The Curse of Discipline

Nicholas Auberstein stood at attention next to Conrad's body, utterly at war with himself and everything that he can been conditioned for.

Taking action was all that he knew. The action didn't need to be anything particularly extravagant, but it needed to take place one way or the other. Brewing tea. Chauffeuring the young master. Providing advice for daily living. As long as he was DOING something, something that involved supporting Conrad somehow, he was aligned with what he knew.

His current predicament had put him into his own personal hell. Absolutely nothing but another act of a god could solve this. As Nicholas thought that to himself, though, he had to give himself pause. He did not feel that this situation was something that should necessarily be perceived as a problem to solve. Conrad had chosen this, of his own volition, and the most respectful thing Nicholas could do at this point was to have faith in him.

Nicholas had already scoured all promising sources of information in regards to Nana. The most prominent and most fringe websites that dealt with the study of the occult, and everything in between he could find. Accounts online from people who claimed to have met gods, whom Nicholas had to entirely question the mental health of. Old dusty books cataloguing ancient gods and goddesses of different religions, checked out from the very same library where he and Conrad had met Nana. In the midst of pure desperation, he had even considered consulting a spirit medium. After some research, however, he discovered they did not generally make claims of speaking to gods.

Nicholas was at the end of his rope. Torn from his charge, forced to grope around in the dark in an attempt to find clues on what Nana was, left primarily to his own devices. Deacon, Conrad's father, was continuing to ensure that Nicholas was being financially supported. The employment status of Nicholas had never been called into question at any point. In an feeble attempt to keep him from feeling too restless, Deacon had assigned Nicholas the responsibility of preparing Deacon's lunch once a week. A brief respite, Nicholas supposed, likely meant as an opportunity to take a break from focusing on Conrad.

Footsteps. The sound brought Nicholas' focus fully back to the here and now. Dr. Gene Amour, the neurologist in charge of monitoring and tending to Conrad's condition, walked into the room and smiled warmly at Nicholas. Half French, half Vietnamese, Dr. Amour was a tall woman with just a slightly exotic feel to her. Her education on the human brain was something that could only be rivaled by her fashion sense. Her ability to pull off even something as simple as a lab coat with elegance was deeply impressive.

"Nicholas. You're here again."

"I am, Dr. Amour. I don't suppose you're here to do something as silly as trying to dissuade me from watching over the young master?"

"Good gracious, Nicholas. Absolutely not. I haven't forgotten our last conversation. You made it perfectly clear that your intentions, while not searching for information regarding this goddess, was to attend young Conrad."

"And my stance has not changed."

Dr. Amour frowned slightly, glancing over the charts displaying Conrad's brain activity. Nicholas was in the delicate position of a man with nothing but time. She had dabbled a little in psychology, and understood how challenging this situation this must be to him. He was a man that, as far as Gene had known him, had nothing but his structure. And now, here he was, still under the employ of Deacon, but with few outlets through which to fulfill his life's purpose. Which was to serve.

"Nobody thinks less of you, Nicholas."

"Pardon, doctor?"

Gene kept her eyes angled down at her notes as she addressed Nicholas.

"It just occurred to me how restless you must feel. Conrad was your life. But myself, and the other staff members, know how hard you've been trying to makes sense of this situation. The version of events that the others have gotten was somewhat muddled, of course, but the point remains. Thank you for staying on, Nicholas. Nobody cares for that boy quite like you do, that much I am fully aware of."

Nicholas nodded slowly. Yes, the story of events regarding Conrad that had been told to the other staff members of the estate was fairly different. Deacon had gathered everyone together the day after Conrad had went into his coma. He informed them all that his son had suffered a terrible seizure while at the library, and was now comatose. Conrad was to be left in the care of Dr. Amour, who was regularly exercising Conrad's body, out of concerns of muscle atrophy showing signs. The only people with unrestricted access to the office were Dr. Amour, Deacon, and (when delicate operations were not being performed) Nicholas.

"I appreciate it, Dr. Amour. I'd like to know, though, and please tell me the direct truth. What are your thoughts on my report to Mr. Walters? You're a woman of science, and yet I stood before you and informed you that an actual goddess ripped the life energy out of this young man and flew through a portal. I've been meaning to ask you your thoughts on the matter."

Gene hummed. "Well, Nicholas, that's an excellent question. Yes, my immediate instincts upon hearing this story were to dismiss your words. But there's a catch here. The one who told me this story wasn't some raving maniac." She turned and stared at him. "It was you."

Nicholas simply held his tongue, feeling a strange mix of skepticism and gratitude.

"Coming from your mouth, even a tale about a goddess stealing someone's soul begins to feel plausible. You're the most honest, hard-working man I have ever met in my entire life. And in almost every single conceivable situation, that would be a blessing. But now that you can't work, I worry for you."

A knock at the door. Gene and Nicholas glanced over. Deacon Walters entered, his eyes scanning the room.

"Dr. Amour. Nicholas. Good day."

"Good day, sir," the two spoke in unison.

"I have a brief window of time open to me, Nicholas. Come with me and prepare some tea."

"Right away."

Nicholas followed Deacon out, nodding politely at Gene as he passed.

"I'd ask if anything new has been noticed with my son's body, considering how often you're next to it. But Dr. Amour would notify me within a minute if anything did."

"That she would, sir. Are you objecting to me remaining at the side of Conrad, by any chance?"

Deacon glanced at Nicholas, raising an eyebrow. "Your irritability is showing, Mr. Auberstein."

Nicholas was quiet a moment. "Apologies, sir."

"If you must know, my primary concern is of you distracting Dr. Amour. She's already got the most unusual case of her life on her hands. I wish for her to have a little more time to work unobstructed."

Nicholas mentally questioned the sense of such a decision when there were no new developments about Conrad to study. But outwardly, he simply nodded.

"Understood, sir."

The two arrived at the lounge, and Nicholas set himself to work preparing tea.

"Do you ever find yourself wondering what sort of trials he's currently experiencing, Nicholas?"

Nicholas paused. "As a matter of fact, I have, sir. I have thought it over several times. With his guide in the next world being a goddess, there is hypothetically no limit to the range of experiences he could be going through."

Deacon nodded, looking over something on his phone. "True. Since we have no concrete information about this Nana character herself, our only option is to remind ourselves of my son's qualities. The demonstrations of capability he has shown."

"Of which he has many."

"He has potential. Any son of mine would. And he will assuredly need to grow into that potential. Both wherever he is now, and here. I will not live eternally, and my employees, and their families by extension, need a capable leader helming this when I'm gone."

"Yes, sir."

It was difficult to fully take issue with Deacon's attitude on some days. The man was cold, focused, mechanical, and utterly lacking in approachability. But Nicholas wondered how much of it stemmed from him needing to be the unflappable leader of a multi-billion dollar company. If nothing else, him being so down-to-earth meant he was fully aware of how many people were counting on him to feed their families.

"And yet, Mr. Walters, I cannot help but fear for him regardless."

"Distract yourself."

It came out before Nicholas could catch himself. "He's barely out of childhood years, sir, and at the mercy of an unknowable goddess. He needs the support of a mother and a fa-"

Deacon slowly looked back, staring daggers straight at Nicholas. He had mentioned the boy's mother.

"Enough. Have faith in his strength, Mr. Auberstein. You can do nothing else."