Cooper the Healer: So this lovely young lady is family all the way from France, Mecuria? Well, let me be her guide to the wonders of America! Look at her pretty outfit, add some crystal earrings and a stylish wand, I bet she'll be knock-out, am I right?
Matilda: Umm, I appreciate your hospitality, madame, but I, I have a very important mission, a shopping mission! So much shopping to do. So, nice to meet you, Ms. Cooper.
Maich the Peddler: Let go of the poor girl, Cooper.
Maich the Peddler: It's time I show her some real treasures. I'm sure they are much more suited to her than your old trash.
Maich the Peddler: Oh, and I oughta tell you, the "Merchant of Eternity" says she'll soon come to the New Age Market, and she's bringing her stock of treasures. It's gotta draw in the crowds.
Cooper the Healer: Ah, give it up, Maich. There's no way Eternity will like that old junk.
The two vendors square up. They appear to be on course for either a confrontation or an embrace.
Mercuria: Heh heh. Will you two ever just fess up and admit you're friends?
The two gawk at her words, looking at each other before falling into embarrassed silence.
Maich the Peddler: Ahem, fine, fine, Mercuria, you don't have to poke fun, just let us know how we can help you.
She responds with a greedy sort of look, as if opening up her purse strings.
Mercuria: A door. We're looking for a door, or a gate, the one you mentioned before.
Maich the Peddler: ...
She chokes out her next words.
Maich the Peddler: A ... door? Sorry, I need time to ... recall it. Hey, why don't you show Ms. Bouanich around, and I'll stay here to gather my ... memories, not going anywhere.
Maich the Peddler: I'm still trying to rack my brain, and this old thing can only manage one thing at a time.
It is an unconvincing excuse.
But the moment gives Mercuria pause to examine her surroundings, books, tools, daily necessities, all in various states of being packed away.
Mercuria: Is this your luggage? You're packing up?
Cooper the Healer: Yeah. We're leaving this place. Before the wackos hold their "ceremony," if we're lucky.
Cooper the Healer: When we came here, it was to find some safe place away from these people and their conflicts, but now they followed us here as well.
Cooper the Healer: And we've already lost too many friends.
Her head falls low and limp.
Cooper the Healer: I suggest you follow us out, before whatever is going to happen here happens.
Matilda: But, is this not where you made your living? Can you so easily walk away?
Matilda: I thought everyone on Haight Street would be just as stubborn as J.
Matilda: But I think it's a wise choice.
Maich the Peddler: "Wise"? Huh.
She repeats the words as if insulting herself.
Maich the Peddler: Don't make me laugh. Haight Street, New Age Market, none of this is ours really. Even the clothes on our back. All we own are the footprints we leave behind, until they're washed away by the tides of time.
Maich the Peddler: We live our lives on the fringes of a world that is not kind to us. We're used to it. Fighting for every street, it's not worth it.
Matilda: Um, but your friends ...
"Bang!"—Maich slams the suitcase shut.
Maich the Peddler: Maybe you ought to stop nosing around where you don't belong.
Mercuria: I'm sorry.
She gently tugs Matilda to her side.
Mercuria: Come on, we should get going. Maich has got things to do.
Matilda: ...
They turn around and blend into the passing crowd.
Until they disappear within the milieu.
Cooper the Healer: You shouldn't be so hard on her.
Cooper the Healer: You've had a hard enough time convincing yourself of what you have to do.
She sits down to comfort Maich.
Cooper the Healer: Let's just focus on what's next. Nothing more.
Matilda: Hmm. What's keeping Ms. Mercuria? There were only a few unexpected patrons; she should have already returned.
She walks toward Mercuria's tent, where three shadows linger conspicuously in the firelight.
Maich the Peddler: Wait, Ms. Matilda!
Matilda: Hmm? Oh, are you looking for Mercuria?
Maich the Peddler: Shh!
The peddler is pale with anxiety.
Maich the Peddler: N-no, I'm looking for you.
Maich the Peddler: I have to admit something, Ms. Bouanich. I lied to you about the gate, but I have to, to protect my friends.
Matilda: What do you mean? Why do you feel you have to lie?
The woman shakes her head ruefully.
Maich the Peddler: Because I wanted to give this to you in private. I know you're from the Foundation, and I think I can trust you.
Maich the Peddler: I know Mercuria better than anyone. If she knows the information I have, she will risk everything to help her friends.
She hesitates over her next words.
Maich the Peddler: So please, don't tell her this. Don't put her in danger.
Matilda: I do not think I can make this decision for you.
Maich the Peddler: I get your concern, but she's my friend. I don't want to put her on a dangerous path.
Maich the Peddler: So ...
She leans closer still.
Whispers mingle with the wind, barely audible.
Quick and light steps approach Mercuria's tent.
Cateye Wisen: Hmm, there's three guys in that tent. I knew the boss was here!
Cateye Wisen: But who's the third dude? Hollick? I heard he was in the market collecting information.
His hand has only just lifted the curtain when he feels the weight of a tall figure behind him.
Cateye Wisen: What?! Why are you here?!
Cateye Wisen: You're that big guy, Legers's lackey!
Gio: ?!
Gio turns back, afraid of being seen.
The boy, now facing away from the tent, stares at the man with cold calculation.
He reaches into his pocket to a waiting knife, ready for action.
But the boy fails to notice a hand reaching out from behind the curtain …
Cateye Wisen: Uggh ...
The night outside is kept at bay by the soft glow of lights from the dance floor.
People press close to each other, exchanging suggestive glances, arms entwining and swaying.
Amid the intoxicating scene, the small girl at the bar is noticeably out of place.
Matilda: Oh. What should I do? If I were to tell J about the key and the gate, then Ms. Mercuria will soon know it, too.
Matilda: According to the investigator's manual, waiting for support is the safest action. But if this situation escalates any further, more civilians might be involved.
Matilda: Perhaps then I should let Ms. Mercuria join, no?
Matilda: sigh Where did J go? He's not returned once all night. That man has no sense!
Matilda: Ms. Mercuria will go on stage soon. I must decide before she goes.
She leans on the table, adrift in her own mind, rocking a small cup back and forth with her hands.
Pioneer: Ms. Bouanich, it seems as though you're having a bit of trouble selecting between putting your money in stocks or real estate. Why don't you take this cup of hot chocolate to smooth out your furrowed brow? You're too young to have such a serious face.
He adjusts his tie performatively.
Pioneer: You know, besides my modeling career, I'm also a professional investment and costume advisor, and the success of my friends is my best advertisement. Feel free to reach out for a consult if you're interested in making your money make money.
Matilda: Thank you. Actually, I do have a problem that, as you say, relates to money.
Matilda: It seems I have now two bags of gold in a cave, surprisingly heavy, and no one person could take both of them out alone.
Matilda: However, there is a dragon devouring the gold. The longer I am hesitant, the more it eats and the less I can take.
Matilda: But I don't want my friend to risk their life for it. Ahhh, what am I talking about?!
Matilda: Please forget it, forget everything.
Matilda lowers her lips back to the cup, sipping her hot cocoa. Her advisor lifts his chin seriously and ponders her words.
Pioneer: Ms. Bouanich, am I right to infer that these two bags of gold don't properly belong to you?
Pioneer: So then, if your friend decides to go with you, then you should respect them and their decision. They want to take on that risk with you.
Pioneer: I admit, I've offered some poor advice since I first awakened. My suggestions at times have lost a gambler his home, but they also helped a father win back his wife and children. Surprisingly enough, they were the very same man.
Pioneer: When you provide as much advice as I have, you realize that our words can't really change another person's fate.
Pioneer: That's why I love watching window shoppers, the ragged folk that can't make it in, because they have the light of life in their eyes.
Pioneer: Penniless as they are, I know that one day, some of them will return and take the clothes that they only dreamed of wearing before.
Pioneer: And my favorite thing is to point it out to them when the day finally comes, and say:
Pioneer: "It's been waiting there for you."
The music stops.
Matilda: Hmm?
A hand pulls aside the glittering curtain.
People seem entranced, their eyes following her every move.
Mercuria steps barefoot onto the stage, her arms raised like wings beneath the lights—motionless, frozen like a photograph.
Pioneer: Shh. The performance is about to begin.
At first, one note collides with another.
Then, the music rises like a crashing wave, enveloping everyone in its vibration.
Yet no one sways or cheers as it washes over them; people simply stare at Mercuria with rapt attention.
Those drinking from their glasses and mugs pause midair; from the arcade slack-jawed boys usher in a cascade of digitized voices repeating, "Game Over."
She flourishes her arms, stretching them up toward the light, like a hopeful seed emerging from the soil, until she reaches a sensual peak, and the music stops at a cut.
...
"Clap—clap, clap …"
The applause rises up over the room, reaching a crescendo until falling silent.
Matilda: I do not understand. She is not dancing with the rhythm, and her movements, they are so bizarre.
Pioneer: Ms. Bouanich, do you happen to know the meaning of the word "ecstasy"? It originates from the Greek word "ekstasis," meaning "standing outside" or "transcending oneself."
Pioneer: People have been controlled by the commercials, slot machines, arcades for so long, so long that they've lost sight of themselves.
Pioneer: Souls too long constrained become rebellious, seeking something real outside the boundaries of convention, and the illusions of flash and neon.
Pioneer: So, they gather here, for a dance that is free from the limits of rhythm and timing.
Pioneer: She understands the heavy burden of time.
Pioneer: But she also understands that she doesn't decide the fate of others. Like me, she provides another option, but in the end, we can only make decisions for ourselves.
Pioneer: Her dance offers to break them away from the reality of time and the weight of decision, even for just one song.
The dancer, who has been on tiptoe, lowers her heels to the ground. She bows before making her exit.
The dance floor regains its excitement.
Its restless souls returning to the embrace of the night's pleasures.
Matilda: I see. Then I must tell her! Thank you, Mr. Pioneer.
"Tap, tap-tap—" Her footsteps are light and quick.
Matilda: She's in such a hurry, but why is she not heading to the lounge? I must catch up with her.
Matilda: panting Huh? Where is she?
The girl, doubled over to catch her breath, spots a familiar hulking silhouette in the distance.
But it only leaves her more bewildered.
Matilda: Why, that is ... that is indeed Mr. Gio inside her tent? Ha, I knew my memory did not fail me.
She pinches her nose and dives into a nearby pile of garbage bags.
Matilda: So she is hiding something from us, and this Gio seems special to her. But if he is from Manus ...
Matilda: No, stop it, Matilda! You mustn't make such rash assumptions. Mercuria could not be ...
Her huddled shoulders are nudged.
Matilda: ?!
Her eyelids grow heavy, and her limbs go weak and limp.
Matilda: What ... is ...
Mercuria: ...
Mercuria: Sweet dreams, Tildy.
Mercuria: The road to "Elysium" is mine, and only mine.
