Last night, despite yesterday's apocalyptic discussions, I slept well for the first time since arriving at Hargreeves Mansion. Perhaps because Klaus didn't hit the wall and didn't struggled with harassing haunting entities. Or perhaps because, after a long time, we finally had a good time and eventually watched the Rocky Horror Picture Show.
We joked about it, but if the end of the world is imminent, we also want to watch Attack of the Killer Tomatoes again. At least once. The only annoyance is Ben's comments, and I'm the lucky one: I don't hear them.
On my way down to breakfast, I encounter 'Mom' returning up the grand staircase. She smiles at me, but I notice she doesn't recognize me, even though we see each other every day. I continue my way to the lowest floor of the house, towards the downstairs dining room.
In the basement hallway, you can sense more than anywhere else in the house the fact that Reginald Hargreeves has gradually acquired all the neighboring buildings and eventually the whole block. The 'door' leading to this communal space is a rough hole in the wall, connecting two previously separate buildings. But mere conviviality was obviously not enough to motivate renovation.
I'm not very hungry; the frozen waffles from last night still slightly upset my stomach. But it appears that I won't be having my coffee alone this morning either because I see a silhouette, as large as encumbered by himself, sitting at the long wooden table. Luther.
My stomach tightens a little more, even though I knew this moment would come. I take a breath. Then I summon my courage and approach the coffee machine. He's sitting in front of a plate of eggs and bacon shaped like a smiley face, which he stares at thoughtfully. Next to him, there are two large glasses of orange juice, and a second plate of the same food, which has not been eaten. I clear my throat softly, but he has already spotted me, and like everyone else in the house, he now knows very well who I am.
"Is Klaus being handled well?"
He asked this while poking his fork into the bacon and chewing, as if I now belonged to this house, just like a part of the furniture. His little blue eyes scan me, and for a moment, I feel my throat tighten, as if with atavistic fear. I pour the coffee into my Umbrella mug, and I close my eyes for a moment.
"Hanging in there. He's coping in his own way, I guess", I say, turning around slowly, and hiding behind my first sip of black nectar
Those words bring me back to the reality of the moment and relieve me a little, taking me away from any repressed memories, and I smile. Luther looks at his plate again as he eats. He doesn't look in great shape. Well, so to speak. I guess he's forcing himself to make conversation, but he shakes his head, still chewing, and says:
"His way of coping is a mess".
I shrug my shoulders thoughtfully.
"It's tough for him to find the balance. If he's too high, he's useless, and right now, he's also useless when he's not high enough.".
I see sorrow on Luther's face, more than anything I've seen in Allison, Diego, or Viktor. I suspect that Five is not caring much about one-off events in a person's timeline, including their father, because going backward is a possibility. This is something that makes me reflect. But I stand by my position: traveling in time is a huge mistake. Truly, Luther is the one I feel the most afflicted, in a conflicted way.
"Hey, Luther", I say. "I'm sorry for your loss".
He swallows, gathering his huge arms in front of him, and lowers his eyes. Nodding his head, he responds soberly:
"Thank you".
I sit down at the end of the wooden table.
"You had some sort of strong relationship with him, didn't you? And I heard you've been away".
I know from Klaus that Luther was more willing to stay at Hargreeves Mansion.
"I was ~sent~ away, very far away", he corrects me a little bitterly, but he ends up acquiescing while gazing at the eggs on his plate.
"He always tasked me with protecting everyone, and not by appearing in the small-town-news like Diego".
I don't comment: these quarrels don't interest me. He takes a sip of orange juice.
"Grief is something I can't avoid, even though I may have felt squeezed out".
I find the term very well chosen, but Luther's voice is dull and muffled.
"You were Number one, right?"
He nods yes.
"Do you know how your father chose those numbers?"
I never asked Klaus. Actually, he almost never refers to 'his number'. But I assume that living as number 1 or 7 is different from living right in the middle as 4. Luther takes the bacon from the second plate.
"He ranked many things, including us right from the start.
He shakes his head while masticating.
"It was a ranking based on our potential to fight, to help... I guess I was the one he could rely on the most".
"To be devoted as well?"
"Maybe. I do not know. Number Five and Number Six were at the bottom of the ranking, and they were the first 'out'. He knew 'things'".
Luther doesn't even mention Viktor, and maybe he notices that it makes me react silently. But what he tells brings me questions.
"Well I saw the baby prams in the attic near Five's room. The numbers were already stamped on them. Well, how could he know about your potential? After all, you were... just babies".
My power first manifested itself at four years old, so I doubt it would be any different for them. Luther sighs.
"He knew stuff. He found us all in the four corners of the world. But But I won't lie to you: I'm not aware of anything. I'm just guessing. Pogo may know, but he will take many secrets to his grave".
I sip my coffee. It's my turn to be sincere. I realize that my initial apprehensions about Luther have disappeared.
"I am somewhat relieved to not have been part of the ranking", I say. "Or not having been 'given away'".
"The correct word is 'sold'. But who would reject an offer with so many zeros?".
Now, Luther has placed the second plate squarely on the first, and is attacking the eggs. I gaze at him and blink once.
"Would Allison give her daughter away?"
Luther looks up, taken aback.
"No, of course she wouldn't refuse. She would already do anything to be by his side.".
I feel bad for Allison, but what's happening to her helps me understand.
"See? Some people on Earth still seem to actually love their kids".
I smile.
"But she loved me deeply from the moment she unexpectedly held me".
Luther stares at me for a moment, then he finishes his entire plate.
"Some people are lucky".
This final statement from Luther saddens me, especially as I look at today's bacon dish on the stove. Again. My expression darkens, and I say slowly:
"Your mother has been cooking eggs and bacon for every meal since I arrived on Saturday".
"I know. And she says every time that it's the most important meal of the day. Call her Grace".
I swirl my cup between my fingers, but Luther goes on:
"She seems trapped in a comforting loop, though she may have other issues".
"Is there something wrong with her?"
"Yeah, it seems so".
I take a thousand precautions with this turn of the conversation, because I don't know how Luther perceives the one he asked me to call Grace. I frown my eyebrows painfully.
"Has she experienced... similar dysfunctions before?"
Luther nods.
"Minor glitches. And my father was here to fix her. He was the only one who knew how to program her. And it has never been... this severe before".
I feel like I don't know everything.
"On Saturday night, I had already noticed. But Allison and Diego were not reacting, so I just thought it was nothing to worry about".
"Diego will be the last to admit anything".
I look into the bottom of my coffee mug.
"Is it possible that... Grace is in a state of shock following the death of her engineer?" "That could be a possibility, but I doubt Grace possesses genuine feelings".
Hearing Luther say this, I have my answer about what she is to him. He pauses for a few seconds, then he takes a deep breath and he adds:
"If she is malfunctioning... we should consider shutting her down for her own benefit".
He looks at me, as if waiting for my reaction.
"Allowing her to deteriorate, especially at such a rapid pace, would not be a fitting tribute to my father... or the incredible robot she once was".
Suddenly, I have difficulty swallowing. Even though Grace means nothing to me, I remain stunned when I hear Luther speak like that.
"I... I don't know. It mighy be... challenging for some of your siblings to accept".
Of course they were not listaking her for an actual human. However, she was somehow the only person they perceived as a mother. In a cold, artificial manner, yet 'algorithmically caring'. Did Luther truly never feel that way? He appears so detached now. Perhaps because he was the one who lived with her the longest. He rubs his forehead, and his chair creaks beneath him.
"Diego is going to freak out. But if we let her deteriorate further, he will feel even worse".
"Honestly, it's not happening at the right time", I say.
Luther finishes his glass of orange juice and mutters to himself quietly:
"I don't believe it could be a coincidence".
I glance at my watch, and suddenly I seem to wake up: I'm the one opening the store at 9:30, and I also have to collect the mail from the P.O. box.
"I'm sorry, Luther, I have to go to work".
Lost in thought, he nods his head thoughtfully and I add:
"Thanks for the breakfast chat".
These thanks are sincere. I wonder where this day will take them. Every day, as I leave for work, I worry about what I will find at Hargreeves Mansion when I return. This day will be no exception.
So I stand up, put my coffee in the sink, then I turn to face him, with something indescribable on my face. A half-smile. And even though he might not comprehend these words, I still tell him:
"You know, you've changed a lot".
Notes:
This is a sadder chapter than it seems. I was a little hesitant to write about Luther, and - ultimately - I think I understand him better now. We will soon know why Rin was also anticipating the moment of this meeting.
Chronological markers: this scene fits like a deleted scene from season 1 episode 3, around 05:50 (You will easily recognize the plates of eggs and bacon).
Any comment will make my day!