Winters are cold in Saüle. Cold and rainy, really, but today I have the good luck of going out on a not so terrible day. Clouds cover the entirety of the sky, giving the whole place this gray and depressive tone, one I am probably never growing to appreciate. I always thought that people with depression liked these sorts of times… then again, my knowledge of depression before actually being diagnosed with it was inaccurate and biased.

The city’s residential district is soon far away, as the taxi I called takes me straight into the Independence Plaza. Or, as many of us call it, The Pit. The place is a beautiful, open space divided into four quadrants, each with a water fountain, surrounding a big, barricaded patch of concrete that has been graffitied over and over again.

That’s where they covered the hole.

I slowly leave the taxi, being very careful not to slam the door behind me, and then turn to see the Plaza and the many stores surrounding it. To think there was once a gigantic tower in the center of it all… it’s kind of strange, really. I’ve always thought that the so called ‘Pillar of the Heavens’ was just another building back in the day, and the old people just like to mythify it.

Whatever the case, it fell into the depths of the planet over a hundred years ago, so it doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?

It’s already four in the afternoon and I once again get that strange feeling of eyes locking on me, chasing me no matter how fast I walk. The loud trumpets of some random ska song keep me relatively animated and, what’s better, they keep the thoughts low. All I can think about as I walk are the vague situations I could put my characters through, mostly following the rhythm of the music.

It’s easy to get lost in such things, daydreaming about what makes life a bit easier to live through, but I feel like I’ve developed a bit of a ‘autopilot’ for these situations. My body moves slowly, trying not to become a nuisance for someone else in the way, while my brain flies up, trying to collect ideas for a book I’ll never write.

It’s been a while since I've actually created something… the prospect of trying again, this time with renewed motivation and purpose, pushes me to walk a little faster, maybe even skip a few steps as I move in front of the many stores around the plaza. I don’t have infinite money to just buy everything I want, so I’ve decided I’ll bite the bullet and go for a single book today.

“Ahhh, remember the last time we went book hunting? It’s such a fun feeling, moving silently through the bookshelves, stalking the titles, sneaking glances at the fronts…”

I do remember, but I also do remember the tendency of the biggest bookstore in town to put new releases first and foremost, often leaving treasures hidden in their obnoxiously bad registration system. I doubt they have fixed that…so, to not waste time digging over the many, many new books I wont read, maybe I should set my focus elsewhere.

“Don’t be so dismissive of new things. Some of them are authors just like you, trying to get by.”

…I guess I’ve grown a little cynical. Not everything is a cash grab these days, no. I need to be solidary with my fellow writers!

Or… future fellows? Considering I haven’t written anything to completion yet.

“None of that. Focus. We’re getting a new book today! Where are we getting it?”

Well, solidarity or not, I am not feeling like going to the big bookstore today… my feet take a turn, going through one of the many secondary streets that are born from this plaza. Not too far from there, in a darker corner of the city… there’s an old concrete house, completely painted yellow. The sign above its front door reads “Ricardo’s Stash: Antiques”, and oh how I missed it. I even turn off my cellphone’s music out of respect.

Looking through the shop window, my lips curl into a smile as most of the items I remembered being there are gone. Probably sold, good for old Ricardo really! Although the bronze typewriter is still there, taunting me with its excessive price… Good Saints above, give me strength to not succumb to my earthly desires!

“You already have a pretty good computer, you don’t need a typewriter. Be strong.”

The door has one of those bells that ring when it is opened, so there’s no way I can avoid miss Pelafina’s watchful demeanor as I enter. The old lady is sitting right behind the register, small but regal, dignified, with her black dyed hairs tied back in a single ponytail. Looking at her, seeing how well time has really treated her, it is easy to believe the rumors that say she used to be an olympic athlete for a country in the West before settling down with mister Ricardo.

The woman looks at me, before fixing her glasses in place and smirking with complicity.

“Well well well, if it isn’t our favorite customer.” I am convinced she says this to every youngun who wanders in, but I don’t have the guts to challenge the lady. “Long time no see! Had a hard time with your studies?”

“A little bit…” I smile slightly, trying not to be too awkward. “Any new books in your storage?”

“Plenty! You’ve been gone so long, we’ve stocked on some very interesting ones! But you give it a look! You’ve always been good at finding the good stuff among the rubble.”

All this praise is really bad for my health. I smile like an idiot, rubbing the back of my neck for a moment before walking deeper into the store, muttering a soft ‘Hi, Mister Ricardo’ to the old man sleeping on a wheelchair by the register. Ricardo’s is a huge, squared room turned into a labyrinth of shelves and showcases, piles upon piles of old toys, furniture, mementos and, of course, books! All at honestly pretty reasonable prices, considering the age of some of these items.

Last time I was here, Ricardo even swore that some of these items come from the fabled Pillar! But I feel that was just him trying to secure a sale.

I see old tomes of detective work, some poetry compilations, old classroom books and other curiosities, but nothing really catches my eye. I’ve seen these before, I want something new to read! Well, not ‘new’, I am in an antique shop, but uh, something unexpected. Uncommon. Rare, even! It’s not like I am a connoisseur of book rarity or anything but, when you are holding something special, you just know it in your bones! You can feel it, the excitement of having something very few others have had.

Maybe I am being a little too demanding though, because no matter how many books I keep checking, pulling and dusting in this store, the feeling never comes to me. What if the books are not the problem, but myself…?

“The light in you hasn’t died yet.”

I try to tell myself that very often. That there’s still hope and creativity in my heart, despite it all. That I can still see the beauty of the world despite this depression… and I honestly, desperately try to believe it. I cling to this feeling. Mostly because I know that the moment I truly give up, the instant that light in me really fizzles out…

… I don’t want to think about that.

“Having trouble there, boy?”

The whiplash of hearing a new voice forces me back to reality. I am holding an old math book in front of me, and probably I’ve been in this position for long enough to attract old Ricardo’s attention. The man even wheeled all the way over here to check on me. I immediately feel the guilt stab my back.

“A-Ah, no no. I am just… looking.” I offer my typical service smile, but Ricardo isn’t buying it. I can see it in those opaque eyes of his. Despite the huge glasses and the cataracts, I can feel a bright light in that look of his, rationality and youth that refuse to die out.

“Can’t quite find something you’d like to read?” The old man smiles, knowingly. He thinks he understands… and I can’t help but think the same. There’s something about Ricardo, a weird air of experience, that convinces you that he really does know what he’s talking about. I gently nod. “Uh huh. Have you thought of what sort of things you’d like reading this time, youngun?”

“I… admit I have not. I am mostly guiding myself by feeling here. Seeing if something sparks my curiosity…”

There’s a bright glimmer in the man’s eye as he signals for me to follow him. He seems to have precisely what I am looking for; either that or he has something curious he simply hasn’t been able to sell yet.

We pass by shelves full of little figurines and old collector items, careful not to push the boxes full of ancient magazines and comic books, until we reach the front of the store. Right beside the desk, there stands a full set of ancient Cipangian armor, restored and shiny, complete with a kabuto and a red oni mask. Ricardo and Pelafina love that thing, it’s pretty much the main symbol of the store. They call it ‘Akai-san’.

“I got something special right here.” Saays Ricardo, keeping his voice low as if he was sharing a secret with me. He smiles, carefully sliding a hand under the kabuto and pulling a small, yet thick leather bound book. The thickness of the bind and the yellow of the pages makes it clear that one is older than what you usually see in the store. “Take a look at this…!”

It was a matter of holding the book to just feel electricity jolt through my back. Excitement? Curiosity? The cover is rough, a bad work of tanning clearly meant for a notebook more than a commercial product. My finger gently caresses the uneven black surface before I open the book right in the middle.

The yellow pages are completely covered by black, thin scribbles, made in a language I have never seen before. Each character in the pages looks like some sort of rune, symbols without meaning to me, ordered in long vertical rows… I honestly have no idea how to even start this! In which direction should I read this? Is it even readable at all? I go back in the pages, discovering not only more of those runes but also some illustrations, rough drawings made with a coal piece… each with a little letter underneath it. What? This book has *annotations* on it?

My eyes focus. The pages, they are numbered! In Eastern numbers, to be precise, written with a blue pen. Clearly these notations were made recently, or at least more recently than the book itself was written.

“Check the later pages.” Ricardo says with a smirk, probably catching my bewilderment and interest.

I do as the man says and quickly pass the pages. There comes a point where the runes end, immediately replaced by latin alphabet written with the same old blue pen. A little arrow tells me to read columns of letters from top to bottom, from left to right, in columns. Once I reach the end of a column, the arrows then point me to start reading from bottom to top, alternating from each column I passed… it’s a bit unintuitive but, I manage to make sense of it, words start to appear from the jumble. It’s not gibberish, there’s something here, meaning to be discovered…

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Most curious of all though, is the fact that the very last page of it all has a little text in some language that I am able to recognize. Maybe roman? Or portuguese? I can’t read it, but I do know this one is translatable for sure.

“Maybe what you need is not reading material, but a challenge.” Ricardo says with a big smile. “I got that book a long time ago, some old lady came and sold it to us for a pittance.”

“You say that as if you weren’t an old man, dear.” Pelafina chuckles, covering her mouth.

“Oh shut up!” The man coughs a little bit. “But yeah. I tried to read it but couldn’t get too far… maybe you can properly translate it?”

“I am not a translator…” I quickly admit, but I am not letting go of that book. Not anytime soon. “... But I will do what I can. How much for it?”

“Twenty thousand Empires.” Ricardo says with the brightest of smiles.

For reference, that’s not that expensive when it comes to books. You could find a regular book (you know, no hardcover) for around E$15.000. It is a little more than I would normally pay for a used book though, but urgh. Look at that man! Look at that smug look in his eyes. Even Pelafina is smirking.

They know. They know this is a sale for certain.

After struggling a little bit I just sigh, shaking my head and putting the two bills of 10 thousand on the desk.

“Fine.”

“Atta boy! I’m sure you can handle this. But keep us informed on what you find!” Ricardo chuckles.

“Please do. Ricky here has been pacing for days over it.” Pelafina adds with a wink. “But take it at your own pace, okay? You’re not a translator, after all.”

“I will do my best.”

With a little bow, I walk out of the store with the book between my arms. The giddiness on my step hasn’t faded yet, I actually think it’s a bit worse now. I need to control myself, try not to make a scene right here and now… but it’s been so long since I’ve felt this motivated! This intrigued! This stimulated!

“Never forget this feeling. Strive to always feel this way.”

Now that’s unrealistic, but wouldn’t that be wonderful? Just… feeling the fire inside of me burning this brightly every day? I would die for something like that. I even smile thinking about it for a moment, as I raise my hand and try to call a taxi. Hells, I won’t even care if there are people sitting beside me today. I am excited!

“Maybe we can even take public transportation then!”

Let’s not get crazy.

Baby steps, alright?

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By the time I arrive home it’s already six. The sun is starting to set, and students everywhere peek out of their hiding spots with excited, yet tired smiles on their faces. Vacation time, huh? That means people are gonna start celebrating soon enough… good thing I don’t live close to the city’s party side, or else I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all tonight. Not with all the music and the people just drunkenly singing in the streets.

I wave at the guard when passing him by, going straight for the elevators while the old man barely acknowledges me. I sometimes wonder if he remembers me at all… I can’t just assume he doesn’t, all things considered, so I can’t really do anything strange without him (and by consequence, my dad) knowing about it. Not that I’d ever invite anyone to the disaster that is my apartment.

Normally this is the part where I’d start torturing myself with those thoughts… but today I feel excited. The book between my hands has captured my whole interest, to the point where I even started trying to decipher it while sitting in the taxi. The symbols could have some alchemical significance? Some of them did look similar to arrows and such, so maybe this was supposed to be read like that!

The words on the latter pages are, as far as I know, a romanization of the symbols. Is it accurate? Or just a wild guess? For all I know, the former translator of this work could have been making everything up.

Last chapter is in roman! Or, maybe some other romantic language!?

What if I am being racist and this is not roman at all!? Saints damn it!

The elevator can’t go fast enough. I don’t even care about the shaking of the metal box or even the unnerving sounds of old gears doing an effort to lift me. My eyes are glued to the book.

All until I arrive at Floor 8 and rush to the second door, closing behind me and sitting at the table.

For a moment I consider taking all the job over to my comfortable not-reclinable couch, but no. This is supposed to feel like work, so I can’t just do it in the messy comfort of my bedroom.

“Alright, how should we start…”

“Get a notebook, first of all!”

Right. I need somewhere to work on! But, wait, can’t I just do it all on my computer?

“You can’t take your computer everywhere. And besides, doesn’t it feel kind of romantic? To have a journal to keep up with your progress…?”

All my attempts to keep up a journal up to this point in my life have failed, I simply don’t have the discipline or focus for that sort of work.

“What if this time is different?”

I can’t help but smile a little bit. I get it, you really want to try and do a journal for this one, huh? I can feel Her stirring and shifting behind me, embarrassed to be called out like that but not really denying it. With a sigh, I get up and walk over to the old bookshelf to check, pulling out an old and badly bound notebook. The covers are made with bright green cardboard and messily cut, to the point where you can see the paper peek from behind it in some parts.

“Oh my Saints.”

This will do.

“Oh. My Saints. Why do you still have that?”

What? You don’t like the fruit of your own effort?

“Please, put that away. I beg you, the embarrassment is too much!”

I made this notebook myself during the “Bookbinding” class I went to for a while when I just started college. I still remember the looks the other girls gave me when I first arrived, none of them expected a law student or a man to join the class, not one.

“This is torture, do we really not have any other notebooks to work with? None at all?”

It's this or nothing, homegirl.

“Sigh.”

I pull one of my many pens from my backpack, sitting back by the computer and then, with a crack of my knuckles, I start writing.

> I do not know who may read this. Honestly, I am not even sure if I will read it myself after I finish writing it, but whomever is picking up this torn and ugly book? This is dedicated to you.

“Pretentious and needlessly emotional.”

Ah, there you are. I was starting to miss you. With a sigh, I shake the thoughts off and keep writing.

> I found the original version of the text I’m working through in the old antique shop “Ricardo’s”, where the titular man himself had been keeping this book for…

I honestly have no idea how long Ricardo has been clinging to this one. It can’t be that long, right? Ricardo said ‘a long time ago’, but that’s all the reference I have. Urgh.

> …for a while. The book was originally written in a set of symbols similar in function to hieroglyphs, with each symbol representing a different word. Luckily for me, my predecessor left me with transcriptions to the latin alphabet, and a final chapter written in a language I am yet to identify and translate.

I am still placing my bets on roman, but honestly, I feel less and less confident about that with every second that passes.

> I will record my findings in this book and then share them to all who may be interested.

>

> Please bear with me.

After writing that messy introduction, I focus back on my computer and start my investigation by opening Gaggle Translations. I input the first words I find in the book… and beg.

Asu tlo’ikovithiio

The translator suggests Kauaian, but changing it to that language shows no results whatsoever. It’s not Kauaian..

I then try all the permutations I can come up with in the search. I try “Asu”, “Tlo” “Ikovithiio”, “kovithiio”, and beyond the Arizona State University and some western guy called Vito Iio, I have no better luck. That pretty much confirms my suspicions of this being a code, a sort of new language, or just plain nonsense.

What differentiates a language from a code anyways? Intentionality?

I smack my head for a moment there, trying to keep myself focused. Now that the easy solution is not available, I have to get resourceful, and before I start working with the final chapter, Gaggle still has one tool up its sleeve. It’s still a bit of an experimental feature, but by taking a picture of these runes I can actually search the internet for similar things…!

image [https://i.ibb.co/CJyC0N9/rune-1.png]

So I quickly copy one of the symbols on the page, the one I see repeating itself the most, take a picture of it with my phone and just wait for the best.

The result? A bunch of unfiltered stickmen, some of them with dicks. Because of course, Gaggle’s image searching is still a new tool and it needs plenty of work to properly function. With a sigh, I debate for a moment if I really should bother to check image per image… until I decide to just check the first two pages before abandoning all hope.

“Stickman, stickman, stickman with a dick, another stickman…”

“Stickmen animations and games really have boomed these years huh?”

“I guess so… another stickman…”

I promised to myself I wouldn’t go beyond the second page of results… and yet here I am, going deeper and deeper, trying to find anything at all.

It’s dark outside already… and that only means that the pills will stop working soon.

“Not that they ever really worked to begin with. Have you stopped feeling sad since you started taking them?”

There it is.

With a loud sigh, I set my computer down and stop messing with the search.

Maybe I just picked a bad symbol. Maybe if I pick another, I will get actual results.

“Or maybe you won’t get anything at all. You’re no translator, and you can’t start pretending to be one now, you know?”

I breathe in deeply, holding it inside for a good few seconds before letting it out. With that, I stand from my chair and pick up my computer. I’ll leave it for tonight…

“Yeah. Just leave it like you leave anything: incomplete. It’s not like you ever finish anything anyways. You may as well toss it to the side and ignore it until you forget about it.”

“But we were so excited about it… Come on, don’t give up now…”

“Let’s just leave it. It’s vacation time anyways, right? Let’s just play some videogames until your body can’t take any more. I promise I’ll be quiet while you do so! Let’s play some King of Legends.”

I don’t even like that game…

“But it passes the time, doesn’t it? Precious time, so full of suffering too. You don’t even notice death encroaching ever closer while you have something to do.”

“You only rage in that game, it’s not good for you. Come on, please?”

“Just lay down and sleep then…”

… No.

“Hmmm?”

You know what? No. I am not sleeping tonight.

“Let’s not go to the extremes!”

Alright then, I am sleeping, but not now. Not until I get through some of this book!

I set the computer back down on the table and get myself a glass of soda, sitting down and cracking my knuckles with renewed determination. Spite can be quite the fuel, even if it’s spite for your own inner voices.

“I am not letting a stupid book defeat me.” With a grin, I open my notebook to start transcribing. “Let’s do this!!”