Chapter Text
“ILLNESS PERSISTS FOR LUTECE’S BROTHER! ENIGMATIC PHYSICIST STILL YET TO APPEAR IN PUBLIC”.
Rosalind closed the latest issue of the Columbia Evening Journal and placed it back on top of the neatly sorted stack. Today, Mr. Lutece was given the honors of being mentioned only on the second, and occasionally even the third page of most newspapers, if at all. It was a good result. The less attention they got at the moment, the better.
“LUTECE’S BROTHER”. Yes, disguising him as her twin made perfect sense. There simply wasn’t a more convenient or logical way to explain Robert’s sudden presence to the citizens of Columbia. Alleged presence, one should note, as nobody has really seen the elusive Mr. Lutece since his presumed arrival in the evening hours on October 8th. Of course, it would be odd for anyone to expect Rosalind to create any sort of commotion around it — especially since this was supposedly their first meeting after many years of being separated and focused on their respective scientific research and work. It was perfectly understandable that they would prefer to celebrate their reunion in private. Besides, it’s not like Madame Lutece was ever known for being particularly open about the details of her personal matters and family.
Despite all the secrecy, still the news has spread out about his indisposition. What mysterious injury or condition Mr. Lutece had been suffering from had not been specified to the public, but it was not awfully uncommon for the first-time Columbia travellers to require a couple of days to adapt to the slightly different barometric pressure present at the altitude the city was suspended at. His continued absence did not seem to raise any suspicion so far, which Rosalind was grateful for. All her “twin” now needed was peace and quiet.
Her… twin. How else could they explain their physical resemblance? Their near identical manner of speech? All of the other similarities and parallels, as big or small as they may seem? Rosalind recalled one of the tear experiments they’d run weeks prior, where she had a chance to observe him from afar for a couple of moments. She noticed in his behaviour a lot of mannerisms that she was aware of indulging in herself; some other ones made her wonder if she also performed them without realising it. Did she also furrow her brow like this when facing the most complicated section of the equation on the board? Did she tap her fingers on the surface they were resting on while lost in thought? They’ve established the theory before, and now it was time to empirically test it: just how many constants did their lives share? How many variables set them apart?
Naturally, it was near impossible to tell right now. Robert was in no shape to hold a prolonged conversation, let alone conduct experiments. Not after what happened on that night.
Rosalind still felt torn about their arrangement with Comstock. If only there was another way to achieve their goals… At this point though, it was evident that they had to stay here. With Columbia’s industrial and scientific progress so far ahead of the world below them, there was no place on the surface that could match similar conditions and allow their work to progress in the same way. And Comstock — as much as she despised the man and everything he stood for — was still willing to provide any and all resources they needed. Only for his own reasons and needs, of course, but it did grant them the means to proceed with their work. She was willing to allow this prophecy business of his to continue, as long as it meant that she and Robert could continue and advance their research.
Having to make hard decisions was nothing new for Rosalind. She had to go through quite a lot to be where she was now; and being one of very few women in the field of science, it meant she had to express a level of determination and persistence much beyond that of her male peers in the same position. It shaped her to be rather pragmatic, and not sentimental. She wasn’t one to dwell on a decision once she made it. And yet… this particular issue has been weighing on her mind as of late. Letting Comstock view the alternate realities through the use of their technology to do his preaching was one thing, but trading a child… Even though DeWitt agreed to the deal — initially, at least — were they going too far following the orders?
What would he ask of them next?
She let out a deep sigh. What’s done is done, and there was no use in pondering over the ethics of that decision right now. Whenever Comstock’s next request would come, and what they would do about it — they will cross that bridge when they get to it. As for the child, it belonged to this reality now; and in that moment, perhaps as selfish as it felt to admit it, Rosalind felt grateful for that. Her gaze returned to the stack of papers on the desk once again. Of course, Columbia’s greatest mind’s own brother coming to the city was unusual and curious news as well, but it was their beloved Prophet’s long awaited heir’s birth that completely overtook the citizen’s attention and became the main topic of conversation for what was now days, and would probably still go on for weeks to come. People gathered and celebrated in the streets, rejoining in happiness for Father Comstock’s and First Lady’s miracle child’s arrival, singing and sending prayers to their entire family. Good. It helped to keep the attention away from their own matters.
She glanced at the clock across the room and winced. Half past eight? Today’s press review took much longer than the usual. She needed to get going right away if she were to make it before the stores closed. Rosalind got up from the desk and headed for the hallway. Making her way up slowly, as to not make too much noise, she climbed up the set of stairs and approached the door of the guest bedroom.
The walls inside were softly illuminated by a small bedside night lamp. The curtains were drawn; it helped keep the room quiet from the bustling street outside.
There, amidst the comfortable sheets of a king size bed standing by the wall, lied Robert.
From afar, one could almost say that he looked peaceful; upon closer look however, it became clear just how much turmoil he must have been going through in the past days. Dark circles have formed under his eyes, and his hair was in disarray. Prominent stubble was now adorning his jaw; Rosalind was sure that he would soon ask for her assistance in removing it. He was resting propped up on an array of pillows to avoid the risk of choking on blood, in case he began hemorrhaging in his sleep. So far his attacks have never happened while he was unconscious, but Rosalind would rather take every precaution she could think of.
She observed him for a long-drawn moment. His chest was moving up and down slowly, breathing steadily. It had been a long and difficult day for him, but now at last his expression was calm. She smiled softly. Finally, some much needed relief. He must have been awfully tired.
She glanced at the miniature clock on one of the nightstands. Should really get going now; there might not be enough time to run errands in the morning. She took one last cautious look at Robert to make sure that he was still sound asleep, then returned downstairs and put her coat on. She should be back soon enough; it wasn’t a terribly long walk after all. With that thought, she pushed the front door and stepped outside.
The streets of Emporia were quite calm this late in the evening. Rosalind enjoyed going out at this hour; many people have already returned home to spend time with their families, while others were attending night events. Being acknowledged as Columbia’s greatest scientist had its benefits, but it also meant that she would be recognised whenever she went. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to stop her in the street to ask about her latest book, the inventions she was currently working on, or recently — to express concern about Robert’s health and wish him a prompt recovery. Rosalind appreciated the courtesy, but truth be told, at this moment she would rather not be interrupted at all.
Lutece Laboratories stood right in the heart of the market district in downtown Emporia; the building was situated by a small plaza, surrounded by a variety of stores, shops and salons, all offering a variety of exclusive goods and services. An ornamental fountain sat right in the middle, constantly emitting a gentle murmur of water. Rosalind passed by it and headed down the stairs, into the lower part of the market. She shuddered as a chill came over her suddenly. The air was starting to get much colder at this time of the year; soon they would have to think about purchasing some warmer, fall and winter suited clothing for Robert.
Her thoughts returned to him again. It had been almost a week since he came through, and it seemed that he was slowly starting to feel better now. “Better”, she thought to herself; well, at least compared to the state she found him in back then when—
Rosalind pushed away the memories of that particular moment. How could it have happened? They spent so much time calculating what felt like every single outcome, possibility and risk of this operation, and yet they did not predict this coming. Did they misjudge the odds? Were they, in the end, irresponsible? They did theorise that closing the tear behind the person crossing it could cause some sort of disturbance in their consciousness — but they could not accurately pinpoint just how much one’s identity, memories, and awareness of their origin were tied to the mind itself, and how much of it was granted and remembered through a connection kept through the still open window to the other side. This matter simply wasn’t something that could be precisely estimated hypothetically — it could only be proved through performing the experiment itself. It was only now that she knew just how grossly they underestimated the scale of this issue in their measurements, and how dire the consequences were.
It would appear that the condition Robert was suffering from was, for the lack of a better term for it, a trans-dimensional identity crisis. His mind was struggling to recognise itself in this new reality; he was experiencing intense headaches and confusion whenever he was awake. Likely as a result of the strain that was being constantly put on his brain, he would often hemorrhage from his nose profusely. It seemed that he was simultaneously perceiving existing as himself and herself, processing both of their memories at once. It was difficult to watch him suffer such severe pain and distress.
The unfortunate circumstances of their first meeting did not discourage Rosalind however, even if their reunion took on such a bittersweet turn because of it. It was still exciting to finally welcome him on this side. After weeks of communicating through their Morse-code-Lutece-field method, and then only a couple of glimpses at each other through unstable tears during the tests they’ve run, he was now here, in the flesh, sharing the same space. The same universe. The man who was and was not herself. Was it an act of narcissism to go through with it? Why was she even so determined to meet him in the first place? Was it simply the natural progression of her interest and research in quantum realities? Becoming part of the theory herself: living proof of the constants and variables spread across the multiverse. It was, after all, the act of both of them conducting the same experiment at the same moment in their respective universes that resulted in them establishing contact in the first place. What an exciting opportunity that was; finally, someone matching her enthusiasm and curiosity about science, and in the same branch of it no less. She had already achieved so much just by herself — how much more could she accomplish now, sharing her laboratory with another mind equal to hers? With another Lutece?
But the newfound scientific opportunities… that wasn’t all. There was much more to their connection, and she knew it stemmed from much deeper within. Understandably so; after all, it was only natural for people of similar interests and mindsets to get along. And in that regard, it was rather safe to assume that there were no two other people on the entire planet in this moment who shared more similarities than they did.
Although still very much weak and confused, Robert did seem to be making small steps towards recovery with each day, being awake and able to hold a conversation for longer periods of time now. Rosalind cherished these moments; it was so pleasant to see his true self shine through all the disorientation. Recently he even started to display some of his dry humour about the whole situation, never failing to make her smile. But the joy only lasted until his face twisted in pain again, foreshadowing another attack. It hurt deeply having to watch him go through these episodes, knowing there was no way to ease his suffering. All she could do was stay beside him, whether he was aware of it or not. She would never leave his side and let him suffer the misery alone, and was always there for him when the attack finally subsided, while he was distressed and confused, to explain what just happened, as well as where — or who — he was. She would proceed to watch over him until he calmed down or fell asleep, and only leave once she made absolutely sure that he was okay.
A recurrent worry sank in. Was he ever going to truly fully recover? It wasn’t in Rosalind’s nature to linger over what ifs, and she would usually push these thoughts away as soon as they arrived; this time however, the issue was difficult to simply brush away. Was it truly possible for someone from a completely different reality to fully integrate into a new one? And at that, one where a version of them already exists? It’s not like she could walk into the library, reach for a medical book detailing this condition, and read through the chapter about treatment, manners of rehabilitation or the possible prognosis. How much longer was this going to take? Weeks? Months? A sudden wave of dread came over her as she pictured Robert having to endure this torment for such a long time.
She flinched suddenly as the loud sound of bells rung from atop of the Grand Central Depot nearby, interrupting her train of thought. 9:00 P.M. The place she was going to was closing at this hour; thankfully, she was now only across the street from it and could see the light still glowing inside.
The sudden distraction helped her clear her mind. No, she couldn’t let herself wallow in these thoughts any more. Not like it would be of any help either way. It was now important to focus only on what could be done to improve the situation. She walked up the small set of steps to the entrance. Rosalind furrowed her brow. If her hypothesis was correct, it would mean that she could be able to obtain the means to greatly improve the rate of Robert’s recovery. And she would find just what she needed to prove her theory right here. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped through.
The inside was pleasantly warm. The walls were lined with sleek wooden shelves displaying variety of goods, with storage boxes and barrels neatly organised on the floor in front of them. It was one of the smallest stores in this part of Emporia, humbly tucked in between much bigger and posh stores. Rosalind preferred the modest, honest atmosphere it had over the boasted and extravagant feeling the other ones offered. She cared not for being treated in a servile manner.
Behind the counter in the middle stood a tall, elderly man; his attire, though still elegant, was showing signs of age. One could tell that he must have worn it for a long time. Grey streaks have found their way into his dark hair and well-groomed muttonchops. Tired kind eyes were staring at her from behind thick glasses.
The small bell above the door rung as she entered. He smiled as soon as he saw her.
— Ah, Madame Lutece, good evening! I suspected I would still see you today.
— Good evening to you as well, Mr. Ruthford. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it before you closed. Terribly sorry to keep you at this hour.
The man shook his head reassuringly.
— I’ve noticed that you’ve been visiting more and more late recently, so I already decided I would wait for a couple of minutes past the closing time, in case you were on your way. My own hypothesis to test. — He grinned. — Nowhere close to the theories you work with I’m sure, but personally I’m still proud of it!
Rosalind smiled. She was fond of the man; he always reminded her of one of her uncles she remembered from her childhood who always encouraged her to pursue her interest in science. Similarly, Mr. Ruthford always expressed curiosity and enthusiasm about her work, even if he did not seem to fully understand the particulars of it. Perhaps it had to do with his own son pursuing a career in science as well. Regardless, it was charming.
— Thank you very much for making the exception for me. I appreciate your courtesy.
Mr. Ruthford waved his hand. — Please, do not mention it. I know you are very busy these days. Now, what will you be needing today? — He reached for a bag from under the counter. — I do sincerely hope that Mr. Lutece is feeling better today?
Rosalind slowly nodded. — Yes, he’s been improving with each day. I’ve actually come to get something just for him.
— Oh? — He adjusted his glasses. — I’m afraid I only have most basic of medicines available here. Perhaps if you visited the pharmacy on Harmony Lane, they have the largest selection of—
— There’s no need to worry, Mr. Ruthford. — She smiled. — Your store will do just perfectly.
✵✵✵
The air was even colder on the way back to the labs. She adjusted the lapels of her coat with one hand, carrying the grocery bag in the other.
When Robert woke up earlier in the afternoon today, he asked for a cup of tea. It wasn’t the first time he requested one, but something unusual happened this time; she observed as he slowly rotated the cup on the saucer in his hands, staring at it intently. When asked if it wasn’t to his taste, he didn’t answer right away, seemingly lost in thoughts; finally, he stated that the taste was palatable, but it was “not right”. They spent a good couple of minutes discussing the details of what exactly he meant, before his memory finally shifted back into place.
In his universe, as his preference, he would always have his tea with lemon.
Another variable to add to the list. While she did not particularly dislike it, it was not something she would have often at all. Interesting. Rosalind made sure to note all of the possible variables down right away; it was only a hypothesis at this point, but she suspected that if she could learn more of these personal preferences of his, and present him with them prepared in a way that he was familiar with, it could potentially help to ground his thoughts and regain his identity. They were small steps, but they were better than nothing. At least, it would surely help to make him feel as comfortable as can be.
Rain was just starting to fall when Rosalind finally arrived back at the labs. She locked the front door behind and headed to the kitchen. There, she took the lemons out of the bag and washed them in the sink, smiling to herself. Maybe a good night’s sleep combined with a breakfast served with his favourite tea would evoke even more memories about his preferences? Either way, she was just happy to be able to provide him with something he was fond of, even if it was this modest. She glanced at the clock in the hallway, and suddenly felt very exhausted. It would be wise to retire for the night soon. She would need to be up early in the morning to prepare everything before Robert woke up.
Now It was just about time to check on him one last time before—
Thud.
She came to a halt and listened.
— Robert?
No answer. The house was completely silent.
Maybe the sound came from the outside? Some parts of the city were slowly travelling into their morning-scheduled positions at this hour, occasionally connecting on the way; one could sometimes hear it in the distance. Or perhaps someone just slammed a door shut in the plaza? It could’ve as well simply been her own mind playing tricks on her, as tired as she was right now.
But a much more disturbing thought crossed her mind. A bad premonition settled in. Although she wasn’t one to panic, immediately she made way for the stairs. The dead silence continued as she reached the door and looked inside.
She first noticed the empty bed. Then, as her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw him.
Her heart sank in.
On the floor, facing down, was Robert. He was lying perfectly still. In the dim glow filling the room, she could clearly see the scarlet puddle of blood pooling underneath his head.