May 11th

As it turns out, the next location the Future and Teresa were to visit was my favourite place in the world: The Bloody Trails Museum & Archive, dedicated to displaying and explaining humanity’s entire history of violence.

It was a Thursday, so there weren’t many people around and the two of them got in without much waiting. The museum was situated on a large property and divided into several different buildings. After burning down almost 100 years ago, one of these buildings had itself become an exhibition piece. They had simply left the ruins as they were and shut them off from outside entry. Other than that, the displayed pieces included reliquaries of war, weapons, paper trail evidence of heinous crimes, bombs, photographs and videos of felonies and some original declarations of war. The evidence exhibited didn’t discriminate against time; for example, one of the museum’s wings was entirely dedicated to a single crime from the ice ages that was reconstructed ice-preserved evidence.

Wisdom was already happily waiting for them in the entry hall. She hugged the Future and started encouraging her as if something big was about to happen. They walked into the inner yard of the museum complex that was filled with trees of the bitter almond, as well as many smaller plants. As Wisdom and the Future continued on towards the big pavilion in the middle of the yard, Teresa fell behind a bit. She was still tired from the bike tour, and the encounter with Rebecca hadn’t left her in too good of a mood, either.

The garden area was very well tended to. The first row of almond trees was surrounded by wolf’s-bane plants, although it took Teresa a moment to recognize them, as they weren’t in full bloom yet. Adjacent to them grew a few shrubs of belladonna. In a tall glass vitrine she saw a hemlock, among other, smaller plants. As she walked around the area, finally, her eyes fell upon something interesting: Next to a strychnine tree was an azalea plant, almost in bloom, together with a small pedestal surrounded by glass that contained a small vase filled with honey. According to the description, it was poisonous honey made by offering bees the pollen of toxic flowers, and it had been used in the past to defeat entire armies.

It was at this point that Teresa saw, from the corner of her eye, another person entering the yard. It was a young woman wearing a black, vainglorious pouf gown, a fitting hat with feathers attached to it and cute dark Mary Jane’s shoes on her feet.

Her hair style was similar to that of Teresa: Voluminous, black, curly locks, springing from underneath her hat, although hers were in a much better condition. She wore a lot of make-up, including dark lip gloss. All in all, to Teresa she seemed to exude the air of a graveyard princess — if not for one detail that strongly opposed her overall flair: An old, unkempt chalkboard, attached to a string she had around the back of her neck, hung down in front of her torso.

Now, I hope that does not come as too much of a shock, but that awe-inspiring lady was me.

The closer I got to Teresa, the more she started squinting at me. I obviously awoke her interest, especially because of my chalkboard, as her gaze kept alternating between that and my face. Her first thought when she saw me was that I looked like that little girl she had met at the school yard on the first day with the Future, and her second thought was that I looked similar to the Future herself; which, as she is my sister, should not be much of a surprise.

At that point, I was already aware of the fact that my sister had gotten herself a little pet, so I took a curious look at Teresa as well, and walked right up to her.

“Uhm. If you are looking for the Future, she’s back there. And, I am Teresa. And… might I ask, who are you?” she inquired nervously. She looked incredibly worn out. Her hair was full of split ends, her joints were thicker than her limbs. I took my chalkboard and wrote:

PLEASURE TO MEET YOU. I AM THE PAST.

When she read that, Teresa’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe this!” she whispered, and I noticed her pressing her thumb into her palm to make sure this wasn’t a dream. “You actually responded!”

THAT’S HOW CONVERSATION IS DONE, IS IT NOT?

“Yes, yes! Exactly!” exclaimed Teresa, enthusiastically. “I am so happy to meet you. So you are Wisdom’s date, huh.”

HER DATE?

OVER MY DEAD BODY.

I AM HERE TO MEET MY SISTER.

“Oh my. Well, I figured she was talking nonsense…”

As soon as we walked into her sight, Wisdom threw her arm in the air to wave at me. “She’s here!” she told the Future, who was sitting in the chair next to hers and upon hearing that pulled out that big fishbowl mask Teresa had seen before in her shed, and put it on her head. She turned the bowl until the two empty spots in the paintings fit exactly onto her eyes. Being inside of this thing distorted the Future’s facial features to the point where her already large enough eyes were now absolutely humongous. She actually kind of resembled a fish now.

HELLO SISTER.

Of course, my writing elicited no response. So I wrote:

I’M HAPPY YOU CAME TO VISIT ME,

AND THAT YOU’VE BROUGHT TERESA ALONG WITH YOU.

After wiping away these letters, I continued:

SEEING YOU TWO IS A PLEASURE.

SUCH A SHAME THAT THERE ARE NO OTHER PLEASURES AROUND.

Wisdom listened to my sister say something, then said to her: “Yeah, I think so, too. It’s cute, right?”

NOBODY ASKED FOR YOUR OPINION.

JUST REPEAT HER WORDS.

Wisdom leaned back in her chair and assumed the role of a transmitter.

HOW’S THE DRAGON?

“Oh, thanks for asking, I’m fi—” she started, but I interrupted her by kicking the table. She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, I was just teasing. The dragon is doing well, I think. Last time I saw it, it was asleep.”

HAVE YOU HEARD ANYTHING OF OUR BROTHER?

“…”, translated Wisdom.

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I SEE.

I nodded listening to Wisdom, looking back between her and my sister. “…”, Wisdom concluded.

ARE YOU STILL COLLECTING THOSE TEARS?

“…”

I sighed.

YOU ALREADY KNOW THAT MOTHER IS AGAINST YOU DOING THIS.

BUT TRUTH BE TOLD, SO AM I.

IT’S CAUSING YOU SO MUCH PAIN.

“…”, Wisdom said shortly. Of course, I hadn’t expected anything else. I had long since decided to just let her do whatever she wanted to do, but it made me sad regardless. And yet, there was a silver lining to it, as, of course, I was eager to meet her.

SO, WILL YOUR WORK ON THAT DAUGHTER OF YOURS BE DONE SOON?

Teresa startled. Did she hear that correctly? The thing the Future was working on, the thing that she was going to make out of those tears, was a daughter?

“Progress is steady,” Wisdom answered without waiting for the Future’s words. “She’s entering the daybuilder more and more frequently.”

WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST THROW THAT DAMN THING AWAY ALREADY?

“Are you already excited to become an aunt?” Wisdom asked me to avoid the topic. I hesitated for a bit. I already knew who her daughter was going to be, so that question was hard to answer.

I’M JUST SAD FOR MY MOTHER.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT IT?

Wisdom pushed a strand of hair out of her face and looked into the distance. “Well, I’m happy she finally made her decision, but I can’t help but feel a little melancholic about it. Either way, Sis is the one who’s gonna know best.”

I grated my teeth upon hearing that fiend call her Sis, although I did my best not to let my hatred of her ruin the day. And so, the conversation went on for a while, with Teresa just watching everything silently, not daring to butt in at any point.

Finally, I asked for a bit of alone-time with my sister, so I got up, took her by her hand, and walked away, leaving the other two sitting at their table in the dark.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Wisdom just sat there playing with her green strand of hair, while Teresa reflected on everything she had just witnessed.

“Hey, Wisdom,” she asked at some point.

“Yes, Teresa?”

“Why does the Future not use a chalkboard?”

Wisdom looked at her confused. “What should she use a chalkboard for?”

Teresa was equally confused. “I mean, just so that, you know, she can communicate with other people than you, too? Like the Past?”

Slowly, Wisdom let her gaze drift upwards into the starry sky that twinkled above the glassy ceiling of the pavilion. It seemed as though she had no idea how to respond to this question. Finally, after contemplating for a while, she said: “The Past can’t communicate in real-time. Whatever we come to know about her we have to find out through sources that persist after the moment.”

“You mean like her writing?”

“Exactly. She writes something down, it becomes a source of what she said, which we can understand. So, she writes things down, but she could also use recording devices. It’s even possible to have a second person repeat what she says, although even that person would only understand the meaning of those words after they had spoken them out loud.”

“In conclusion, all the Past can do is leave her traces and hope someone else finds them.”

“Yes,” nodded Wisdom.

“So you are telling me the Future can’t talk for a different reason? One thing has nothing to do with the other, that’s why a chalkboard wouldn’t help her?”

“If you can’t hear or understand what the Future is trying to tell you, then you won’t be able to decipher her reading either.”

That made sense. Teresa now remembered back when she’d seen the Future’s unreadable notes on her desk.

“I would have expected at least her family members to be able to understand her…” Teresa murmured. “Is there anyone else? Anyone else except for you who can?”

Wisdom looked troubled, almost sad, when she heard that question. She let out a sigh, and then answered: “I don’t think there is, unfortunately.” It didn’t seem like an easy thing for her to say. Teresa almost felt bad for asking, but Wisdom continued: “When I first met her, I couldn’t understand or even hear her, either. Back then I also got to know the Past.”

“Although I suspect she might not be too fond of you,” said genius detective Teresa, born deducer-of-things.

“I wonder why,” Wisdom said, her eyes losing focus.

“You don’t know? Well. If you don’t know… maybe she doesn’t like you because you can talk to her sister while she can’t?” Teresa pursed her lips. “Well, either that, or it’s your personality. Impossible to say, really…”

Wisdom shook her head with a slight smile. “I see it’s your turn to tease me now!”

In saying that, she didn’t really sound cheerful though, and just looked into Teresa’s eyes calmly.

“Oh, another thing,” said Teresa, “What’s with that fishbowl the Future had on her head? You mentioned it’s for making her more noticeable, right? But why did she put it on today?”

“Ah, you mean the Mask of Presence. Well, I told you that the Future’s family is full of inventors, right? That mask is an invention made by the Future’s third sibling. The oldest one.”

“The brother?”

“Well, sometimes they’re a brother, sometimes they’re a sister, most of the time though they are just a sibling. It’s a fleeting person.”

“So let me guess,” said Teresa, “that sibling must be the… Present?”

“Yes. When their sisters were very small, that sibling realized that these two weren’t existing in the same… world. They can’t see each other. Can’t recognize each other. They knew of each other, they felt the presence of each other, but nothing more. So the Present built that bowl, to serve as a connection between the two. It’s a device that increases the noticeability of whatever is inside it, draws an incredible amount of focus to it. So they can perceive each other only while one of them wears the Mask of Presence”

“Oh my god,” said Teresa. “That’s super sad… Glad that this sibling found a solution though, even though it’s a bit impracticable.”

They fell silent for a while, until Wisdom proposed that they’d get going. Teresa nodded, and since they didn’t have the time before, they decided to walk through some of the other areas of the museum now. Teresa museums after all and she was even ready to ignore her burning legs for this.

They were just walking through a hall of old, gigantic paintings, among which were enlarged copies of The Third of May 1808 by Goya, depicting the slaughter of civilians by means of execution, The Rape of Lucretia painted by Artemisia Gentileschi and Peter Paul Rubens’ Consequences of War.

“I have to say, I kind of like the Past,” said Teresa, who couldn’t get her mind off the earlier encounter with her.

“I do, too. She’s cute,” said Wisdom.

“She seems so… I don’t know. Like she doesn’t have a single care left in the world. I wonder how old she is.”

“Well, she’s the Future’s little sister, that's all I can tell you. When it comes to her age, I don’t think that will tell you much. Because despite how old she might be, it’s… different for her. Because of her ability.”

“Her ability?”

They kept walking past more and more paintings, and occasionally Teresa interrupted the talk to read through a description.

“Well, the reason age matters is because living longer translates to more experience, right? Translates to more memories. But the Past automatically knows everything that ever happens to any living being. Because after any being goes through an experience, the Past gains access to that memory.”

“But,” Teresa interjected, “Wouldn’t that mean she sees the same things over and over? Like, with us, right now. She will know what we told each other, but she will experience it twice? From both angles?”

“Yeah. And from any angle of any person who might have passed us by and heard a part of a sentence that we spoke.”

“Sounds like hell,” Teresa sighed. “But I do think you are wrong about one thing.”

“Hm? And what’s that?” Wisdom asked with a smile.

“Well, you said that age is only determined by the amount the memories a person has. But that’s not true. It’s also the time between those memories that you use to sort these experiences out, to work through them in your mind. To sleep over them. But if your mind gets bombarded by new information too quickly, then when are you going to process all of that? Especially if these memories are not even your own, and you didn’t even get to decide what you wanted to do in them.”

“Ah,” Wisdom said. “Yeah, you are right. It does sound a bit like hell. Speaking of, look at that building there.” She pointed out of a window right next to a painting of a bridge, with a nobleman holding the severed head of a stag over a river, with people leaning over the rails to look down. “You see that there, on the other side? That burnt-out ruin? That used to be another wing of the museum, dedicated to show off cursed artefacts — or rather, artefacts with legends of curses attached to them. There are a few rooms left in the basement that were left mostly untouched by the fire.”

Teresa nodded.

“That’s her home,” Wisdom said.

“Her home? She lives in that thing? Like, all the time?”

“Yeah. In fact, she barely leaves.” They continued for a few steps, and eventually, Wisdom raised her voice again. “Teresa, I wanted to thank you, by the way. For sticking around.”

“Hm? Sure. I’m getting something out of it, too, after all,” she answered mostly on auto-pilot.

“Is that so? Because today when I saw you, you didn’t look good at all. If speaking to the Past today told me anything, it’s that the pressure on the Future is increasing. On one hand, I know that she does what she wants when she wants it. But on the other hand, I have a feeling that I won’t be able to hold her back from overexerting herself forever. All I can say is… I’m glad you’re here!”

Teresa smiled mildly. “Thanks. Today was a bit rough… I guess… if today doesn’t make me leave, nothing will. Let’s go home.”