The Knight had stayed still, for long minutes after the camera had turned itself off. From deep within their helm, trying to discern something in the black eye of the device looking back at them. No matter how they wished they could suspend time, the Sun rose higher and higher, their muscles clenched uncomfortably, they could feel the condensation of their breath collecting against the steel of their helm. Had anyone paid attention? Had they been pitiable today as much as they’d been trying to make up for the interview with Ferris? No matter. The Knight’s turn to rise came and they had to support themselves on whatever they could find to not keel over.
They hadn’t gone home yesterday. When they managed to take their eyes off the Capitán, they looked around for her but the crowd had separated them. Or maybe she hadn’t left their table, still waiting for them to return. When the thoughts became unbearable, they dragged themselves to the Fringes to take refuge at the Knight’s tower. It was much too soon, the Sun wouldn’t be out for hours yet but they rummaged through their mess of boxes to don the Knight’s helm. Their voice amplifier not connected, protected from the outside world, the only thing they could hear was their ragged breath, trying desperately to find a rhythm to follow. They’d slept like this, curled up on one of the third floor’s couches. Not less dusty than any other floor, but a broken window always let some air flow where the rest of the building wasn’t afforded such luxury. They kept their arms between them and their legs, letting their hands feel the heat of all of their body. They didn’t think about anything else. Close both eyes, knees slightly rubbing against the Knight’s helm.
The Knight hadn’t needed an alarm, out of the blue, rising from deconstructed dreams, their eyes opened. No sound, no movement yet they were awake and alert. Facing the window, Juren street was still engulfed by the night. They knew why they had woken up. A higher form of punishment or the last strand that kept them afloat, the Knight delivered their sentence as always. Before seeing the first rays pierce through the horizon, they had waited in the same silence that usually kept them company. Everything felt heavier around them, and for a moment, the Knight faltered. They wished, for an instant, that they would be forced to make their last call. Let it all be washed away, far, far away. That everything that they carried around, all of the meaningless tethers that resonated endlessly within the Knight’s helm, that all of the pointless baggage that stuck behind their head like invisible cysts wouldn’t bother them anymore. That anything and everything would be reduced to nothingness, as it should have been before they even had to be born. Uncaring, unyielding, so pure in its movements, once again the Sun rose, and what could the Knight do except stand in front of their camera?
The Sun had risen and so was that. 22 let the warm water flow on their body without resistance, they had been flaky about spending too much time in a shower that was not their own at some point but over time they either lost an ecological spark within them or felt too comfortable to care. Their eyes were dry, their mouth as well. 22 let some of the shower water go down their throat, they wouldn’t be bothered by the slight taste of dirt at this point. The windowless bright blue bathroom sported a large mirror on one of its walls, as if the average person needed a full view of their bare self everytime they needed to scrub off some dust. 22 noticed that sitting under a shower wasn’t sufficient enough to get rid of the black marks painted under their eyes anymore. Slightly faded but still present, they decided that the water took enough from them for today and stepped out.
The apartment they were in belonged to a few people that used it at their leisure, in one of the building adjacent to the courtyard behind the Knight’s tower. 22 had been motivated a few times to join in the festivities that would often take place in the evening. In doing so they had surprisingly inserted themselves in the neighborhood life, as a complete interloper of course but the majority welcomed them regardless. Since the Knight’s tower didn’t come with washrooms, it would happen that sometimes, either from laziness or because they would forget, 22 needed to use someone else’s amenities. And so they had become a recurring freeloader of this Vagrant apartment, in lieu of a better name. Still very humid, they popped their head into a large kitchen, waving at a wrinkled human, slouched over some disjointed papers.
“Thanks again, I’ll get you some grub from Yama next time.”
“I let you use my toilet and you try and poison me?”
“Surely one of you three has shit taste.”
“Ha!”
The retort was meant in jest, the three residents of the apartment all deemed themselves to be artists, with their own respective tastes. Shedding away their given names, they had decided to call themselves using colors instead, Blue, Black and Teal. “There was a White before, maybe the last locus who ever lived, shame you couldn’t meet.” Not one of them dressed the part, 22 wore more black than they’d ever seen black wear. Apparently it was more meant to represent the shade of their soul but as their recent interaction with Charon proved, 22 didn’t have the best receptors to interpret art. 22 had heard Blue and Black argue on numerous occasions, but they also learned quickly they did it more for fun than anything else, none of them stepped on each others toes as far as what mattered for them was concerned. Early on in the Knight’s career, the Vagrant’s lives had given them great insight into what kind of artists would be drawn to the Caldera, the ones who preferred to keep their work far away from where they slept, the ones who needed space where a simple atelier couldn’t suffice, the ones who craved a different kind of silence. 22 had wanted to interview one of them, but they were too close, far too close to their tower for it to be reasonable, so they had infiltrated their circle in the Caldera and interviewed a wire sculptor from there instead, such as the Knight’s business.
22 lounged around for a bit longer on the Vagrant’s porch, mechanically dusting off their boots, their eyes fixated on the Knight’s tower. It towered, from the bottom of the courtyard, like a stoic lead pipe. 22 couldn’t find any prettier analogies, their base of operation was supposed to be unassuming after all.
“I wanted to paint all over it a long time ago, colors so striking you could still differentiate all of them under the Sun.”
Teal, the wrinkled human who was no longer slouching opened the door behind them, joining 22 on the porch.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t expect you to understand bud but having to wake up next to a work in progress for however long it would take me to finish it would drive me insane, totally insane. I would have to relocate to the Freeway!”
“And noone wants that.”
“No-oh-oh!” Teal laughed, surprised by a cough, “And then at some point the Knight started laying their eggs there and I’m like yeah sure, better that than the old radio tower gathering more dust.”
22 inspected their shoes, the dust they had kicked off between the garden in Freeway and the Old Man’s march seemed to be gone but no matter how much they scrubbed, they couldn’t wash away the wear.
“You should come more often to the barbecues by the way, who knows when the Knight will grace us with their presence.”
“Why not invite them?”
“Hmm… I thought about it, Black and Blue too but we know better.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean they’re an artist as well, we have to respect their space, y’know?”
The sentence stayed with them as they slumped in their seat, taking the aerobus at Juren. Somehow, the sleep they had gotten while fully clothed inside the tower must’ve been enough because they couldn’t find sleep despite being in their favorite position. Wide awake, every station was a heavy handed reminder that they were inching closer and closer to Yama. 22’s heart slowly sank, their hands clasped against their body under their armpits. The Blue line left the Fringes behind and in a spur of the moment decision, 22 bolted out of the aerobus, trying their hardest to shove people aside. Slightly panting and their left elbow hurting from having collided with a particularly sturdy passenger, they were now left on the Plaza. City Hall and its pagoda piercing the sky in front of them. The Old Man’s altar hadn’t been deconstructed yet, the whole Plaza still reeling from the night’s excitement. Extinguished lanterns littered the floor as 22 made their way up the altar. It hadn’t been that high, but now they could see what the Capitán could…
22 snorted to themselves. They looked back at the altar itself. Even if the structure would still be standing for a while, the Old Man hadn’t been left to rot in the open air. Had they taken his body to the Funerarium? 22 doubted he had given his wish to be buried in one of Freeway’s gardens. It was a shame the Knight never could manage to have him on the air, but would he have said anything more than Ferris. Speaking of, more than anyone else in the city, they must have made some form of autopsy on his corpse. And the only one with the credentials to do so wouldn’t be too far away. This morning was only a momentary setback, the Knight still needed to prepare their next call and those preparations would take them to Helix.
Due to the nature of the district, the aerobus didn’t serve much purpose for them. They surely were powerful enough to scale the modest hill but they simply didn’t have the space to operate, and so it all rested on 22’s flimsy physique to carry them to Doctor Closer’s cabinet. It was a miracle they still remembered the way but they hadn’t visited Helix’s hill since they first came into the city so the specific path to the cabinet had stayed etched in their brain. Heaving, they wondered if anything had changed, if he felt like he had to change. They remembered a passing conversation they had overheard earlier this week, the average person still treated him like an unknown factor, something more unpredictable than the Cors. And now that the Capitán had made her mark on the city, 22 wondered if the Doctor would be pushed to polish his public appearances, maybe even with an interview on the Knightcall?
No plaque at the entrance of the building, still. He had said before that he wouldn’t move places, that his cabinet will always stay where it is so that anyone could remember it for when they need it. But still, no indication that 22 had reached their destination. Even in the main hall of Jie 10, Magnolia has… A bicycle stormed behind them, clamoring against the pavement, its tires screeching as it made a sharp turn outside of 22’s vision. Two symmetrical blinks later, 22 entered the building.
Helix was known for their warm courtyards, paved with old stones, sometimes linking to other streets. This disposition made for a much nicer labyrinth than that of the Hull’s, no matter how lost you could be in Helix, as long as you followed the Sun anyone could find their way back. From the middle of the courtyard, 22 focused on one of Closer’s windows. At this time, the Sun would act as enough of a natural light, there were no indications that he would be present. They felt an urge, to dig back in their pocket for their skeleton key. Before deciding anything might as well ring a bell.
The door answered, revealing Doctor Closer exactly how 22 had last pictured him. Tall, straight back and white garb, so similar to Ferris’s. His black and white mask only revealed piercing eyes, looking vaguely at them, like he was focused on something behind 22. His untainted blue eyes only appeared as a light gray beneath the Sun, which 22 thought was a shame.
“Health issues?” Closer said lightly, almost sighing.
“Just need 15 minutes of your time.”
“Make it 20.”
22 smiled, he must’ve been busy but his nonchalant yet warm open hand was what they had remembered most about him. They wished he would let the rest of the Last Kunlun see it. He walked back into his apartment, letting 22 step inside. Nothing had changed after all, everything so impersonal, clinical to a fault but still not devoid of the walls and furniture unique about Helix. Despite everything, he must’ve gotten accustomed to the district. 22 noticed he was fidgeting something in his left hand but they couldn’t make out what.
“So tell me, what brings you in?”
“Purely curiosity. Do you know what they did with the Old Man’s body? I went to the altar and it was gone.”
Closer looked back at them, clasping the object in their fist, losing 22’s chance to see what it was. He didn’t look amused or angry, the same disinterested gaze washed over them like pattered rain.
“Funerarium, despite the show at the Plaza he never gave any guidance as to how he wanted to be handled after death.”
There was that. 22 could have asked who had ended up making the call but ultimately they had a pretty good guess and they didn’t need to overplay their hand to Closer. 22 squinted despite themselves, also focusing their eyes away from him.
“Was that all?”
“No… I… would like some vitamins.”
22 heard him scoff beneath his mask.
“You could get some from the Scavengers, they’re still in Freeway and have good supply.”
“Sure, sure but you heard about people getting sick with their food right? Nothing against them but they can’t really… prescribe stuff.”
“Smart, but I can’t predict allergies before they show up either,” Closer replied, digging into a drawer with his right hand and gracefully tossing a bottle of pills towards 22, “It’s general applications, come back again if you need something different or stronger.”
“You know…” 22 chuckled as they rotated the pill bottle in their hands, “I heard some nasty rumors about you.”
“Like?” Closer inquired, sounding mildly intrigued.
“Like you “debone” people.”
“Hm hm,” Closer nodded, going back to fidgeting a pale object in his left hand.
“Wait, you do?”
“Even if someone wanted me to, I’m on a strict “no surgical operations beyond surface level injuries” mandate from our current Pillar of Order and aspiring city leader. There you have it.”
“Okay! Well… Not that I really thought…”
“I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t blame those you heard the rumors from either, my peers haven’t exactly worked hard to clear our reputation.”
“There was that one interview from the Knight I guess.”
Closer went silent for a moment but his fidgeting hadn’t stopped. Getting a better look at the mysterious object was rapidly becoming obsessive for them. Not finding any success following the movements of his fingers, 22 noticed that a nearby room had its floor littered by white plastic bags. Or were they black?
“Of which I’m sure everyone came out with all the answers they wanted,” Closer scoffed, “The Knight should have known better, with how young they supposedly are.”
“Totally,” 22 replied between their teeth.
“Don’t worry about my reputation, like you, people keep coming to see me, it’s fine.”
“Alright…”
His fist clasped again and in turn, the events of last night that 22 had tried to push away came crawling back in the dead air. Closer waited for another question, another request, maybe he really counted the minutes he had allocated them. He was right after all, they should have known better. They had proclaimed to the city that the Knight’s burden couldn’t be worn by anyone else but should one even hold it at all? They still needed help, they still needed another face to look at them, they still needed guidance.
“Do you also have pills… that make you want to live, when you’ve given up?”
“I’m afraid we’ve stopped gathering those a long time ago.”
Closer’s fist opened, shifting the object between his fingers where it laid motionless for only a few seconds. In that time, 22 recognized a small piece of bone.