Seven Keys of Truth (short stories)

The conference hall of the Academy of Sciences was unusually quiet. Its tall windows would normally be rattled by the echoes of discussions between members, as they would overpower each other in an attempt to challenge the theories presented. Now their heads with white wigs were facing the entrance. A woman was standing there. She was a noble, which was the only reason she wasn't kicked out before entering. "Absolutely shameless and outrageous," they whispered to each other as she walked towards the center of the podium. The smile on her face didn't just come from the confidence she felt at that moment. Miss Eskoff was carrying something that would change the world forever. A fuller man walked beside her and blinked nervously at the faces of the old scholars on the benches. He was constantly wiping the sweat off his forehead. - Miss Eskoff, perhaps I should speak? - he whispered. - Thank you, Mr. Dupont. That won't be necessary. When she paused at the middle of the podium, the whispering on the benches stopped. Before her, in a lofty chair, sat the president of the academy, Louis Ashcroft, sighing in battle with impatience. - Miss Eskoff, we have been waiting for you for more than half an hour. - he said. - We are very grateful for your donations to the academy, but that does not give you the right to waste our precious time like this. - I understand and deeply apologize to all of you. I had no intention of- - Why are you here? - he interrupted. She looked at her friend, Mr. Dupont, who nodded in encouragement. - Honorable gentlemen, I requested your audience because I have found something revolutionary. Something that will change everyone's lives. After a moment of silence, she heard jeers from several quarters. She looked around and noticed that most of them were whispering to each other with laughter. - Really, Miss Eskoff? - Ashcroft asked disinterestedly, rubbing his temples. Reaching into her silk girdle, she pulled out a vial and held it up for all to see. - Dear gentlemen, I have discovered a cure for death. For the umpteenth time, there was complete silence. The bottle of transparent liquid shimmered in the morning sun and reflected frowning faces. Attached to the neck of the bottle was a small label with the inscription "Aqua vitae". Suddenly, laughter echoed through the hall. Miss Eskoff looked around in disbelief as fifty of the most respected scientists laughed, slapping their desks and wiping away tears. - We hope that your medicine also cures the reputation that you have just publicly hanged! She was prepared for them not to believe her, but five minutes of laughter and banter made her lips shrink into a thin line of anger. She waited for everyone to quiet down. - Maybe this wasn't a very good idea. - Dupont said. Ashcroft asked his colleagues for silence several times. Most stood up, ready to leave. - Gentlemen, I believe that, like every scientist, I deserve to prove my claim. -she said. - Or a chance to at least deserve this sneer. Miss Eskoff, - Ashcroft said, turning serious. - let's ignore for a moment that what you claim is completely impossible. Even if you did find this "cure", such an invention is a perversion and so against nature, that no one would ever call you a "scientist". You would, at best, be condemned as a witch. - Against nature? You recently buried a seven-year-old daughter, Mr. Ashcroft. Is it natural for a parent to outlive their child? Is it a perversion to want to correct such a cruel mistake of nature? Nature is a limit that we can cross only with science. Blood rushed to Ashcroft's cheeks. - This conversation is over. - he said and stood up. - Go home, Miss Eskoff, and save what is left of your dignity. - Bring her in, Mr. Dupont. - she said. The man rushed to the door and opened it. A child, no older than eight, walked in. At first, no one reacted. It was just a little girl in an ordinary dress, her hands clasped behind her back. Then the light caught her face. - I believe this qualifies as sufficient evidence? There were gasps of astonishment, unanswered. Doctors, philosophers, physicists, fell back to their places. Many began to cross themselves, but no one could get a single word out of their mouths. Ashcroft, after a short silence, finally found his voice. - Elizabeth...? - he said in a trembling voice, standing up. He looked at the others behind him. Behind his tears was fear. A murmur arose, quiet at first, then growing and overlapping. - Impossible... - they said. - How...? How is this possible...? - That simply cannot be. The woman raised her hand, and the voices fell silent. - I came to share the discovery, not to defend it. The little girl stopped in front of her father, with the same braid she had last time. With the same mole above the eyebrow. The little girl he personally lowered into the coffin. He reached out with a shaking hand and touched her cheek. Skin. Soft. Real. He fell to his knees and made a sound, not a cry, not a laugh. Finally, he hugged his child, gently, as if she would disappear if he held her tighter, and wept. Behind him, a murmur rose only to die down again. Skeptics kept their mouths shut. Some were whispering bible verses, others wondered if God even existed. - Elizabeth! My Elizabeth! Scientists came down from the benches to see for themselves. To find any evidence that this is a blasphemous trick. Their silence was filled with calculation and a heavy sense of a paradigm shift. - Am I still a witch, Mr. Ashcroft, or can we finally talk like intellectuals? His eyes, red with tears, rose up to Miss Eskoff. She could see her victory in them. - We will need... time. Time to consider. To understand the implications of this... this event. - You have time. For now. Mr. Ashcroft, gentlemen, see you, I hope. She turned, her footsteps echoing through the marble hall as she left without saying goodbye, leaving the little girl, her weeping father, and a hall full of mute scholars. *** The funeral was quiet. Maybe because the mother passed out several times. People in black sat with their heads bowed in silent sympathy, in front of a humble coffin. Field flowers lay around him. The boy's name was carved into the lid - uneven, but careful. Someone had dropped a rose on him, the petals of which were already getting dry spots. The priest spoke softly, over the creaking of old chairs. From time to time, the mother's voice echoed, only for consciousness to betray her again and knock her into the hands of her neighbors. A few respected scientists stood aloof from the others, seemingly unaffected by what was unfolding in front of them. Their expressions showed curiosity, not sadness. They turned and tiptoed, expecting something. They didn't have to wait long. A lady entered the chapel and approached the scientists. - I have to admit, Miss Eskoff, my colleagues and I did not think you would come. - said one of them. - You thought wrong, just like yesterday when I presented you with my discovery. - Your discovery may have convinced Ashcroft, but you will get the vote of the majority only by demonstrating in front of our eyes. - I didn't expect it to be any different. She started walking through the chapel along the rows of weeping people. No one paid any attention to her until she approached the coffin. No words of condolence or comfort. Just a vial in her hands, with a liquid too pure even for water. She turned to the inconsolable mother. - What were your son's last words? The mother blinked at her, as if the question had been asked in another language. - I don't remember... - she said, wiping her tears. - Why do you ask? - Because it is the last thread, still tied to him. I need to know what he left behind. The woman was staring at her. Around them, no one dared to interrupt them. - The last thing he said was "never"... - said the mother at last. Miss Eskoff nodded. - That will be enough. She turned back to the chest and opened the bottle. In front of her lay a young man, no older than eighteen. One drop fell on his ribs. It did not expand or absorb. It simply sank, slowly and impossibly, disappearing under the skin. And then, silence. It seemed as if the very wind outside had stopped blowing, holding its breath in anticipation. A cough came from the chest. Quiet, but his without a doubt. The priest dropped the book. Several women screamed in unison. The father staggered and fell over the chairs. The mother sprang forward, arms outstretched toward the coffin. She collapsed in front of him, clinging to the edge. Eskoff helped her to her feet. Tears fell one after the other on the young man's face, as she caressed him in disbelief and wonder. - Marco...? Mom's darling! He turned his head to her, dazed, his eyes wet from a dead sleep. He watched his mother crying silently on him and clutching his hand, as if she was afraid that he would leave again. People whooped and fainted around Eskoff as she approached the scientists in the background. Finally, their faces were paler than the face of the young man who had come back to life. - I expect a written acknowledgment of my discovery on the table, gentlemen. And my name better be on it. - she said and left the chapel, accompanied by gasps and exclamations.