Hello everyone, happy New Year to all! And with a new year comes a new chapter. I hope everyone enjoys. Please, comment and tell me what you think!
A whole week later and Cyrus still sucked at the violin. He took up Boamos' offer for lessons, but refused to have anyone other than Boamos and occasionally Florica hear. Because of this, they were a distance from camp.
"You're not that bad," Boamos said to Cyrus and slapped his shoulder.
Cyrus yelped in pain. Boamos had hit one of the nodes on his back. It could have been an accident but more likely not. Cyrus glared at Boamos' snickering grin past the violin.
Cyrus glanced longingly at Boamos' own instrument case, which contained the red violin that he had seen him play exclusively. He had inherited the old worn one from the drunk's own cluttered cart. Cyrus wanted the red one.
On the plus side, Cyrus did have plenty of time to practice at night. He didn't like sleeping. He always had nightmares about the man and his fire.
Boamos was nursing a hangover while Florica arranged wild flowers. She intended to sell them in town later that day. A car horn honked from the camp. The three glanced up at the trees.
"Dr. Norton, maybe," Florica said.
"Probably," Boamos sighed, sounding bitter. "Who else brings their own car instead of just taking the train like a normal person?"
Back at camp, a boxy new automobile was parked next to Shelta's tent.
Cyrus stiffened, nervous by the alchemist's approach. He thought he had come to terms with the man's arrival but the knot in his stomach disagreed.
'It's to get rid of the memory and move on with your life.' He reminded himself.
The vehicle engine cut off and the door clicked open.
Roger Norton was wearing a dark brown travel coat. He looked about ten years older than Trovius, teetering around sixty-five. He still had most of his hair, but it was all gray, which somewhat blended with his light olive skin. He wore a rather cold expression that lightened when Trovius emerged from the tent.
"Thank you so much for coming here, my dear friend." Trovius said in a warm tone.
"Of course." Roger's voice was a raspy, aged monotone. "You said it was urgent, and I wanted to help in any way I could."
Roger placed his brief case on the grass and exchanged a hug with his former student and colleague. When they broke apart, he immediately picked the case back up. The motion made Cyrus wonder what was inside that made him so protective.
Roger arched a brow over one of his grayish blue eyes. "Plus, I wanted to see this 'homunculus' which you have found."
Just by his tone, Roger was skeptical. Trovius didn't seem put off by it. Perhaps he was used to the man's clinical air after years of working with him. Roger's doubt did bother Cyrus, and he found himself not trusting him right from the start. He tried to suppress the feeling, since he seemed not to trust anyone at first.
"Of course!" Trovius waved Cyrus closer.
Cyrus swallowed. He thought of looking back to Boamos and Florica for support but decided against it. He didn't want to come off looking weak to the new comer. He strolled over, trying to keep his expression neutral. He noticed upon closer inspection not all Roger's hair was gray. There were still a few blond strands holding out stubbornly.
"Cyrus, this is Dr. Roger Norton," Trovius said.
Cyrus nodded at him, staying cold, sizing up the man.
"Good to meet you Cyrus," Roger offered his hand to shake.
Cyrus exchanged the formality. He tried to decide why everyone had said Roger and Trovius were similar. Going by his first impression, they were nothing alike. Trovius was lively, overly excited and, well, friendly. Roger seemed cold and aloof.
"Shall we get started?" Roger asked Trovius, who happily agreed and led both of them towards Shelta's tent.
Once inside, Roger removed his hat and coat and rested them on his briefcase near the table. Cyrus turned about the tent for Shelta. Where was she? He hoped she would be there. Observe things, keep the alchemists from… Getting carried away. She was probably in town. He wished he were there as well.
"How is your work coming?" Trovius took a seat at the table across from Roger.
A smile found its way onto the older man's face at last. It was the first genuine emotion Cyrus saw from the man. "Excellent. In fact, I have just finished my most recent project. She's a mix between an orange tabby and a red fox. Little Jackie, I call her. She's such a well behaved chimera, though she doesn't like her kennel at night. I've found my parrot and monkey mix Jabby giving her jealous glances whenever I give her more attention." Roger chuckled, "I have arranged for them to be looked after by a friend, but I feel bad for little Jackie. She's not used to being locked up for extended periods of time. So, I have asked my friend to let her out more frequently. The other chimeras will keep her company I'm sure."
Cyrus wondered just how many chimeras the man had made. For that matter, just what went into fusing two different animals into one? He imagined it was unpredictable. It was probably the reason Roger had them locked up in cages at night. His created pets might have ripped him apart in his sleep.
Roger soon focused on Cyrus, giving him a smile that was both friendly and skeptical. "You said this young man was a homunculus? Are you sure he isn't a chimera?"
Cyrus didn't appreciate the condescending tone.
Trovius handed Roger the notes he took while studying Cyrus. The gray haired man went over every word. His smile faded. "I don't doubt your abilities, Trovius… But I'll need to see all these results for myself."
"Cyrus, could you show Roger?" Trovius asked.
Cyrus wrinkled his nose a bit, not keen on being touched by the stranger. He knew Trovius had examined him the night he was created, but he had the luxury of being unconscious then.
Cyrus pulled a scalpel from Trovius' open doctor's bag and cut his own hand. The pain didn't last for long. The red regeneration mended the wound.
Roger looked like he had seen a ghost. He had witnessed a phenomenon he had only read about for forty years. He ran a thumb over the area of Cyrus' hand where the wound had been. Covering his mouth, the alchemist looked into Cyrus' face.
"Good lord." Roger breathed. "You truly are a-" the words seemed to fail him. He managed to pull it together enough to finish the thought. "Homunculus! It is such an honor to meet you, truly. I-I- after nearly forty years, I thought I had been chasing a myth, but-" he scanned over Cyrus in amazement. It was as if he was afraid the boy would vanish right in front of his eyes. "But you're real!" he laughed, giddy. "You have to forgive me—I-it's just you are such a rare-alchemic miracle! I've been searching endlessly."
Roger looked like he would start crying, but he didn't. Instead, he turned to Trovius. "My friend, you were right, he is remarkable! Please, tell me everything!"
The men rambled on and did not notice Shelta enter her tent. "Cyrus, can I borrow you for a moment?" She asked, gently. She either needed him to lift something heavy or was giving him an excuse to leave the tent. Either way Cyrus mentally sighed in relief.
"Not now Shelta!" Trovius insisted before Cyrus could escape. "We still have much to discuss. I am sure this task can wait." The women pursed her lips, seeming offended by his sharp tone. As if to spite him, she took a seat next to Cyrus. She then handed him a folded paper casually, her cold air still focused on Trovius.
"Boamos," She explained. Cyrus took the paper and unfolded it. It was a sketch, another of the drunks many skills. The picture was a realistic depiction of Roger's new car rolling off a cliff. Cyrus did little to hide his snorting laugh.
"Have you searched for Cretan alchemists in this area, Trovius?" Roger asked, to engrossed in their discussion to notice Cyrus and Shelta snickering across the table.
"I've exhausted the town's resources. I couldn't find any foreign alchemists in this town or any others nearby," Trovius explained.
"Well, we can assume they will not be returning." Roger was happy to boot out any competition that could take his and Trovius' discovery away. Cyrus mentally rolled his eyes. "I'll also ask…who else knows of Cyrus?"
"No one other than the gypsies in this camp, and I can assure you they would not spread his existence around. I've explained the danger to them," Trovius assured.
"Excellent. Then we should be fine for now."
"Dr. Roger," Shelta said, finally interrupting the conversation on Cyrus' behalf. "We were hoping you could do something about a memory that has been plaguing Cyrus since his birth."
Trovius slapped his head. "Oh yes, of course! I explained it over the phone. The implanted memory from Cyrus' creator."
Roger looked to Cyrus. "I will see what I can do. Could you tell me everything about these memories son?"
Finally, Cyrus felt hopeful. Even so, he was hesitant to share his fear. He felt shameful describing his weakness. "Fire bothers me. Even candles."
He stopped himself there. Admitting it to a stranger was shameful enough. He did not mention the man who controlled the blaze. He convinced himself it wasn't an important detail. In truth, he didn't want to bring the dark eyed man more into reality.
Roger nodded with a sincere look then turned to his briefcase. "That is troubling, I would have to agree. How about we take care of it right now?"
Cyrus breathed a sigh of relief as the man pulled out a large blank sheet of paper and chalk.
"I still can't understand who would do such a thing," Roger began, while drawing out the alchemic symbols. "To place such a terrible fear into anyone, let alone their own creation. This Cretan alchemist seemed to have put a lot of work into you, Cyrus. The alchemist doesn't deserve you."
'Who is this guy?' Cyrus thought as he studied Roger's aging face. The man's change in personality from academically cold to friendly made it hard to nail down his true character.
Cyrus dropped the thought when Roger set the paper onto the floor. Soon, he'd be rid of the ridiculous shackle on his mind.
Roger rambled on as he prepared. "Implanted memories are actually rather simple to remove. That is, if one knows what they are doing, which I can assure you I do. They are never completely melded to the true memories. The bond does become stronger as time passes. You are a newborn so the bond will break immediately." Roger ordered Cyrus into the middle of the circle he drew. He sat cross-legged in the center, once again feeling nervous. "I promise it won't hurt." Roger added.
Despite his anxiety, Cyrus was excited. He'd be able to be outside with the people of the caravan each night. He'd watch Florica dance and talk to Boamos while sitting only a few feet away from the blazing camp fire.
Roger rested the tips of his fingers on Cyrus' forehead, making him flinch. "Ready?"
Cyrus' answer was confident. "Yes."
Roger's other hand fell onto the circle, and the blue light enveloped him. Just as Roger promised, it wasn't painful. Within a few seconds the light faded, and Cyrus was a bit confused. Were the memories supposed to vanish from his mind in an instant, or would it take time to fade? Possibly the second, because he could still remember it all. Every painstaking detail of those tunnels and the fire that was chasing him.
"Odd…" Roger mumbled, dropping his hands from Cyrus and the circle. "The reaction didn't register the presence of an implanted memory."
"How is that possible? He was just created," Trovius said.
"Well, I have never done the procedure on a homunculus… But the technique should be universal." Roger gave Cyrus a reassuring smile. "I will try again. I'll readjust to get around the flow of his Stone's power."
Roger flipped the paper and re-drew the circle. When he finished, he touched the transmutation circle as he had before. Though unlike before, the alchemic reaction was violent. Sparks of red flared in an explosion of light. Both Cyrus and Roger jumped in surprise.
Shelta ran to Cyrus's side in a panic, checking him over. "Are you alright honey?"
The circle lost its color in an uneven way, as if the energy flow had been torn apart from the burst of power.
"Um, yeah I think so," Cyrus said, looking over his body.
"What happened, Roger?" Trovius asked.
Roger did not respond right away. He stroked his chin and studied the scorched transmutation paper.
"I have no idea." Roger admitted. "I've never had a Stone react in such a way. It was so powerful it canceled out the array…"
Cyrus looked down at his chest. Despite the confusion he was hopeful. He thought he was feeling braver. "Maybe it will fade. Or maybe it made it so I'm not afraid of it anymore?"
"Would you want to test it?" Roger asked.
Cyrus nodded. He wanted to prove to himself that the emotional connection was gone. Shelta and Trovius seemed worried when Roger pulled out a box of matches.
'It's only fire.' Cyrus reminded himself, feeling confident.
Roger struck a match to life, and Cyrus felt the air sucked from his lungs. He was dizzy, as the world seemed to spin. Cyrus fell out of the circle and backed away from the flame as fast as he could.
"Now Burn in Hell!"
Cyrus winced in anticipation. Then Roger blew out the match.
"Well that, as they say, is that," Roger said.
Shelta and Trovius were by Cyrus' side, trying to get his hyperventilating under control. Shelta shushed him gently, rubbing his arms until his trembling faded.
"What does this mean, Roger?" Trovius asked, never looking away from Cyrus.
Roger observed Cyrus, then looked back down at his destroyed circle. "I believe it means Cyrus may be a bit older then what we think. I have a different theory, which could explain the single memory but the lack of any others."
"And that is?" Cyrus asked, indignantly.
"Perhaps the opposite of a memory implant has occurred. Instead, your memories were erased. Often I will have to wipe the memories of a chimera if they are hostile, so they don't recall the fusing process. I find that certain things involved in the procedure, such as tools or sound, can trigger aggression or fear reactions from a memory-wiped Chimera… I like to call the phenomenon an Echoed Memory. This is when the patient in question has had all memories removed, but a traumatic event is strong enough to linger."
So, what Roger was saying was, his creator, or someone, completely erased all but one of his memories? Why would they do that? What had he done to deserve to be almost completely lobotomized? Was it like Roger and his chimeras? Had he become uncontrollable, so they decided to start over and rip his mind apart in the process?
That, of course, still left the alchemist who did this absent. Dropping him off in the woods with no memories before wandering away without him.
Then Cyrus became disturbed. What he saw in his nightmares and waking visions was not an implanted memory. The tunnels were real, and so was the military man… And the fire. It still didn't make sense. How could he have escaped the tunnels? He was cornered. Why was he being chased in the first place? What had he done wrong to deserve something like that?!
If the memory was real… Then that meant the man was still out there, maybe still looking for him. Hunting him down to finish the job.
Cyrus gagged and became lightheaded, overwhelmed by it all. He managed to push the bile and his growing anxiety back down his throat.
"Can the Echoed Memory be removed?" Cyrus blurted. He didn't want to think of that military man and his fire still lurking in the world. He wanted to be rid of it all. He'd rather be ignorant then have to live with it for one day more.
Roger was hesitant to answer. "Possibly. But I'm not sure you would want this."
Cyrus looked at him, wondering what kind of stupid question was that. Of course he wanted to get rid of the memory.
"You can't choose what to erase. You simply get rid of it all. You will lose the recollection of your life here. You would wake up as you did a few weeks ago. We would all be strangers once again and your new name would be gone. This would be unpredictable, since I can't guarantee you would be the same individual you are now." Roger explained.
Cyrus felt cold. It had been such a short period, not even a full two weeks. But so much had happened. He felt as though he had been with the gypsies for years. He had just learned almost everyone's name in camp. He also somewhat got the four strings on the violin.
No more Boamos. No more Florica and the gypsies. No more Shelta or Trovius.
No more Cyrus.
He tried to imagine it all gone.
He went back to that night they found him. No name of his own, surrounded by strangers whom he saw as enemies. He trusted no one then, not even himself. What if he was someone different the second time around? What if he ran away as he intended to on the first night? They would try to tell him what had happened, but Cyrus knew himself. He was stubborn. He wouldn't believe them. If Roger was right and his first life had been ripped from his mind, then he sure as hell didn't want to lose this one.
Cyrus found the strength to move and shook his head. He breathed deep. "No, I don't want that."
"I can help you coup with the fear, dear," Shelta assured him. "It will fade with time." She gave him a comforting smile, one that suggested personal experience. He was too distracted to ask.
Roger was cleaning up the mess. The charred paper disintegrated in his old hands. The Stone's reaction seemed to stump Roger more than the Echoed Memories. He had never seen anything like it before.
So, then on top of everything else, Cyrus wasn't normal. How was it he, a mystical creature that wasn't supposed to even exist, have something even stranger powering him? Roger was one of the few people in the country, maybe even the world, who knew anything about the workings of Homunculi, and even he was stumped.
Cyrus had hoped he would get answers. Even just understand why he was left in the woods in the first place. It seemed, the more they uncovered about him, the less sense it all made.
He was not a newborn, after all. He was a Homunculus of indistinguishable age with a creator who was still unaccounted for… The murderous man from his nightmares was real, and his location was unknown. Finally, his life source was not like any Philosopher's Stone the alchemic expert had ever seen.
With Roger's arrival they uncovered many answers, and yet Cyrus had never been so confused.