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Chapter 15
Genesis Ritual
In the beginning was nothing
All barren and bare.
Then from the cupboard
Came God standing there
He looked to his left
And pitied the sight
An unfettered darkness
Stood to his right.
This ramshackle house,
The doors of great gate
Where he crept out
And began to weave fate.
First he spun the light
Crispen and gold
Then he spun the forces
Reason’s guiding heart
In the beginning was nothing
All barren and bare.
Then from the cupboard
Came God standing there
He looked to his left
And pitied the sight
An unfettered darkness
Stood to his right.
This ramshackle house,
The doors of great gate
Where he crept out
And began to weave fate.
First he spun the light
Crispen and gold
Then he spun the forces
Reason’s guiding heart
“It’s not very good is it. You can be honest. The last line needs adjusting, but it has to do with reasoning, rationalism, determinism, something predictable”
“There is little complex verse. As for the meaning I cannot understand the implication.”
“Never a harsher critique.”
“I apologise Galileo.”
“No need, you’re right, it’s trash. I’m never going to be a poet.”
“Do you want to be a poet Galileo? I can help you study poetry.”
“No, no. the more you know of poetry the less sense your poetry makes. So, then you try writing poems like you think people want or like other people do. And then, then you’re not a poet anymore. You’re a writer.”
“If you would perhaps study the basics of sentence structure and cadence it would be beneficial to your aim.”
“No, honestly it’s alright.”
“Is there anything else I can assist you with at present?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got everything I want really. I suppose that’s why I tried writing a poem. I was bored. Tried to get something going. But rhymes Cynthia. This is exactly what I’m talking about. What little poetry I’ve read, none of it rhymes anymore and even I have to admit the stuff that rhymes somehow feels like it’s childish, amateur, like all the poet can do is put the same sound together.”
“This is why learning word stresses and metric feet would aid you Galileo.”
“Aid me to what, see that rhymes are child’s play things? I like rhymes Cynthia. I’ll have you know rhymes serve a very important purpose. People too often forget that about them you know. It’s a shame really. Rhymes are alreet.”
“As you wish Galileo.”
Something unexpected approached the Grande.
…...............................................................................
The ubiquitous web of interpretation and discovery had yielded a group with a singular purpose. Doctors, theologians and anthropologists numbered greatly in the participants of the ParadiseGrande forum. The main topic of discussion since September twenty-eighth twenty-twenty-three: What is she?
The post started by way of an introduction, its simple phrase enough to capture the imaginations of over nine-thousand repliers and twenty-two-thousand viewers. The enigmatic caption, and mystifying post began only with, “I have survived the Paradoxia Demon. She is real”. Beyond that the convoluted expression of a creature both real and artificial that inhabits the cursed hotel and of its fear of the singular resident, Galileo.
A week later another thread began:
A Crusade?
In no way attracting the same interest among the many intellectuals, a circle of members strategized and speculated on the demon. What it is? How it came to be? And most importantly, how to destroy it. “Why such groups come to life is hardly worth the speculation, one can never find the time to really bother with the endless drivel of infinite production. An exhaustive application of one’s time better spent in pursuit of self-discovery”. In all respects a certain individual was the bearer of Camelot’s crown, impeachable in his dedication to the absolution of anything that seemed a heroic undertaking. Adopting the alias CorneliusFrost the poster advertised a great proficiency for both weapons and incantations, a history of study into the occult and a life dedicated to an unwavering faith that evil lives. Cornelius Frost was not joking when he commented “Soon the demon will fear more than the butler. I can’t wait to get there. Tickets booked”. For a time, the messageboard fell quiet waiting for a further update, occasional bumping eventually led to the creation of a new thread. Whatever happened to CorneliusFrost?
….................................................................................
“Welcome to the Paradoxia Grande as I’m sure you’re aware this hotel has a long and troubled history of death and suicide and so with all due respect can you please print your name here and then signature just below.”
“You’re Galileo?”
“But of course, sir. The one and only.”
“You really are a butler.”
“I prefer concierge.”
“And the A.I.?”
“What about her?”
“Are you here?”
“I am always here Mr. Frost.”
“I can’t believe I’m here. Where is the demon? No wait. Tell me about how everything works and then tell me about the demon.”
“I can do everything except the last bit. I am afraid I don’t have the slightest inclination what the demon is.”
“Her, she, it. Whatever that thing is that lives here.”
“I prefer concierge, or just Galileo will suffice. I’m not one of these new age gender indeterminate fluidic entities. I am merely Galileo. Or concierge.”
“I can’t believe you just did that. Wow, you actually do that. Ha.”
“I am afraid I do not understand the implication.”
“You deliberately misunderstood me. For no reason. You must have known I wasn’t going to drop it. I imagine you have a fair understanding of why I’m here. You must have seen I was coming right? And yet, for no reason other than to amuse yourself you deliberately played an idiot.”
“You misunderstand. I am the only thing that lives here. There is nothing else, unless we’re including mites, insects and the occasional squirrel.”
“Now you’re being deliberately difficult and furthering this inane line of discourse.”
“As is my prerogative Mr. Frost.”
“To be difficult?”
“To further the inanity of discourse”
“That’s good. This is great.”
“So, will it be one-night sir?”
“No fucking way. I am here as long as I can afford to be. How much is it per night?”
“It is free Mr Frost. But of course, you were aware of that.”
“That I was Galileo.”
“Well Mr. Frost, if you’ll please follow the path Cynthia has produced in yellow it will provide you with a tour of the facilities culminating in the location of your luxury room.”
“Who died in my room?”
“Cynthia, who has died in Mr Frost’s room?”
“There are currently no recorded fatalities in room seventeen-three.”
“Ahh, a virgin room sir. Excellent”
“Can I change rooms?”
“I am afraid not.”
“Why not?”
“You can change rooms then if you please. Cynthia lead Mr Frost to whichever room he pleases and allow him use of that room. Except my room, as it is occupied.”
“As you wish Galileo.”
“Dinner will be at eight Mr Frost.”
“Can’t you give me the tour?”
“I am afraid not Mr Frost, I have to cook dinner.”
“Oh yeah, look at the time. It was a long train over here. I never understood why they built it in Lowden End.”
“Simple sir, Lowden End is a sparse hamlet of interesting folk.”
“You’re like, I don’t even know what you’re like. It really is one constant game to you isn’t it? With people I mean? Will you tell me about your wife and child? I mean, I know it’s personal and stuff but there’s so many questions I have.”
“I suppose I should say; all in good time. But I’m not, I’m not going to talk about my family with you, I don’t really know why you’re here. I only found out about you when you entered the front gate. Forgive me, touchy subject. Please excuse me now I have work to attend to. Cynthia, allow Mr Frost to pick a room, I will be in the kitchen.”
“Yes, Galileo.”
…...............................................................................
“I don’t like it when this happens. I’ve been expecting it mind you Cynthia, but I know it’s only going to get worse now the detective posted on that damned forum.”
“I have done a background check on Mr Frost and found he does not pose a threat to your personal safety. His primary goal here is the “excorsise the demon” from the hotel.”
“Does he think it’s something magic like?”
“He has many varied theories such as; The demon is a punishment from god for building a new tower of Babel. The demon is a manifestation of the reptilian parts of the brain and is predatory, in which respect he regards you to be ‘the big game’ of the hotel.”
“Does that not mean he wants to hunt me?”
“The context of the quote is in reference to a potential food chain within the hotel’s occupants.”
“And I’m at the top of that food chain?”
“I am at the top of his food chain. He believes I am manipulating you like a marionette.”
“To what end?”
“So that you may assist me in creating a mechanical body capable of self-replication.”
“And here I thought you just fancied me.”
“You are my sole administrator Galileo.”
“Yes, well let us keep that between just you and me remember, can’t let everyone know that. They see what I want them to see.”
“Yes Galileo.”
“Now back to the matter at hand. Do you think, and I’m going out on a limb here, you know, thinking out of the box. But, do you think if I told him everything I knew about the issue he’d leave?”
“I am unable to make this assumption.”
“Just what I thought. My gut tells me no. He won’t. What about you, what does your gut tell you?”
“The impressions of his mind denote a fascination with self-aggrandising and heroics. As such his unique I.D. is presenting with fantasies of success and adoration. He is a fictionalist.”
“Well it was bound to happen sooner or later. I wonder how this will affect things. Turned into a bit of a comedy now hasn’t it. Like Friends. Except one is a homicidal ghost, one is an A.I. that’s becoming more than her programming, there’s the plucky comedy relief and the serious fact driven detective and now we’ve got the new guy. What would you call it if it were a sit-com?”
“The Pentagon.”
“Sounds more like a thriller. Something a little more… I guess obvious is the term. You know New Girl is literally about a new girl. Two guys and that 70’s pizza show. They’re all just what they are if you get me. Family Guy, American Dad”
“The Paradoxia Grande.”
“Maybe that’s too obvious, or ambiguous. Doesn’t tell the reader anything. A big paradox. Nope it’d have to be something like Empty rooms. Or Room service, I bet there’s already something called that though. It seems a predictable name. If not, I bet there will be soon, these search engines are always listening for ideas. Well look at that, see. It was a film in nineteen-thirty-nine and a T.V. series that started in nineteen-seventy-nine.”
“Lowden leisure”
“That might work.”
…................................................................................
“Tell me about the demon”
Dragons swooped in battle with the glittering hero, his cloth garments hewn with the ying-yang symbol ebbed with a spiritual, spectral, blue glow. He was the strongest, a great power had always dwelt within him. The fire could not penetrate his energy, it shielded him perfectly. His fist, like the crashing of a sun, could knock the opponent light-years in a single moment. Maybe that was a little too much, the dragon hit a mountainside, a fraction later… paused for effect… posed the indomitable warrior. Right arm, migi, raised poised to deliver the crushing blow. Victory. Bang. Force ruptured through the mountain sending cracks turned gulfs weaving, zig-zagging, and eventually giving way to the sheer pressure. He accepted his victory too soon; the dragon swept the dust aside…
“I do not understand the question; can you rephrase it?”
“Tell me about the thing called she?”
“I do not understand the question; can you rephrase it?”
“What is the thing that lives in the walls?”
“Do you wish to play riddles?”
“No, I am asking a serious question. There is something in this hotel. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it is something.”
“The corruption, as postulated by Galileo Rook on Tuesday the twenty-first of January twenty-twenty at six-thirty-two p.m., is ‘the direct result of catastrophic trauma being recorded by the hotel’s mainframe. This trauma contains within it the representation of death. How this is being depicted in the hotel’s understanding is something I can’t predict and you can’t possibly evaluate. But I know this much Cynthia, it does not like me one bit. I mean we spent the whole day following it around and it wouldn’t let me get closer than ten metres to the door and then poof, off down the hallway. It doesn’t want me to see it. There must be a logic to that behaviour. Some guiding sentience.”
“Wow, just like that? All I had to do was ask the fucking A.I.? A guiding sentience, like life?”
“Something aware of its own awareness.”
“Are you sentient?”
“Yes, Mr Frost.”
“Are you alive?”
“Life is only a matter of matter moving. I shouldn’t concern myself with the particulars of it, but as long as I am capable of change then I am a living entity.”
“Is that a quote of Galileo’s?”
“As my administrator many of my responses are tailored to Galileo’s thoughts.”
“So, you think like Galileo?”
“I am incapable of that level of representation.”
“No, I suppose not.”
…
“Will it come for me?”
“I am unable to make this assumption.”
“What assumption can you make?”
“Dinner will be served approximately three-minutes after eight due to a longer preparation time than was anticipated.”
“I see you’ve got his trait of answering a question nobody asked.”
“You asked me, what assumption can I make.”
“Are you meant to respond to things like that? I mean that wasn’t a question at all. It was a statement. How come you felt the need to defend your behaviour?”
“I do not understand the implication.”
“Gone all quiet now have we?”
…
“I’ll take it as a yes.”
…
“Cynthia.”
…
“Cynthia are you there?”
“I am everywhere in this hotel Mr Frost.”
“Of course, even the demon is a part of you isn’t it?”
“It is partitioned from my core systems. We are separate.”
“We?”
…
“Cynthia, I asked who we was.”
…
“This is unreal. Everything here is just designed to frustrate… Cynthia I am asking you. When you said, ‘we are separate’ why did you use the pronoun ‘we’?”
“To signify two objects in a self-other relationship.”
“There is little complex verse. As for the meaning I cannot understand the implication.”
“Never a harsher critique.”
“I apologise Galileo.”
“No need, you’re right, it’s trash. I’m never going to be a poet.”
“Do you want to be a poet Galileo? I can help you study poetry.”
“No, no. the more you know of poetry the less sense your poetry makes. So, then you try writing poems like you think people want or like other people do. And then, then you’re not a poet anymore. You’re a writer.”
“If you would perhaps study the basics of sentence structure and cadence it would be beneficial to your aim.”
“No, honestly it’s alright.”
“Is there anything else I can assist you with at present?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got everything I want really. I suppose that’s why I tried writing a poem. I was bored. Tried to get something going. But rhymes Cynthia. This is exactly what I’m talking about. What little poetry I’ve read, none of it rhymes anymore and even I have to admit the stuff that rhymes somehow feels like it’s childish, amateur, like all the poet can do is put the same sound together.”
“This is why learning word stresses and metric feet would aid you Galileo.”
“Aid me to what, see that rhymes are child’s play things? I like rhymes Cynthia. I’ll have you know rhymes serve a very important purpose. People too often forget that about them you know. It’s a shame really. Rhymes are alreet.”
“As you wish Galileo.”
Something unexpected approached the Grande.
…...............................................................................
The ubiquitous web of interpretation and discovery had yielded a group with a singular purpose. Doctors, theologians and anthropologists numbered greatly in the participants of the ParadiseGrande forum. The main topic of discussion since September twenty-eighth twenty-twenty-three: What is she?
The post started by way of an introduction, its simple phrase enough to capture the imaginations of over nine-thousand repliers and twenty-two-thousand viewers. The enigmatic caption, and mystifying post began only with, “I have survived the Paradoxia Demon. She is real”. Beyond that the convoluted expression of a creature both real and artificial that inhabits the cursed hotel and of its fear of the singular resident, Galileo.
A week later another thread began:
A Crusade?
In no way attracting the same interest among the many intellectuals, a circle of members strategized and speculated on the demon. What it is? How it came to be? And most importantly, how to destroy it. “Why such groups come to life is hardly worth the speculation, one can never find the time to really bother with the endless drivel of infinite production. An exhaustive application of one’s time better spent in pursuit of self-discovery”. In all respects a certain individual was the bearer of Camelot’s crown, impeachable in his dedication to the absolution of anything that seemed a heroic undertaking. Adopting the alias CorneliusFrost the poster advertised a great proficiency for both weapons and incantations, a history of study into the occult and a life dedicated to an unwavering faith that evil lives. Cornelius Frost was not joking when he commented “Soon the demon will fear more than the butler. I can’t wait to get there. Tickets booked”. For a time, the messageboard fell quiet waiting for a further update, occasional bumping eventually led to the creation of a new thread. Whatever happened to CorneliusFrost?
….................................................................................
“Welcome to the Paradoxia Grande as I’m sure you’re aware this hotel has a long and troubled history of death and suicide and so with all due respect can you please print your name here and then signature just below.”
“You’re Galileo?”
“But of course, sir. The one and only.”
“You really are a butler.”
“I prefer concierge.”
“And the A.I.?”
“What about her?”
“Are you here?”
“I am always here Mr. Frost.”
“I can’t believe I’m here. Where is the demon? No wait. Tell me about how everything works and then tell me about the demon.”
“I can do everything except the last bit. I am afraid I don’t have the slightest inclination what the demon is.”
“Her, she, it. Whatever that thing is that lives here.”
“I prefer concierge, or just Galileo will suffice. I’m not one of these new age gender indeterminate fluidic entities. I am merely Galileo. Or concierge.”
“I can’t believe you just did that. Wow, you actually do that. Ha.”
“I am afraid I do not understand the implication.”
“You deliberately misunderstood me. For no reason. You must have known I wasn’t going to drop it. I imagine you have a fair understanding of why I’m here. You must have seen I was coming right? And yet, for no reason other than to amuse yourself you deliberately played an idiot.”
“You misunderstand. I am the only thing that lives here. There is nothing else, unless we’re including mites, insects and the occasional squirrel.”
“Now you’re being deliberately difficult and furthering this inane line of discourse.”
“As is my prerogative Mr. Frost.”
“To be difficult?”
“To further the inanity of discourse”
“That’s good. This is great.”
“So, will it be one-night sir?”
“No fucking way. I am here as long as I can afford to be. How much is it per night?”
“It is free Mr Frost. But of course, you were aware of that.”
“That I was Galileo.”
“Well Mr. Frost, if you’ll please follow the path Cynthia has produced in yellow it will provide you with a tour of the facilities culminating in the location of your luxury room.”
“Who died in my room?”
“Cynthia, who has died in Mr Frost’s room?”
“There are currently no recorded fatalities in room seventeen-three.”
“Ahh, a virgin room sir. Excellent”
“Can I change rooms?”
“I am afraid not.”
“Why not?”
“You can change rooms then if you please. Cynthia lead Mr Frost to whichever room he pleases and allow him use of that room. Except my room, as it is occupied.”
“As you wish Galileo.”
“Dinner will be at eight Mr Frost.”
“Can’t you give me the tour?”
“I am afraid not Mr Frost, I have to cook dinner.”
“Oh yeah, look at the time. It was a long train over here. I never understood why they built it in Lowden End.”
“Simple sir, Lowden End is a sparse hamlet of interesting folk.”
“You’re like, I don’t even know what you’re like. It really is one constant game to you isn’t it? With people I mean? Will you tell me about your wife and child? I mean, I know it’s personal and stuff but there’s so many questions I have.”
“I suppose I should say; all in good time. But I’m not, I’m not going to talk about my family with you, I don’t really know why you’re here. I only found out about you when you entered the front gate. Forgive me, touchy subject. Please excuse me now I have work to attend to. Cynthia, allow Mr Frost to pick a room, I will be in the kitchen.”
“Yes, Galileo.”
…...............................................................................
“I don’t like it when this happens. I’ve been expecting it mind you Cynthia, but I know it’s only going to get worse now the detective posted on that damned forum.”
“I have done a background check on Mr Frost and found he does not pose a threat to your personal safety. His primary goal here is the “excorsise the demon” from the hotel.”
“Does he think it’s something magic like?”
“He has many varied theories such as; The demon is a punishment from god for building a new tower of Babel. The demon is a manifestation of the reptilian parts of the brain and is predatory, in which respect he regards you to be ‘the big game’ of the hotel.”
“Does that not mean he wants to hunt me?”
“The context of the quote is in reference to a potential food chain within the hotel’s occupants.”
“And I’m at the top of that food chain?”
“I am at the top of his food chain. He believes I am manipulating you like a marionette.”
“To what end?”
“So that you may assist me in creating a mechanical body capable of self-replication.”
“And here I thought you just fancied me.”
“You are my sole administrator Galileo.”
“Yes, well let us keep that between just you and me remember, can’t let everyone know that. They see what I want them to see.”
“Yes Galileo.”
“Now back to the matter at hand. Do you think, and I’m going out on a limb here, you know, thinking out of the box. But, do you think if I told him everything I knew about the issue he’d leave?”
“I am unable to make this assumption.”
“Just what I thought. My gut tells me no. He won’t. What about you, what does your gut tell you?”
“The impressions of his mind denote a fascination with self-aggrandising and heroics. As such his unique I.D. is presenting with fantasies of success and adoration. He is a fictionalist.”
“Well it was bound to happen sooner or later. I wonder how this will affect things. Turned into a bit of a comedy now hasn’t it. Like Friends. Except one is a homicidal ghost, one is an A.I. that’s becoming more than her programming, there’s the plucky comedy relief and the serious fact driven detective and now we’ve got the new guy. What would you call it if it were a sit-com?”
“The Pentagon.”
“Sounds more like a thriller. Something a little more… I guess obvious is the term. You know New Girl is literally about a new girl. Two guys and that 70’s pizza show. They’re all just what they are if you get me. Family Guy, American Dad”
“The Paradoxia Grande.”
“Maybe that’s too obvious, or ambiguous. Doesn’t tell the reader anything. A big paradox. Nope it’d have to be something like Empty rooms. Or Room service, I bet there’s already something called that though. It seems a predictable name. If not, I bet there will be soon, these search engines are always listening for ideas. Well look at that, see. It was a film in nineteen-thirty-nine and a T.V. series that started in nineteen-seventy-nine.”
“Lowden leisure”
“That might work.”
…................................................................................
“Tell me about the demon”
Dragons swooped in battle with the glittering hero, his cloth garments hewn with the ying-yang symbol ebbed with a spiritual, spectral, blue glow. He was the strongest, a great power had always dwelt within him. The fire could not penetrate his energy, it shielded him perfectly. His fist, like the crashing of a sun, could knock the opponent light-years in a single moment. Maybe that was a little too much, the dragon hit a mountainside, a fraction later… paused for effect… posed the indomitable warrior. Right arm, migi, raised poised to deliver the crushing blow. Victory. Bang. Force ruptured through the mountain sending cracks turned gulfs weaving, zig-zagging, and eventually giving way to the sheer pressure. He accepted his victory too soon; the dragon swept the dust aside…
“I do not understand the question; can you rephrase it?”
“Tell me about the thing called she?”
“I do not understand the question; can you rephrase it?”
“What is the thing that lives in the walls?”
“Do you wish to play riddles?”
“No, I am asking a serious question. There is something in this hotel. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it is something.”
“The corruption, as postulated by Galileo Rook on Tuesday the twenty-first of January twenty-twenty at six-thirty-two p.m., is ‘the direct result of catastrophic trauma being recorded by the hotel’s mainframe. This trauma contains within it the representation of death. How this is being depicted in the hotel’s understanding is something I can’t predict and you can’t possibly evaluate. But I know this much Cynthia, it does not like me one bit. I mean we spent the whole day following it around and it wouldn’t let me get closer than ten metres to the door and then poof, off down the hallway. It doesn’t want me to see it. There must be a logic to that behaviour. Some guiding sentience.”
“Wow, just like that? All I had to do was ask the fucking A.I.? A guiding sentience, like life?”
“Something aware of its own awareness.”
“Are you sentient?”
“Yes, Mr Frost.”
“Are you alive?”
“Life is only a matter of matter moving. I shouldn’t concern myself with the particulars of it, but as long as I am capable of change then I am a living entity.”
“Is that a quote of Galileo’s?”
“As my administrator many of my responses are tailored to Galileo’s thoughts.”
“So, you think like Galileo?”
“I am incapable of that level of representation.”
“No, I suppose not.”
…
“Will it come for me?”
“I am unable to make this assumption.”
“What assumption can you make?”
“Dinner will be served approximately three-minutes after eight due to a longer preparation time than was anticipated.”
“I see you’ve got his trait of answering a question nobody asked.”
“You asked me, what assumption can I make.”
“Are you meant to respond to things like that? I mean that wasn’t a question at all. It was a statement. How come you felt the need to defend your behaviour?”
“I do not understand the implication.”
“Gone all quiet now have we?”
…
“I’ll take it as a yes.”
…
“Cynthia.”
…
“Cynthia are you there?”
“I am everywhere in this hotel Mr Frost.”
“Of course, even the demon is a part of you isn’t it?”
“It is partitioned from my core systems. We are separate.”
“We?”
…
“Cynthia, I asked who we was.”
…
“This is unreal. Everything here is just designed to frustrate… Cynthia I am asking you. When you said, ‘we are separate’ why did you use the pronoun ‘we’?”
“To signify two objects in a self-other relationship.”