle prone to “Coruscating”! I don’t suppose he might have seen one before? If that were the case, I suppose it lends credence to the hypothesis that it is an Antepelagic artefact! I wonder again what its function is. Would you please tell me more about how you happened upon Darbeni’s hidden career as a poet?
P.P.S. O, dear Henerey, there is so much more I wish to say in this letter. But I find it intimidating beyond belief to be vulnerable when I sit across from Seliara (who keeps looking over my shoulder, the fiend!) as my brother bumbles about outside in the depth-craft he guilted from our family friend. Until I have an opportunity to express myself further, I hope you can sense the character of what has gone unwritten.
Dear Vyerin,
It is as I expected – and feared. What a surreal letter to read. These words were written in the moments before what was (at the time) one of the most terrifying incidents in the history of the Cidnosin family. (Later eclipsed, of course, by something even worse.)
S.
Sophy, dear sister,
The unthinkable has happened. Please come as quickly as you can.
Sincerely,
Scholar Artistry “Arvist” Cidnosin
Sophy please do not be alarmed but E. has had a bit of a challenging day. She is being treated but we were all very much frightened for her. If there is any way that you are able to leave we would be most grateful.
Seliara
PERSONAL AND STATISTICAL PARTICULARS
Full Name: Erudition Cidnosin
Residence (Usual Place of Abode – Vessel or Anchorage): Boundless Campus, “Deep House”
Patient Number: 1432-4
Age: 27 years
Referral Designation(s): “E.,” she, her
Single, Partnered, Separated, or Widowed: Single
If partnered, name of spouse: N/A
Department: N/A, see below
*The patient is not a Scholar but the sister of Schr Sophy Cidnosin, who has provided a letter of support in favour of the patient’s immediate intake at the on-campus infirmary.
REASON FOR INTAKE
The patient arrived at the Infirmary this afternoon in the care of her brother (Schr Arvist Cidnosin). The brother found the patient floating unconscious after an Unknown Seismic Event impacted their shared residence. Family friend Schr Jeime Alestarre administered artificial respiration to the patient. The patient seems to exhibit symptoms of Extensive Shock and speaks rarely and incomprehensibly. While no administration of medicine seems necessary at this time, the patient will be monitored by the Infirmary until it can be ascertained that she maintains no lingering physical or mental Traumas.
Signed: Scholar Leogroma Marzel, School of Observation
Dearest dearest E. (and also Arvist):
I anticipate I may arrive at the same time as this letter. Thanks to fortunate coincidence and Niea’s quick thinking and generosity, I shall catch a ride on the mail-boat that services our station. I will spend the next day in depressurisation.
Until tomorrow,
Sophy
Dear Vyerin,
Thus concludes the blurry period that immediately followed E.’s “accident”. Thanks to the – shall we say unhelpful? – communication from my brother and Seliara, I did not quite know what to expect when I arrived at the Infirmary. (In the past, Arvist previously used “the unthinkable” to refer to encounters with faultily made canvases, the sorrow of an unkind review by a colleague, and the experience of going to the icebox thinking that a certain meal might be there and realising that it was not.)
During the journey, I spent nearly twenty hours sealed in the depressurisation chamber in which I had been hauled aboard the mail-boat. Under other circumstances, I might have found the isolation and silence unbearable, but it suited my needs at the time. When I finally stumbled out onto the deck, the sudden rush of air and light and sea spray made me collapse to my knees and shut my eyes in hopes that the comforting gloom would return.
I often think of Adaptation as a process that takes years – generations – aeons – but o, how quickly I adapted to life in the abyss! And even if I did not truly miss the infinite darkness and unquestionably lethal water pressure to which I had become accustomed, I ached for the woman whose presence had become essential to any environment that I might call home. (How sad it is to think that even after the grand romantic moment I shared with Niea, we enjoyed each other’s company for only two more days before something tore me away.)
It was out of character for me, but I spent the last few moments of the ride sobbing uncontrollably. Thank the seas for the co-captain, who sat with me abovedeck as we docked, providing me with gentle platitudes in a voice so rhythmic that I confused it with the breeze from time to time.
He even offered to ferry me straight to the Infirmary Anchorage’s Urgency Dock in a dinghy, a kindness that I accepted gratefully. I wish I could remember the name of this generous man, because I suspect you might recognise it – surely all kind-hearted captains know one another? Do you perhaps meet over drinks every few months to share stories of the people you have helped? He was an older fellow, far older than my father, and spoke fondly of his partner and their new grandchild, who followed all news of our Spheres expedition in the papers with adorable interest.
And then we arrived, and I bid him a sad farewell, and went in to find E., looking smaller than ever among the colourful tapestries and cushions of her Infirmary bed, and the life that I had led up until that point under the water seemed ages away.
Somehow this letter has transformed into a reminiscence – rather against my wishes, I’m afraid. At any rate, I suppose it is time that I stop reminiscing and send you this package!
My best wishes,
Sophy
Dear Sophy,
Of course I know the captain of which you speak. His rhythmic voice, care for his family, and unexpected empathy towards your situation makes it all perfectly clear. That captain was the Vyerin Clel of the future, from twenty or thirty years hence, who somehow discovered the ability to sail through time! How wonderful to have something make sense amid all these mysteries.
(In all seriousness, I wish I could take credit for this man’s good nature, or give you his name. Alas, though there are many kind-hearted captains, no one has yet taken the initiative to catalogue them.)
By the way, I appreciated the fact that you granted E. (or should I say Erudition?) entry into the on-campus infirmary, even though she was not a Scholar. (I presume you were able to send me copies of her medical records because you were listed as her Patient Advocate?) Henerey always offered to do so for me. But I’m of the opinion that these new-fangled non-campus Infirmaries are far superior – as actual practising medics, rather than Scholars of the Body, work there. What are your thoughts on the matter?
I write all this to avoid the most pressing topic at hand. What caused this first “accident” that sent E. into such a state of shock? Might I guess that it was the same sort of seaquake that ultimately ended the lives of our siblings? But that seems impossible (or improbable, at the least).
With care (truly, even though I ask so much of you),
Vyerin
V.,
I would not be entirely surprised – nor alarmed, quite frankly – if you, of all people, learned how to sail through time. If you do find yourself making such a discovery, would you be so kind as to take me with you? There are some places in the past I would like to visit.
Shockingly, I’m sure, I happen to agree with you on the subject of Infirmaries. Since Niea and I resigned, I have been seeing independent, non-Academic medics for a year now, and they are far more efficient and effective than their Scholarly counterparts – as they prefer the novel method of treating patients rather than debating with their peers while you lie writhing on the table! But the Boundless Infirmary did well enough with my sister, and – as you guessed – they were happy to supply me with the relevant documents when I wrote to them the other day.
Finally: your suspicion about this event and its cause is most accurate.
Will it comfort you to know that your brother – by coincidence – also wanted very much to learn more about this incident?
S.
Dear Schr Cidnosin,
Please forgive my sudden incursion into your family’s crisis. I suspect you may already know me – which would be an honour – but in the event that you do not, allow me to contextualise this letter. My name is Henerey Clel and for the past short while, I have enjoyed a correspondence with your sister. At present, I am a Scholar-in-Residence aboard the research vessel Sagacity. Sagacity recently abandoned its previous relative proximity to the Deep House (which allowed me to enjoy an evening at your lovely home during a fateful party about which I am sure you must have heard) to begin a trek towards the waters above the Spheres, and, in doing so, happened to cross paths with the mail-boat that (I now know) bore you back to shore. As is usual (or so my brother, a sea captain himself, taught me long ago), your ship sent a small automaton-carried bulletin to our captain, informing us that it would be departing from its usual route due to an emergency.
For reasons I could not quite place, this chilled me. The next day, when our supply vessel brought the papers, I read of the Seismic Event at the Deep House – and who was injured – and found I was right to be chilled. As fate would have it, I then promptly received a much-delayed letter from E. describing her brother’s exploits in the depth-craft. I suspected it might be best to write to you directly.
Now that my preamble is complete, I will not trouble you further. When time permits, I would be most grateful if you could keep me updated on E.’s condition. (And anything else relevant. What do you suspect may have caused this incident?)
You may find (or, more likely, somehow already can discern) that I care deeply for her.
The relative cheer of this letter is all a fa?ade intended to comfort you, since I imagine you feel an even greater weight of worry!
I await your reply, and give you my sincerest thanks.
Schr Henerey Clel
S.,
It feels odd to send you your own words, but here you are – he kept your letter, of course.
V.
Dear Schr Clel,
Circumstances aside, it is wonderful to make your acquaintance – indeed, I have heard much about you. (There is something charming about the fact that you felt the need to introduce yourself nonetheless.)
I am happy to say that the Scholars at the Infirmary say E. should be on the mend soon. Unfortunately, that is all the news I have at the moment. But I have not yet read “the papers” myself, and do not know how much you already gleaned about “the incident”, so I will establish some facts as I understand them. Three days ago, E. sat in the parlour while my brother Arvist and Schr Alestarre explored the garden in a depth-craft. (I’m sure E. would like me to assure you that this is not typical of an average day at the Deep House under her watch.) Then something shook the reef horrifically, causing our parlour to collapse. We do occasionally experience seaquakes in this part of the ocean, but never one so strong as this. Our friend Seliara (though part of me suspects you know all of us already? I do not know how much E. is prone to gossip!) had just left to fetch some drinks and managed to avoid E.’s fate. I remain so grateful that Schr Alestarre piloted the depth-craft to retrieve E. before… the worst could come to pass.
E. still sleeps most of the time and has not yet spoken with us. I fear she is frightened beyond belief. Yet she does not seem to have a single bruise on her – I thank my good luck for small miracles.
Please do try to stay calm. I promise to inform you of any developments. And if you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask me.
Kindly,
Sophy
Dear Sophy,
I know I already sent you some documents and a letter, but another thought crossed my mind. Thus, here I am – bothering you once more. (Also, do you find yourself using dashes more frequently now that we’ve spent so much time reading E.’s letters?)
Reading letters between you and my brother is a most unusual – though not unwelcome – experience. It inspired me to ponder something rather bleak that I dared not even talk through with Reiv. Namely – what would have happened if I had been the one to disappear, and Henerey lived? What if he were writing to you now, trying to piece together the memories you shared of the time before my death? Clearly, this is not a perfect hypothetical – for one, E. never would have been romantically interested in me (there’s no accounting for taste) – but it haunts me nonetheless.
Surely the literary quality of the Clel half of the correspondence would increase immensely in this alternate world. Also, I suspect Henerey would have already helped you solve the mystery of what happened to me with phenomenal speed.
That is all.
V.
Dear V.,
I also find it odd to look back at my brief exchanges with Henerey and consider how my perspective of him has changed. Back then, he was “E.’s potential partner” and “an esteemed colleague” – now he is still those things, but also your Henerey, and the fact that I had the chance to exchange words with him during his short time in this world seems all the more significant.
There is not much else for me to say to your second paragraph, except that I could not be more grateful for the writing partner I have in this reality.
S.