Defenestrate The Masses
Misery Loves Company
Edward River stood on the shore. The sky was dotted with the hovering, flapping field of Proctors, forming a people-grid prohibiting access. And there, the thing they protected; the Lighthouse. This was the home of the last Volume.
Edward had not seen so many Proctors in one place, not even in the industrial fields of factories, or in the centre of the City, not even in the Phantasma where the young Proctors learned and trained. Even from Edward’s hiding place, detection was only a matter of time. The Rook was straining for release. Edward assumed the concept of loss was alien to the Rook’s instinct. Loss would be great, perhaps on both sides, but it would be senseless, producing no favourable outcome. There was only one solution, as Edward saw it. This said, persuading the Rook to comply was harder than the act that would follow. Edward River, therefore, stepped out into the open, exposed.
“Tell Daedalus Devereaux I would parley!” he called, his voice carrying a surprising distance, “Tell him to come to me!” The message seemed to be relayed as a landing site was prepared for Devereaux’s arrival. And it wasn’t long before he did.
“Finally you see the futility of defying me, Edward. How long have you run? How much have you lost? And after all, you could have saved yourself much by simply accepting my terms in the first instance.” Daedalus shifted in his stance, taking in his captive.
“But, you see, I learned much about myself on the way. Much that would have been hidden from me if I had not.” said Edward, giving no quarter.
“So, I helped in your development, wouldn’t you say?” Daedalus smiled, continuing, “And now you come to me, ready to give in, give up and accept the inevitable? I have to say I thought you would have held out a little longer, but then we do overestimate the abilities of some, don’t we?”
“So, exactly when are you going to stop torturing me with your words? Just give me some peace and accept my surrender.”
Daedalus laughed heartily, “Oh Edward. I could continue to give you grief all day, but time is pressing on and I have other matters to attend to.” Daedalus gestured for a pencil thin attendant to come. He was holding a series of differing sized metal bands. Daedalus pointed his captor and the attendant knelt before Edward, one of the bands about to be placed on Edward’s right ankle. Edward instinctively pulled his leg away, returning his attention to Daedalus.
“What’s this?”
“You will forgive the imposition, but these bands will suppress your friend from doing anything - shall we say - outrageous? We can’t have your little feathered friend getting ahead of itself, thinking itself a hero, now can we?”
“You want to tether the Rook inside me?”
“The Rook, is it? Oh how special you really are, Edward. It is this or nothing.”
Edward made a silent apology to the Rook, then nodded at the attendant who placed bands on both ankles, both wrists and one final band around the neck.
Daedalus clapped his hands together, “Good. Now, shall we go collect the Volume? Whatever is the matter, Edward? You look a little dejected?” Edward didn’t take the bait, but Daedalus laughed regardless.
Once the skies had cleared of Proctors, the way was set for the lighthouse. The dissipation of the Proctors also allowed the sunlight to shine on the whitewashed exterior - a glare danced off of the puckered glass of the storm panes and the astragals of the optic section. There was no light and nor would there be. It was a folly, nothing more. A fitting place for Conrad to have placed the final Volume - an example of the folly of man himself. Edward had to smile at the irony.
They climbed the interior, up the continually circular staircase, until they reached the lantern room, leading to the service room, where a relief was embossed with the handprint of presumably Conrad himself. This handprint was on top of a box very much part of the room, but not of original construction of the lighthouse. It was added later, a part of the fabric of the structure.
“You know what to do, Edward, my boy.” expressed Daedalus. He stepped to the side to allow Edward examination of the embossed hand of his creator. He cautiously placed first his fingers onto the carving, followed by his palm and ball. The hand fit perfectly, like the one that created the art in the first instance. The sound of stone grinding against stone revealed a panel in the box, where there lay the book, titled “Heal Thyself.”
Edward stood aside for another of Daedalus’s attendants, who took out the Volume and scuttled it away. Daedalus turned then to leave, “Take him. I have plans for him. Edward, you and I are going to become legend.” His maniacal laughter could be heard echoing long down the stairs.
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