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te-pu-si-ti · 6 days

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May 15, 2012

It’s hard to describe the frenzy we experienced from April to June of 2012. It seemed like shortly after Remixed there was an unceasing parade of events at the McKittrick and it was truly the center of the universe. The show was the talk of the town, and at the time, regulars and fans enjoyed a level of access and proximity to the show that simply doesn’t exist anymore. We were very much a part of the family and no one in that family really knew how to process being at the center of a cultural phenomenon, so we were all along for the ride and there were astonishingly few boundaries.

Mayfair was coming and the promise of a heathen bacchanal (“Come Let Me Clutch Thee”) had everyone in a tizzy. In the lead up, there was also a steady trickle of promotional events and brand partnerships. Bowmore Spirits was hosting a whisky party at the Hotel, and was offering a chance at free tickets in exchange for retweets. Team Hard RT aggressively participated, and when the drawing came, the tickets went to a dummy account the brand clearly owned. We called them out on it. Then came the DMs saying if any of us could make it to the Hotel in time, the tickets were ours. Alas, they went unclaimed.

In the meantime, I was suddenly under an NDA.

The reason for this was that I had been invited to test the MIT Media Lab extension to the show, and while I was told I would be allowed to write about it on Scorched, they had offered the story as an exclusive to the New York Times, so I had to wait for that to go out before I could say anything (the post eventually went up here, and was sparse on specifics because for all we knew, this was going to end up live in the show someday soon).

I arrived as normal at the Hotel - and proceeded to Manderley, where this little bit that I wrote in a teaser actually happened:

Amidst the tables and chairs, Calloway stands alone, basked in a spotlight. He appears to be singing to himself softly, slowly turning his hands around, as though weaving his quiet song (in that is-he-touched-in-the-head way that Calloway has). He looks at me and beckons me toward him. I approach, and he bends down to kiss me on the cheek. When he rises, I look up at him, as he towers over me, and I can see that he’s been crying. My face turns sad. I reach up my hand and cradle his face, wiping away a tear with a sweep of my thumb. He exhales, deliberately, and stares back at me with a look of grief and loss. I know that somewhere, something dreadful has happened.

Then I was taken in to meet Felix Barrett and Peter Higgin, who fitted me with the enhanced mask. It had antennae sticking out of it and was extremely heavy and uncomfortable – a discomfort that only grew as the night went on. But they didn’t tell me much else and I was brought up to the fifth floor, where the autopsy room had been closed off from the regular show. Inside, I found Alba Albanese, who introduced me to the story of Grace Naismith’s disappearance - and to a ouija board. The board started to move: “G…. E…. T…. O…. U….T…,” and I heard a scraping at the door. I fled out into the corridor.

Regular attendees had noticed strange things were happening. There were signs posted around the show with Grace’s photo, and there were markers to show points of interest (like signs for quest interaction in an MMO). But the very first thing I noticed was that the padded cell was closed off - and occupied. This has long been my favorite unused room in the hotel so I was thrilled. Inside was Ben Thys. The stewards sighted my tech mask and admitted me to the room.

From the 2nd teaser:

We are standing together in the center of the room. He looks deep into my eyes, smiles, and then… he smells me. He draws his face close to mine and moves, slowly and cautiously, in a circle around my face, sniffing at it, clearly seeking some trademark scent. Then he stops sniffing. He smiles, and pulls me close again. This time he drops his head back and opens his mouth wide, as though to allow me a chance to inspect his teeth. I look and find nothing out of the ordinary. When he finally raises his head again and closes his mouth, his grin has changed into a look of grief. “You.” There is a long, painful silence. “You never came." It is as though the very life drains out of his face. And with that, he drifts back to where I found him when I entered, slumped in the corner, and buries his face in his hands.

Bewildered, I set out to figure out what was going on. The 4th Floor had various clues - Grace had loved a man named George. I found another previously inaccessible space at the end of the hall to the Rep Bar - the Law Office. Inside was a typewriter (another portal device) that wrote out a message: “SUITCASE” - and there was indeed a suitcase in the room. I took the suitcase and went exploring – I think I may have been under the impression the Porter would help me. I recall making it as far as the lobby when a Steward approached and reclaimed the suitcase, noting to me that I wasn’t supposed to be carrying the props. Oops. Somewhere - and honestly 12 years later I don’t recall where - I found a note detailing Grace’s contract with Hecate, and how she was supposed to make George fall in love with Grace.

From the 3rd teaser:

When I finally return to him I am sweating and shaking. I have been running and searching for nearly an hour, with hardly anything to show for it. But I know that he must have the answer, if only somehow I can get it out of him. By now it’s become a ritual, how he greets me. He holds my shoulders and pushes me against each of the walls, laughing, smiling like a young child. Then he smells me and his proximity makes me anxious. He can be gentle one moment and ferocious the next. I hope that maybe this is how he shows me his trust. And then we sit down and I show him what I’ve brought. He looks at the paper then up at me. I point at him intently. “Yes,” he says, “that’s me. I’m George.” My heart skips a beat. Now I feel like I’m getting somewhere. “…I do not know why I’m in here.”

Poor Ben. He told me later he was ad libbing all of it, they hadn’t really anticipated that I’d keep going back to him with pretty much any prop I found trying to get him to explain any of it. I obviously went to Hecate (Careena), who presented me with a vial of salt, but I wasn’t getting it yet. I wandered the 5th floor, hearing voices through my mask in the bathroom hall. I found the closet in the forest maze, and groped for a light switch - in the process, pulling the microphone off the wall. Oops again.

I was feeling fairly exasperated as I’d figured out who was who, but it wasn’t clear if I was supposed to try to find Grace or what. Also, the mask was absolute murder so I went back to Manderley to see Pete and see if he could adjust it. I told him what I’d seen, showed him the vial of salt, and he said, “I don’t know what that’s about, that’s Careena doing her own thing I guess.” It was chaos and I kind of loved every second of it. Matt Downs, my dear friend who I had only really met shortly before all of this, watched all of the mask drama unfolding with keen interest, knowing full well something insane was happening.

I had sort of run out of ideas and the third loop was well underway, so Pete said they’d try to get me up to 4 to see the big showpiece that had been set up to conclude the experience. To do this, it needed to be made plain to Careena to depart from her regular Hecate track. So Calloway was asked to escort me from Manderley up to the Rep Bar. It was a crowded night at the show, and William patiently but urgently pushed me through the crowd, taking me to the front so Careena would see me and understand. Then he took me to Agnes’ apartment and I waited.

Eventually - the show was very near its end at this point - Hecate emerged from the bedroom. I don’t remember any of the text, but this led to the reveal of the salt hands, the evidence of Grace’s fate. This 1:1 is depicted in the photo the New York Times ran with their coverage.

After all of this, we all gathered in the ballroom for a debrief. Only one other test participant had remained. They had brought me, a frequent visitor; this other fellow, who had been once before; and a walk-in who had no idea what the show even was - and that person had bolted almost immediately. Over beers, we had a great conversation for the next hour or so with the graduate students who had been working on the project. I told them how envious I was – they were doing more interesting work with narrative than I ever had in my own literature Ph.D. program. I got to see the ballroom with all the lights up - gross, honestly, and far more colorful a space than I had ever realized. Afterwards, as we walked back up to a nearly empty Manderley, Felix Barrett asked if I could answer something for him. Sure, I said. “Why is your Tumblr avatar a picture of Gabe Forestieri?” Definitely not what I thought he might ask. “Well, have you seen him? He’s gorgeous.”

The teaser posts were the best I could do in the run-up to Mayfair. Questions poured in and utter silence would have added fuel to the fire. The trolls came out and attacked me for teasing a recap (which, truthfully, was a ridiculous thing to do). So it led to the creation of what I think is one of the most absurd examples of fan art in the long run of the show, the Recap Teaser Trailer:

youtube

For some backstory on this: we did it in just about 3 hours of effort. I wrote some of the gags at my office on 7th Ave before heading to my apartment to do the video editing. Kevin Cafferty asked his friend Liam to film his daughter eager for a recap. My sister in law sent a clip, Frances Koncan sent her clip. Jordan Morley asked to help and offered the clip in the original goat mask. Matt went to the McKittrick and asked random audience in line to play along. The result is... a real time capsule from a very different era of the fandom.

#sleep no more #sleep no more nyc #this is wild

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te-pu-si-ti · 7 days

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The Persephone Un-loop

Inspired by:

Sam Booth | Eric Jackson Bradley | Ali Goldsmith | Folu Odimayo | Carl Harrison

The man in the grey suit steps out into the town square, singing. "It's a lonesome old town, when you're not around. I'm lonely as I can be..."

He picks up a bouquet of narcissi from the flower cart. He carefully sets down the flowers one by one on the ground of the Trojan square, then he returns to his office and shuts the door.

Outside, a spotlight is moving slowly across the length of the square, from the office to the flower cart to the department store, finally settling on a well in the corner. You'd hardly notice it, if you didn't know it was there.

The spotlight lingers. The music begins to swell. Just then, a woman bursts out of the water. She looks around, her hair dripping, her eyes large and uncertain, examining her surroundings.

She climbs out and lays her bare feet on the bricks, leaving behind puddles. With inquisitive eyes, she picks up a daffodil, and another, and another, breadcrumbs leading her... somewhere.

She walks by a man dressed in rags who seems to recognise her, but she flinches away from him. She continues following the flowers, and they take her to the office door, underneath the blue light. She knocks.

The man in the suit opens the door and takes her in. "Welcome home, my love," the strange man says.

"Home?" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember..."

"The waters," he says coolly, "It's the waters. Give it time." He wraps her in a blanket and sits her down in a leather armchair.

She looks with consternation at the framed photo on the side table. It's... her. And him. He holds up his hand, showing her the ring on his finger, and pointing to the matching ring on hers.

"What's going on? What is this place?" She stands up, and looks at a painting on the wall, so dark, so terrible, and yet...

She shakes her head. "Where am I?"

"It will come back to you. It will all come back to you."

"The keys to the city," he says, nodding towards the rack of keys on the wall. "Don't rush yourself. You have all the time in the world."

She walks over, examining the keys, and the little wooden puzzle toy on the table. A labyrinth with a tiny metal ball inside. Seven keys, each hanging from their own hook, each on a keyring. A horse, a bull, a flower...

He's grabbing his coat. "Where are you going? Can't you stay?"

"I have to go," he says. "You have to find your own way." The only person she has in this strange city, and he's already leaving her alone.

He shuts the door, and she's alone with her thoughts and the sensory overload of waking up cold and wet in a strange world, with a strange man, who seems to know her even though she does not know him. But he is kind to her, and he shows her love, and somehow, she trusts him.

The more she thinks about this situation, the less it makes sense. The more she looks around this room, the smaller it feels, the more trapped she is. She spins around in the empty office, gasping for air, adrift. Blue lightning flashes outside the windows as the power surges, as if in tune with her. She would scream if she could, but there's not enough air.

Thunder rumbles. Discordant piano. Gasping, spinning, turning, choking, it's too much it's too much it's much too much --

She's exhausting herself. She goes to the desk, sits down, and counts backwards. Grounding. One thing at a time. One foot in front of the other.

She leaves the office, into the city, and finds a fashionable-looking shop. No one is working there, and she has no clothes of her own, so if nobody's looking then nobody can mind... She takes a red jumpsuit that fits her perfectly, and a pair of shoes, and a lovely fur coat. In the pocket, there is a torch...

In the alleys of the city, she finds a map pasted on the wall. Shaped like the wooden toy from the office, an intricate maze - no, a labyrinth. Labelled with strange names.

Hesperides? She sees the sign lit up above her head. She wanders into a beautiful flower shop, with roses and greenery dangling from the ceiling and every type of blossom you could imagine laid out in the corner. Once again, it's empty behind the counter.

So she searches for clues - What is this place? Where, and when? How does she fit in? Did she once belong here? She rifles through drawers, papers, a box full of... feathers? A portrait of a Grecian goddess? It's all so strange.

A man in a yellow velvet suit comes up to the counter. She freezes. Act natural. "Hello," she says, "...How can I help you?"

The man gazes around idly with large, round eyes. "I'd like a bouquet," he says softly.

"Sure!" she says. There's one right on the counter. "Here you go."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "I was hoping for maybe... that one, by the mirror?"

"Of course." She goes over and retrieves it. The flowers are beautiful, but they're all fake. Such a large shop, is there such a high demand for faux flowers?

She lays down the bouquet for him and he smiles. "Actually, could you add something extra for me? Something special. Your choice."

The charade is wearing thin. She doesn't actually know anything about flower arranging. What flower would suit? She looks around at the stems on the counter, and grabs the one that catches her eye. A fluffy pink peony, a splash of colour in the pale bouquet.

She unwraps the bouquet to add in the extra flower. But there's something else inside... a paper parcel falls to the counter as she's unwrapping. She sets it aside so her customer cannot see.

She wraps up the bouquet in some fresh tissue paper, with a green ribbon cut with an unnervingly large pair of scissors. "Here you go," she says, relieved that she has not been found out.

He examines the bouquet and sniffs the flowers. "Oh, uh," the woman says, "You do know they're fake, right?"

The man in the yellow suit, blue neon reflecting off his skin, smiles. He picks a business card up off the counter. "Yes," he says, "The finest." Hesperides: Finest Fake Flowers.

She laughs uneasily. "Right. Of course. Have a good day!"

The man pauses as he leaves. "Have a good night," he corrects.

She lets out a sigh after he walks out. How did she get into this mess? But something about the little paper parcel intrigues her, and she unwraps it. It's some kind of bureaucratic form, SPECIAL PERMIT. Inside, there's a little metal horse figurine. And on the paper, someone has scribbled an address: PEEP BAR, 3rd ~ C / 3rd Division / UW.

She takes her torch back into the alleys, reading the strange names on the posters and flyers and neon signs of the city. Philotas. Sikinnis. Terpsichore. Who are they? HIC HABITAT MINOTAURUS. What?

She emerges into a square, and she can hear pounding music from across the way, and she sees the sign for PEEP. There it is! And she wouldn't mind a drink to settle her nerves. So she goes in.

It's a wild and debauched place, this strange bar draped in velvet. Ghostly faces leer at her and cheer at the dancer on stage. It is a tall, thin creature in a black catsuit, beckoning one of the emcees on stage with a clawed finger. The emcee jumps up eagerly, and the dancer licks their lips, pulling their victim closer and then choking them and shoving them to the ground.

She finds a seat, and gasps at this dark entertainment that is driving the crowd wild. But there's something incredibly alluring about it.

The dancer leaves the stage to raucous applause and gives her a wink as they pass. She sips her drink and wonders if she should leave, when suddenly...

The door opens. The bar host drops their martini glass in surprise. "We have a visitor. A friend? A presence. A gift! A surprise guest has descended upon us!"

It's the man in the grey suit again. He gets on stage, and the bar hosts kiss him on each cheek. Unprompted, the band starts to play.

She decides to stay for a little while longer. Is he a performer too, like that slithering dancer dressed all in black? He doesn't seem the type at all.

"If the sun should lose its light,

and we lived in an endless night,

and there were nothing left that you could feel...

That's what it would be would be,

What my life would seem to me,

If I didn't have your love, to make it real."

He's singing to her. She doesn't know him, not really, but he knows her, and he's serenading her with this strange and beautiful song.

"If the stars were all unpinned,

and a cold and bitter wind swallowed up the world, without a trace,

That's where I would be! That's what my life would seem to me!

If I couldn't lift the veil... and see your face."

The lights swing around to light her face in red and blue. She feels herself blushing. All this for her? Why?

"To make it REAL! ...Real!" During the instrumental break, he fills the time with a cute little shuffling dance. He blows her a kiss - overcome by this whole sweet gesture, she catches it.

"If the sun should lose its light, and we lived in an endless night, and there was nothing left that you could feel...

If the sea were sand alone, and all the flowers made of stone, and no one that you hurt could ever heal! That's how broken I would be, that's what my life would seem to me... if I didn't have your love... to make... it... real..."

"Well. Shoot a speeding arrow through my tiny, tiny heart." The hosts of Peep pop up through a trap door behind him and usher him off the stage.

The man comes down and puts his arm around her shoulder. "That was wonderful," she says, brimming with sincerity. "Nobody's ever done that for me before."

A beat. "...I have," he replies. "Let's go."

He pulls her through the square with an odd sense of urgency. But she wants to see, she wants to know this city that he claims is her home - and why is this young man drawing a circle of chalk in the square?

But there are sirens blaring, it might not be safe, so she turns and heads towards the office. Another man, in a long leather coat, scared, desperate, is turning the corner just then and collides with her. He rushes away with hardly a chance for an apology. She scurries into the office, her makeshift home.

The man in the suit guides her to the desk. He offers her a pair of headphones, which she gratefully accepts. Anything to drown out those terrible sirens.

Take a deep breath and exhale for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

He hands her a papier mâché pomegranate from a wooden bowl, which she clutches as she closes her eyes and sinks to her knees.

Close your eyes and picture yourself in a meadow, on a beautiful May morning. The air is filled with the scent of wildflowers. All around you things are growing, blossoming, bursting with life. Feel the grass between your toes, the sunlight on your skin. Now, open your eyes and know that the sunlight is with you still. Even in the middle of the darkest night, it shines forth from within you, awakening life around you. As the world turns and season follows season, everything is unfolding exactly as it should. You have all the time in the world. All you need is here.

Slowly she opens her eyes and rises up from the floor. The pomegranate in her hand is real, fresh and juicy.

"Did I just...?"

The man claps his hands and has a broad smile on his face. "Yes, my love! You did!" He takes one side of the fruit, and together, they split the pomegranate in two.

"You're... you're my husband."

As she disappears into the cabinet, he smiles dreamily. "That's my wife," he says with affection.

Inside the cabinet, she moves backwards. Time rewinds, and she finds herself at a table, facing a pinboard of clues, speaking into a tape recorder.

"Meditation tape number... 572. Take a deep breath and exhale for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..."

"Don't panic. Every time you panic, you lose yourself."

Frustrated, she shakes her head. "No, that's not right. You can't just tell someone not to panic. That'll make you panic."

"Take a deep breath, and exhale for 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. The mind is a maze, isn't it? The mind is a dark, mysterious maze of winding streets that are only seldomly lit by knowledge, and experience, but ultimately, memory. Memory lights our way through this dark maze.

And every time I come back, it's as if the power has gone out. As if I'm drowning in a sea of darkness. It's as if I am dead.

But every once in a while a glimmer of light shines from around the corner. An object, or a song, or a face... Your face. That feeling guides me the most.

I hate that it has to be like this, but show me the light and I will come back to you every time, my love, like a moth to the flame.

I can feel the seasons changing, and I know that I will leave you soon. I hope this tape can be a beacon for you, the way you are for me. Know that I will come back. I always do. Always."

She's not sure where to go next. She wanders back to where she started: Alighieri's department store. As she passes, her husband looks down at her from a balcony - she waves shyly, but hurries on.

Her next clue is the special permit border pass and the tiny pewter horse. She sees a sign - BORDER CROSSING AHEAD, HAVE PAPERS READY. So she crosses over.

She rummages around the border crossing station, finds other border passes like her own - or, the one addressed for Judith Kore. The one she has claimed as her own.

She wanders into some sort of store room, cold and deserted, full of massive wooden crates. In the corner is one covered in horseshoes. This must be the place.

On the floor of the crate is a horse, splayed out, motionless. She sits beside it for a while, looking for signs of life. Instead, she sees a coin resting on its head.

Harsh torchlight shines into the crate.

"You. Out. Papers?"

She slips the coin into her pocket as she marches out, not wanting to cause any trouble. She hands over the only papers she has.

He looks them over with suspicion. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe. Go, now." The Watchman waves her away.

She heads back to the city - to Troy, judging by the poster plastered over a wall, reading TROY WELCOMES YOU. Troy doesn't feel that welcoming... it's dingy, a bit rough, with all the graffiti on the walls and the yellowing papers wheatpasted one over another. And in the corner of the square is a man, huddled up in his rags: by all appearances, a beggar.

But he looks... familiar. Yes! He was the first face she saw in this place! He takes her hand, spins her round, and... snatches the silver coin from out of her pocket.

"Hey!" She runs after him, chasing him to the doorway of a hotel - The Elysium. He holds out his two fists and nods for her to pick one. When she does, he opens his hand to reveal a key. Another link in this strange chain of events.

Then he stands stock-still, and points her into the hotel. "Rrrrrrring, rrrrriiing," imitating the sound of a telephone. She steps inside the cramped hotel reception area, and picks up the receiver.

She listens for a moment to the voice on the other side.

"Hello? ....I don't know. I can't remember."

"OK, fine. There was this big party, a chandeliers and caviar kind of thing. I felt... out of place. So I got a drink. A martini, I think. And there was this beautiful woman, covered in sequins, and she walks up to me and asks to read my palm."

"She traced her finger along the heart line, and said I was a hard girl to pin down. That I'd find love later down the line."

"Then she reads my head line, and she said I was... I dunno... Forgetful or something."

"And then she read my life line, and that's when things really got weird. She looked at me with her big smiling face, and she said, well the funny thing is, according to this, you're already..."

The line goes dead.

She goes back to her husband's office. He's not around, so she has a chance to search out clues.

She lays her border pass out on the table, and notices some stationery on the desk. His cards and letterheads all say HH, 9th C, 1st D, UW.

H, H? U, W?

She rifles through his papers, finding magazines, punchcards, music scores... Nothing helps.

She looks back to that haunting painting on the wall. Those lost souls, falling into darkness. 9th C, UW... 9th circle...?

The address on her pass matches. "Welcome home, he said... I am Judith Kore?"

Her husband walks in, and she hastily puts away what she's been searching through.

Judith scoots to the edge of the room and changes the music that's playing. She puts her arms around her husband's neck and sways gently. A solitary piano grows into a sultry tango.

And they dance.

Slowly, closely, until they find each other's rhythm. Then it grows. They are a whirlwind together, this tiny office cannot hold them.

They burst out of the door, and the city opens up before them. And though she's never done this before - or maybe she has - she feels like she's always known these steps. It's effortless.

She runs, she jumps, he catches her, they really must have been something, mustn't they? Back before she lost herself. They're so in tune.

Almost in tune. He's under her spell, so she can lead him back in the office, and he's so blinded by her that he doesn't notice her hand slip into the key case. Judith holds the bull key behind her back as he picks up a flower and presents it to her, like a shy little schoolboy.

She accepts it and smiles warmly.

"It's beautiful," she says with sincerity.

"It's fake..."

"I know." She gives him a kiss on the cheek, and turns to leave.

"Come back to me..." he says weakly.

"Sure, I will." She'll find her way back eventually.

But first... find the bull. She hears pounding music up above - something big is happening. She climbs up the stairs into the hotel, down the long, dim hallway, into a terrible scene.

She can see it through a large window, glowing red. A gruesome gang are holding a man down, looking up hungrily at a tall, thin woman in a fur coat. The woman bends down, screams, and claws at the poor man's face. She triumphantly holds up two bloodied eyeballs.

"Shit." Judith backs away, aghast at the horror. But there's the bull, or rather, a golden idol, a man with the head of a bull, with compartments in its chest. She unlocks one to find a tiny plant, inside a glass dome. Small enough to fit into her pocket. It must be another clue.

The blinded man gets dragged into the room by a stone-faced woman. He crawls along the ground, pitiful, sobbing, alone. Crying for help.

"Come here," she beckons. "I can help you. Follow the sound of my voice."

There is a bowl of water and a cloth already there, as if waiting for him. The bloodied weeping man scoots over to her and she wipes his eyes, his injuries seemed so serious but all it takes is a few passes of the rag, and he is restored.

She wanders the halls of the hotel, and there is a strange feeling around her, as if the entire city is moving at once. As if something is dawning.

The next door she opens takes her into a room with a greenhouse inside. I thought we were in a hotel? But anyway, a greenhouse is where plants belong, so she must be on the right track. She retrieves the little plant from her pocket.

As she pokes around in the greenhouse - a strange greenhouse, where there are no plants, only barren trays of soil! - the man in the yellow suit arrives.

"Oh, hello again!" It's good to see a familiar face.

But he cocks his head. "Again?"

He's probably trying to save her the embarassment of their prior encounter...

"Is this your greenhouse? Maybe you can help." She show him her little plant. He smiles, goes to the back of the greenhouse, unlocks a safe. A safe? What does he need to lock away...?

It's another plant. Bigger, stronger, but still a seedling, and clearly precious to him. He hands it to her with reverence, and moves out of the way, as if he knows what's about to happen.

Because when she takes the plant - when she runs her fingers through its soil - she feels a connection that she has never known in her life. Or maybe, has never known since she forgot everything about her life.

Judith feels the earth between her fingers and she knows what she was made for. This is the root of her power, here in the soil. She finds herself, in the roots and the stem and the leaves.

Energy travels through her, electrifying her from toes to spine, and she bends back, taking it in, absorbing it, letting it return to her. It's terrifying and thrilling and yet it feels right. It's overwhelming, but she knows she can handle it - it's part of her. It was just waiting to awaken.

The florist looks on in awe. "Your majesty, welcome home." He bows deeply.

Your... majesty...?

He presses a baggie into her hand. "New life for Troy," he says softly. The bag is full of tiny seeds.

She thanks him, promises she'll keep them safe, and continues on her journey. Somehow, this raised more questions than it answered. But she feels she's on the right path.

She sees the man in the ragged coat, who helped her once - maybe he will guide her again. He takes her by the hand and spins her around, then holds her against the wall. With a piece of chalk, he traces her outline. Draws a pomegranate in her hand, and a crown on her head.

After this, he leads her over to a chair, and pours her a cup of tea. Sure, tea would be nice. The radio is playing; a chipper announcer is speaking.

"Hey! Thanks for tuning in. We're asking for your best party stories, we'd love to hear yours!"

"Hello? ...I dunno... I can't remember..."

Wait.

"There was this beautiful woman, covered in sequins, and she walks up to me and asks to read my palm."

The potter stretches his hand out, asking for hers.

"She said I was... forgetful, or something..."

Judith smiles, rolls her eyes, OK, very funny. Great prank.

But the man continues, tracing his finger over her palm, and she continues hearing her own voice over the radio, "And that's when it got really weird."

"The funny thing is..."

Judith cuts in. "The funny thing is, according to this, you're already dead."

The beggar holds up a candle and looks around. As he brings the light higher, ghostly figures appear out of the darkness. One by one, their pallid, motionless faces emerge from the mist. Judith staggers back.

"It's OK," the man says softly. "They don't do anything. They just watch."

She steps forward and brings a hand up to one, gently touching its face. Have they been here all along?

She takes a step, they take a step. She walks away, but they follow her. She turns a tight corner and ducks into the back entrance of a bar. Still, they pour in after her.

She tucks herself into a corner, finding a stool, and beckons the barman for a drink.

"There's so many of them..." Ghosts fill the bar, cramming themselves in, their eyes fixed on her. "There's so many of them."

"Just the right amount, I think," the barman says, oblivious, admiring his array of bottles on the wall. He pours her a drink.

Judith examines their faces, looking back at her attentively. "Maybe they're just lost," she muses. "Wandering in the darkness."

"We're all a little lost," the bartender says agreeably.

"Cheers to that. The funny thing about darkness, you know... You need the darkness to see the light. From darkness comes light, from night comes morning, from winter comes spring, from death comes rebirth... hopefully." She downs another shot of sake. Zagreus takes the empty cup and spins it on the counter.

"Over and over and over again. Circles and cycles and circles and cycles... they keep going, on and on... but do they ever break?"

The barman shrugs. "Everything breaks eventually." The spinning cup comes to a stop.

"Hey, I remember you!"

He looks back blankly.

"I recognise you, I do. We crashed into each other, remember?"

The bartender looks puzzled. "We've only just met. I've never seen you before."

"C'mon, you must remember... Nevermind. Thanks for the drink."

Judith rushes off, out into the square - outside the entrance to Peep. Familiar music is playing.

"Hey, they just played that song an hour ago! Is it just me, or is everything repeating? Going in circles, round and round?"

"I can see you... and you can see me, right?" The shade nearest to her nods.

"Right, so if this is all happening again, that means he'll be there, in there, and he'll know what to do! He can explain everything! Let's go!"

She rushes into Peep, and sure enough, Kampe is dancing on the stage again.

"Give it up for Kampe! They really glisten when they move, don't they? That reminds me..."

The emcee drops their martini glass. Judith catches it, a smug smile on her face. She nods, assuredly, "And now he'll come in... He'll come in... Where is he...?"

"...We have a visitor. A friend? A presence. A gift!"

The Peep hosts look down at her. They hold their hands out to her and hoist her on stage. They each give her a kiss on the cheek.

"No, this isn't right... It's not supposed to be me..."

The band begins to play.

"I... guess I do know this one. I think I remember the words. I can try, anyway."

"Something about... if the sun should lose its light? And we're in endless night? And a veil lifting up to see a face?"

"And if the sea were sand alone, and the flowers made of stone... Flowers made of stone? And no one that you hurt could ever heal?"

Everyone forgetting. All the flowers fake. All the water dried up. Morning never comes.

"That's... That's what this is. That's where we are. That's what this is!"

The hosts pop up from the trap door. Just like before. "...they're behind me, aren't they? I'm sorry, I have to go..."

"Well, shoot a speeding arrow through my tiny, tiny heart..." But she's already rushing off, back home, back to Hades House, the office where she hopes she will find him.

And she narrowly avoids running into the barman, because she knows he will be passing through at that moment. She swings open the door, where her husband is preparing a game of checkers for them.

A game? When outside, people are risking their lives? In a war that may be artificial, but is so very real to them. She saw the fear on the barman's face.

So they sit down, Judith and her husband, inside Hades House, and prepare to play a game.

"You see them now, don't you?" he says.

She nods.

It's a simple game, checkers, draughts, whatever you like to call it. One move after another, wait for your opponent to give you an opening. Faster and faster they trade moves, until Judith is sick of it all - she throws her keys down on the board. Look what I've accomplished, no thanks to you.

War is screaming outside. She screams with it.

He shrivels, he falls to the floor. She rips open the curtains, forcing him to see the blood that has been split.

What is this horrific place? And how do we figure into it, you and I? We are both a part of it, and not a part of it. They all forget. They all can never heal. You and I persist. What is this?

It's a shock to his system - perhaps he didn't expect her to work it out so quickly. He's frozen, stiff, curling up into a little ball, such a tall proud man now vulnerable. She softens, goes to him, picks him up. She reminds him of their bond, tangoes him to the desk, and finds...

Their pomegranate.

The one that she created. The one she gave life to.

She stands tall over him, pushes him down onto the desk. She takes the juicy fruit and squeezes, drips it down into his mouth and onto his face, the ruby seeds sparkling in the light, feeds him this product of her power until he believes again, until he begs for mercy.

Her demands are simple: "Show me."

"I'll show you," he replies, "I'll show you everything."

They pass through the rubble of the invaded city. A princess laid out, shroud over her head. A Watchman, picking up the pieces. Judith's husband hands her a lantern, and she lights her way.

A domestic worker freezes, caught in the light. Everyone here prefers darkness.

One of the arcade cabinets is full of black sand, with tiny figures inside - figures of her and her husband.

Hades hands her the final key. He points to the stage door.

She chooses a few shades to be her companions. Ones that have been with her on this journey all along, ones that have been paying attention. Ones who will see it through until the end.

They go up the steps, together. They look out onto the city, together.

Judith goes out onto the balcony.

"Is our city not fair and vast? It shines for you, all for you, dear Judith."

"Fair and vast is your city." "Yours, Judith. Yours forever. Here, multitudes reside. They'll be your companions forevermore."

"Fair and vast is your city..."

"Here is a handmaiden, loyal to us both." A young woman in red, barely more than a girl, looks up. "Here, a vial to catch tears of sorrow, tears of joy, dropped from the eyes of time's fleeting shadows."

"The streets of your city are marked with blood. Blood runs down the walls, blood stains the paving stones. The clouds above throw bloody shadows. Who has bled for the sake of your city?"

"See, but ask me nothing. Look, but ask no questions."

"I only remember one thing: I came here because I love you. But I will not have a single door held shut against me."

"Take care Judith, you're ahead of yourself. Why hurry? We have all the time in the world."

"Not a single door held shut against me. I demand it."

"I will show you everything. All in good time."

"All in good time… In a world where time seems to stand still..."

She turns to look behind her. "I was lost when I arrived, just like you. Lost in the labyrinth of these streets. But hedged by gloom, a garden. Our garden. Filled with lifeless flowers. A fallen horse gave me solace and made me rich. Rich with abundance, rich in brain and body. I am the sunlight. So many of you, wandering in the darkness. In a world filled with cruelty, torture and war, I heard your city sighing. I heard your kingdom crying."

"...city sighing, I heard your kingdom crying."

City sighing, your kingdom crying. City sighing, your kingdom crying.

There is a crack in the record. It begins to skip. She wasn't speaking, it was only a recording.

Now... The recording is over. She walks her own path.

There is a display case in this room. It holds a record player needle.

She opens a door and finds an ancient Greek pot in another display case. On one side, a scene of violence she has seen play out in this city. On the other side, a key.

Another dark room, another case of pottery. But there is much more ground that needs to be covered, and not much time.

"Run!" she calls to her ghostly followers. Down the halls, through the strange museum, until she finds a locked door, and a daffodil laid in front of it.

This must be the place.

The last door. The last key. She steps inside, and feels sand under her feet. She walks slowly, the lantern lighting her way. She picks up a stick of chalk.

Nothing but darkness ahead.

"It's the strangest feeling... I can feel it all coming back."

A straight path. One foot in front of the other. Don't panic.

"If the sun should lose its light, and we lived in an endless night..."

She begins to draw on the wall of the long corridor, organising her thoughts.

"and there was nothing left that you could feel... If the sea were sand alone" -- she draws the waves on the wall. Not a drop of water in this place, only sand. "And all the flowers made of stone..."

"And no one that you hurt could ever heal..." She draws an infinity symbol on the wall, tracing it over and over until something breaks in her.

MEM

BER

"I remember..."

She walks on, past more walls with more chalk scribblings, and more, and more, flowers and waves and infinities and labyrinths and I REMEMBER over and over and over and over and over, layered one over top of another.

Proof of the years gone by, proof of the seasonal cycle, proof that she always, always comes back, and she always remembers, and she's always been capable, and she's always been able to find herself again. The power was within her all along.

"My name is Judith Kore, better known as Persephone," she says, to herself and to her lost souls. "Queen of the Underworld. Child of Earth and Starry Skies. My people are heavenly, and yours are too. I grant you safe passage into the land of the shades."

She emerges, with her shades, through a curtain into a sharp dagger of light in the middle of No Man's Land, Mycenae. Iphigenia-turned-Hecate delivers to her the last tears of Patroclus before she murders him. Agamemnon ascends the stairs triumphantly to his doom. Persephone sees it all laid out before her in perfect order, ticking along exactly as it should, as it always has since time immemorial.

She heads back towards Troy - She must find her husband, Hades, and take her place on the throne alongside him. He tried to hide this from her because she had to find it herself. Would she really have believed him if he had told her from the start?

On her way to the border, she crosses paths with the Watchman. He has a talent for making things grow - he holds the last vestiges of new life in this country - she knows this. So she entrusts him with the seeds that Askalaphos gave her.

Something is brewing when she arrives in Troy Square - Hades is setting up a new cycle to begin. Or end. What's the difference, really?

They embrace. He knows that she knows. He points her to the office. One last secret?

She trusts him.

Persephone enters, puts the headphones on, and hears her own voice. She has been guiding herself all along.

"Get up," the voice tells her. "Stand up." More insistently: "Up. Higher. Higher..."

So she climbs up onto the desk.

"Now. Take a deep breath. And look around. This is where you need to be. Where you belong. There is power within you, feel it awakening deep inside you. Growing, flowing, and blossoming in spectacular profusion. You are the sunlight. This world is beautiful. This city is yours. From the highest heights, down to the darkest depths. Yours. All yours."

"When you are ready to go deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper..."

The darkest depths...

A floorboard is loose. She bends down and lifts it up, revealing a cellar, with dozens of vials of tears, exactly like the one she has around her neck.

"The history of the world in teardrops, Judith. Tears of sorrow, tears of joy... Mortal emotions, immortalised. Preserved. For us. Forever."

They kiss, finally reunited, finally themselves. She hugs him close.

"Thank you for coming back to me," he says quietly.

"Always. Always."

She goes to the record player, and lifts the needle.

"I love you..." "I love you too. Are you ready?"

Hand in hand, they emerge from the office. There are a few final orders of business.

He presents Hecuba with her coat; she wipes off her blood-stained hands.

At the end of everything in Mycenae, she finds the last soldier standing, the whole remains of the Greek army. She wipes the sweat from his brow, and points his way to join the rest of the lost souls.

The last of the music starts to fade. She throws down the rag with the sound of a gong.

There they are, the fall of the damned, rolling down the grand staircase to greet her. They are naked, broken, identities fading away, becoming one mass of the Dead, her faceless nameless subjects. She continues upwards, head held high, exuding power. She knows herself now, she is a goddess of two sides: life, yes, plants, yes, but death too. She knows both sides of the cycle. She too has died and been reborn, every six months she resets back to the start, and comes back stronger for it.

So she ascends, to meet her husband Hades, ruler of this underworld, harshly lit on that long, cold stone table.

Hades & Persephone find their spot to watch the proceedings, the last gasp of this world as it dissolves into nothing. The souls race around, Clytemnestra reaches out, desperate for any connection, but she cannot reach them.

What a beautiful piece of theatre he has built for her. She looks out with him, and points, cueing the dust to fall.

They break open a new pomegranate, each bringing a seed to their mouth. They kiss, and the lights fade.

What a beautiful record. Rips your heart out every time.

With thanks to everyone who worked on this show to make it as magical as it was.

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