The Contract Saga, BOOK 2: Story of a Name

CHAPTER THREE

The speed of the helycs had been turned down a few notches and now the sounds of the daily activities could be heard again.

Our island had disappeared behind us more or less three or four minutes after we left, safely hidden behind its coat of very natural fog.

…

Ok, just kidding, it was artificial, in a way. That’s to say that we provoked it but, in the end, it was actually mother nature who did all the job. During the war Berg had experimented on provoking rapid climate change. They thought the soldiers of that country would have had much more difficulty fighting if, out of the blue, a litteral hurricane started to blast over their heads.

They had, partially, succeded in their endeavour. The problem was that they could start an “event”, as they called it, but they could nor control it afterwards nor, which was the most important part, stop it. In the end the project was closed off and, the politicians in Glamour thought, completely forgotten.

Key word: thought. They actually forgot about the project but, unbeknown to them, a little someone had managed to make a copy of all the projects of the machinery and had escaped with it. That kinda knowledge was probably worth millions but that particular person didn’t sell it. She kept it for herself and, one day, when word reached her that a decidedly crazy genius was working on creating a new place to live for those that could no longer feel at home in their countries, she packed up and disappeared.

When we were thinking of a way to protect our island from undesirable eyes she brought up the idea.

Well, long story short, we recreated the machines and, with the help of our engineers, managed to control the weather in our area.

The original idea was to protect our island by creating a perpetual tempest upon our heads but, after several failed tries, we finally rememebered that the Calm had gained its name because of the complete absence of bad weather of any sort. Well, in general of any kind of weather. So we opted for the fog. It was what some people might call a “win-win” idea.

“Forgotten things have power” a little voice in my head said. And it was true. No one would understand the reason for the presence of the fog, and nobody would be able to connect the dots and think that it was actually “man-made”, because the idea that someone could control the weather had been completely forgotten.

Once an old man in the Sky City had told me that forgotten things have the power to become everything they can think about. This rule applied both to things and, most importantly, to humans. When he had said that he had looked me in the eyes. And for the first time in my life I understood that that old man knew. And then he smiled. He had no reason to be angry with me for creating that new identity. 

-Set a course for the Depth.- I said.

Immediatly the navigator looked at the charts spread out on the table in front of the helm. Two other assistants passed him ruler, pencil and a compass. Another one reached him with a piece of paper on which was written the current position of the ship-city.

-You want the short path or the tourist one?-

-What does the tourist path involve?-

-Us reaching the Depth in two weeks and going trough the Silence.-

-You seriously would want us to go there by going around the whole world?-

-Why not, you’ll have us go around the planet anyways.-

-Ha ha, very funny Mr. Jackall, but no, I think we’ll take the more direct route.- I knew he hated being called that way.

The whole room was filled with chuckling.

-Very well, Sir.-

Ouch. Touché.

-Then I’ll leave the ship in your capable hands.-

-Thank you Zachary.- he said. This time he used my name. We liked to joke with each other but, as they say, the joke’s good while it’s short. Or was it pronounced in another way? Gosh, why do I even ask myself this kind of questions. I have far more important things to think about.

I turned around and said goodbye to everyone. Then Jack, because that was his actual name, took the helm. He always touched it first with his right hand. Mariner’s superstition. He stated that, the last time he had taken the helm with his left hand, the ship had nearly sunk near the shores of the Halved, at the entrance of the Canal.

Nobody knew if this was true or not, but, after all, we all have our little quirks that make us all different. And more interesting.

I walked out of the room.

In front of me was a great pane of glass that overlooked everything that was behind the ship. To my left and right were two sets of stairs that led downstairs, towards the roads, the houses, the people, their stories and memories. A small smile crept upon my face. It always did when I thought about these things. People are their memories, that’s what my father had told me while he was still alive. He was a good man. The best of the best. He liked to read and tell stories. And what stories.

“You would be proud of me. We could talk for days on end now, telling stories until we fall asleep, and then wake up and keep going.”

Yes, I was sure of that.

I walked towards the window and looked out. And saw white. One could have even thought that it was snow if it wasn’t for the electirc lanterns outside the windows that shined their guiding light, such was the thickness of the fog.

And that was when I saw it. It wasn’t really that much visible. After all, it was a point of whiteness inside a sea of white. But, if there was one thing the war had taught me, it was to see everything, even that which wasn’t there. Better be prepared for the worst and find out it was nothing than overlook something and be killed by it.

I smiled a crooked smile and, slowly, lifted my left hand and waved hello. The small point of white disappeared and, a moment later, reappeared. He had seen me.

And then the point disappeared again, this time without coming back.

I shook my head and walked down the stairs and out in the streets. Nobody had seen the light of the lighthouse keeper. Mainly because nobody knew he existed. He had been forgotten and, when we found out about him, or her, or it, well, let’s say “it” for now, it didn’t let us know much about it, only about its purpose. It liked to change. Sometimes it was alone, sometimes it had a partner. Always it had a trusty lantern. And it was always turned off.

And then I reached a bar and, seeing the light was on, entered and said “Hello”.

_____________

Years ago

-We’re lost.- said the captain of the ship.

-Don’t worry, we’ll eventually get out of here.-

-How can you be so sure?-

-Well, for starters, nothing is eternal so for sure this fog has a limit and, eventually, we’ll reach it.-

-And what makes you think it has an end?-

-Well, it would be simply impossible for it to go on for eternity.-

The captain laughed: -My dear friend, we live in a world where there’s a sea where no sound can exist, under our feet is an enormous cave that extends twice the lenght of our planet at the equator in whatever direction you go and still keeps going, where a continent lives in eternal darkness, and I could keep going, telling you even stranger things, and you think it would be impossible for this fog to not keep going for eternity? For what we know we could be even in another reality or who knows what else.-

They looked at each other and, in the end, laughed. A nervous laugh. They didn’t like the situation. They didn’t like the fact that they couldn’t control what was happening. The didn’t like the fact that the crew of their ship was becoming increasingly nervous.

And they had started to have nightmares about a white place where their only companions were the ticking of clocks and soft music, probably violins. Everyone in the crew had them. Always the same one. Every night.

It was unnerving.

Because of all of this you can easily understand the captain and his second in command’s relief when, somewhere in the distance, they saw something different from this white hell: a light.

-A lighthouse?- asked the captain.

-In the litteral middle of nowhere.- added his quartermaster.

-From what I remember there were no lighthouses in the Calm. No need for them.- said the captain.

They looked at each other, their eyebrows still raised questioningly. An outside observer could have litterally seen the gears in their heads start to turn while the two men communicated in twitches of the muscles of their faces and little movements of their fingers. The so called Red Code. “Why is it called this way?” you may be asking. Well, it’s because it was created by the Red Players of the Game. What Game? But obviously, the Game, with a capital g.

A game of spies and couriers, where information is the main currency, maybe even the only one, and people play to destroy the reputation and credibility of their rivals. It’s a very interesting game and it becomes even more interesting when you take into consideration the fact that only two rules exist for the players: always keep your oaths and never kill. That’s right.

In the history of the game the number of people who died can be counted on a hand. And they’re always in pairs. Why? Because, if you killed someone, doesn’t matter who you are, what color you play for, everyone, and I mean everyone, will hunt you down and kill you. Because every player knows that a life is far more precious than all the money one can give you. With your life you can play the Game. With some money you risk to lose your best adversaries and, with them, all the fun.

In general there are three faction in the Game. White, Black and Red. Insiders will always tell you this: white for justice, black for revolution and red for the fun of it.

The Captain and his Quartermaster were once players as well. They played for the fun of it, until they realized they prefered a calmer life. So they left. They burned all the informations they had and, finally, willingly forgot all the things they had put to mind, all the names, all the locations, everything, giving it all to one of the main gods preached in the Game: the Forgotten Archivist.

-Follow the light!- ordered the Captain.

-You know- said his companion -Normally that could be very misinterpreted. Last time you said that we found ourselves in a room full of black Pawns playing poker with secrets. It wasn’t pretty.-

-Come on, it wasn’t that bad. After they beat us up they even let us join.-

-I still think that game was rigged up. They didn’t manage to get the secrets out with their fists but they won them all in those games of poker.-

This also was a strange tradition of the Game. If you beat up someone you first helped him get back into shape and then you bought him a drink or, if there was no way to get one, you let him have some fun. Again, a tradition, and a very strange one at that but, after all, what was the harm of buying someone something to drink. Worst case scenario it would loosen his tongue and the player would spill some useful secrets and informations.

-Well, it was a fun game at least.-

-Yeah.-

Sometimes they asked themselves why they had left the Game. They didn’t remember the reason, they had also gifted it to the Forgotten Archivist, as per tradition. But they knew that, if they had left, it was for a good reason. And they weren’t ones who went back on something they had done.

All the men were called back to their jobs and, slowly, they moved towards the light.

Until, in the end, they reached it.

A small rocky island on top of which, perched like some kind of bird, was a lighthouse. And there, near them, was a conveniently placed wooden bridge that was exactly as long as their ship. They slowed down their machines and docked.

The Captain and his quartermaster were the first ones to go down.

And so they were the first ones that were greeted by the lighthouse keeper that inhabited the little island.

He had two gentle brown eyes and a somewhat crooked smile that didn’t let them see his teeth. His hair were clean and well combed. He was wearing a traditional captain hat over them and, in his left hand, was holding a pipe. Gentle smoke drifted up from it.

And then the man talked: -Good morning gentlemen. It seems you’ve lost your way in this fog.-

-How could you tell?- asked the Captain with a small smile on his face.

-Because you all do.- the smile became even bigger, and yet it still didn’t show his teeth. Then he added: -At the very least it makes my job somehow useful considering this sea has no adverse climate of any kind. But it gets goddamn hot during the summers.-

They all laughed.

Then the keeper said: -So, if you want, I can show you the way you have to go to leave this fog bank.-

-We would be very grateful about that Sir…- said the quartermaster, stopping when he realized he didn’t know the man’s name.

-Oh, don’t worry about my name. I didn’t ask you yours.-

-Well, yes, but it’s good manners to…-

-Sir quartermaster, I said I don’t want to know your names and you don’t have to know mine. It helps to cope with the loneliness.-

The quartermaster was taken aback by what the lighthouse keeper had just said. It was so strange. Then he realized one thing. He had never told the man he was the quartermaster.

-How do you know that I’m…-

-Because it’s always him. It’s always the captain and his second-in-command. Why do you think that no other crewman has come down here?-

The situation was becomig surreal to the two men. Why? Because in some kind of twisted way it made absolutely sense. It was a rule. No, that didn’t sound right. It was a Rule. Now that did sound right.

-Just follow the direction of the light.- the man said, pointing behind him. The light of the lighthouse immediatly pointed towards that direction. Had it been turned on just now? Or rather, when had it been turned off? They didn’t remember it being on when they had laid foot on that island.

Nonethless they both said: -Thank you Sir.-

-I’m just doing my job. Have a nice day!- said the keeper.

And then the Captain and his Quartermaster were back on the ship, ordering the crew to follow the light. When they turned around to look at the island they saw the man waving goodbye with a hand that was now holding a lantern.

And after a while the only thing they could see was just that, just the light.

And then they were out. And they were overjoyed because they had managed to find the way out of that white hell. They had already forgotten about the lighthouse and its keeper.

_____________

It took days for us to find the small island. It had appeared on our radars some days ago and then, just like that, it had disappeared.

But, in the end, it was there. And I, with a few other men, went to look at that strange anomaly.

The first thing we noticed was the light. Then came the silhouette of a tall building. And then we realized what it was: a lighthouse.

There was a small dock near the rocky island, evidently built for small ships just like ours. We docked and, when I came down, alone, I saw a man. His eyes were green and he was smiling. I couldn’t see his teeth behind the smile.

-Hello Traveler.-

-Goodmorning Sir…- I started, then realized I didn’t know his name. And then I felt it. Something wasn’t right in the air from the moment I said those words.

-You don’t need to know that Traveler.-

-Why do you call me Traveler.-

-Because that’s what you are.-

-I am no Traveler. No longer, at least.-

Why was I telling him these things. I had never told them to anyone.

-Oh, I know, you have settled for now. But you’ve lived for so long, you’ve been in so many places. You’ve lost your only real anchor so long ago. Even now, when you say you’ve found a place to call home, you still travel around the globe, from Superiora to Underworld, from the Surface to the Underground.-

-That doesn’t matter.-

-Doesn’t it really? Nonethless these aren’t questions that I’m supposed to be asking. You clearly know where you are and what you’re doing, so why did you come here?-

-Because we want to ask a question.-

-Then ask away.-

-Who are you?-

-I am the Lighthouse Keeper.-

-You’re not just that.-

-But that’s the most important thing I am. And that’s the only thing it matters you remember.-

Again that feeling, like the air was shifting away and around us.

The man smiled his toothless smile again. No, wait, it wasn’t toothless. Behind his lips you could see the same fog that was all around the small island the lighthouse was on.

-What do you mean with “the only thing it matters you remember”?-

-Exactly what I said. This world lives and is based on memories. They are our only great chains. I had managed to rid myself of them, but in the end I chose to come back to this “prison” to keep doing my job.-

-What you’re saying doesn’t make any sense.-

The Keeper laughed and raised his head towards the sky, or, at least, what could pass for a sky in this whiteness. When he looked back at me his inexistent smile had become even larger and his eyes had changed color. Yellow and Red.

-Coming from a person like you this is really funny. We both know what you’ve witnessed Traveler. And we both know that I am not even the strangest one.-

He paused. Then added: -Tell me, if a tree falls but nobody is there to witness it, has it really fallen?-

Again the air thickened around us. And I understood. And smiled.

-You’re trying to enact a Tradition.-

His smile was my only answer.

-Of course. How could I be so blind? Forgotten things have power. You worked as a lighthouse keeper, but you were forgotten, so, as per rule, when your time came, you weren’t claimed by Death but by the Forgotten Archivist. It gave you another chance, am I right?-

He nodded.

-And since then you’ve been trying to assert yourself as a Rule. But not enough time has passed yet. You’ve got power, but not enough. You’re still not permanent, but you found a good way to stay that way.-

-So you understood.-

Already his form looked a bit more stable. He looked much more real. In his mouth I could see some of the fog become more solid looking.

-Tell me just one thing, Keeper.-

-What?-

-Do you mean any harm to those that travel in these fogs?-

-No.-

He wasn’t lying. Lies were f*******n in the land of the gods, in the Realm. And he came directly from it.

I nodded. And, finally, I let the Tradition do its job. And I forgot everything but these two things. That the creature in front of me was a lighthouse keeper, and that he didn’t mean any harm. Everything else was forgotten. A sacrifice to the Archivist.

-Well then, have a nice day.- I tipped my hat to the man in front of me and turned back around towards the ship.

And we started the journey back home. When I turned around the Keeper was waving his hand at us, in his hand a lantern that I was pretty sure wasn’t there up until a moment ago. It was turned off. But the light on top of the lighthouse showed us the way until we reached our island. Then it disappeared. The same way the memories of my companions of the little journey did.