Sunday, October 18, 1868. Afternoon.
Phillips Harbour.
After the doctor and his assistant make their exit, Herbert leaves Caliban to rest and recuperate in peace. The Englishman spends a little time puttering with his devices in the boathouse. At length, he fetches his hat and overcoat and sets out for Mrs. Stephenson's farm.
As he approaches the farmstead, he notes a wagon full of people -- three or four adults and several children -- clip-clopping away. The family waves to him as he continues on to the house. Mrs. Stephenson and Miss Pau are sitting on the porch, sipping apple cider. "Good afternoon, Mr. Shaft," Mrs. Stephenson calls out in greeting. "How are you today? Is your ... er ... pet doing all right?"
"Caliban is getting excellent care from Dr. Greene and his nurse," Shaft says, doffing his hat to the ladies. "He has lost a bit of blood though, so I was wondering if, perhaps, you might have any recently slaughtered livestock I could purchase, as source of fresh meat to help him recover?" he asks.
Mrs. Stephenson exchanges a glance with Miss Pau. "Why, no, sir, I'm afraid not. I could spare a few chickens if you like, however," the redhead says, thoughtfully. "I think Mr. Granger has a dairy cow he was fixing to slaughter, doesn't think she'll live the winter. Meat on her would be stringy, but should be fine for an animal, I expect. Anyways, you could ask him."
"Chickens might be best then," Herbert says. "It is important to have all the.. uh.. 'victuals' as well. You haven't been having any problems with wild animals of late, have you, Mrs. Stephenson?"
"No, thank Heavens, I've not. I was right sorry to hear about your troubles, Mr. Shaft. I hope you won't think ill of the town on account of all these strange doings. Truly, Phillips Harbour is a pleasant proper little town," Mrs. Stephenson assures him. She gets to her feet. "Would you like those chickens live or slaughtered, sir? I can get them for you now."
"Live would be best," Herbert notes. "They'll stay fresher that way."
"That they will, Mr. Shaft." Mrs. Stephenson sets her cider mug down and starts around the house. Miss Pau rises, offering to help, but Mrs. Stephenson waves her off. "Enjoy the rest, Miss Pau, I won't be a moment."
Once the farmer has departed, Shaft smiles to Miss Pau and says, "Ah, good day Miss Pau. I hope you are doing well?"
"I am, Mr. Shaft. I am glad Caliban is recovering," she says. "I didn't know monkeys ate so much meat."
"Oh, Cal has an impressive stomach," Herbert says, worrying the brim of his hat. "This is a bit awkward, Miss Pau, but might I ask you a somewhat personal question?" he asks.
Miss Pau tilts her head. "You may ask, sir. Please, have a seat." She gestures to one of the empty chairs. "You do not need to stand."
Herbert takes a seat, placing his hat in his lap. "Well, you see.. uh," he begins. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me what side you're on?"
The Chinese woman half-smiles, a little sadly. "It is poor form to ask that, is it not?" she says, quietly. She turns her head away, looking at the empty fields to one side of the house.
"Yes, that is why it was awkward," Herbert says apologetically. "It is only that Father Hale's reading of you seemed.. unlikely. It brings up the possibility of someone being able to tamper with such divinations."
That startles her enough to glance back at him. "Father Hale did a reading on me? What did he find?"
"He seemed certain that you were an Opener," Shaft says.
"Ah." She sounds a little sad. "And you are, of course, a Closer."
"Sorry, I thought it was obvious," Herbert says, then sighs. "I suppose this is why you weren't too worried about St. John?"
She nods silently.
"Oh well, I shant let it cloud things," Herbert declares. "Until All Hallow's Eve, I see no reason why we should not remain cordial to one another. Caliban likes you, and he is an excellent judge of character."
"He is a good chimpanzee," she agrees, with a kind of forced cheerfulness. Then she turns to look at Shaft. "Have you considered ... would you consider ... not Closing?"
"I like the path that humanity is making for itself, on the whole," Herbert says, looking off towards the sea. "To throw fate to an unknown force.. nay, Miss Pau, I prefer to see humans make their own mistakes and advancements on their own."
"Is that how you see it?" Miss Pau asks. "That it is about the advancement and mistakes of men?"
"Well, it's more about free will," Shaft says. "I do not know what lies on the other side of the gateway, or what it will mean to the world if it is opened. But I'm sure it will change things, possibly for the worse."
She shakes her head. "Things will change anyway, whether the Opening comes this time or no. Do you know how long the Game has been Played, Mr. Shaft?"
"No, I do not," Shaft admits. "Why do you think this time will be special, though?"
"It is not a matter of this time being special. It is, but all of them have been special in their way. It is .... " She takes a deep breath. "Mr. Shaft, my philosophy regards balance as an important concept. Perhaps the most important concept. Night balances day. Male balances female. It is not that one side is 'good' and the other 'evil'. They complement one another. Without balance, the world tilts towards extremes. Whatever side dominates may have the semblance of 'gaining', but the whole is lessened by the loss of the complementary half."
"Are you saying the way has been Opened before, and this balances the world?" Shaft asks.
"I believe it was, many millenia ago. There is another world, the complement of ours. And the way to it has been Closed, in Game after Game after Game, for tens of thousands of years. Do you see the imbalance here, Mr. Shaft? We are locking out our other half, the yin to our yang. Over and over and over again. How many times do you think that can continue?" Miss Pau asks, softly.
"But how can you be certain that is the case?" Shaft asks.
Miss Pau smiles for a moment. "Certain that it has been held Closed for millenia? I did not think that was a matter of contention." She exhales in a sigh. "Certain that is was opened once? I cannot be sure. But even if it never has .... I cannot believe that this is right, to keep out this other world for all eternity because we fear what it might hold. This Portal attempts to open for a reason. It is wrong for one side of this Game always to triumph. And if there is a reckoning to come when it Opens, that reckoning can only be worsened by continual postponements."
"I wish I could feel your certainty," Herbert admits. "I can only act on the one certainty I have - that the world will go on if the portal remains Closed. I am not up to the challenge of choosing to risk everything on an unknown."
"How can you be certain it will go on?" Miss Pau counters. "The world changes every day ... and perhaps that is mostly to the good. But our gains blind us to what we have lost. Your London was not always wreathed in that choking fog that hangs over it."
"I know, Miss Pau," Herbert says. "But it is at least a bit.. predictable. Perhaps the other side is the Garden of Eden itself.. but we were locked out for a reason. Have you considered that the world is not yet ready for what lies beyond? That perhaps we haven't earned it yet?"
"It is not a matter of earned or desrved, of want or desire. It is not about good or evil, or whether fearful demons or heavenly angels lie beyond. It is need. The very existance of the portal shows this need: the need of these two worlds for union." Miss Pau shakes her head. "I do not deceive myself that it will be wondrous. It is hard to imagine that the world St. John seeks to touch will be a Paradise to you or I. But it is ... necessary. I wish I could make you understand that."
"I do not expect anyone to change their view easily," Herbert admits. "We all go through a lot of effort to get to this point, after all. Perhaps when we locate the point of the event.. perhaps there might be a clue there to tell us more about the nature of this thing."
"Perhaps." The Chinese woman turns back to him, offering a genuine smile this time. "And if not, well, there is a balance in you and I, too. A balance in the struggle. I wish you well, Mr. Shaft. Even if we do not agree on this thing." She offers her hand.
Herbert takes the slender hand, and seems unsure whether to shake or to kiss it. He decides on a handshake, a sign between equals. "If you find yourself in need of assistance.. that is, if you find yourself under threat.. do not hesitate to call on me for aid," he offers.
Her smile turns to a grin. "And I will do what I can to aid you, sir, should the converse arise."
As they shake on it, Mrs. Stephenson appears around the corner of the house, carrying a rickety cage of wood and wire. Three chickens cluck at its bottom. "Sorry I took so long, Mr. Shaft, had some trouble finding an old cage for you."
"Ah, thank you for that small kindness, Mrs. Stephenson," Herbert says, standing up. "How much do I owe you for the birds?"
Mrs. Stephenson names a modest price and gladly accepts the payment. "If you could bring the cage back when you're done with them, I'd be much obliged. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"
"You've been most generous, Mrs. Stephenson," Herbert says, tipping his hat. "I might only ask that you pray for Caliban's swift recovery, if you would."