The Archbishop pulled me into her office yet again today, said that she had some news for me. I felt a sense of relief wash over me. Maybe a date had been set for my meeting with Cardinal Renus. The Sons acknowledged what I had done. All the time I had given to improving PRIDE-Σ. The updates I had sunk so many hours into. The project that had sucked me in and caused me to nearly lose my own daughter. It would all be rectified then and there. Archbishop Firges was to be my saving grace.
But my heart sank as the Archbishop began to speak.
She licked his lips apprehensively. "Bishop Mandalay... Precta... I hate to tell you this, but... Cardinal Renus has changed his mind regarding your proposed updates to PRIDE-Σ."
I heard my own voice echo through my skull. "What? What did you say?"
"It... it isn't happening," she responded. "He said no."
“I don’t understand,” I responded. "I don't understand."
She folded her hands together delicately "I don't know what to say then..."
“But I — you still want me to take over as Archbishop, right?" I began. "I mean, that's your decision, not his..."
But Archbishop Firges only shook her head in reply.
"I'm not certain..." she whispered, "Your loyalty, Mandalay — it's been called into question..."
But that isn't fair! After all the shit— I need the money, Archbishop” I began, “My little girl, she’s sic—”
“I know that, Bishop. This hurts me just to say. It really does."
Her words were gentle. But I could feel no sympathy behind them.
“With all due respect, ma'am!" I suddenly cried out. I banged my fists down upon her desk. "You know nothing! You know damn nothing! What am I supposed to do now?” I could feel myself begin to cry.
"Well, there's a few things you could do to—"
"Shut up!"
I sat there as a sobbing mess for a while before the Archbishop cut in once more. She handed me a handkerchief, but I pushed it away. She folded her small hands together around my own and sighed.
“I could always help you out, Precta. You've always been a model Son, no matter what everyone else says — and I want you to succeed me, remember," she whispered slowly. "I know someone. Someone who has easy access to medicine meant for treating Afflictions. Top of the line stuff. Experimental, but he might have things that could even cure your little girl. But..." she sighed. "I need you to tell me.”
I wiped my eyes. My words wavered out, “Tell you what?”
The Archbishop tapped her pen against the side of her desk. She voice suddenly became serious, firm. She spoke in a way I never heard before. “I need you to tell me what you know about those Priests... Zandes and the others — about what they did that night a month back."
I felt a tremor throughout my entire body. I remained silent.
"Or, at least — what they said they were going to do," the Archbishop continued with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "I know you stayed late that night, Precta. You always do. And those boys are endlessly talking about this or that... Really. You must have heard. You must have heard something."
I opened my mouth as if to say something. But then I remembered. Remember what that thing had asked of me in my dreams. What if I refused to do as it said? I could feel my head begin to shake on its own.
"I can't... I don't—"
"Precta, please. Do it for your daughter." Her voice remained sweet, structured. But I could feel her entire body trembling against her own desk.
"What'll happen to them?" I whispered after a moment had passed. "Why is this such a big deal?"
"You know why," she responded softly, squinting her large eyes together in frustration. "If you heard what they said, then you know why."
"Those were just rumors," I began.
"Don't start with me, Bishop," she shot back. "You know they weren't. Don't act so naïve. Even the Father's involved in this now."
"What, the Father? Fodella?" I managed my words out against a dry throat. "What's he got to do with it?"
"You know," the Archbishop repeated. "You know." I suddenly felt terribly afraid.
"What'll happen to them?" I whispered after a moment. "The boys?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure," the Archbishop responded. "But they've committed a serious crime, you understand. Absolution — it's not out of the question."
"You can't be serious."
"It's not my decision. Believe me."
"And me? What happens to me?"
"I'll protect you," the Archbishop sighed. "I'll tell them I intend to have you succeed me. This was something you would have to learn eventually. And you only happened to overhear to what those boys had said, after all. At that point, no crime had been committed."
I felt my grip loosening on myself. I began thinking of it again.
"But Archbishop... there's something... Something that told me not to."
I told her of my dream, and all that I had seen. All the while, she nodded her head, understanding. Her reactions were impossible to make out beyond her professional demeanor. After I had finished my tale, she folded her hands, and framed her explanation in such a gentle way:
"It was only your conscience trying to get the better of you. But you have nothing to feel guilty for. I understand they're your coworkers. But that title is overshadowed by their crimes."
I let go.
I told the Archbishop all I knew about that night, and she thanked me.
"I'll take care of you," she promised. "You and your daughter."
As I left her office, I heard her begin to make a call.
"Hello, yes... I'm calling on behalf of a dear friend of mine..."
Now I sit here in front of my monitor. The same monitor I had wasted so many hours of my life staring at.
I want to delete it. Delete all of it.
I understand why Zandes refused to work after that night. The Archbishop's demeanor towards the whole situation all but proves what he said to be true.
It makes me sick to my stomach. I can't live with myself. With what I've done. With all that I've helped to perpetrate. It was cursed from the onset. There's no other explanation.
I've committed sacrilege. Can I even hope to go to the Aside at this point? I'm not even sure. Hell. I don't even deserve it.
It's selfish of me to say. But I just hope my girls find happiness somehow.