II
It wasn't until two weeks later that Eames was escorted to the same place, on some random afternoon. Cobb had finally called him after successfully dodging his calls for days, letting him know that Saito's car would be at a certain place at some designated time. The forger made sure to be prompt. There was a childlike giddiness inside him, though it wasn't entirely because he knew he would be getting another taste of the dream world; he knew he would also be seeing the point man again, for Eames had found the man's stoical nature rather fascinating.
As promised, the vehicle arrived at the expected hour, and Eames slipped inside. Once again, he was seated, facing the refined looking Japanese man in the car. Saito hit the glass behind him once Eames had settled, and they began their ride.
Eames was the first to break the silence. "So, if I may ask, what role do you play in this project exactly?"
Saito gave the forger a small smirk. "The funding of course, isn't that obvious? Every project needs its funding."
"Yes, quite right, that," Eames nodded in agreement. He then briefly rubbed at the bottom of his nose with his index finger, looking to the side one moment and then back at the Japanese man. "But I suppose what I'm more curious about is what's in it for you? You seem to have no problem funding a project you play no other active role in."
The older man chuckled and opened a built in cooler to pull out a wine bottle and opened another compartment, pulling out two glasses. He handed one to Eames.
"Would you like a glass?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you," Eames said, accepting the glass.
Saito poured them each a little and then took a sip out of his glass before speaking.
"You are a quite inquisitive young man, I like you," he said. "I like a man who appreciates details, just so long as they do not dig in matters too far outside their concern."
Saito's eyes seemed to flicker something of a mild warning and Eames took a sip out of his glass, eyes never leaving Saito's.
"But rest assured," Saito continued. "I do not invest in meaningless projects. I may not play an active role, but there are benefits to being the only man in the world to own this technology."
The forger took another sip of wine to suppress a scoff. It seemed much more likely that Cobb was only milking the money from this businessman for work on the PASIV and that he was the one completely in control, as he could easily walk away with his tech and receive additional funding elsewhere. After all, even Saito recognized the benefits of having ownership with the technology; any other person could easily come to the same conclusion.
They were now entering the start of the countryside. Eames looked out the window as the car left the main road and began to take the first of its series of back roads. The forger's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed every detail, as if he would be able to memorize how to get back here on his own one day. A question from his escort broke into his thoughts, breaking his concentration, either by coincidence or with intent.
"I trust you found everything to be satisfactory?"
"Hm?" Eames broke his eyes away from the window. "Oh. Yes. Yes, of course."
"Good," Saito said with a nod. "And you work well with the team?"
The forger raised his eyebrow slightly, as if wondering how well-informed this man was about the project. He opened his mouth to tell the truth that he was only really working in the dream world with one other man, but he decided against it.
"Yes," he said. "Quite well, in fact."
"Good, very good," said Saito, leaning back in his seat. "That is what I like to hear."
Eames turned and looked back out the window. He had lost his place, but he would probably try again the next time. The rest of the ride remained rather silent until they reached the villa, whereupon arrival the forger was quickly escorted inside. Eames was ushered to the same room he had been in before and was quickly put under before he could fully register what was going on.
The forger was immediately greeted with a flash of bright white. He blinked several times and squinted until the world around him slowly came into focus. It appeared as if he were in the streets of East Sheen, London.
"Hello, Mr. Eames."
Eames looked behind him, in the direction of the voice. His lips curled into a small smile as he recognized who it was.
"Well hello, darling. We meet again."
Today the point man was dressed in a three-piece suit, something that Eames would later recognize as something of a signature clothing choice by the other.
"You may call me Arthur if you'd like," said Arthur. "We'll be working together often, so being on a first name basis is fine."
Eames blinked and then smiled. "Forgive me, darling, speaking this way comes naturally to me, but I shall keep that in mind."
Arthur nodded with a small smile. "I know, I figured. Just putting it out there."
"Of course."
"Now," Arthur said, one hand in his pocket and his other arm outstretched toward some buildings. "We'll be getting around to your forging element a little later, but first I am to train you in navigating dreams."
Eames looked slightly perplexed. "Navigating dreams? You make it sound as if we have some control, darling, but isn't that a logical fallacy? Cobb made it sound like ultimately the dreamer was in control."
The point man smiled. "Yes, that's correct, but to a certain extent. You see, Mr. Eames, while there may be rules in place, we as the intrusive ones are equipped with a few liberties that allow us to bend those rules."
"Such as?"
Arthur tilted his head slightly to one side. "Come, I'll show you."
They walked toward the buildings and Arthur began to explain to Eames the logistics of the dream world, like how they could manipulate certain aspects but not others so that the dreamer does not suspect intruders, how the people inside the dream were not real and were called "projections," and how these projections were like anti-bodies in the dream world that were there to keep people like them out. Arthur also explained other things, like manipulating the terrain—the risks of changing it too much, inserting traps and puzzles, and the problems that come from basing dreaming terrain too close to reality—and how the terrain was created by someone called an architect. While the target subject would shape how the dream and projections run, the architect would lay the initial base with everything the team would need to navigate the dreamscape.
They spent the last minutes of their dream time at a café, where they each had a cup of coffee. Eames toyed with a stirrer in his cup before taking a sip.
"Fascinating," said Eames. "It tastes rather real."
Arthur nodded. "Many things that your senses experience in the dream world will feel quite real to you, and some will even linger after you wake. Unfortunately, unpleasant feelings such as pain will also seem very real, and you'll feel the ghosting of those pains a lot of times even after you return to reality."
"Ah, I see," Eames said, taking another sip of his drink. "That is rather unfortunate. There is no way around it?"
"No, none," Arthur said, shaking his head. "None that we've found, anyway."
The point man looked down at his watch for a moment, then looked back up at Eames.
"Looks as if we're almost out of time for today," he said. "Do you have any questions about what we went over today?"
The forger looked down at his drink and tapped the side of it with his index finger a few times before lifting it up to finish it.
"Yes," he said. "Just one that I can think of for now."
"And that would be?" asked Arthur.
"You mentioned at one point that it isn't safe to replicate whole areas from reality, why is that?"
"Ah, good question," Arthur said with a smile. "It's a precautionary measure for making sure we don't lose touch from reality by keeping what's real separate from what's not."
"I see," Eames nodded. "That's logical."
"There's another method as well, that Dom likes to use," said Arthur.
"Oh?" Eames said, raising an eyebrow. "And that would be?"
Arthur leaned forward slightly. "It's a concept called a totem."
"A totem?"
"Yes. His wife came up with it. It's where you have an object that acts differently in the dream as opposed to reality. So for example, Dom's wife uses a top that of course will topple in reality, but in the dream it supposedly spins endlessly."
"Supposedly?"
"Well of course that's the other thing about totems," Arthur said with a soft chuckle. "You're not supposed to know exact logistics like how much it weighs or like what result the owner of the totem is supposed to see."
"And why is that?" asked Eames.
"Another precautionary measure," said Arthur. "So that no one else can manipulate it, to fool you into thinking you're in reality when you're still dreaming."
"Ah," Eames said, nodding. "So then, do you have a totem as well?"
There was a brief flicker of emotion in the point man's eyes that quickly disappeared; his smile faltered slightly.
"I do and I don't. It's sort of an in-between thing for me," he said.
"Come again, darling?" Eames asked, a look of confusion on his face.
Arthur's expression became somber.
"Mine isn't exactly an object," he said. "It's more of a truth. One that can only change here and not in reality."
"A truth?" Eames asked, still confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand, but you'll have to forgive me, I am rather slow at times."
"It's all right," Arthur said with a small smile.
The forger cocked his head slightly to one side. "Hm...why so sad, love?"
Arthur chuckled softly.
"And we are out of time for today, Mr. Eames," said Arthur. "Next time we'll be going over your forging."
"Wait," Eames said, but it was too late, Arthur had already gone.
Eames woke in the room to find that Arthur had gotten a head start on cleanup and once again was halfway out the door.
The forger pushed himself partway up from his seat and called after the point man. "You really need to stop doing that, pet."
Arthur paused for a moment to look back at Eames with slight confusion in his expression.
"You know," said Eames. "This whole silent and mysterious slipping away first act of yours you've got going on here."
Arthur smiled at him slightly and turned back to the door. Eames sighed.
"Oh, and Arthur."
The point man paused once again, his slightly surprised expression missed by the forger because he was still facing the doorway; Eames hadn't called him by his first name since he had first told him.
"You can drop the formalities next time we meet. Just Eames is fine."
Arthur turned his head slightly back, just enough so that the forger could see the expression on his face which seemed to say "all right, I understand," before leaving the room just as the day when they had first met, quietly, without another word exchanged between them.
Eames got up from the chair and put on his jacket, which Arthur had again left for him on his lap, neatly folded. He walked out of the room and was greeted by Saito's chauffeur, who escorted him back to the entrance of the villa, where the car was waiting for him.
"I trust everything went well today also?" Saito asked as Eames entered the car.
The forger nodded.
"Very good," Saito said, and tapped at the glass behind him to let his chauffeur know it was all right to start driving.
Eames slid his hands into his jacket pockets and looked out the window, slightly distracted. Saito watched him a moment before speaking.
"You have something on your mind," said Saito.
"Hm, sorry? Oh, no," Eames said, chuckling softly and shaking his head. "Nothing deep, anyway. Thinking of taking a trip to the casino after you let me off at my stop is all."
"We could take you there instead, if you would like," said Saito.
"Really?" asked Eames.
"Of course," Saito said, nodding. "Our business is done for the day. We can send you to any destination you choose."
"I wasn't aware of that," said Eames. "So any destination? There is no catch?"
"No catch," Saito said with a smile.
"Oh, well in that case, if I could be let off The Clermont Club in Berkley Square," said Eames. "I would greatly appreciate that."
"Very well," Saito said, lifting up his hand to tap at the glass once again, but stopped mid-action. He leaned slightly forward. "Perhaps I may offer you a business proposition."
The forger raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What would that be?"
"From what I hear, you have a taste for gambling."
"I do," Eames said, nodding. "What of it?"
"Well," Saito said with a smile. "Perhaps today you might be interested in playing a game in one of my company's casinos. We can provide you with a ride home later this evening."
"That sounds all fine and dandy," said Eames. "But again, what's the catch?"
"There is no catch," said Saito. "This is an offer. You play a few games at my casino and go home with what you win, that is all."
"Sounds too good to be true," said Eames. "How do you benefit?"
Saito chuckled.
"I want you to show me your forging skills at the tables," he said. "Show me you can fool my security. They will not be informed of your arrival."
"Ah, I think I understand what you are saying," said Eames. "You shouldn't be so roundabout in your explanations, chap. All right, and if I cannot?"
"Then my security will be informed before they deal with you according to our casino rules," said Saito. "You will just be sent home empty handed."
"Ah...well, forgive me for being a tad curious, but what happens to those you normally apprehend for cheating?" asked Eames.
"That is something you do not have to know," Saito said with a small smirk. "You will not have to worry about it as long as you work for Mr. Cobb. This way, I can assess your skill for myself and also learn if there is anything that needs to be improved in my business. So, do we have ourselves a deal?"
"Well I suppose, why not," Eames said with slight hesitance. "There seems to be no fatal risks to your proposal."
"Excellent," Saito said, leaning back and tapping at the glass.
The window separating them from the driver lowered a crack and Saito conversed briefly to his chauffeur in Japanese. After the window rolled back up, Saito opened one of the compartments and took out a bottle of champagne.
"Drink?" asked Saito. "Getting to the casino will take some time."
"No thank you, I'm quite all right," said Eames.
The forger looked back out the window and took his hands out of his pockets. He placed an elbow on the window beside him and rested his lips against his hand. His other hand had come out of his pocket, producing a poker chip and he twirled it in his fingers absently. After a couple of minutes he looked down at the hand holding the chip and watched himself guide the chip back and forth through his fingers. His lips curled into a small smile as an idea slowly struck him.
"It's a concept called a totem."
A/N: Just two notes for this chapter. I mentioned East Sheen, London in particular because according to Wiki, Tom Hardy was born in Hammersmith and raised in East Sheen. Also, in the part where Arthur just goes over the "logistics of the dream world," I decided not to go into too much detail because I figured most people have watched the film, and therefore I decided to just briefly describe instead of insert a ton of dialogue. I didn't want to bore anyone to death, nor did I want to make this chapter longer than it had to be.