E S T H E R P U N I C E U S A N D G R A C E L I U
L i s a S m i t h W e n g l e r C e n t e r f o r t h e A r t s a t P e p p e r d i n e U n i v e r s i t y Sitting in front of the stage was a quiet garden of velourlike chairs. A person sat in each of the red shadows, lined in rows with numbers and a letter. Dark, sparkling girls were twirling carelessly upon the stage with bright lights slowly fading as a backdrop. The theater was quaint, and this was the best way for Esther to see the venue. If she could have been somewhere more eloquent, she would have. Even the contemporary pointe dance was also turning away her interest. Nonetheless, the audience was still amused by the performance.
How dull. Fortunately, it was not the recital that warranted her attention. It was the woman sitting next to her, “Scott may have enjoyed this recital over the last one I took him to. He prefers the brighter lights, at times,” she spoke nonchalantly to herself while tapping a gloved hand against her arm rest. Her eyes were downcast, watching the movement of the fabric in the darkness.
The thing Grace focused on most at that moment was looking like she was actually interested in the performance tonight. That was difficult, because her thoughts focused on how much time, how much effort, how much training it had taken to put on something ultimately frivolous in her mind. She’d be talking about something else in a moment, but a cover identity was only as good as the amount of effort put into maintaining the facade. Tonight she was Mrs. Kim, board member of a quiet foundation with broad mandate covering many social causes, but a particular interest in promoting free market politics, hence their record of donating to this particular university. A quick scan of the crowd confirmed who was sitting next to her, and a comparison with the old saved records provided further proof of identity. She spoke slowly “Every time I go to something like this I wonder who is actually here for the show. The more money someone spends to be here, the more they are here for who they can find in the audience rather than what they can see on the stage.”
Esther now studied the silhouette of Grace, watching as the blue lights from the stage slowly dimmed into violet gently touched the technocrat’s cheeks. The yellow and green colors sprouted around like electronic flowers, flashing a better glimpse of the woman, “You are most certainly not mistaken. Mr. Grigoriev is supposed to be one of the best in California.” There was a small pause, as a rise in music spoke over her, “He is a well-kept secret in the area, studied and taught in Russia, which makes him quite rare. Withal, the studio would like to make some changes as much as some of our more liberal, freethinking audience enjoy this new age of dance.”
Grace kept looking at the stage and said “There will always be traditionalists, always be those who prefer the way it was in older times. I wouldn’t call myself one of them, but I try to understand their perspective. Those views can be quite persistent, it’s amazing how long some have upheld traditions.” Then she checked that one of her settings on the field manipulator was active, the one that would dampen sound-waves between them and make those around here only silence and background noise from their conversation. She turned toward Esther and said “I know some have held their opinions and traditions from a time before the art of ballet even existed.”
“There are many organizations who have. It is a beautiful mystery as to how they keep such awe in their midsts. The Italians for a brief moment, were able to capture that glimmer, and show it to the world, and yet in not even a whisper, it is slowly being tossed off stage. The 16th century was a spectacle in its day, and one can easily see how many parts of it cannot transcend through the ages.” Esther dawned a polite blushed smile towards the innocent technocrat. "One may of course dream, but keeping one's head in the clouds is not always wise." Her eyes cast downward, again, "Would you care to discuss this a bit more backstage. There is a private dressing room I have the luxury of using."
Without saying a word, Grace nodded her head and gestured for Esther to lead the way. To which, the Kindred allowed a small pause, an ending to the measure of the dance, before standing up and directing the technocrat backstage, where a simple room was allowed for her use. It was private, and if anyone asked about it, there was an airy dismal response that warranted no further questioning. Some rooms were left locked for storage or other various, innocent reasons, and only upper management had access to them. Many organizations had similar secrets.
This particular room was dimly lit with a rose ornamented Tiffany lamp on a side table by the vanity counter. The lights around the vanity mirror were set in their lowest setting. Several old, worn books were stacked sideways on the counter along with other such things, like a set of vintage, mosaic trinket boxes. However, there was a nice couch and a coffee table adjacent to the counter. A blanket and throw pillows were kindly placed on the two seater. There were also other such necessities and wants that dressing rooms tended to have. One of such was an antique table with a pair of mismatched chairs.
After unlocking the door and letting Grace in, the door was shut and locked from the inside. Shortly afterwards, Esther went to turn the lamp on, as a courtesy to her guest. Even if the other woman was not in need of any further help with navigating through the scenery, the vampire preferred the yellow-green and pink tint to glow throughout the room. She made her way, she said, "We have the couch or the table. Whichever you find most comfortable. It's your choice. I have no preference."
When Grace scanned the room she did it with senses beyond normal vision. She saw the patterns of energy across the electromagnetic spectrum, the movement of the air currents, even felt how close the nearest biorhythms were. Everything about the place was plain, static, when compared to modern day spaces, it even lacked the radiating background hum of electronics she was so used to. The plainness marked two things, a lack of need for technological conveniences, and a guileless intention behind it. Slowly and calmly Grace chose a spot at the table. She said,
“Thank you. Now, I supposed we can discuss my business here tonight. My concerns deal purely with information, I’m not seeking anything else from this. I know some facts about your kind, but lack detail in important areas, especially regarding myths and psychological drives. As for myself, I come from an organization that values anonymity, but many of the elder statesmen among your community could probably make an educated guess and arrive at the correct conclusion. I hope these are areas you are willing to discuss.”
Esther followed and politely accompanied Grace at the table while she spoke. The Ventrue's petite frame sat upright in her formal wear and studied the mortal. The same quaint smile was resting on her lips as she listened, and after taking time to consider what the technocrat had said, she asked in a gentle manner, "Mrs. Kim, how young are you?" Her hands were resting in her lap, folded into each other, holding ivory beads between pale, mesh fingertips.
Grace answered without hesitation. “If it matters to you, I am forty three.” She stayed motionless, not even changing the small smile she had. Grace thought it was ironic how the conversation turned to age so quickly, but at the prompting of the vampire this time, rather than the mortal. She suppressed the urge to chuckle a little.
"You are so pretty. I thought you surely must have been younger," Esther replied in kind, brightening her insipid smile, "How long have you been working for the organization?"
Grace said “Thank you for the compliment, but I should mention that the interests I represent are the reason cosmetic surgery exists. Not one of our greatest accomplishments, but I count it as a small net positive for the world. It would not be appropriate for me to discuss how long I’ve been a part of this cause, but know that it is long enough that I have broad knowledge and responsibilities; I’m not a new initiate. I know I am being vague, but I hope this is enough to earn some level of trust.”
"Of course. You are very welcome," Esther said, "You are very brave to admit this." She paused as her usual self was known to do, giving a patient distance between the mortal and herself, while her fingers gently glided over the beads like clockwork, "But, I am afraid, due to precautions, I will need a little bit more information about your organization before proceeding with this meeting, Mrs. Kim. Do you have any children?"
The last question made Grace think a little. She had reached the rank within the union that allowed the privilege of having a family, but had always focused on work pursuits. It was something she thought about doing if there was more down time, particularly with the advances that genetic engineering brought. Raising another excellent operative would be a nice way to leave a positive legacy behind. “I do not. I will not name the organization I work for, both because it’s not part of protocol and because names are less meaningful than they appear. It has had many names of it’s eight centuries of existence, but one goal throughout. English lacks a proper word to describe it so I’ll use a greek term, eudaimonia. The other constant is our belief about how to pursue that end. We see it as something for all mankind, and we work to unite humanity and guide it along that path; the concerns and pursuits of inharmonious individuals are suppressed when they interfere with this. Our methods may be extreme, but you must understand that it is the destiny of the human race that is at stake.”
At hearing Grace's words, her smile faded, "We all do what we may for the sake of humanity," the Kindred allowed a small break in her counting as she considered the woman's plea for eudaimonia, as there was a comfort in hearing her native language being used strongly, "Do understand," she spoke softly, "As many, I am committed to a promise. It cannot be broken under any circumstances. It is very well a sacramental oath." The beads slipped through her fingers, again. Her smile returned with dark, cheery, hollow eyes, "What makes your organization different?"
Grace’s tone was dull, as though she was repeating something she had rehearsed many times before. “What makes us different is we’re succeeding, every conceivable metric tracking human misery is trending downwards, and that is thanks to us. It’s trivial to see the difference if you look at the world before our time and the world we have realized. But I’m not here tonight to recruit for my cause, I just want you to see the value in it, and understand what my underlying concerns are. If it’s not prevent by your vow other traditions, I would like to talk about your kind now. Specifically, I want to talk about your legends regarding the most ancient of them and the time they rise, what you call Gehenna. What comes before it, and what may remain after it.”
The beads continued being counted and graced through the soft, thin fabric of Esther’s gloves as she thought about the question, “I will start in the middle, if you will grant me pardon.” She slipped the beads around her wrist and slowly rose from her chair, and walked towards the counter, where the mosaic box trinkets were sitting on display. She picked up two of the boxes and a small framed picture of the Hodegetria. When she returned to the table, she began reverently setting a small place to light and burn incense in front of the silver plated icon, “I always thought, out of all the women, she is the most beautiful of them all.” She spoke in the same quiet voice and began taking her place at the table, once again, "She was very important to the Roman Empire, and many today believe that she is still just as important. In fact, many will do anything possible to make sure her importance along with the Trinity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are known with the same vibrancy."
"Of course, as history has proven, there have been many debates, disputes, and arguments on who the Trinity and the Virgin Mary, the Theotokos, truly are," she spoke as her eyes looked downward, remembering her own Embrace. "It was Emperor Constantine who was leading the way for our kind back then, even if he was Baptized after our leaders..." The dialogue continued for a brief while as the Ventrue attempted to gently lift the mask from the false pretense. However, she failed to mention much of anything in regards to Gehenna outside of the mention in the Bible's Jeremiah. It seemed as if she was going in some circle.
They were curious creatures, according to everything Grace had read in the archives and her own encounters with them. Much more than any normal person, the undead were under the spell of their own obsessions and impulses. The nature of the maladies varied, but every one seemed to have deep areas where control failed, whether it was inhuman fury or merely living a life dominated by the same themes, never able to grow interests beyond them. She thought to herself perhaps it was a symptom of whatever happened the their quantum consciousness, losing a part of themselves in the change to their new pattern of life; that theory had no overt references in the literature, merely mentioning quantum consciousness without prior review was potential grounds for disciplinary action. Also similar were the early experiments with biological immortality, where the regeneration caused subjects brain cells keep regrowing in the exact same state, rendering them unable to form new memories or ideas. While she thought Grace kept track of time, and once she hit the pre-chosen point of diminishing returns, she stood up and said
“I offer my thanks for what you have shared today but I am afraid I do not have time to engage further. I was once a historian. After a few years I realized that I could be more useful shaping the future than creating the past. If you believe it would be beneficial to contact me in the future, I can arrange a line of communication to enable that.”
The push of the chair against the flooring interrupted Esther mid-sentence, and the small mad hope to Embrace the Technocrat wilted. The Kindred spoke in a somewhat disappointed but empty tone, "It was a pleasure meeting with you, Mrs. Kim. Thank you for your time, as well. I hope you at least learned something new today. Future contact would be an honor." For now, the Ventrue closed the lid on the incense burner and stood from her seat, as well. It was time to escort Grace from the theater, as there were no further business dealings.
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