City

23rd June 1919

It is a miracle, my dear. I am writing to you having just got out of treatment for the illness that has plagued my breathing since I was a child.

Marides was most kind and good to his word. He took me to a local clinic, though I tell you, Margie, it was nothing like I'd seen before. Numbers drifting ethereally in the air, reading out the patient's vital signs and mood. All manner of those tiny little robotic things catering to each patient's every need. They cook, they clean, they change beds. It's really quite marvellous.

I was led into a special chamber. Marides had said that, on initial inspection, my lungs were in terrible shape. An image of them was projected onto the wall and I almost vomited.

They were like Swiss cheese, my darling. I knew that the war had roughed them up somewhat, but the gaping holes looked like they were being held together by string, a broken, fleshy string.

The room I was taken to had nothing in it except a person-sized pod. This one was not gold, but was simply made of cold plain metal. You could tell that this pod was meant for something serious because it lacked the garish ostentatiousness of the city outside the hospital. Marides, seeing my trepidation, placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Do not panic, Rupert. You have seen how much we pride ourselves on a structured and orderly existence. This extends to our medicine. You can be sure that, on my honour, the experience shall be painless and you shall feel better than you have ever felt in your life. I would stake my life on it.”

“But you're not actually going to do that, are you?”

“My trust in the medical care of this city is such that I almost might, but you are correct in assuming that I said it only in jest. It is good to know that the people on the surface have a sense of humour.”

The pod opened with a sharp hissing noise. Cold steam emerged from it and rushed past my nose. A small icicle appeared on the end of it. I grew nervous. With Marides watching I could not turn around. I stepped inside the machine, laid down flat and squeezed my eyes shut as it closed.

Despite the otherworldly and brutalist appearance of the device. Its activation only provided me with a warm glow that put me at ease. I expected that at any moment a long needle would stab me or someone would try to feed me a foul tasting “miracle remedy,” but it simply gave me a detailed breakdown of my health in language I could easily understand.

Do you know that smoking is actually bad for you, Margie? Shocking.

Also, I had syphilis, my apologies.

I must remember to talk to someone before I leave about importing some of this technology. The war has devastated us, and technologies such as this could not only reverse the damage done by the Germans and their rabid desire for conquest, but could improve our lives beyond measure. I do not want to overstep my boundaries for now though, so I will not.

Either way, the whole thing was quite marvellous. During my treatment, I tried to think about all the ways that medicine such as this could help people back home. We are in a state of recovery, you know that, but it hurts so much to see children without fathers and dying from diseases that could be prevented by those in power. Waterborne diseases? We are the most advanced nation in the world, or so they claim; how could this possibly be happening? I despair! God have mercy.

After my magical checkup had been completed, Marides informed me that the social event we were going to attend was a party for the prince himself! And what a party it was, I was naturally out of my depth. I did not understand most of the politics that was being spoken of, but I did my best to inform the people present of the virtues of Britain. While I get the impression that they were interested, conversation kept coming back to my physical characteristics.

I can understand that they are a martial society, but I saw or heard no mention of them talking about such things amongst each other. It was the same things again: my height, my weight, how much exercise I engaged in, and my diet. They seem to take a significant amount of glee in the fact that I was portly. Something, they said, or someone was going to be very pleased with that.

Darling, I’m beginning to think this is a city of sodomites.

I suppose it would be rude for me to jump up and randomly declare the benefits to one's soul of finding a relationship with our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, but it is making me uncomfortable. I know that if you were here, you would be telling me we need to respect other cultures and that there's beauty in the world being so big, but when you're the subject of unexplainably lustful gazes, then it's a little disconcerting. I'm sure you would say the same thing if you were here, Margie, as tolerant as you are.

My inability to comprehend most of the discussions going on and bodily examinations aside, I must say that the party at the palace was quite spectacular! It is just as I imagined as a boy, myself at the centre of a French salon discussing politics and philosophy. At least it would've felt that way if there weren't gaggles of children running around.

They were dressed in smaller fashions similar to the adults. A toga, a pair of sandals, and some kind of headdress. Laurel wreaths were the most popular, followed by masks of the Gods. Yet, every so often, I would see them.

Those red eyes.

Not physically, not like in my dream, but on the masks of these children, bright red rubies replacing the eyes that terrified me so. I watched the children play a game. Those who were dressed in the masks of the Gods would do battle with the red-eyed children. I could not understand what was being said, but after a while the God children would take the red masks and place them in a box, only for the entrapped child to come out giggling a few seconds later.

Something about it unsettled me.

I resolved to locate Marides, but the manor was ridiculously large. It should have been easy enough to navigate given that a royal red carpet acted as a guidepost. You just had to follow it and, apparently, at the entrance to every room was a marking to indicate your location.

I still cannot read Atlantean.

Still, I cannot pretend that being able to look around such a splendid building wasn't fun. In every room I poked my head in there was something different to look at. A woman was having her makeup applied by a machine of cogs and gears. In another, a young boy was practising an instrument that both played a song and displayed an image in some kind of mechanical smoke. He was quite good, it was an image of an animal jumping over a fence in the way that we count sheep. I clapped at the end of his performance, but he did not hear me. He looked sad and I don't know why, but it made me sad too.

Good golly, my dear. I'm almost becoming as sentimental as you. No wonder Marides thinks me queer. Quite honestly, I'm beginning to think that of myself.

Thankfully, I was brought back on the right path, though I must say it was quite aggressive. I had reached the end of a hallway. I knew I'd gone somewhere I shouldn't have because the marble walls gave way to glass and within that glass I could see the sea.

The realisation that I was under the water also came with a song. A Siren song that was calling to me. It wasn't saying anything, it sang:

You’ve found your way into the deep

Now pray the Lord your soul to keep

All sins we know, all lies we see

Beneath the gaze of Rigari.

It was then I knew, though I don’t know how, that Rigari was death. The red death.

“Rupert? Thank the Gods! I’ve been looking for you.” Marides had managed to catch up with me, a look of concern all over this face, but it dissipated somewhat when he noticed where we both stood. “How much did you see?” He eyed me warily.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. You can rest assured that I didn’t go anywhere I’m not supposed to. Well, not intentionally, anyway. Your written language is beautiful to look at, but my brain would not know where to begin in an attempt to parse it.”

He visibly relaxed. “This area is off limits to all but the highest levels of government. I know you did not mean to go here, you are forgiven. I actually wanted to find you to give you a gift.”

“A gift?”

“Yes. Consider it an apology for me being absent at this party. I should've been there to guide you around. I understand the language is confusing, let alone the topics being discussed. I apologise for my absence but there were important matters of state to talk about.”

“Think nothing of it. I understand that a man of great importance such as yourself would have little time for me if duty called. I take no offence, you can be sure of that.”

Marides gave me a small silver orb. It had no defining characteristics beyond that. At first I thought it was a marble, but he told me to put it behind my ear, so I did.

The orb dissolved into my skin on contact. There was no pain, but I noticed when it had finished my hearing became slightly sharper. It was as if I could hear the world again after spending years underwater which, coincidentally, was exactly what was happening.

“Can you understand what I am saying?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Oh good, it worked. Come with me please.”

As we made our way back towards the reception room, I could not hide my excitement. I could understand it, I could understand what they were saying. All of the gobbled speech and the harsh throat noises were replaced with elegant, almost musical speech. I exhaled sharply at the giddiness of it. Marides just looked at me and smiled.

“Well, in fairness, I am still busy and I cannot accompany you still. At least this way you will be able to attempt to make something of yourself while you are here. I know you will be able to make a good impression, and if you are lucky, you may be able to be of service to Atlantis. I know how much you want that.

“I do, thank you,” I said desperately trying to hide my childish excitement. He simply smiled and walked away again.

Finally, Margie; finally I have an opportunity to discover this magnificent place, to understand it, to be of use. I could not be happier to now be able to contribute to the life of this city that has found me. I shall write to you again, sweetheart.

Until next time.