Ch 3, reg 9: The Council

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Chapter 3 - The Executive

Regulation 9: The Council

The Council, as an administrative mechanism to facilitate the decision-making process of the legislature, must have unity and solidarity as represented by one harmonious policy. The advice tendered by the Council to the Senate must be unanimous; such that the Council will stand or fall as one.

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Gemma rapped her knuckles against the door. Dull thuds reverberated against its steel frame.

"Bea, you in there?" She yelled. The exertion sent a rocket of pain through her head. She rubbed her temples, trying to massage out the migraine that had compounded itself over her four hours of sleep into a quaking sensation. She brought out her phone to try calling again, for the twelfth time that weekend.

Faintly, at the very edge of her hearing, she could hear the sound of vibrating from within the apartment. The phone rang out, and the sound of Beatrice’s answering machine began.

“You’ve reached me, but I don’t want to answer your call so feel free to message me.” Her sister’s voice said.

"I can hear your phone in there, Bea." Gemma called out, trying to keep the tone of annoyance from her voice. She had silently seethed on the train journey; her one day off this month already derailed by 7:30am. She kneeled by the letter flap, pushing the metal in past the crammed junk mail to call into the room.

"I said I can hear your-". She recoiled from the door, holding the thick-knit sleeve of her jumper against her nose.

“Jesus, what is that..." Holding her nose, she peered through the slot again. The smell pervaded even through the tight grip upon her nostrils; the sour, rancid stench of a fermenting disaster.

"Bea!" She called out again. There was no response. She released her nose, screwing it up against the stench as she ran her fingers against the internal side of the letter flap. There, she felt the cold shape of her sister's key taped to the inside of the door. She had warned her against placing it there before but, perhaps for the first time in her life, she thanked her sister for not listening to her advice. She peeled it off and delicately thread it back out of the slot, before quickly unlocking and pulling open the door. The smell assaulted her in its full force, and she had to step away for a moment to keep down the contents of her hastily scoffed convenience store-bought breakfast. She pulled her jumper over her nose, and braved the entrance once more. Gemma pulled off her shoes, dropping them by the door as she stepped into the room.

"Bea, I'm coming in!" She called as she stepped through the corridor into the main living space, her eyes watering and an acrid taste developing in the back of her throat. The dining room was empty. The flowers upon the dining table - that Gemma had sent her for her birthday - were dead, a white-sporous mold beginning to bloom into a bulbous protrusion from its blackened stems. Dirty spoons left dark stains upon the melamine bench in the kitchen. A pile of unwashed dishes lay within the deep basin, where small flies buzzed around the stagnant water. Gemma stood before the door to her sister’s bedroom. Despite every part of her hoping against it, she already knew what she would find. She didn't bother calling out again as she pushed open the door.

Gemma opened her eyes. She wanted to scream. She let out a sigh instead.

“Good morning.” A soft voice came from behind her.

She turned in her bedding to see the woman in the long gown, her platinum-blonde hair twisted into an intricate bird's nest atop her head. The woman pulled her sleeves up, which were fascinatingly tinted with an array of bright colours, and she poured a thick concoction from a ceramic jug into a cup on the table.

Gemma struggled against the weight of the blankets as she tried to sit up. Her body felt like it was reaching through sand, oddly delayed in responding to her. The woman came around to assist her.

“Are your dreams usually that vivid? Or just that one?” She asked as she placed the pillows behind her.

Gemma nodded as both a way of thanks and acknowledgement. She let out a croak from her throat, and the woman gestured to the cup. She took a sip of it. It tasted of horror and sin. Gemma recoiled as it slurped down her throat, gagging and coughing for several seconds afterwards.

“Jesus, that is appalling.” She eventually found the strength to say.

The woman laughed.

“Yes, that is indeed the point. And medicine typically works best that way.” She spoke with a lilting voice, and an odd accent that slurred her words quickly together.

The pain in Gemma’s throat subsided with the foul taste.

“Who are you?” Gemma asked.

“My name is Marie. It is a pleasure, Ms Beck.” She bowed.

Gemma returned the gesture, though even that minor movement felt unnatural and sluggish.

“What happened to me?” She asked.

Marie blew air into her cheeks as she pondered over how to express it, momentarily adopting the appearance of a chipmunk.

“Well, it’s a bit difficult to explain in terms that will make sense to you at this stage. Simply put, you were exhausted.”

Gemma cocked her head. “Exhausted?”

“Yes, I had a feeling that wouldn’t be sufficient.” Marie sighed. “What you are experiencing is known as soul atrophy.”

Gemma half-nodded to indicate that she understood the words in part, though not their meaning in conjunction with each other.

“Each person has a different amount of time that their soul can remain in the domains of the Other Side.”

“Before they are returned to reality?” She asked.

“Before their souls are returned to the Void, from whence they came.”

“As in death?” Gemma asked.

“We prefer the term ‘voidance’. Death is difficult to define for beings with a loose definition of living matter.”

“I’m not sure I understand how a soul can die.” As she said it, she felt a tearing at her consciousness for a moment, pulling her beyond her focus, and her sentence trailed off. Marie looked at her, examining her pupils with cautious care as she returned from her sojourn.

“What do you think a soul is?” Marie asked.

Gemma thought about the question for a moment.

“The inherent core of a being.” She answered, feeling somewhat stupid.

“A little abstract, though it will suit our purpose. A soul comes from the Void, and is always called to the Void, for reasons that even we do not truly understand. So, a vessel is required to capture the soul’s presence and utilise its powers of creation before it returns to the Void. How would you go about holding a soul?”

“How would you hold a soul?” Gemma repeated the question, further feeling foolish. “In a body?”

“Indeed, that is certainly a popular way of containing them. There are others, of course, including this domain itself. They are all but temporary vessels for a soul.” Marie raised a finger on that point, and in that moment betrayed what Gemma presumed to be her past as a Victorian governess, tutoring young children.

“The key word here, of course, is temporary, as a vessel for a soul is never perfect. Vessels leak. All beings experience this. For the living, this atrophy, being the process in which the soul gradually escapes from its vessel, is known as dying.”

Gemma felt another migraine coming along listening to the explanation.

“So, you're saying that my soul is leaking from the Other Side into the Void?”

Marie clapped her hands together, beaming.

“Exactly, you are a gifted student.”

“And how long do I have before my soul completely leaks out?”

Marie shrugged, then realised she could have done so more considerately, and shrugged once more apologetically.

“It varies greatly from soul to soul. Though, the spells of fading consciousness may indicate you have less time than most.”

Gemma was silent.

“I understand.” She eventually said.

“Well,” Marie stood and stepped to the door, “it is a relief nevertheless to see that you are awake. I believe the others are gathered in the dining hall. Come and join us when you have the strength.” With that, she left.

Gemma sat there for a time, contemplating the reality that was settling before her. She reworked the schedule in her mind and her plans, realising that she had less time than previously thought. Despite bristling at the idea of departing from her found realm so soon, she needed to find a way to return to her life. She found her movements odd, with a feeling of something missing within their motion, like moving an arm after it had been holding weights. It took time but she was eventually able to coordinate herself to stand up, wash her face, brush her hair, and head down to breakfast.

As Gemma entered the room, she saw that four of the six seats had an occupant. She spotted the now-familiar faces of Marie and Eve, and the burly figure of Bolton sat with his back to the door again. Madame S sat at the furthest table. She watched as Gemma entered.

“We are pleased to see you up.” She said. Her voice was a rasp. Her appearance was in the process of recession from the form that Gemma had seen yesterday, sharp horns and angular bones returning to their soft curves.

She beckoned Gemma to sit at the table by her right side. Madame S watched as Gemma stepped carefully through the room, holding herself up through a force of will, and made a belaboured effort to sit at the table. Gemma looked at the spread before her. It was a plain, hardy meal of stewed oats and bread.

“Now, we wait only for one.” Madame S said. The room picked at their meals. Gemma and Madame S were the two who ate with relish, scoffing each bite down as if they had not eaten in days. There was a clattering sound that quietly echoed from down the corridor. Each of them watched the door as the sound slowly increased in regularity and volume. The receptionist stepped into the room, loping in an awkward step as he held a carved crutch beneath his left arm, feeling his way into the space carefully on account of the thick gauze and bandaging wrapped about the left side of their skull. There was silence as each of the occupants of the room stared at them. Then, Higi spoke.

“Not sure what the silence is all about. I’m only blind, not deaf.”

Gemma let out a taut laugh from within her, not being able to explain even to herself why she felt such relief that Higi was able to give a smile to the room. Midari fooled nobody with his attempt to join in his positivity, and it was clear from the bags under his eyes the exhaustion that the process had on him. Madame S stood and went to them, holding their arm between her sharpened nails as they moved carefully to the empty seat by Madame S's other side. She gave them a warm smile which Midari whispered to Higi and he returned with a beaming grin.

“Well, now that we are all present, we must discuss what is to come.”

“It isn't over?” Bolton grumbled.

“No.” Eve said.

“We are not out of danger yet.” Midari agreed.

“Indeed, we are not.” Madame S said. “Now that He has made His intention clear, He will strike again, through whatever means He sees fit.”

“He will come more prepared next time, and will not allow for such loopholes.” Higi added.

“Why didn't He prepare for them in the first place?” Eve asked.

“They were convinced nobody would pay attention. They were convinced nobody would object.” Higi said.

“And they would have been right.” Madame S spoke. “If you had not been there.” She looked at Gemma. “We are grateful for your objection at that crucial juncture.”

Gemma shook her head.

“I didn't do anything special.”

“But you did.” Higi said. “The laws and regulations of the domains are not an easy construction to comprehend, yet you did.”

“It is commendable indeed.” Marie added.

There was a chime that sounded from a distance. Gemma startled, turning to look out the window towards the station.

“Easy, Ms Beck. It is merely the mail.” Madame S smiled. “Though that, in of itself, is also a rarity.” They watched the door once more. A skeleton, dressed in a loose cloth toga, jogged through in an even stride. Their bones clattered against each other, echoing about the chamber as they approached at great speed and halted suddenly in front of Madame S. They pulled a case from their satchel and placed it atop a platter, from which they offered it to her. She took it into her hands, and pressed her finger against the depression in its centre.

A sound boomed throughout the space, the sound of a voice that spoke as if time stood still; such was the grandeur of its timbre and tenor.

“Dear Madame, noble Senator of the Sixth Domain. Under the power of regulation 10, you are summoned to appear before the High Cabinet to accept your appointment to a Ministry upon the Council, and to serve your divine duty or else suffer the consequences.”

The voice ceased. Madame S placed it back upon the platter which the skeleton wrapped up once more in its satchel. There was a murmur about the room.

“Shall we make preparations?” Higi asked, and Madame S nodded, before catching herself and making a verbal note of affirmation for his benefit. He stood, and the others also began to move back into the hallway, discussing amongst themselves various preparatory procedures.

“What’s happening?” Gemma asked, feeling incredibly lost.

“We’re going to the Last Domain,” Madame S turned to face Gemma, “and we will need your help.”