That was the simmering tension as everyone was seated for the next meal, where the usual blessing was given, but unlike before, everybody was placed in different seats apart from faces they were familiar with, as the whispers from behind went ‘You ‘an’t learn on an empty stomach’, and the Faithful Devoted Servant made an announcement:
“Brace yourselves, the Living Martyr has just returned from a successful pilgrimage!” Then from all sides, an amplified voice laced with pain rang out,
THANKS TO THE CONTRIBUTION OF AN OUTSIDE SOURCE WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS, WE HAVE CONJOINED FORCES WITH A RESTAURANT WITH POWERFUL CONNECTIONS. A LITTLE SOMETHING HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR SOUP TODAY. ENJOY!
If there were any lingering doubts about the existence of the Living Martyr before, this squashed them entirely. The effect was utterly electric, the aftereffects of the speech still tingling throughout their bodies. The Mouthy Woman had a spontaneous moment of inspiration and took a picture of the flat bowl before her. She looked around and captured an image at the far end of the table of elderly members being spoonfed soup via helping hands for those too weak to lift their utensils.
THIS IS JUST ONE MORE STEP ON THE ROAD TO ENLIGHTENMENT. NEVER FORGET, GOD IS ALWAYS WATCHING.
Shrugging internally, she brought a spoonful of the concoction to her lips. It tasted just as uninspiring and bland as before. But there must have been something of note in it, as the formerly near-comatose elderly members moved around with a particularly noticeable pep in their walk. They even praised the meal for its improved taste. Was it just her? Was there something they were getting out of it she wasn't?
“Did you find today’s meal particularly scrumptious?”
“Ah, nuh, ah dudn’t.”
Uh, no I didn’t.
“Oh that's a relief,” the Numb Woman exhaled. “I was afraid I was losing my mind. All around me, people were saying how unappetizing it was, and being demeaned for not allowing themselves to expand their tastes. They were excommunicated until they agreed, and others who secretly harbored such thoughts changed their minds, saying it tasted wonderful when it didn’t. What shocks me is how quickly everybody just comforted to the new social norm.”
“Ah denno, deh taysh myght be wermin’ yup tuh me. Ah may niid aw foo mir bullfillsh jesh tuh be sir.”
I dunno, the taste might be warming up to me. I may need a few more bowlfulls just to be sure.
The Numb Woman threw her hands up in exasperation. “How are you so fiercely advocative of others, but so permissive of your own?”
“Ah jest tink whe shid gif dem uh chense.”
I just think we should give them a chance.
“The woman I know would never just calmly accept everything without asking questions. Where has that woman gone?”
“Mebbe sie wensh tuh dishofir aw pirt uf hirshelf dhat’sh bin lung niglicted. Cen’t yuh be heppy fir meh?”
Maybe she wants to discover a part of herself that’s been long neglected. Can’t you be happy for me?
“Not if we’re at risk. I’ve been reading interesting and disturbing things they’ve got on their shelves. They’re trying to make us something we’re not.”
“Will, mebbe Ah WENT tuh win-infensh mushelf.”
Well, maybe I WANT to reinvent myself.
“For your sake, I hope you don’t wind up unrecognizable.”
Splintering over irrevocable differences, the Numb Woman sauntered off to continue her private research as the Mouth Woman went to photography class to submit her assignment.
“What was your thought behind choosing this photo?”, the Photography Teacher asked.
The Mouthy Woman had submitted her first photo of herself being caught unaware, with half closed eyes and a surprised expression.
“Ah tryid meny temesh tuh kepsure muhshelf, bah nun kem cloze tuh deh reel ting. Tirns haut reel hauthenticity ish herd tuh fayke.”
I tried many times to capture myself, but none came close to the real thing. Turns out real authenticity is hard to fake.
The Photography Teacher had an expression on her face veering on sourness.
“...end Ah wuz ulzo tinkin’ ov deh Liffin’ Murtir.”
...and I was also thinking of the Living Martyr.
“Good answer. You know what would liven your landscape scenes up? Having a woman in the distance for scale. Every memorable shot of nature has a woman in them.”
The Mouthy Woman could relate, having had posed in numerous dangerous locations for the art, ranging from sub-zero temperatures to volcanic lairs to hazardous work environments to war-torn beaches, usually sans clothing.
“Here's a little something to spur you on”, the Photography Teacher rewarded, wrapping a shiny bangle around the Mouthy Woman's wrist. “If you continue to improve your photography, more jewelry will be added to your bracelet. You may have a request given to you within reason.”
“Ah widdin’t mend whering muh uld clowsh fir muh fotos.”
I wouldn’t mind wearing my old clothes for my photos.
“Those are clothes of a past life not worth recalling.”
“Dey’re ulzo clowsh Uh’m femilir wish.”
They’re also clothes I’m familiar with.
“You shouldn’t pine for old maternal objects keeping you down from embracing a new life.”
“U’ff hird uddersh sey dhey mish dheir uld clowsh too und wuddin’t mend haffin’ dhem beck.”
I’ve heard others say they miss their old clothes too and wouldn’t mind having them back.
“Who are these people you speak of?”
“U’m jest seyin’ whut Uh’f hird eround.”
I’m just saying what I’ve heard around.
“I’ll bring it up with my superior.”
“Dhat’s ull eh esk.”
That’s all I ask.
Leaving the lesson, she explored the surroundings with a pep in her step, taking snapshots of faraway objects in the distance. When she started out, controlling the camera was trickier than she thought, and she needed the expertise of outsiders to take pictures. She’d started out timid, but grew more confident in her endeavors. That was until a group banded against her incensed.
“Have you been taking pictures of us unawares?”
“Whut?”
“Look!” she accused, snatching a random photo. “You’ve caught a snapshot of us in the background here! What’re you up to?”
“Nuthin! Um jest doon eht fir fawn!”
Nothing! I’m just doing it for fun!
“And stop trying to sound so sultry. There’s no one around to seduce. You’re not fooling anyone.”
“Uh’m nut drying. Dis ish muh eckshul voish.”
I’m not trying. This is my actual voice.
It was so strange. She’d taken photos of them before, and they’d never had this strong a reaction. These were some of her closest contemporaries. How had they changed so much? What could be the reason for their sudden animosity?
For a supposedly enlightened community, there was an undercurrent of paranoia running through. The slightest unintended provocation could be taken as a personal affront. Even still, there was the promise of a universal truth that required deep faith and focus within a group mentality to come into being. A deep-seated secret that would upend everything that was known. The promise of a revelation yet unrevealed was too alluring to ignore.
The Numb Woman was having trouble concentrating. The whole place was illuminated via an overhead undetermined light source. And finding an appropriate reading location was an ongoing struggle. Wherever she went, there was always the danger of an overcast shadow from a nearby object threatening to cover half of her book, causing immense distraction in her immersion, forcing her to move around and find a better spot. And every time she was interrupted, upon rereading a passage, she would recall the moment she was distracted rather than recall the contents of the book. Right now, she was being pressured by members to convince her to wear jewelry.
“Look at the neat decorations they’ve given us!”
“Don’t you want any?”
“I’m allergic.”
“I’m sure they have some metals that won’t corrode your skin.”
“Look at how pretty it is!”
“See how it shines?”
“I could use less refracted light, thank you very much.”
“You’re not going to get very far with that kind of attitude.”
“Women who don’t don themselves with jewelry won’t get ahead!”
“Thanks for the recommendation. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I seriously recommend you wear something of note.”
“You’ll regret not doing it sooner.”
“Do you know the number of times I’ve been told to do something on the pretense that I might like it? Don’t pressure me into doing something I don’t want. If I change my mind later, it’ll be my choice.”
“It’s hardly a momentous task.”
“You’ll look so much prettier with jewelry on you!”
“You’ll hardly even notice!”
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear,” she bristled, brandishing her copy of Wearable Jewelry around, “I don’t want to wear any ornament around my person!”
The banded women tapered off from the rude behavior, not wanting to let negativity infect them, leaving the Numb Woman to her devices. Her words might’ve been harsh, but she found that tiptoeing around the topic just to be polite dragged on the conversation beyond the breaking point. She had seen passionate philosophical arguments stemming from disagreements over interpretations of incomplete texts grow heated to the point of exchanging blows that only stopped when both parties passed out from exhaustion. Better to cut to the chase and get it over with, even if it’d ostracize you in the process.
“I suppose you think you’re clever!”
“Did you enjoy your book?”, she asked with the offhanded query of someone who knew exactly what the book entailed.
“Don’t you bandy pleasantries at me!” The Young Woman waved her “borrowed” pedicure book about. “What kind of tutorial is this? There’s no helpful hints within, just itemized numbers arrayed in a deliberate pattern!” For all her continued research on beauty, the Numb Woman seemed to be neglecting her looks.
“The covers are removable,” the Numb Woman peeled back.
Indeed they were. The “borrowed” pedicure book the Young Woman picked up had the cover replaced with a near-exact copy. And since the books were organized by size, finding a tome fitting the correct size wasn’t a big hurdle.
“That would’ve been helpful to know thirty pages ago!”
“At least that book’s more accurate in it’s details. I’ve just been reading about a guide for displaying your jewelry via periodic chart order.”
“Sounds ambitious.”
“It is, except for the part where there’s certain elements that are toxic to the touch. And good luck trying to showcase your noble gases, unless you capture them via glass, which defeats the purpose of showing them off, don’t you think? And there’s a section devoted to uranium, which unless your dress is all decked out in lead, would be hazardous to wear, and would run the risk of contracting lead poisoning. Coincidentally, the makeup book also suggests rubbing lead metals over your face and using radiation to cover up your wrinkles.”
“Okay, so there’s more beauty tips to avoid. What else is new?”
“It’s not just that. For every falsehood written, there’s at least a truth that manages to get through unmolested. That’s the most devious part of this whole operation. There’s additional pages padded out to stories with ambiguous endings, sequels to stand-alone books in the writer’s style, and every other page has a glowing reference to the Living Martyr. Did you know that according to this, the Living Martyr recited Pi to a million places and discovered all the elements?”
“So?”
“Don’t you see? If the records are this easily manipulated, then we can’t take anything they tell us at face value as fact.”
“I’d believe the Living Martyr was made of green cheese and hung the moon if it meant I’d get ahead in the game.”
“Are you aware of what the outburst lady from yesterday is doing?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“This is relevant. She’s been given the task of finding new members to add to our growing ranks, all so they can be integrated into our community with the promise of getting closure. She gets a page of the ending for every new person she brings in. Have you ever wondered how they keep an organization like this running?”
“It never crossed my mind.”
“It seems to be largely voluntary, doing odd jobs for long hours without rest, all to gain a fraction of information that could be gleamed anywhere else. Once someone is indoctrinated enough, most of their labour is outsourced from here to go into the outer world.”
“Wait, the outburst lady is outside?”
“It seems that once they string someone long enough for them to sink their hooks into you, you’re willing to do anything they want to the point of - where’re you going?”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“I haven’t finished!”
“I’ve heard all I need to know. You’ll be jealous when you find out what I already know.”
“What do you think you know?”
“That’s for me to know, and for you to never find out!” she smugly replied.
On her way back to the library, the Young Woman was mentally kicking herself. She could’ve checked those books with boring financial covers all along. Well, she knew where to look now. She opened the book of finances with the same dimensions as the pedicure book, and saw the interiors had been replaced with recipes for maximal cooking, harnessing the surface of the sun as an insulator, saving time baking crepes at 15,000,000 degrees in a fraction of a second. Clearly, finding the information she sought wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.
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