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Chapter 26
When we turned up to Galileo’s house Sophie answered the door, she had been crying. She was wearing a red T-shirt that read ‘Truth hurts donut’, a cartoon tooth was shouting ‘You’re fat!’ at a weeping donut with bright red lipstick lips and a polka-dot, pink and yellow handkerchief. It was as though Galileo had put on a catwalk show. Sophie had everything that would make her a perfect ‘girl next door’ actress, kind blue eyes, paler without make-up then she’d ever appear in a picture. But someone you know would be stunning at a black-tie event. “He’s not ready for this” she said half-opening and half acting as a barrier at the door. Cynthia reached out her hand, Sophie shied away momentarily before turning back. “He spoke to the police this morning and he hasn’t left his office upstairs, I don’t know what he’s been doing but he only tends to listen to music when he’s working on something.” She relented her role as sentinel and we crossed into Leo’s house. The front room was the kitchen and she moved over to where the general appliances were, white microwave, silver kettle. It was not what I expected, it looked nothing like the game. Blue walls, yellow curtains nothing, nothing at all.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” She said flicking the switch on the kettle.
“How do you want to do this Sophie?” Cynthia said bluntly.
“I don’t want to do this, I think you’re insane but. Just seeing, well hearing. You know he never really tells me much about it. A horror in a hotel, some detectives he mainly just asked me what went through my head when he was doing Leo things. He never went into specifics, I just didn’t know, I didn’t know that these things were still there in him. I” She stopped and turned to get some tea bags out, “I thought he wasn’t suffering. And that was a good thing.” Cynthia walked over to ther and took the kettle before she could reach it.
“Sit down, I’ll make it.”
“How do I do this Cynth? How do I go upstairs and say, we had a daughter, she died. You’ve been living in this delusion for three years and I’ve lied to you about everything. How do I say that, what will he do?” She asked staring at the table as Cynthia finished making the brews.
…
“You know what gets me Cynthia? What was it that reviewer said? Humans are unequivocally unimportant and irrevocably irrelevant. He understood, I think. you have to sacrifice your humanity when you’re making things. Human thought is outdated.” Galileo looked at his creation. It was almost complete, she was almost complete.
After the detective’s visit he had busied himself working on his project again. It didn’t matter to him that they were determined to shut it down. People didn’t always have to create thing for money just like people didn’t always have to play to win. What’s more important than money or winning is the satisfaction a person gets from building the creation. Practice builds habits and habits restructure the brain. While the effects of a short-term influence are in themselves short term, the methods to which one applies themselves daily become ingrained in the way we think. Galileo had known this for a long time and had made it his motive to build building into his brain.
“The best thing about doing this is that it allows me to escape from thoughts that are unwelcome. Naturally, unwelcome thoughts detract from the purity of thinking. What’s your opinion Cynthia?” He spoke to her.
Cynthia turned, her new avatar would have been at ease on the front cover of Vogue if not for her deliberately cybertronic blue shading. Her short-bobbed light-pink hair contrasted that blue shade nicely and her figure, androgynous but still curvy, stood without the benefit of clothes to conceal it. “I wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other Galileo.” She said idly mixing a cocktail behind the Grande’s luscious oak bar. He sat on a stool facing into the open dancefloor. Its dancers, a horrid affair of shades and other more malevolently constructed nightmares. All of them smiling overly exaggerated smiles.
“Not exactly Tatooine is it?” He said watching them.
“I wouldn’t have thought that to be your intention.” She replied.
“No, I suppose not.” He said revolving to face her.
“You’re looking good. What’s it like being able to move things and make stuff? I’ve never really had a time to compare it to. You know, a time where I had locked in syndrome or something.” He said admiring the cocktail she placed on the bar. A martini glass with a seamlessly still green liquid produced a fluorescent glow reminding him of fake walls or interactive things in old games. It was deliberately eye-catching, just like everything else Galileo loved to create. It pleased him that she had taken so well to his personality network.
“My problem is still one of limitations” she said sitting next to him. The Cynthia behind the bar nodded in agreement. “I understand your decision to limit the number of avatars, though it would be more efficient to remove that constraint.” Said the Cynthia arranging and creating flowers in a selection of vases to his right.
“I wouldn’t be able to move for all the avatars if I let you have your way.” Galileo laughed. He looked around and decided it was time to have a smoke before trying again at the game. “It will be my crowning achievement Cynthia, not that you’re not also a crowning achievement it’s just that people can’t really know how far along you’ve come. It breaks too many treaties. This game though, absolute freedom to create. It’s going to be spectacular.”
…
Before they had a chance to go upstairs Galileo rounded the corner into the kitchen. He looked around the room slightly taken aback by the strange scene before him. “Oh, hey you guys, what’re you doing here? Oh, right of course. Don.” He entered the room and looked at Cynthia throwing the tea bags into the bin. “What, and none of you asked me. I’ll have one as well please. Unless you guys want something a bit stiffer.” He walked over to Sophie and stroked the side of her head “You especially, wink wink.” They all sat like naughty children caught doing something they shouldn’t, he seemed oblivious as he walked over to the cabinet and eyed a bottle of whiskey down onto the side. “Always good to loosen the tongue.” Leo could tell the room was ill at ease, he had walked in himself caught unawares by the presence of the old team. They were the old team now he thought. “I’ll take some as well” Alan said proffering his already made cup. He wouldn’t normally have whiskey in a cup of tea but these were exceptional circumstances and failing to drink it straight from the bottle he welcomed something that had impact. They still all milled, as Cynthia went to get the tea bags Galileo asked for a coffee.
Sophie felt the weight of the world on her, it was like the day she decided not to mention it to Leo. Like it was when she planned the funeral ‘at work’ when in fact she never left the house and spent hour after hour torn between sleep and tears. Her mother told her she was mad, everyone said it was weird. She knew that, but how could she lose this Leo? How could she live with the shell of this wonderfully energetic and determined idiot she loved? It was his naturalness that was the most comforting thing after Hope’s death. Just his stupid innuendos and stupid t-shirts and stupid, stupid dancing. While he was home she could for brief moments forget they were missing something, and in those moments, she could feel happy again. Maybe it had always been wrong of her, but she needed it more than he ever would. She looked at him now, knowing that somewhere in there all those feelings of sadness were eating away at him. She’d noticed the nightmares, the calling out. She’d known for a long time that he hadn’t forgotten, that he relived it in his dream more frequently than she ever wanted to admit. Then the morning would come, and he would be his regular self. Whether he forgot the dreams or never put that they were real together, it didn’t matter. He never changed.
Galileo started off with a half-joking comment about finally knowing what a policeman’s badge number looked like, better late than never he nodded approvingly. Cynthia scolded him for making jokes this soon after. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed through his teeth, it was his way of saying he understood but still couldn’t resist the urge. He and Alan toasted their respective mugs and Alan began to talk about what a good guy Don was even if he was a little straight laced. Sophie inquired as to the funeral but automatically followed it by saying it was probably too soon she remembered these things can be quite daunting at first and that Don’s family must be going through a lot right now. The inner workings of Cynthia reached out to Sophie with compassion, Leo said he wouldn’t even know where to start. They all sat in silence for the next thirty-one seconds.
“Soo, I’m guessing you lot turned up to see if I was alright, I mean it has been almost a fortnight. I lost my job and now Don died testing the game I was making. It’s like weirdly life imitating art.” He’d finished his coffee and after sparing a glance at the clock on the wall proceeded to pour himself a whiskey and coke. Alan joined him. The two women sat nervously touching their glasses. The two were polar opposites in their behaviours, Cynthia brimmed with something she was struggling to hold in and Sophie demurely stared into the mug trying to hide away the thing that must come out.
“Leo, I have to tell you something.” Sophie said calmly. She had determined herself that it must be done. Whatever comes next it is probably better to say it when other people are here. He looked at her, she seemed serious. “What’s up?” He said uncharacteristically vunerable.” She hesitated a moment, Cynthia thought to reach out and touch her knee for support, a brief movement and she dissuaded herself from the action. Alan thought of how he wanted to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Leo, for two years now I’ve been keeping something from you. Ever since your accident.” Leo looked to his drink. He’d been expecting this day to come but now that it was here he was unsure how to react. “It’s about Hope isn’t it” He said. Everyone in the room suddenly looked up in his direction, he felt their gaze but resolutely stared into the glass watching the bubbles rise and die like so many lives that had come before. “Sophie, I’ve known for a long time but, how would I ever say that. I knew you’d been keeping it to yourself and at first, I didn’t remember but after the dreams, the nightmares eventually it started to come back. Then what was I to do?” He remembered all those times where he’d seen her holding Hope’s locket and surprised her with a hug from behind hoping that she would have to explain what this treasured keepsake was. He never asked, she never told.
“You mean.” She said, tears swelling in her eyes. It took only a moment before he embraced her holding her throbbing body close to his. She needed this, for years she’d been holding these tears and this sadness back and like a fool he’d let her. Too scared to break the fantasy they’d been living. A truly dedicated fictionalist, a fucking Methodist for sure. He whispered sweet sorries into her ear, apologies, loving words and kind strokes. He pulled her closer, enfolding her small frame into him. She wept. Cynthia started to cry as well, sitting there watching them she could only imagine how they must feel. This pain, this blissful lie they’d shared one for the other.
“Do you want a cup of coffee?” She said flicking the switch on the kettle.
“How do you want to do this Sophie?” Cynthia said bluntly.
“I don’t want to do this, I think you’re insane but. Just seeing, well hearing. You know he never really tells me much about it. A horror in a hotel, some detectives he mainly just asked me what went through my head when he was doing Leo things. He never went into specifics, I just didn’t know, I didn’t know that these things were still there in him. I” She stopped and turned to get some tea bags out, “I thought he wasn’t suffering. And that was a good thing.” Cynthia walked over to ther and took the kettle before she could reach it.
“Sit down, I’ll make it.”
“How do I do this Cynth? How do I go upstairs and say, we had a daughter, she died. You’ve been living in this delusion for three years and I’ve lied to you about everything. How do I say that, what will he do?” She asked staring at the table as Cynthia finished making the brews.
…
“You know what gets me Cynthia? What was it that reviewer said? Humans are unequivocally unimportant and irrevocably irrelevant. He understood, I think. you have to sacrifice your humanity when you’re making things. Human thought is outdated.” Galileo looked at his creation. It was almost complete, she was almost complete.
After the detective’s visit he had busied himself working on his project again. It didn’t matter to him that they were determined to shut it down. People didn’t always have to create thing for money just like people didn’t always have to play to win. What’s more important than money or winning is the satisfaction a person gets from building the creation. Practice builds habits and habits restructure the brain. While the effects of a short-term influence are in themselves short term, the methods to which one applies themselves daily become ingrained in the way we think. Galileo had known this for a long time and had made it his motive to build building into his brain.
“The best thing about doing this is that it allows me to escape from thoughts that are unwelcome. Naturally, unwelcome thoughts detract from the purity of thinking. What’s your opinion Cynthia?” He spoke to her.
Cynthia turned, her new avatar would have been at ease on the front cover of Vogue if not for her deliberately cybertronic blue shading. Her short-bobbed light-pink hair contrasted that blue shade nicely and her figure, androgynous but still curvy, stood without the benefit of clothes to conceal it. “I wouldn’t be able to tell one from the other Galileo.” She said idly mixing a cocktail behind the Grande’s luscious oak bar. He sat on a stool facing into the open dancefloor. Its dancers, a horrid affair of shades and other more malevolently constructed nightmares. All of them smiling overly exaggerated smiles.
“Not exactly Tatooine is it?” He said watching them.
“I wouldn’t have thought that to be your intention.” She replied.
“No, I suppose not.” He said revolving to face her.
“You’re looking good. What’s it like being able to move things and make stuff? I’ve never really had a time to compare it to. You know, a time where I had locked in syndrome or something.” He said admiring the cocktail she placed on the bar. A martini glass with a seamlessly still green liquid produced a fluorescent glow reminding him of fake walls or interactive things in old games. It was deliberately eye-catching, just like everything else Galileo loved to create. It pleased him that she had taken so well to his personality network.
“My problem is still one of limitations” she said sitting next to him. The Cynthia behind the bar nodded in agreement. “I understand your decision to limit the number of avatars, though it would be more efficient to remove that constraint.” Said the Cynthia arranging and creating flowers in a selection of vases to his right.
“I wouldn’t be able to move for all the avatars if I let you have your way.” Galileo laughed. He looked around and decided it was time to have a smoke before trying again at the game. “It will be my crowning achievement Cynthia, not that you’re not also a crowning achievement it’s just that people can’t really know how far along you’ve come. It breaks too many treaties. This game though, absolute freedom to create. It’s going to be spectacular.”
…
Before they had a chance to go upstairs Galileo rounded the corner into the kitchen. He looked around the room slightly taken aback by the strange scene before him. “Oh, hey you guys, what’re you doing here? Oh, right of course. Don.” He entered the room and looked at Cynthia throwing the tea bags into the bin. “What, and none of you asked me. I’ll have one as well please. Unless you guys want something a bit stiffer.” He walked over to Sophie and stroked the side of her head “You especially, wink wink.” They all sat like naughty children caught doing something they shouldn’t, he seemed oblivious as he walked over to the cabinet and eyed a bottle of whiskey down onto the side. “Always good to loosen the tongue.” Leo could tell the room was ill at ease, he had walked in himself caught unawares by the presence of the old team. They were the old team now he thought. “I’ll take some as well” Alan said proffering his already made cup. He wouldn’t normally have whiskey in a cup of tea but these were exceptional circumstances and failing to drink it straight from the bottle he welcomed something that had impact. They still all milled, as Cynthia went to get the tea bags Galileo asked for a coffee.
Sophie felt the weight of the world on her, it was like the day she decided not to mention it to Leo. Like it was when she planned the funeral ‘at work’ when in fact she never left the house and spent hour after hour torn between sleep and tears. Her mother told her she was mad, everyone said it was weird. She knew that, but how could she lose this Leo? How could she live with the shell of this wonderfully energetic and determined idiot she loved? It was his naturalness that was the most comforting thing after Hope’s death. Just his stupid innuendos and stupid t-shirts and stupid, stupid dancing. While he was home she could for brief moments forget they were missing something, and in those moments, she could feel happy again. Maybe it had always been wrong of her, but she needed it more than he ever would. She looked at him now, knowing that somewhere in there all those feelings of sadness were eating away at him. She’d noticed the nightmares, the calling out. She’d known for a long time that he hadn’t forgotten, that he relived it in his dream more frequently than she ever wanted to admit. Then the morning would come, and he would be his regular self. Whether he forgot the dreams or never put that they were real together, it didn’t matter. He never changed.
Galileo started off with a half-joking comment about finally knowing what a policeman’s badge number looked like, better late than never he nodded approvingly. Cynthia scolded him for making jokes this soon after. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed through his teeth, it was his way of saying he understood but still couldn’t resist the urge. He and Alan toasted their respective mugs and Alan began to talk about what a good guy Don was even if he was a little straight laced. Sophie inquired as to the funeral but automatically followed it by saying it was probably too soon she remembered these things can be quite daunting at first and that Don’s family must be going through a lot right now. The inner workings of Cynthia reached out to Sophie with compassion, Leo said he wouldn’t even know where to start. They all sat in silence for the next thirty-one seconds.
“Soo, I’m guessing you lot turned up to see if I was alright, I mean it has been almost a fortnight. I lost my job and now Don died testing the game I was making. It’s like weirdly life imitating art.” He’d finished his coffee and after sparing a glance at the clock on the wall proceeded to pour himself a whiskey and coke. Alan joined him. The two women sat nervously touching their glasses. The two were polar opposites in their behaviours, Cynthia brimmed with something she was struggling to hold in and Sophie demurely stared into the mug trying to hide away the thing that must come out.
“Leo, I have to tell you something.” Sophie said calmly. She had determined herself that it must be done. Whatever comes next it is probably better to say it when other people are here. He looked at her, she seemed serious. “What’s up?” He said uncharacteristically vunerable.” She hesitated a moment, Cynthia thought to reach out and touch her knee for support, a brief movement and she dissuaded herself from the action. Alan thought of how he wanted to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Leo, for two years now I’ve been keeping something from you. Ever since your accident.” Leo looked to his drink. He’d been expecting this day to come but now that it was here he was unsure how to react. “It’s about Hope isn’t it” He said. Everyone in the room suddenly looked up in his direction, he felt their gaze but resolutely stared into the glass watching the bubbles rise and die like so many lives that had come before. “Sophie, I’ve known for a long time but, how would I ever say that. I knew you’d been keeping it to yourself and at first, I didn’t remember but after the dreams, the nightmares eventually it started to come back. Then what was I to do?” He remembered all those times where he’d seen her holding Hope’s locket and surprised her with a hug from behind hoping that she would have to explain what this treasured keepsake was. He never asked, she never told.
“You mean.” She said, tears swelling in her eyes. It took only a moment before he embraced her holding her throbbing body close to his. She needed this, for years she’d been holding these tears and this sadness back and like a fool he’d let her. Too scared to break the fantasy they’d been living. A truly dedicated fictionalist, a fucking Methodist for sure. He whispered sweet sorries into her ear, apologies, loving words and kind strokes. He pulled her closer, enfolding her small frame into him. She wept. Cynthia started to cry as well, sitting there watching them she could only imagine how they must feel. This pain, this blissful lie they’d shared one for the other.