—Hmmm, I really can't believe how much you spent with us.— he said as he took out the photograph of the ex-director of the Anart Containment and Restoration Department.— For a while, I never understood why you left your job, although at that time I still didn't quite understand. I was a director and now I understand it a little more, I suppose.
Amalia Mondragón was in the photo in one of the facilities that she managed to build with her team of colleagues in 2033. Little did she know that this would only be the beginning of the creation of places dedicated solely to analyzing anart works, already being a very recognized facility in the present time.
—I really would have liked to help you, if only I could have known that your illness was going to be the beginning of a series of events that ultimately led you to retire.— She said sadly.— Although as far as I know, you lived like never before in the last decades of your life, even if it cost you your life.
Amalia went through severe complications due to her multiple sclerosis, which caused her to retire from the Foundation. Sometime later she managed to partially recover, although she had come into contact with people from AWCY? around that time, developing as she always wanted until the work of her own colleagues ended her arduous journey. While Luisa had these memories, she kept taking out some of her belongings, such as turtlenecks and long sleeves.
—I remember when we once talked about our goals and interests, several times you showed your great dedication. Perhaps more than necessary at times, but who was I to guide you? Similarly, I always agreed with your decision to follow your aspirations, despite never having the opportunity to mention it to you.
The Director relived a particular moment, one of the last times that she saw Amalia in her life, where she explained the reason for her impeccable work and her follow-up; she was driven by a feeling of insecurity, she always wanted to have the power to recreate the works that she studied and restored so much, to fill that fervent passion. Still, no amount of dedication or preparation from her allowed him to fulfill her wishes, as her workload coupled with her illness convinced her to change her ways, and follow her own path.
That day, Luisa told her that it didn't matter how hard one tried in any type of activity, if one really didn't feel good doing it, it would be best to leave it and return to it in the future if possible. From those moments, Luisa already had an idea of Amalia's future, this being her way of saying goodbye to her. She thanked him for all her work at the Foundation and let him know that nothing was in vain.
She put Amalia's photographs on the right side of the cabinet, leaving in front some warm food, such as tamales and consommé, plus some cempasúchitl petals, with flowers the same color as Amalia's eyes. Once it was done, the next item on the list was a notebook full of annotations and drawings from different places belonging to Field Agent Víctor Penz. A smile appeared on Luisa's face, while she looked through the notebook.
—I remember this, the time he was unironically sent to Brazil. Who would have thought that among so many jokes about it, it really happened.— She said while letting out a small laugh. Above all, he has been one of the toughest agents I have ever met.
After finishing going through the notebook, she took out a pair of bandages and gloves along with some pens. One way or another, Luisa managed to find out about the agent's most outstanding missions, mainly in anartistic structures, places where the phrase "the human imagination is the limit" was not a simple metaphor. From the twisted castles in some parts of Europe to some Mesoamerican temples. And all these wonderful structures were kept in each of his notebooks, in great detail.
—If there was something that always surprised me, it was his ability to obtain detailed information on each area he was sent to. Like the time he brought me information about an anomalous bloom and each flower helped me to classify the plants. And not only with me, but his reputation grew over the years until her well-deserved retirement… It's a shame that field agents have such a short time span in this job.
Well, that was the most common fate for that kind of personnel, if not that they fell in action for the anomalies to which they were sent. However, Penz did not survive just by luck or chance, but by his training. He managed to get himself out of trouble, so many were his trips that he filled a large shelf in the archive with his notebooks. Another wonderful part of him was his fluid conversations, always gesticulating to make his explanations more fluid.
—Although your bad mood was also one of your most characteristic traits and I had to experience it first hand, at least the first few times we met. But seriously, I'm glad to hear your ending wasn't bloody.
She put Penz's photograph on top of the cabinet along with her belongings, while on a plate she put some pancakes and sweets, accompanied by a mate. Then she took another item out of the box, looked at her hands, and there was the picture of him: cold, unfeeling, capable of guillotining even her own relatives, and yet Vander once had great respect for him.
—Some people don't have to be transcendental to matter. Dowell, Dowell, that idea of yours of wanting to govern everything like your little dictatorship, you soon realized that this was impossible and that Ethics would not let you do that, also lucky that you stopped me from doing some unethical… experiments.
Vander smiled a little, thinking how foolish she had been in the past. «One never stops learning», she thought, and from her lips emanated words of an old acquaintance.
—Laughing to avoid crying, Dowell. You were the best ethics counselor we ever had, thanks for teaching me to be straight. It's a shame truth must be paid for in death, isn't it, Dowell?
Vander remembered, that tragic night after the prosecution of the ex-director of cognitohazards who served during 2039. Dowell had prepared everything for the next day, so neat and constant that it was, he entered his bedroom and was not seen again for 3 days.
He was found in the industrial refrigerator on the site, dead and at least ten years older. The ex-director of cognitohazardous prosecuted had managed to carry out a retroactive elimination. No one knew how cognitohazards and a time paradox could intermingle, and somehow Dowell, in his rectitude and blind faith in the right thing, managed to eliminate such a parasite, not without losing his own life.
—You are to be admired.
He sighed before leaving her respects. She left his photo next to Amalia, offering him jelly, an old book, a blue wool coat, an old Atari, and a few SEGA video games.
Inadvertently, a furthoc rune stone had landed in her hands, and it began to glow a topaz-blue hue. Richard Dunwich's photo was being illuminated in the distance.
—Even in death, you remain a mystery, Dunwich. It was amazing to have you once as an instructor for my thaumatobiology research, and even more so as an amazing advisor. I never thought there'd be a day when you left us, but when the day came, half the site was in mourning. How important do you have to be for that? Though…
As expected, the death of a thaumaturge must be, at the very least, strange. Dunwich was strange, extravagant, and totally unexpected.
That day in 2043, Dunwich had woken up in the best mood he could've been in. No one had ever seen him like this. The reason? After so many incursions to destabilize satanic cults, the residual Aspect Radiation had finally done its job. A demonic summoning by some bored cultist had picked up on such residue and suggested to their necromancer to act against him, and it did.
By chance, such a demon based his power on good mood and reflected on Dunwich himself. He did not stop feeling good until sunset when it had extracted even the smallest drop of EVE from his body. That same afternoon, Dunwich was just a skin carcass, moving by inertia. He had already died hours ago from cardiac arrest, and all of his organs had been liquefied and were gone.
—…I don't think you were, like all of us, and yet you managed to claim a piece of our hearts. I will never stop being grateful for giving me some humanity… and for the taste of orange tang.
Vander placed his photo on the left, next to the stone, a slice of pizza and a handful of hazelnuts.
—I wonder, in the end, if he managed to be a dream entity and live forever in his dream world…? I guess I'll never know… Uh.
The box on her right showed another small heart-shaped box peeking out. Vander bent down to take this box, and in it, she was able to find a photo of herself taken with Andrés Mondragón in a wooden boat on an unknown lagoon. She sighed and smiled slightly.
—If I had known you were going to end up that way… So stubborn, why didn't you want my help?
In reality, he had gotten help from her, however, years later, Mondragón had developed a constructed intelligence who now lived only a few meters from him. In the form of a raven and unable to leave without Mondragon's own death, he kept Mondragon's own memories archived in it. He didn't need that carcinogenic cocktail anymore, but…
—I really can't blame you… I don't think you even knew how you were going to die, did you?
Actually, he would never know.
It was 2061. Mondragón was already in his 80s, still at the service of the Foundation. Every day the raven's caw was louder: it had run out of storage. At that age, Mondragón's body could no longer withstand the forget-cocktail he himself had developed. However, in so many years, new technologies and medicines based on his research had been invented, and in many of them, he had helped.
And yet he thought he had lived long enough.
—Too selfish of you, don't you think? Leaving like that, leaving me alone again…
That February night, Mondragón decided to overload his own memory with nearly 40 years of stored data, bringing the signals to his brain to a standstill, and overwhelming him with too much information to process. First, he was a vegetable for at least two hours, and after that, he lost consciousness and died peacefully.
—And, I guess that's part of growing up, isn't it? Let go of what I love the most to become stronger, to learn to be human. I thank you for making me see some hope in people and for bringing out the best in me, to stop being an empty shell. And, finally, for all those beautiful moments by your side, darling.
Vander placed Mondragon's image to Dunwich's right, leaving a flan, ice cream sandwich, and cheesecake pancakes next to it. In her hands was a ring with a small pink diamond and a black garter necklace. Vander smiled at those wonderful memories and placed the objects on Mondragón's photograph.
Vander's box was almost empty, and in the meantime, a small fedora appeared.
—It's not the original, but it works. I would like to know how did your construct die.
Marw, to some a constructed intelligence, to others a noir detective, and to some more a little shape-shifting cat up for adoption… why did they all have the same name? One day they all died at the same time, and to this day their correlation is not known for sure. Among the most accepted hypotheses are that of the Marw construct, ranging from a feline God of death, a cluster of clouds in the shape of a cat, to the meow of some aquatic animal species or a researcher obsessed with kittens or with his features.
That was Marw, according to most. All with the same name, not names given by someone, names embedded in their very existence. Names accompanied by a fedora. And how do you kill a construct? It is another great mystery.
—And to think that this fedora was the start of it all… I wish I had been around during your early days.
Vander arranged the picture of a calico cat in one of the holes in the cabinet, and next to it she left some catnip, some cookies, and milk. There were almost no objects left inside the first box, highlighting a yellow bucket hat. She stared at it for a long time, until she left it in the center of the cabinet.
—It hasn't been more than 5 decades and for me, everything we discussed in the Biology Department seems to be an eternity. The origin of anomalous species, the implication and recognition of fossils belonging to cryptids, your proposals about kingdoms, which I never liked —she said while staring at the garment.
Said hat belonged to Agent and Researcher Mike Patterson, one of the first staff members she treated like a student. Luisa always had the desire to teach some kind of teaching, although she gave lectures annually, she really enjoyed teaching more deeply and in a personal way. The first opportunity she had to apply herself to teaching was with him, as they talked about how much she really knew about life and the incredible and seemingly infinite forms of life in a small drop of water and rock called Earth.
—And all the stories you told me about Australia and its anomalies coming up wholesale. That adventurous spirit of yours, always helping you to take a deep, first-hand look at anomalous fauna. The same cause of your not-so-premature death… I would have loved you to see the impact of your research in our area, even your desire to show the world a little about the existence of all this hidden diversity was partially fulfilled… — she sighed. In the end, it was all worth it, right?
For the Foundation it had been worth everything in the world, but not for Luisa. She knew the dangers involved in her latest operation in Australia, as well as the risks of failing. That day, she was so worried about facing a life-altering threat as it is known and the best she could do was head to the Coalition to deploy one of their designed weapons. Deep down she wanted to believe that the Foundation would manage to contain the anomaly. It must be that way or… It didn't matter either, her decisions were the right ones until then and Patterson would have agreed with her decision, they both shared the same dream somehow, protection and understanding of every living being.
She put the last photograph of her in the center of the cabinet, along with some chocolate bars and copies of her research papers.
Luisa saw that there were still many more boxes, but at this rate, she was going to spend the whole day reliving memories, so she decided to finish the offering by putting several bioluminescent plants as candles. She remembered that she could dedicate the following year another offering to her other companions. After all, she had an eternity for it.
