Chapter 11: One Final Arrangement.
"How are we going to get back?" Booker asked, exasperated.
"I don't know. You were the one who offered." His daughter chided in response.
"You saw that it was the only reason that she agreed to help us." He said in his defense.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. It had not been twenty minutes and she was already arguing with the voice in her head. They were back in Booker's apartment office now, or rather she was. He was still with Dr. Tenebaum, and she knew that fully well.
The Booker who was not Booker sighed. "We haven't even figured out how I'm going to get you out of there, Elizabeth. Now we have to figure out a trip to Tenenbaum's and back?"
"You could just stay there while I'm in Rapture, you know." Elizabeth quipped to the voice in her head. She was glad that no one else was around to hear her. "But we'll figure that out later. First we need the Lutece's help. Only they will be able to open up tears once I cannot." They had been over this before.
"But what are we supposed to do? Call them? Can they be… be summoned?" Booker sounded so utterly like himself that it was jarring. "How do we even know that they'll help us?"
"I've got an idea how to get their attention." Elizabeth told him, "As for how to get their help… I don't know." She admitted.
"Could we bribe them?" Booker figured. "I don't even know what it is they could want."
"Or we could just tell them the truth." Elizabeth knew the Luteces better than Booker, though he had arguably spent more time in their company. She, on the other hand, had spent the better part of her formative years reading every one of their books. "Come on, we have to get their attention first."
Elizabeth waved her hand and Booker's apartment door suddenly led into the Luteces' own: to the Luteces' old laboratory in Emporia, just as they found it before. It was dark and cluttered, its occupants having not excepted to leave in the manner or time in which they did. The whole space was absolutely dedicated to the huge device which took up nearly half of the house, and even though she had never seen it powered up, it felt eerie that the floor did not vibrate under the sprawling machinery. Though the multiple generators spread throughout the house were silent the device itself crackled ominously; evidence, Elizabeth knew, of the engineered 'accident' which had done away with its creators. Or done something to them, at any rate.
"What are we doing here, Elizabeth? It's not like they still live here." Booker touched the thin layer of dust coating all horizontal surfaces, though none came off on his immaterial finger.
"But I bet they still care about this." Elizabeth was tracing the length of one of the huge power lines tied to the machine and examining the arch in the middle of what ought to have been the dining room. She looked back at Booker. He looked frightened by the device. He watched his daughter from a distance as she poked around it.
"Could you get me some light?" Elizabeth asked, not looking away from one of the arms of the machine.
"No." Booker reminded her. "I'm just a voice in your head, remember?"
"Right." Elizabeth stood to flick on the many lamps which littered the room. She did her best to bring in more light through the windows which seemed to have been intentionally muted by the use of some sort of film.
Imaginary Booker's nerves were somehow getting better of him. Elizabeth wondered if it was really her own nervousness talking or really was what Booker would be doing if he were really with her. "Elizabeth… are you sure it's safe to be standing there?" She was standing directly underneath the humming disc which still sparked erratically.
"The power is off, Booker." She reminded herself without looking up from her work fiddling with the base of the device.
"Elizabeth this thing killed the Luteces." Booker reminded her, though there was no need. "Are you sure you should be-"
"It's off, Booker." She said again with more emphasis. "I'm trying to figure out a way to turn it back on."
This did little to improve Booker's mood, imaginary as it was. He began to object when she straightened up and looked him in the eye.
"Do you trust me?" It was something that, despite all they had been through, she had never asked him before.
"Well, I'm in your head, so yes." The image of Booker answered flatly. "But if you're wondering" He continued in a softer tone "the real Booker would trust you too."
"Then have a little faith." Elizabeth felt like she was scolding herself, mostly because she was. "Read me that list of numbers written there." She pointed to a corner of the blackboard and knelt back down.
"I can't read 'em unless you look." Booker protested. "Haven't got my own eyes in the room, since you left me in 1969." He said somewhat bitterly.
Elizabeth had never realized how annoying her father was. She examined the numbers herself and then examined the machine. She pushed a couple of buttons, which made Booker jump, though the machine did not react at all.
"That must have been it." She said as she stood up. "Fink offset the resistors; he rigged the machine to overload."
"Aaand will it now?"
"Only one way to find out!" Elizabeth stepped out from under the arch and ran to the first of the generators.
"Elizabeth!" She turned it on and ran across to the next. It was quite odd to be chased around by a figment of one's own mind. "Elizabeth what are you doing?" He would soon be drowned out by the motors that surrounded them throughout the house, had he actually been making any sound.
"It's fine, Booker!" She called as she raced up the stairs.
"You don't know that!" He did not follow her, though of course the voice in her head did. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth turn it off!"
"I haven't even turned it on yet." Elizabeth was far too happy as she crossed back down the stairs and came much too close to the controls. The sound was deafening now. "Come here." She pulled him along with her, not stopping to wonder if her fingers actually found purchase in his sleeve. "Which of these do you think it is?"
"What?!" He shouted over the racket. "You mean you don't know?" He looked down at the controls. It was fairly obvious which lever was the one which powered the machine on and off. It was one of five, but it was the biggest. "That one." He pointed.
Booker had made his point rather clear, but a second later Elizabeth's hand reached instead for the lever next to the one he had clearly indicated. She had a maddening smile on her face.
"Elizabeth!" Booker sounded sure they were going to die.
"I really wouldn't touch that if I were you." A calm female voice said behind them, just loud enough to be heard over the racket.
"I wouldn't have touched any of it, if I were her." A male voice followed. Elizabeth never pulled the lever. She had never had the intention too.
She turned around quickly with an all-too-pleased smile on her face. "Lutece!" She cheered, feigning surprise, and doing an intentionally poor job. "Just the person I wanted to see." Booker, who was invisible to the Luteces, stared between the three of them for a moment then nearly rolled his eyes. She had played them. He vanished from her sight and stopped talking while the three had their conversation.
"Yes, well, you've done your work to get us here. If you'll kindly remove your hand from our device..." Rosalind sounded just as stern as ever.
The Luteces were not truly in the room but rather on the far side of a tear, which appeared to be stable enough. They made no effort to join Elizabeth in their lab for the same reason that Elizabeth had to be careful returning to Rapture. They had, after all, died in this very room.
"And perhaps power down the house." Robert added at a low shout. "We wore earplugs when working for a reason, you know." The twins did not seem fazed by the noise but it was making communication difficult, so Elizabeth quickly did as she was told.
"Now, what is all this about?" Robert asked as she returned to look through the tear which they stood on the other side of.
"I need your help." She promptly sat herself down on the edge of Rosalind's desk, arms crossed over her chest.
"How?" Robert answered incredulously.
"You do not appear to need our help or our device." Rosalind added, clearly perturbed by Elizabeth's treatment of her furniture, no matter that she was no longer using it herself.
"You certainly did not need our help getting your father back." Her brother continued.
"That was quite a feat to behold." Rosalind almost smiled. Almost. She seemed nearly proud of Elizabeth's abilities.
"Indeed. He handled the procedure far better than I myself faired crossing realities for the first time." Robert continued. Elizabeth almost thought that Rosalind cast her eyes down a bit at this, though her brother stood undisturbed by the memory.
"Your notes helped." Elizabeth replied. "It's a shame you can't publish a book on the topic."
"I assure you, you'd be the only one who would care to read it." Robert said dryly.
"Or at least the only one to understand." Rosalind confirmed. "But back to the matter at hand. How could you need our help?"
"I need to go back." Elizabeth told them. "Back to Rapture, to the place that I died."
The response was raised eyebrows.
"I know what will happen." Elizabeth continued in case they doubted. "And I'm willing to make that sacrifice."
The Lutece twins simply stared once more. "May I ask why?" Rosalind said at length.
Elizabeth looked down and slipped off of the desk. "You saw what I did there." A great gravity settled on Elizabeth's voice. "I left Sally there to die."
"You died yourself. You could not have-"
"But I can now." Elizabeth cut Robert off. "I know the possibilities that may come to Rapture. In most of them nothing changes, but in at least one world the cycle of violence can end: the world in which I go back."
"Elizabeth, you cannot possibly blame yourself for-" Robert tried to deter her again.
"Yes. I can." Elizabeth would not be moved. "Just as much as you blamed yourself for what happened to Booker and me." She knew that would hit a deep nerve with Robert, though perhaps not with his twin. It was one of the very few things which seemed to set them apart.
Robert began to say something in response but closed his mouth before he did. Rosalind sighed heavily.
"And what would be our part in all of this?" She asked in a long suffering fashion.
"To get me back out." Elizabeth replied. "I need you to open up a tear so that Booker can pull me through once I'm finished."
"Is that all?" Rosalind did not seem to believe her.
"And…" Elizabeth was now practicing her puppy eyes. "A quick trip to 1969 and back?"
"What in heaven do you want to go to 1969 for?" Robert protested.
"It's a long story. Booker is there now." Elizabeth admitted sheepishly, tucking her hair behind her ear.
Both of the Luteces shook their heads to themselves, looking altogether like a pair of exhausted parents.
"If we agree to this…" Robert started.
"And that's not to say that we will."
"Will you be satisfied?"
"Satisfied?" Elizabeth questioned.
"We seem to owe you a debt, Ms. DeWitt." Rosalind answered. "If we do this, can we assume that you and your father will be returned to your normal lives-"
"-In your normal world-"
"-which we parted you from?"
Elizabeth had never considered it like this. Is that how things had been this entire time? "…Yes." She replied at last. She had not considered the life that she and Booker would live if all of this really did work out.
"And if we don't agree?" Rosalind ventured.
"Then Booker and I will use your device to see what we can arrange. There was a world in which you opened a tear to Rapture once. We will see about doing it again." Elizabeth's confidence was restored.
"I seriously doubt you could-"
"Don't bother doubting her, brother. She will only prove you wrong." Rosalind turned back to Elizabeth. "Very well." She said. "Do not bother with the machine. It has served its purpose. And we will serve yours." Elizabeth face lit up. "I will not say I support the endeavor." Rosalind continued with a frown, "As I still believe it to be completely ill-advised."
"But if this is what you really do want, for whatever misled reason," Robert continued.
"We will lend you our aid."
"Oh thank you, thank you!" Elizabeth cheered.
"Shall we meet you in 1969, then?" Rosalind seemed to do the opposite of cheering.
"Not the worst year you could have picked."
"Yes, Booker is at Dr. Tenenbaum's-" But the pair was already gone.