After dinner, we were brought into the library where our host wished to entertain us with his thoughts on literature.

It was surreal.

We had just witnessed one of the most brutal and ambiguous slaughters in the history of our people, and Rakash was now acting as if nothing had happened... As were we, to be honest.

Several of the victims had been among the members of the senate who had denied him—for even enemies did not dare turn down an invitation from the venerable Rakash.

By having them dispatched, he had created a vacuum he could fill, while at the same time sending a warning to the others of what could happen if they got in his way.

”So why are we here?” asked one of the other survivors.

He had waited to speak for a moment of silence, after our host had finished analyzing a book he particularly liked, and while he was still busy selecting the next work he so dearly wished to share with us.

At that moment, it felt like time itself had frozen. Like we all had held our breath, expecting some sort of disaster to befall us—or, at the very least, befall the impudent soul who had dared to question Rakash.

Our host’s hand, itself, had paused mid-gesture. Only for a brief second—though it had felt like an eternity.

He turned to face the one who had spoken—Rosdak was his name—and smiled. It is a smile I’ve since learned to recognize and to be wary of. One that hints at dark things prowling in the shadows, waiting to pounce on you.

”Do you not enjoy my readings?”

Rosdak was smart enough to recognize the menace that lurked in those innocuous words.

”It is not that, Uncle. I revere your knowledge and wisdom. And while I also appreciate your hospitality, I had not expected to spend the whole day in your mansion. And I suspect our friends here did not either.”

Without a word, Rakash looked at each of us in turn—still smiling—as if to verify from our expressions whether we did, in fact, think likewise. I made sure to keep my face unreadable.

It had grown increasingly clear in my mind that this entire charade was nothing more than a test. To what end, I had no clue. But I suspected failing would not lead to a pleasant resolution.

”Well,” he said slowly as he turned back to face Rosdak—who was now looking quite anxious—, “I suppose I should let you go, if you are finding the time too long...”

I wished then there was some way I could tell Rosdak not to fall for the bait. To just play along. Remain calm and distant. I felt that was the right course of action—the only one that would be tolerated. Do not take any of it personally. Watch it as if you were on the other side of a TriVid screen—or as if you were reading a scene in a book.

It occurred to me that the library we stood in might have been a way for our host to tell us just that, to let us know what was expected of us, and—more importantly—to see whether we could understand that message. Something Rosdak, I felt, was about to fail.

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Perhaps my friend sensed the same thing and came to the same conclusion, for I then saw a shift in his attitude. He straightened and shrugged.

”Not at all, Uncle. I would be happy to hear more about your books. It was mere curiosity on my part. Please accept my apologies.”

Rakash stared for a long moment at our friend, as if trying to decide whether or not that was an acceptable response.

”I am glad to hear that,” he finally said. “But I would ask you to never apologize again. It is enough to recognize one’s own faults without requiring of others to accept, let alone excuse them.”

To his credit, Rosdak’s face remained impassive as he simply nodded. I do not know, to this day, whether he realized how close he had come to sharing the fate of our gutted brothers... It is not a topic for polite conversation, nor something we like to discuss between us.

”That being said,” continued Rakash as he returned the unopened book to its shelf, “I will require assistance from any of you who so desires...”

All of us understood that of choice we had none; our participation would be mandatory.

”To assist you with what?” I asked.

His fingers played with the pendant around his neck, and he smiled at me.

”Oh, nothing much. Only the dismantling of modern society.”

***

His body still ached from the beating he had received. Michael was glad the stranger had come to his rescue when he had, or he’d have likely ended up at the hospital.

They had not intended to kill him—of that, at least, he was certain. Otherwise, he’d have been dead within minutes. No, they had just wanted to send him a message...

A message he had heard loud and clear.

Still, he had no intention of giving up.

Was he supposed to let anyone walk all over him and dictate what he should or shouldn’t do?

Besides, he had been looking for Ahuaxa for so long it would just not make any sense for him to stop now—threats or no threats.

He had spent the entire day in bed, too tired and broken to get any work done. It wouldn’t last, but it was irritating, because he still had a deadline to meet. Time was running out, and he was no closer to having found an answer.

Some of the leaflets lay on the covers, on the nightstand, and even on the floor where they’d fallen after he’d read them. But they were only a handful, and he didn’t have the strength right now to get up. He should have brought more with him before he lied down.

He heard the door open and his roommate walked in.

“Perfect timing, Don!”

“What did I do this time?” joked his friend.

“It’s not what you did, it’s what you are going to do.”

He pointed at the stack of paper on his desk.

“Could you bring me a bunch more of those, please?”

A trace of concern seeped into Don’s expression.

“Are you in such a poor state you can’t even stand? I really wish you’d let me call a doctor...”

“I’m fine,” answered Michael irritably. “I just have some bruises. They’ll heal.”

Don sighed as he went to the desk, grabbed some of the leaflets, and brought them to his friend.

“I’m not your personal errand boy, you know.”

“Aww, but you’re so good at it!”

Don stuck his tongue out. “What would you do without me, eh?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Here, you can put them on the table.”

To make room, he pushed off the documents he’d already read—they went gliding down to the floor.

“You’re really making a mess of this room, buddy.”

“Don’t care. Got more pressing matters on my mind.”

“This city has become too much of an obsession for you...”

“I’m just doing my job.”

Don didn’t look like he was buying it.

After placing the leaflets on the table, he bent down to pick up all the scattered pieces on the carpet.

“You do realize that, at this rate, it’ll take you months to finish reading all those pages? You sure you don’t want me to help?”

“I don’t know myself what I’m looking for... just that I’ll recognize it when I see it. So I wouldn’t know what to tell you to do with these.”

“Alright. Well, let me know if you change your mind. I have time.”

Don finished picking up the leaflets and returned them to the desk.

He then went to take a shower while Michael started reading again.