Jason Luthor - Floor 21

My fist slams the table. “Why not?”

The director leans forward, smiling, but he looks sad at the same time. “Because memory is painful. I’m not sure even I want to know why we’re here. What caused us to be here? It’s hard to discern the truth in our stories, but one constant lies in every part of The Book of the Tower : that, once, we brought the Darkness upon ourselves.”

He gestures around. “If a man is not remembered, did he ever exist?”

“Well, yeah, he did. Right?”

“How would you be able to tell?”

“He leaves something behind. Something he owned or thought was important.”

Director Pygmalion’s lips curve halfway. “And when those are gone? Did he ever, really, exist?”

What am I supposed to say? I don’t know and he can tell, so he continues, “A society, on the other hand, isn’t quite the same. With so many people, something inevitably gets left behind.” He points to the ground beneath us. “The Tower is a perfect example. But why was it built? What was its purpose? You can’t destroy every relic of the past, but you can wipe out the memories of why they were created.”

“But why are we wiping those out?”

“Is a man guilty of something he does not remember?”

I feel like he’s playing mind games with me, so, for a minute, I’m just staring at this guy. I mean, seriously, I have no idea what he’s trying to tell me. “I’m really not getting you. What do you mean?”

“Take ten people in a room. One person kills another. Everyone knows who the culprit is. Then, their memory of the killing is erased, and the murder weapon removed. Is the man guilty?”

“Of course he is!”

“According to who? Who will accuse him?”

I’m stuck. I’m for real stuck; I got no way of answering this guy. “I… Someone. Someone has to be. Right? Of course, he’s guilty.”

“No. He’s not. He’s not answerable to himself or to the people around him. Neither will they expect him to answer. Now, what if all those people were guilty of the murder?”

“How can everyone be guilty for one murder?”

“What if they all took knives to the victim?”

“Well, I mean, then everyone’s guilty of it.”

“And will everyone feel guilty?”

“Maybe not everyone. But, c’mon, most of them would. I think. At least, I hope.”

Pygmalion lifts his finger. “Exactly. Now you’ve got them all trapped in a room they can’t escape. You’ve got people feeling terrible about murdering an innocent man, a few that don’t, and you ask them to stay together for a few days. Perhaps a few weeks. What happens when those that can’t take the guilt demand that justice be done? What happens when they demand accountability?”

I say, “I don’t…”

“What happens when you take away their food and water and tell them only one side can have any?”

I stutter, “I just…”

“What happens when those that feel comfortable with murder decide they’re unwilling to share food and, worse, are willing to hide the truth?”

I stammer, “It’s not that simple…”

“What happens, Jackie, when you put that much pressure on people?”

I drop my head. “Things go bad.”

Pygmalion snaps his fingers, and a few of the screens grow humongous. He waves at one. “Behold,” he says, getting up and staring at it. “A husband and wife, both wealthy by any standards of the Tower. The woman, a doctor charged with cultivating the Creep for use in Reinforcement. The man, an athletic instructor that secretly despises the use of that practice.” He turns toward me. “He can’t admit it, of course, but I see it, in his face. Each time the Reinforcement is broadcast, I see the small strokes of his face, the cringes he makes. Should his wife tell him she’s in charge of creating that same substance?”

My mouth drops. “What? They don’t… they don’t talk to each other? About what she does?”

“No one in Science is allowed to talk about the specifics of what they do,” he says, leaning in at me. “You know that, though.”

“Dad…”

“Precisely. You know he and your mother chose to live on Level 4. Because of the sensitivity of their work, they would have been first choice for Level 1, but your father always was a bit of an unusual one. We knew that from the start, but he always complied with the rules so we had no reason to ever intervene in his life. His first violation of any Tower rule was, indeed, his rescue attempt of you.” Pygmalion smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “A man, a society, we are only what we know and remember. Even marriages are built on a single thing: knowledge. Interrupt that balance in an individual, a relationship, or an institution, and it can come crumbling down. We are the only people of our species, Jackie. This institution, this tower, cannot crumble.”

Pygmalion pauses and tucks his hands behind his back. “If we remembered what we did? It might destroy us. All we know is that as long as the memory of those days is gone, no one can be held responsible. The knowledge, the memory of it, would change who we are as a people. Why? Because memory defines what we are as well as how we perceive those around us.” He walks back toward the desk and sits down, heaving a heavy breath. “I’ve had many years to think about that.”

“And you can live with those answers?” I ask. My face feels like it’s been soaking in a bowl of hot water.

“Can I live with them?” He looks away, to the wall. “I have. For years. For decades. After all, it was due to just that ability that I was chosen by the last director. While jobs are chosen almost entirely by the council, there is one single job outside their jurisdiction. Only the director can choose his successor. Only we have the knowledge necessary to make the decision.”

By this point my hands are shaking. I can feel them trembling on my knees, and I look down, trying to stop them. I can’t deal. “This is so sick, man. You’re just up here living in this luxury getting anything you want, and you… you just watch these things, like they’re nothing! These Reinforcements. These people dying on the Scavenging. You never try and stop it.”

“Throw the Tower out of balance, and the Tower falls,” he says. “Even I am a prisoner of another sort. I cannot usually intervene in the actions of the Tower. That’s why there is a council. They perform the Reinforcements for the people of Level 1, they run the Scavenging to entertain the Tower, and so on. They come to me mostly for counsel with novel situations. That is my purpose, my function, in this tower. Everyone’s knowledge is limited as much as possible to their circumstances. I am the only one whose knowledge is broad, and so, when circumstances are new or unique, they send me a request.” He taps the desk in front of him, and a keyboard appears, shining with light through the white surface. “They don’t even bother to come see me. They simply send a request by mail. During the last Category 2 Incident, they asked me how to contain it. During this one with Sally, they again came to me. I recommended working with you and even suggested your father’s plan to them. A director is expected to have just a slight capacity for prediction.”

He pauses, laughing. “When Abbott didn’t know whether to concede to your father’s demands, they allowed me to make the call. As you can see, I’m quite the novelty piece. You are, in fact, my first physical visitor in many years. I am known only to a few, and even they view me with suspicion and fear. They especially fear me when I decide to intervene, and that fear is so great it could easily tip the balance on Floor 1. Yet they know it is their role to bend to me. However, ask them to bend too much, and the relationship between the council and I would break.”