Corrupted: A Time Travel Story

[Literary_Dreamer]

The morning light was coming through the window strong but cold by the time Maximilien turned his attention to the various letters on his desk. He had already been awake for several hours, pouring over his notes and the relevant journal articles to solidify and arrange his arguments. An explanation for everything could save him from trouble later, especially as concerned the bitter old men in Arras who had hoped to have his seat and whose noise had begun to reach him shortly after the Assembly had been established.

But never mind them. They were old and trapped in their ways, unable to see that what was happening was vital to the survival of the French people. They could not expect to allow the poor to starve and escape unscathed themselves. Let them stew in their bitterness, the rest of France would advance into a better world without them.

The first missive was from Camille. Maximilien recognized the short, fat letters of Camille's hand before he read even the first word. It was an invitation to dinner. Georges would be attending. This almost certainly meant that Camille was fishing for a conversation between a representative of the people and an outside agitator for some article or other. Maximilien and Georges were barely conversant with each other on any subject besides politics. No matter, it was a meal he did not have to seek out alone. He would answer in the affirmative.

The second letter was from Charlotte. She detailed her daily life, her concerns about Augustin, the health of their aunts, local gossip. It was, in the end, a pleasantly boring message. He did not miss Charlotte's presence but he did miss her careful regulation of the household, just as she missed his authority over their brother. She urged him to send a letter to Augustin, detailing his wishes for the youngest member of their family, but Maximilien could not see what good that would do. Even addressed in person, Maximilien's advice had little effect on the younger man and, anyway, it was not as if Augustin were doing any great harm.

There were other letters from men and women of varying importance. Most were about politics and the course of the revolution. His life, it seemed, consisted of very little else these days. When was the last time he had taken the opportunity to write something other than a speech or a letter? It had been so long since he had tried his hand at poetry. But frivolous activities had to make way for the drudgery of great works. He would have plenty of time to write his, admittedly mediocre, poems after the work was done.

Having read all of his letters, Maximilien sorted them into those requiring immediate reply and those that could be left for a more convenient time to write an answer. He answered the most urgent and set them aside to post when he left for the Assembly.

He sat back for a moment but could not take the time to relax because he saw the time and judged that if he wanted to arrive in time to confer with Pétion about the issues at stake today he should leave now. He plucked his jacket from the chair and put it on. He took his greatcoat from the rack and his hat. He slung the greatcoat over his arm, to put on just before he left the building, then remembered his letters to post and dashed back to his desk. He put the letters in the pocket of his greatcoat and returned to the door.

He stepped through the door and closed it behind him, turning to lock it. When he turned back around to descend the stairs, Maximilien found himself somewhere else entirely, in a place he did not recognize in the slightest.

 

[noodle]

Zariah was having a good day. She'd aced her photography project, had the most hits on her blog in the history of its life, and was given a hundred dollar bill from her grandparents for no apparent reason. Of course, this was a cause for celebration, so while shopping for groceries she treated herself to a pizza....and, as an afterthought, a catnip mouse for Sadie. The cat deserved some pampering too- not that she wasn't spoiled enough already.

Her car rumbled into the garage the apartment's tenants shared and came to a stop. Zariah took the key out and kept it in her hand before grabbing her backpack, the pizza, and the bag of groceries she'd tossed on the passenger seat. She shouldered said bag and headed up the stairs. The old wooden steps creaked under her feet, but, as usual, she paid them no mind.

The purple-haired girl unlocked her door and swung it open. After bumping the door shut, she walked into the kitchen (which was only a few steps away from the entryway) and set her things down. "Sadie!" She called, digging through the bags until she found the cat's present. "I got something for you!"

A large black cat darted from the bedroom to her owner, meowing curiously.....and then there was the sound of door shutting. Frowning, Zariah glanced up. There was a man by her door. His hand was on the knob. And he was wearing the most ridiculous outfit she'd ever seen in her life. "Who the hell are you?" She demanded, dropping the mouse and grabbing the broom that was leaning against the fridge. "Some kind of cosplay-wearing serial killer?" She pointed the stick at the man. "How did you get in here?" She was trying her best to keep her cool- it was just kind of hard to do that when a weirdo dressed in a wig and old-timey coat just appeared in her living room.

Sadie didn't pay him any attention, the feline being much more interested in the catnip mouse on the floor.

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

Maximilien blinked in half-blindness at the change in light. He pulled his hand away from the doorknob as if it had burned him and dropped his heavy greatcoat on the floor. Hellish, warlike sounds raged outside. Alien forms decorated the interior. Where was he, then? How far had he traveled in a single moment? Was this Hell? Had he been surprised by an assassin when he opened the door?

A woman's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

She picked up what appeared to be a staff of some kind. Without his glasses, Maximilien saw the world in blurs and smudges. The woman's face was therefore undistinguishable but her hair seemed to be burning with a shade of purple he had never before seen.

"Some kind of cosplay-wearing serial killer?"

The woman punctuated this question by pointing the stick at Maximilien. He put his hands up in a sign of peace and surrender.

"How did you get in here?"

"Please, Mademoiselle, peace! Peace!" he cried out, afraid that she would punctuate this question by hitting him. "I do not know where I am and even less how I came to be here. I exited my room through the door that leads to the stair but, when I stepped through, I found myself here. I do not know what cosplay or a serial killer is but I can assure you that I am no killer. My name is Maximilien de Robespierre and I am a representative of the French people at the National Constituent Assembly in Paris."

As Maximilien waited for the woman to respond, it struck him that, although they were speaking the same language, none of what he said might have had any meaning to her whatsoever. She might decide to beat him to death with her stick regardless. Perhaps he was already dead and this purple-haired woman was the first of Hell's demons to come torture him.

 

[noodle]

He was squinting, confused looking and seeming almost dazed. Was he on drugs, then? Or just playing dumb? Hadn't she locked the door behind her? Zariah did not lower the stick, reaching into her pocket for her phone instead.

She paused as he spoke. The language he spoke was French, just...strange. And old dialect, as if he were speaking Victorian-era English. His name was almost familiar too. He was some kind of important historical figure, wasn't he? She couldn't remember. History had never been her strong suit. Anyway, it was impossible for him to be the actual Maximillien- whichever one that was, he had to be dead. Hey, at least his language was on point, props for that. But there was no way he was one of her neighbors.

She shook her head with narrowed eyes as she turned on her phone and hovered her fingers over the keypad. "Listen. I don't know who you really are, if you're drunk, on drugs, or just crazy.....but you need to get out of my apartment. Alright? I'm not planning on getting murdered today. I want pizza. You have one minute before I call the police." She held up the phone for emphasis and raised her brows at him, waiting for him to get out.

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

The woman continued to brandish her stick at Maximilien, but did not make any attempt to hit him with it. She reached into her pocket for something instead. What could she be reaching for? A knife? A gun? No, there was nowhere to hide something like that in her almost nonexistent clothing. He would have seen that immediately. Anyway, if she had a knife or a gun, why the stick.

Instead of a weapon, the woman removed the strangest little brick from her pocket. Maximilien could not begin to fathom what it could be used for. It was so slender that it would be of no use for building or as a weapon. Why would she carry a brick with her anyway?

The woman shook her head, as if clearing some unwanted idea from her mind, and then the face of the brick was illuminated. Maximilien took a step back on instinct and collided with the door. There was a logical explanation for such an occurrence but it was beyond his capacities for comprehension. Perhaps in this strange land, strange little bricks could be used as deadly weapons. She might cause him harm yet.

It struck Maximilien that she was speaking French. She was speaking French very poorly and with an atrocious accent, which he could not for the life of him place, but she was speaking French. She must, therefore, know of France even if she was not familiar with the Assembly or Paris. If he could simply convince her that his only desire was to return home, she might just let him go.

"Listen," she said, interrupting his thoughts once more. "I don't know who you really are, if you're drunk, on drugs, or just crazy…but you need to get out of my apartment. Alright? I'm not planning on getting murdered today. I want pizza. You have one minute before I call the police."

She held up the brick-weapon and raised her eyebrows. Maximilien shivered at the thought of what the brick might do. But her mention of the police gave him an idea.

"The police? Yes, the police. Please summon the police, Mademoiselle. They must be able to help me acquire passage back to France. I beg of you to help me. I hardly need say that you will never be burdened by my presence again. I would not leave Paris of my own volition at this time."

 

[noodle]

The stranger was still there, making no move to leave. He didn't seem to know what the phone was, as he took a step back, staring at it as she turned it on. Was he actually crazy? Or did he think she was going to throw one of her most expensive possessions at him?

Zariah blinked rapidly after he finished speaking. Passage back to France? Paris? "Okay, one, you're in Paris," she started, gesturing to her living room window with the broomstick, where the city streets below could be seen. "Two, you are on something, aren't you?" He wasn't afraid of the police, which either meant he was acting very well or that he was out of his mind.

She started typing in the number, soft clicks sounding from the phone. "And three, what time period are you supposed to be dressing up from?" she asked, arching a single eyebrow at him. "Is this this some kind of prank?" He looked a bit too old to be running around pulling pranks, though.

Really, the only thing she could think of for an explaination was that he had escaped from some kind of insane asylum or had gotten drugged up at a renaissance fair. An idea entered her head as she looked at him again and she pursed her lips, pausing instead of calling the police straight away. He did look like the real deal....maybe she could get a picture of him before he left. Crazy or not, a story and photo like this would definitely bring people to her blog. He looked like he stepped out of a history book.

Sadie, meanwhile, had grown bored of the catnip and was staggering her way over to the stranger, staring up at him with intelligent orange eyes. Her slick black tail flicked slightly and she yowled up at him.

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

"Okay, one," the woman said, "you're in Paris." She gestured with her stick at the windows, through which, presumably, the city could be seen. For Maximilien, there was little more than a blur of light. His optimal range of sight was at the window frames; any closer or any further and the details faded into nothing. All he had by which to identify the city was the dull roar which was in no way familiar.

"Two, you are on something, aren't you?" The woman began tapping at the light brick with her thumb, the object making a soft clicking noise in response to each touch. Maximilien tried in vain to untangle the words that did not fit together.

"And three, what time period are you supposed to be dressing up from? Is this some kind of prank?" The woman stopped tapping on the device.

"Truly," Maximilien said. "I do not understand you. This is not Paris. I have lived in Paris for many years and I know it well enough to recognize it. I do not know why you would try so uselessly to dupe me. Additionally, I do not know what you would think that I should be on if not my feet or the floor. Finally, what do you mean by time period? Do you mean to say that my dress looks old and shabby? Is it you habit to insult those who ask for your aid? No, never mind. That is of no importance. Will you call the police to my aid or not?"

A black cat Maximilien had not noticed before came up to him unsteadily, then yowled. Maximilien blinked down at it, suddenly dizzy with the perplexity of his situation.

 

[noodle]

Slightly exasperated, Zariah dropped her phone holding hand hand to her side and blinked at him, deciding to completely ignore his request to call the police. "If you've lived in Paris, why do you not recognize it? You're obviously on drugs, because no one dresses like that in the 21st century unles they're going to a dress up party or a nerd fair. And. You seem very confused...and squinty. Do you need glasses or something?" She shook her head and turned off the phone, shoving it back into her pocket.

"I'm not calling the police yet. I'm not sure you want me to, either. I mean, it's great that you want to turn yourself in, but you seem to think they're going to help you 'find' a city that you're already in and not just throw you in an insane asylum. Anyway, least you could do for breaking into my home is let me shoot a picture of you. Ridiculous or not, I know some history majors that would kill for a picture of an outfit that accurate looking. If you let me do that, and you still want me to call the police, I will." The thing that troubled her was that he didn't smell like drugs. He acted like it, sure, but....there was no other evidence that he would be on something.

She backed up and dug in her camera bag that was on the table for a moment before pulling out her camera and tripod. "So can I take a picture of you?" She asked, holding up the camera. "See, it'd really help me with this next project I'm working on, plus it'll get me some more income. Or you can just leave."

Sadie, growing bored with the stranger's lack of attention, trotted over to his greatcoat that was lying on the floor and sniffed at it before batting at the pocket.

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

Maximilien listened to the woman in stunned silence, then took a moment to digest what she had said when she stopped talking. "Twenty-first century," he said at last, that phrase having stuck with him in the most horrible way. "Twenty…you mean to say that between stepping out my door and entering your apartment that I have traveled not in space but in time? That it is now more than two hundred years from the moment when I opened my door? How could you ask me to believe that? Easier to convince me that I am somehow across the world in a city so foreign there is no name for it yet in French."

Maximilien looked at the strange device and then glanced at the door behind him. If there was a time to try it, to see if it still led back the way he came, now was that time. But something that felt like it originated in his stomach told him that the passage was no more. If he opened the door now, it would only lead to more of this strange place. The fear of that held back his hand.

He turned back to the woman and cleared his throat. "If you do not think the police can help me, then do not call them. I must protest the accusation that I broke into your home, however. What sort of criminal would I be if I broke into your home, saw you standing there, and then stopped to talk? No, I would have run immediately for fear of the punishment that would come from the law. But perhaps your criminals behave very differently here. Regardless, I will sit for your portrait, if that pleases you, on the condition that you help me. Wherever I am, it seems I am too far from home to return unaided."

 

[noodle]

Zariah quirked an eyebrow as he muttered and fretted, babbling about things she didn't quite understand. "Are you telling me you travelled in time?" She asked dryly, disbelievingly. "We all know that's not a thing that can happen." Something in her gut, though, was telling her that it somehow made sense. An instinct tugging at her thoughts and feelings, trying to get her to give in and help the man.

She pursed her lips and shook her head. On the one hand, he could be insane and murder her in her sleep. On the other hand, if her gut instinct was right- and it almost always was- she could have a chance in helping a time traveler. How cool would that be? She liked adventure. Plus, Sadie seemed to like him....and she didn't like bad people. Animals had an instinct for that kind of thing. She growled and rubbed at her forehead before sighing and setting the camera down.

"Turn out your pockets and show me that you don't have any weapons. If I can trust you, I'll try to help you. I still don't understand how traveling in time could be possible, but....I'll help you get adjusted here at least. You have to pose for this picture, and ny others I might want you to, in return. Do we have a deal?" She reached up and brushed a few purple strands out of her face before raising her eyebrows questioningly at him.

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

"Very well," Maximilien said. "Your request is prudent, but I am afraid that I cannot be satisfied with simply resettling here. I am needed back in my Paris. I have a brother and sister who are dependent on me to survive. If you will agree to help me seek a way to return, only to the best of your ability for I know that you cannot do more, then we have reached an accord."

He removed items from his pockets and handed them to the woman for her inspection. In his jacket pockets were a small purse with some coins, his glasses, a slender tin containing some pencils and scraps of paper, some of which were already marked with the slender script that was his handwriting, and the key to his room.

Maximilien felt his pockets once more and, finding them empty, looked at the woman. "There, you have all of the worldly possessions that came with me from my Paris. If you are satisfied that they will not harm you, I am ready to sit for the portrait at your leisure."

 

[noodle]

Her eyes scanned his possessions thoroughly before she shook her head and handed them back to him. They were all clearly from centuries before- and not cheap remakes. The time travel theory certainly seemed to be proven by now (even if the idea of it was completely nuts). "Here....I guess you're telling the truth." She let out a breath. "Fine. I'll try to help you get back to whenever you're from. You should probably put your glasses on."

She reached to the counter and pushed her camera to the center, then flipped the pizza box open. "The picture can wait. Are you hungry? Does time travel hurt or drain you? ....What year are you from, anyway?"

Zariah reached into the box and removed a slice of pizza, tilting her head back slightly before taking a large bite from the cheesy, saucy slice. She was in the minority of people that actually liked pineapple on pizza, and had made sure to get her favorite- Hawaiian. It always reminded her of home, despite the fact that she had lived nowhere near Hawaii her entire life. Sadie trotted over as the smell wafted through the room. In response, Zariah nudged the cat toward the full bowl nestled in the corner of the kitchen. "Eat your own food."

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

As the woman looked over Maximilien's things, her demeanor changed. She handed him back everything he had given her.

"Here," she said. "I guess you're telling the truth."

Well, at least she was no longer going to accuse him of trying to burgle her. But if he really was in the future, what hope was there for returning home?

The woman let out a breath. "Fine. I'll try to help you get back to whenever you're from. You should probably put your glasses on."

Maximilien turned his glasses over in his hand before neatly sliding them back into the jacket pocket from which they had been taken. He shook his head. "They are only for reading."

The woman set the device down on the counter and flipped the lid off of a narrow box that Maximilien had not previously noticed. Inside was a thin, round thing that was ostensibly food and looked vaguely like a pie with cheese, ham, and was that…pineapple? How extravagant was this woman?

"The picture can wait," the woman continued. "Are you hungry? Does time travel hurt or drain you? …What year are you from, anyway?"

Maximilien was about to answer when the woman reached into the box and pulled out a slice of the ham and pineapple pie. She tilted her head back and took a large bite. Maximilien watched on in fascinated horror. What a barbaric way to eat. Had civilization died in the two hundred years since his time?

Even the cat wanted some of the strange food, but the woman pushed it towards a bowl on the floor with even stranger food.

"Eat your own food," she told it. That was the cat's food? Was its purpose no longer to hunt the vermin that snuck into the house? What good was a cat otherwise?

"I, ah," Maximilien began. He glanced again at the bizarre pie. Food might have been too expensive for much of the population to buy sufficient quantities in his time but at least it was normal, civilized food. "I am not hungry. I do not feel indisposed by the travel in any way. I come from the year 1790. The eighth of January 1790, if you wish to be precise. What is the current date? How far have I come?"

Maximilien bent down and picked up his greatcoat from the floor. The letters fell out of the pocket, useless pieces of paper that would never reach their destination now. On top was his reply to Charlotte. He was struck by the relative quiet of this place.

"Where is your family?" he asked. "You do not live here alone?"

 

[noodle]

"Only for reading?" Zariah raised an eyebrow at him but decided not to push it before she swallowed. After her mouth was empty, she spoke again. "You're squinting around everywhere....you obviously need glasses for more than just reading." She took a breath and moved to speak, but the black feline meowed insistently, rubbing at her legs and interrupting her next sentence. "Sadie," she scolded. "I said no."

The cat huffed before stalking off, tail held proudly erect and ears pricked forward as if saying 'I'm done with you'. "Yeah, I love you too," Zariah called sarcastically after her as she disappeared into the hallway. The purple haired woman shook her head bemusedly and turned back to the time traveller. "Uh, yeah. Okay."

Frowning, she reached into her pocket with the hand that wasn't holding the pizza and pulled out her phone, lighting up the screen and glancing at it before putting it away again. "It's September 25th, 2017. So a little over 200 years. Congratulations, you're considered a fossil now." She chuckled at her own stupid joke before moving along to his last question. "Nah, I don't live alone. I have my cat, which is better than most human company in my opinion. So, mr. fossil, are you sure you're not hungry, or are you just scared of trying the wonderful concoction of delight that is pizza?"

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

Maximilien would have answered the woman's apparent shock about his glasses but she began speaking to the cat, which, in his opinion, was far more bizarre than having a single pair of glasses for economic reasons.

The woman pulled the device back out of her pocket, illuminated the screen, looked at it, then put it back in her pocket.

"It's September 25th, 2017," she said. "So, a little over two hundred years. Congratulations, you're considered a fossil now." She chuckled at the joke but Maximilien was chilled to the very bones that ought to be fossilized. Then she turned her attention to his last question, straying momentarily to safer ground. "Nah, I don't live alone. I have my cat, which is better than most human company, in my opinion." Maximilien might have expressed his disdain for her opinion about living with her cat, but she continued, "So, Mr. Fossil, are you sure you're not hungry or are you just scared of trying the wonderful concoction of delight that is pizza?"

"I am certain that I am not hungry," Maximilien said. "Even if that…pizza, as you call it, looked in the least appetizing, I believe that the sudden discovery that I am in the far distant future with little hope of returning home and that everyone I have ever known is dead, has been dead for more than a century, has put me off food for the time being."

Maximilien pressed his lips together to prevent himself from saying any more. He did not mean to sound like a snappish old woman but the woman's flippant attitude about the situation had struck a nerve. Every moment they wasted over pizza, or whatever else she had a mind to dally about, was a moment further away from home and a moment further away from any chance of returning there.

 

[noodle]

Zariah pursed her lips slightly. "Fair enough." She took another bite and examined him thoughtfully as she chewed. "So any ideas on how we get you back? Was there anything even interesting happening back then? I feel like I should recognize that date but....I failed history."

The purple haired woman took another bite and licked off her pointer finger, which had gotten a bit of the sauce stuck to it. Once she finished chewing she continued. "Anyway, there's nothing we can do about it now. Libraries and museums are closed by now, and the police sure as hell aren't going to help. Maybe a science professor at the university can....but then there's the issue of getting them to believe us."

A small hum escaped from between her lips and she began speaking once more. "I guess my point is, you should just settle in for tonight. Find out the things you're curious about the present. Televisions, cars, pizza, phones, today's music.....modern photography. Did you have cameras back then? Probably not, huh? Oh, and we should probably get you some actual clothes that won't make people stare at you. You look like one of those bronze statues you see around town."

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

Maximilien considered carefully his arrival in this future time and the events of his time before he answered the woman's first question. The woman continued to eat her bizarre food and talk. Maximilien added to the response he was crafting with each added point so that he could answer her fully and thus increase his chances of returning home, or so he hoped.

"I haven't the slightest idea how to reverse this event. There was nothing extraordinary about the passage itself, so I have nothing to direct out search. As for interesting things happening, there is, was, the revolution, of course. It is, was, not as dramatic as it was at the beginning, but we are, were, rebuilding the government with an aim to improve society. I cannot think of anything 'interesting', so to speak, that is more specific to the time I left, however.

"As for the wait, I cannot say that I will do it gladly, for I am very anxious to be home, but I will respectfully follow your direction. This is your world and you know more about its resources than I could ever hope to learn. I will go wherever and do whatever you believe is the most beneficial to finding a means to return me to my time.

"I can honestly tell you that I have never been curious about a single thing that you mentioned. Television does not even sound like a real word. I could imagine that you made it up at this very moment. The same goes for phone. As for cars and music, I did not pay them much mind in my own time and have even less care for them in this. Regarding pizza, I believe I have learned all that I could possibly want to know about it just from watching you just now. We do not, did not, have photography in my time. Frankly, the word sounds as ridiculous as television. I can only assume that a camera is the device used for this photography? We do not have those, either. Did not, I mean to say. I could not even guess what it means.

"Clothing would, indeed, be an advisable acquisition. Judging both by what you are wearing and your reaction my dress, I can only imagine that is has changed quite significantly. It would be for the best if I can blend in and not be sent to an asylum before I return to my time. I would, however, like to see the statues of which you spoke. If they are dressed like me, perhaps they come from a time near my own. I am curious to know who they are."

 

[noodle]

Zariah nodded. That was where the date came from, then! "French Revolution, huh? Did you guys have the guillotine out yet by then? That's like all I remember of it- heads rolling all over the place. As for television, I swear to you I did not make it up. It's like the life-blood of today's society." She laughed again, despite her little joke being a bit too true.

"Anyway, yeah...I might have some things that would fit you from my dad staying over, but we will definitely have to take you to the store tomorrow if they don't fit. You don't seem like you're his size. And my stuff would just look ridiculous on you." She finished her pizza and made sure the lid of the box was tightly shut.

She grabbed her camera and walked past him into the hall. "Come on, I'm gonna take your picture now. Follow me." Then she paused. "No...hold on." She darted past him again and grabbed a chair, dragging it behind her into the hallway. "Now you can come." The purple-haired woman proceeded to saunter down her carpeted hall, tugging the chair along with the camera hanging around her neck. She swung the door open to her little office/studio and flicked the light on. The room was white, with a large sheet hanging on the blank wall. A single window was blocked by thick black drapes. Her desk sat opposite the sheet, the laptop on it humming gently with the screen black. A tripod sat between the desk and the sheet, and a few adjustable lights were around the sheet. "Welcome to my studio." She grinned almost proudly.

 

[Literary_Dreamer]

"The guillotine?" Maximilien repeated the word after the woman. His face grew pinched as he considered it. Finally, he shook his head. "I do not know it and, if it led to 'heads rolling all over the place', as you say, I do not wish to know it." Maximilien ignored her joke about television, too distracted by the prophecy of horror to even give it enough time to not understand it.

The woman kept talking but Maximilien paid her very little mind. How could their revolution be remembered only for the deaths that were incurred? How many deaths were incurred? Whose? What had gone wrong? When? Why? How? Could it be stopped? Had he been sent here to learn this and stop the bloodshed? Was he simply being spared? He wanted to ask the woman for more details but he did not quite dare. Would she even know the answers if he asked? She professed a profound ignorance of the subject.

The woman took her device and began walking down the hallway. Maximilien followed her without knowing where she was going or why. Then she turned back, so he turned back, too. She fetched a chair and then went back the other way. Maximilien followed.

The woman opened a door and, almost as soon as she entered, the room went from being dark to being brightly lit up. Maximilien stopped, this event brining him out of his thoughts. He attempted to justify this occurrence by finding the source of the instantaneous light but all he saw was a series of strange chandeliers, one of which was lit up. He could not see the flame, but he knew it must be there. Perhaps there was a flint striker up there which was controlled mechanically somehow. But how? Maximilien had never been much for engineering, so he dropped the consideration when no obvious answer presented itself. It seemed frivolous and dangerous anyway.

"Welcome to my studio," the woman said, grinning broadly.

Maximilien took another look around the room. There were fixtures that did strike him as familiar to an artist's studio, but it lacked the easel, the paint, and the canvas. It felt a little cold and empty without those.

"It seems…it seems to be a pleasant sort of place," he said, failing any other commentary. "We are taking the portrait now?"

 

[noodle]

Zariah smiled at him. "Yep." She set the chair in front of the sheet and waved him over to sit down. "Just sit like you would for a picture back then," she ordered. Once he had, she took a step back and examined the set. She nodded and stepped forward again, then started turning on and adjusting the lights around him to highlight certain parts of his face and clothing in a more natural way.

"Okay. That should work...now hold still." She settled the camera on the tripod and zoomed in. "There's gonna be a click and then we'll be done. Just focus your eyes right here." She pointed to the lens and adjusted one more thing. Once he was ready, she pressed the shutter.

Click.

She took another, just to be sure.

Click.

"Annnnnd....done. At least, your part is, for now." She stood up and grinned at him. "Thank you." Zariah took the camera and touched the trackpad of the laptop. It hummed to life, lighting up the screen brightly. Humming softly, but never fully turning her back on Maximilien, she plugged her camera in and started uploading the pictures she took. "Wanna see?"