Chapter 5: Pariahs
A resonant din – a blend of chattering voices, mechanical pounds, and electric hums, topped with periodic announcements made by disembodied voices in the intercoms above – reverberated across Frankfurt International Airport. Formless clouds of people went about in every direction; they were almost ant-like in their procession, mingling and scurrying along, the light, sleek frame of the airport complex acting as their hive.
It was nearing two o'clock in the afternoon when a group of these people began congregating outside Gate B-5, which was located alongside the rest of the B-series in the eastern wing of the terminal. They gathered behind the steel guardrail in loose formation, keeping an eye out for any sign of those they awaited. The white tile floor and silver facade of the gate ahead contrasted with the vibrant, warm colours plastered on the side walls of the entryway, scenes painted in the reds and yellows and blacks of the German nation.
September stood idly among the fluid crowd, watching the gateway as they were, albeit much more intently. He had acquired a certain affinity for airport atmosphere; the ambient humdrum stimulated his senses, while lights and colours emanating from various sources, natural or otherwise, blended together in an appealing way. He thought it unfortunate that airports were but a relatively recent creation, and that he seldom had any reason to be in one.
His sights quickly turned to the gate, perceiving the temporal precursors of the oncoming passengers of a plane landing fresh from Logan International. Moments later, an influx of arrivals entered the scene, carrying their belongings with them. They craned their necks around, searching for faces familiar to them; those on the other side of the fence did likewise, signalling to their target when they spotted them. Many reunions ensued: relatives and friends gathered, business partners greeted each other, strangers met in person for the first time. And a few were lone travellers, weaving through seas of individuals to pursue their own personal matters.
September's eyes sorted through the parade of passengers, searching for someone familiar to him as well, a woman just as important to his organization as the other passengers were for those who welcomed them, and in some ways, even more. He now started to see an ethereal projection turn out of the entrance, a continuous, elongating fluid bubble in the shape of a woman in her thirties. Her hair was blond and fell straight to her shoulders, and she wore a simple black suit over a simple white blouse.
The Witness continued to observe Special Agent Olivia Dunham as she stepped off the plane and made her way to meet with Lucas Vogel, a man who was many things to Olivia, but for now was her best bet to obtaining the audience she sought with David Robert Jones. To September, however, she was but one thing.
A Subject.
He remembered the day when the Overseer had officially decreed her as a Subject in 1982, a year after Colonel James Dunham had agreed to enlist his daughter in Doctors Bishop and Bell's Cortexiphan Trials. A few other children from the trials were declared Subjects around the same time, and one or two more in the years to follow. But according to Mercedony, none were as significant as Olivia. And September had a sense what he spoke of when he looked upon her. He understood what a Subject was, but not why they are chosen; the Overseer often refrained from explaining the reasoning behind his decisions, only doling out the information necessary for his agents to carry out their assignments.
Besides, September had never really concerned himself with asking questions.
She was very close, now; he perceived the astral silhouette that was to become Olivia look in his direction. Her senses were keener than most, he knew, and he could not risk her spotting him there. He broke away from the dwindling masses just as Olivia walked on scene, armed with the knowledge that she had arrived safely in Sector Beta.
The skies outside were clear and blue save for a grey wave of eastbound clouds galloping in the city's general direction. The airport's main entrance was a very busy area, where a continuous flow of people entered and exited the building like the erythrocytes of a circulatory system. A sudden strong wind came howling from above, causing the edges of September's suit to ruffle. He decided to don his fedora, not because of the cold, but because the sweeping gusts caused an unwelcome tickling sensation as they slithered across his exposed scalp. He observed the unfolding scene for a moment, breaking things down to all of their constituents as was his habit, then set down his briefcase to free his hands for use of his MultiCell.
"I have arrived," said September into the device after placing the call. "The oversight of the Subject has proceeded without complication."
"Good," replied the Arbiter of the Aube Division his grave, powerful voice. "I will send you the coordinates for the rendezvous point shortly."
The brief exchange ended, and a string of numbers then appeared on the round screen. With a press of a few keys, the interface changed to that of a small map, with the Witness represented by a red dot that pinged every few seconds. He replaced the device in his pocket, taking note of where he needed to go. When he was certain than he wasn't being actively observed, he changed his probable location, ending up in the neighbourhood of Griesheim. He continued walking for awhile and, when unobserved once more, jumped again, this time to Gallusviertel. And whenever the opportunity presented itself, he would jump to yet another part of town, getting closer and closer to his destination every time he used the Roads Less Traveled By.
Frankfurt, like other cities scattered across Sector Beta, held a distinctive quality to it that September found alluring, a nameless quality which he had observed was far less present in the cities of Sector Alpha. Being assigned to the Crépuscule Division, the Witness did not travel to Europe often, as his Division primarily oversaw Events in the Atlantic Seaboard Event Zone, but his rare, brief sojourns across the Atlantic Ocean have always been enjoyable ones. The history of the land was almost tangible there, saturating the soil that he currently walked upon. Skyscrapers stood side by side with centuries-old historical landmarks, a collision of worlds both old and new, with citizens equally as varied in their ages and experiences stepping past them. And the more he focused his fine-tuned perception, the farther in the past he could see them all, reviewing and replaying their journey through space and time at his leisure.
He was in Bockenheim now, making a left turn on a street that banked downhill. He then proceeded to past through a small way bordered by trees, marking the entrance to the Grüneburgpark. He followed the coordinates on his MultiCell down a long, winding path, leading him at last to a small row of unoccupied picnic tables. Seeing as none were present, he had no other choice but to wait.
So he waited.
"Greetings," said January as he pulled up beside him, having just arrived via the RLTB.
September looked over to see the Arbiter of the Aube Division. He was imposing in stature, with a tall frame and wide shoulders. The naked ridges of his brows were thick, and his nose was slender and aquiline against his square, angular face and strong jaw line. In one large hand, he held the standard Witness briefcase, while the other clenched two bags of food.
"I have taken the liberty of bringing you some as well," he continued, passing a bag to September. "Come, sit."
He responded to the Arbiter's beckon, and the two seated themselves at one of the tables. September reached into his bag to pull out two ham and smoked meat sandwiches, topped with horseradish mustard and squeezed neatly between fresh Kaiser Buns. They devoured the sandwiches as they spoke.
"I trust that the module has been secured," said January between bites.
"Yes," assured September. "It is in the briefcase."
"May I see it?" asked January, having already finished his meal.
"Certainly."
After licking what mustard remained on his fingertips, January set aside his wrappers to make room for the briefcase, spinning it around as he did. His large index finger flipped the dials of the combination lock, and with a satisfying click, the case opened. September watched with poorly-bated curiosity as the Arbiter removed the module from its insulating nest to place it on the wooden table.
The device was circular, about the circumference of a large Frisbee. The body was flattened and conical in appearance, navy in hue, and sectioned into four sloping parts which extended upwards from their bases. And at the top was a round hole, like a volcanic crater, where the holographic projector was housed, taking the form of a polished black sphere. September also noticed similar reflective material embedded in the sides of the module, which he surmised were additional holographic outputs.
September found himself staring at the device in admiration. The Witnesses were always impressed by the Overseer's creations, and this one proved no less stunning.
"Fascinating, is it not?" commented January, similarly enraptured. "Thank you for transporting the module safely, September. I will have it delivered shortly."
"Will the Courier be meeting with us here?" asked September.
"I wasn't intending on using Couriers, actually. I was instead planning on having February take it directly to Für Immer. It isn't too far from here, after all."
January replaced the module in the case with great care. The Witnesses then sipped on their respective cups of chilli pepper juice, listening to the trees shiver in the wind. September let his mind wander, his thoughts moving from the peculiar behaviour of tachyon particles, to the sandwiches he had just ate, to the time in 1644 when a French prostitute approached him and offered him her services, confusing him a great deal and causing her to depart when he declined, but not before uttering a flurry of obscenities. After some time, however, and despite himself, his thoughts meandered back to the events of the Beacon assignment, unable to stop playing them over and over like a faulty record.
"...What do you know of Robert Bishop?" asked September tentatively after many long minutes.
January snapped out of his own complacency, tilting his head slightly to the side.
"Why do you ask?" inquired the Arbiter.
"I am simply...curious," replied September.
"...Very well," began January. "As it happens, Robert Bishop was originally one of April's Subjects. He was a scientist working for the Nazi regime during the Second World War, and was heavily involved in the initial experiments in parallel realities that led to the formation of the Central European Event Zone and the beginnings of the Colder War. His Nazi colleagues eventually discovered his treason, prompting him to flee to the United States. He eventually faked his own death in 1944 and continued to live in secrecy until his actual death in 1961."
"Do you know why he faked his death?" asked September.
"I cannot say, unfortunately," replied January. "We know that he did something that caused the American Military to pursue him, but our Proxies at the time were not able to ascertain the reason why they did."
"I see."
"Does this satisfy your curiosity?"
"Yes. Thank you for telling me this."
January seemed pleased, though still somewhat puzzled at the agent's inquiry; in a head-tilt that might have equated to a shrug, he contented himself to pour another cup of scorching chilli pepper juice. Meanwhile, September took the time to review the information that the Arbiter had imparted. He was intrigued by the tale of Robert's life, and the Witness tried to picture what kind of man he was, wondering if he had been as fascinating as Walter. But most curious of all was his staged death. He conjured many scenarios aiming to fill in the blanks, each one more outlandish than the last. After some time, however, he abandoned that path, acknowledging that he may never know what happened to Robert Bishop, even though he hoped that one day, he would.
Their thermoses gradually emptied, and January, checking his pocket watch, arose from his seat, causing September to follow suit. They discarded their trash in a nearby bin before coming to a halt on the path.
"You are staying here for a few days, are you not?" asked January.
"Yes," stated September. "As long as Olivia Dunham does."
"You are going to be hard pressed to keep yourself entertained, then," noted the Arbiter. "If you are interested, perhaps you should accompany April and June tonight. As I understand it, they are going to attend an opera concert. Have you ever been to one?"
"No, I have not."
"Neither have I," said January. "I would accompany you as well, but I have other matters to take care of –"
Their heads shot skyward in alarm as it came crashing down on them like a tsunami wave. Temporal ripples coursed through their bodies and minds, probabilities changing and futures altering to ones that diverged from their intended course of events. The two looked at each other with the same stupefaction as the repercussions of the newborn Irregularity spread across space-time. Minutes later, there was a sudden presence behind them, given away by a slight displacement of air and a momentary snapping sensation that tugged at the back of their minds. They turned to see March standing on the pathway; his head was angled towards the ground, averting the eyes of the other two Witnesses.
"I have made... a mistake," he announced at length, voice tinged with culpability.
September and January were stunned, still reeling from the jarring shift in their vision of the future. It took a moment before January was able to compose himself.
"What have you done?" reproached the Arbiter. "How could your perception have faltered to such a point?"
"I do not know what happened," said March. "It felt as though something was interfering with my observation. Before I realized what was occurring... it was too late."
"You have caused us much trouble, March," replied January. "It will require much of our time and energy to restore the course of the Directive."
"How exactly are we going to fix this?" asked September. "The Overseer is absent, and he has always been the one to tell us how to correct Irregularities when they occurred."
January seemed ready to answer, but paused, considering the agent's point for a few moments before he spoke.
"In the Overseer's absence," began the Arbiter, "it will be up to us to correct it on our own. I will have to confer with December so that we may devise a solution to this affair. You should depart for Sector Alpha as soon as Olivia does, September, as the repercussions will undoubtedly extend to both Sectors Alpha and Beta. As for you, March, the Overseer will deal with you when he returns."
March eyes fell once more. The Arbiter turned to leave, but not before giving September a passing glance, recalling the Crépuscule agent's own mistake and causing September to look away as well. January then began to retread the path with haste. September watched him leave before turning away; when he glanced back again, the Arbiter was gone, with nothing but a few whirling leaves to suggest that he ever existed.
September and March remained at the scene for a long time. An awkward silence developed between them, almost palpable in its tension as those responsible for the only two Irregularities created by the hands of the Witnesses basked in their shared culpability. September looked at his colleague, noting how confused and distraught March appeared to be. He remembered his own puzzlement on that night in 1985, how his perception had failed him, causing a divergence in the Directive and giving rise to the first Witness-created Irregularity in the history of their organization. He remembered the regret that seized him when he realized the scope of his error, the anxiety he felt when he was forced to confront December about his mistake, the shame he experienced when the Overseer chastised him in the white halls of Für Immer.
He imagined that March must have been in a similar state at that moment. The others had looked at September differently ever since the fallout of the Zero Event; though they said nothing, he knew that they viewed him as pariah of sorts, and while the stigma had worn off over the years, he would forevermore be associated with his mistake. And September was constantly reminded of what he had done whenever he perceived the Veil, knowing that he had a hand in its accelerating decay and consequently catalysing the Silent War that would facilitate the Collision.
And now there would be two pariahs, two agents who had failed their Witness brethren. March looked up at September, who stared back, both of them silently acknowledging that fact. September thought for a moment that perhaps he should say something to him, anything at all, but no words came to him; for there was nothing more that could be said. So he adjusted the brim of his fedora and started down the path, leaving his fellow Witness on his own.
As for March, he continued to linger on the path, a light breeze as his only company. He too eventually left, at first with hesitant steps, then eventually settling in a steady, yet half-hearted gait as he pondered with a certain sense of dread what was to come.
A/N: In the show, Robert's gravestone said he died in 1944. And yet, Walter was born in 1946. So either this was a continuity gaffe, or...o.O