Pamela Pauline's tone carried a sense of organizational exasperation resembling a filing cabinet slammed shut over an excess of documents. "Duncan. There's a case. Not urgent yet unusual. Could align with your… interests."
Devon remained seated in his Zurich office Kane's workbook a unyielding presence inside his secured drawer. He had reserved a flight, to Oxford for the day. "In what way peculiar?"
A report on an individual.. More accurately a report on a legally present individual. Elara Vance, a corporate lawyer. Forty-two years old, partner at Schelling & Weir. Participated in a seven-day 'Executive Unwind' retreat at a Somnum center in the Austrian Alps. Came home stepped down from her partnership relinquished her professional licenses. Accepted a janitor role at a motorway rest area, near Basel. Her family is devastated. By all accounts she is completely capable mentally sound and present. She just doesn't want to be herself "
Devon experienced an unrelated to the temperature settings of his office. "What, about the report?"
"Submitted by her sister. Not illegal. Europol lacks jurisdiction. However considering your interest, in Somnum's… anomalies… I'm permitting a review. One day, Duncan. No longer."
The service station resembled a sanctuary of passage bathed in glow and the scent of old grease and antiseptic. Continuous trucks roared along the A2. Devon discovered Elara Vance in a storeroom carefully arranging boxes of commercial toilet cleaner. She was dressed in a issued uniform. Her actions were efficient, fluid, completely free of rush or bitterness.
"Is this Elara Vance?" Devon inquired, displaying his Europol ID.
She raised her gaze. Her eyes were serene waters. There was no sign of familiarity, with her name. Only a gentle courteous focus. "Yes?"
"I came regarding your family. They are concerned."
"That is the states responsibility " she stated calmly her tone steady and gentle. She set down another box on the pallet matching its corner with calculation. "Not mine."
"You used to be a partner at a law firm. You presented arguments, in courts. Now you clean toilets." Devon's voice remained neutral simply stating facts.
A slight peaceful smile graced her lips. "Yes. A lovely reduction. The arguments carried significance. Great significance. Every case was a universe of meaning, of impact. It was…" she hesitated, looking for a term "…draining."
"And this isn't?"
She indicated the boxes, the mop buckets, the concrete floor. "This is effort without result. Grime shows up. I clean it. It returns. There's no story. No risk. No obligation. It is wonderfully pointless." She spoke the words, with the sacred intonation others might reserve for a spiritual insight.
Devon recalled Kane's state the student's lost sense of wonder. This represented a dimension. Not merely the absence of motivation. The deliberate eager quest, for emptiness. "The Somnum retreat. What took place there?"
"I found clarity " she mentioned, returning to her arrangement. "They revealed to me the shape of burden. The heaviness of a life founded on 'accomplishment.' They gave me a means to put that weight aside. I embraced it."
"What key?"
"A subtle adjustment. A soft last breath." Her eyes wandered to a dirty window through which a dull light filtered. "I exist in this moment. Completely. Unlike when I was pursuing what might come. My thoughts are… calm. It feels like a blessing."
"Your sister mentions that you have left."
"There exists a version of myself. That version was a fabrication, a tangled narrative I had grown weary of repeating." She stared at him the hollowness, in her gaze was deep. "Aren't you exhausted Agent? Your eyes speak volumes."
The inquiry struck Devon like an impact. Within him his exhaustion yawned wide a hollow that mirrored her expression. Fatigued? That was his default condition.
He abandoned her there inside her sanctuary of linoleum and the aroma of ammonia. In his vehicle he refrained from starting the motor. Through the rain-dappled windshield he observed Elara Vance maneuvering a mop over the service stations entrance hall. Every sweep of the mop followed a rhythmic curve. No excess movement. No emotion displayed. A person functioning on the maintainable energy level resembling a slowly pulsing heart.
His encrypted phone vibrated. A note, from a digit transmitted via an outdated system. Javier's university entrance. Midnight. Arrive solo. He's not acting like himself. – B.
Ben. So much for ended correspondence.
At midnight Corpus Christi College was a blend of stone and heavy darkness. The slumbering spires of Oxford lay hidden beneath a cover of fog. Devon lingered near the gate sensing vulnerability. Kane's workbook pressed down within his satchel.
A silhouette emerged from the darkness, not Ben. A young lady, with a keen uneasy expression. Nathania Nora. Her gaze flitted about her hands buried in the pockets of a jacket.
"You are Duncan? Baldric referred me. I was… I'm meant to be a graduate student. In philosophy." Her speech spilled out in a hurry.
"Supposed to be?"
"They brought me in. Somnum's 'Young Thinkers' program. Hugo Hubert… he presented it as perfectly logical. A remedy for the agony of overthinking. I went to a session. A meditation. They employed… symbols. Similar to presentations.. Afterward my thesis subject seemed trivial. Meaningless. I freaked out. I fled. Ben discovered me weeping in his store." She took a breath. "Jeffrey is, in a state. He stayed."
She guided Devon through a side entrance ascending a winding staircase to the quarters of a senior fellow. The door was open slightly.
Javier Jeffrey's study had once been a sanctuary of disorder—though that was no longer the case. Books remained piled up. They were arranged with precision. Documents were filed into compartments. The distinguished gentleman himself sat beside a hearth gazing at the chilly embers. He donned a robe. His hands rested quietly in his lap.
"Javier " Devon spoke.
Jeffrey pivoted. His eyes, lively, with clever playfulness appeared dull and courteous. "Devon. A surprising delight." The friendliness was a scripted phrase, of emotion.
"I've got something for you. From Kale Kane." Devon set the workbook down on a desk.
Jeffrey looked at it. A slight shake ran through his hands soon calming down. "Kane's mistake.. His brilliance. Flavio possesses a … refined iteration. He revealed it to me. All the grace, without the hardship. The math simply… falls into place. Like sediment, in water."
"They reached you " Devon stated, his tone even.
"They freed me Devon." Jeffrey's tone took on a practiced vigor. "I devoted years to pursuing riddles. It was a compulsion. A magnificent draining obsession. Hugo made me realize the price. Each theorem, a source of concern. Each finding, another path, to unease. They gave me a chamber at the heart of the labyrinth. I have agreed. I am appointed their… Principal Archivist of Applied Apathy. A neat serene position."
Nathania emitted a stifled noise from, behind Devon.
"They're receiving your thoughts " Devon remarked.
"I am offering my excess " Jeffrey said softly making a correction. "To serve everyone. My inquisitiveness was a spark that consumed me without creating anything worthwhile. Now I intend to help preserve the passions of others. It is a mission."
Emerging softly from the corridor a serene melodious voice uttered, "That's a lovely way to say it Javier."
Hugo Hubert entered the glow. He wore plush wool, a man, in his prime carrying a gentle focused expression. He resembled a cherished professor. "Agent Duncan. Finally we meet. I have observed your career with interest. Your persistence is commendable.. If I may add, quite exhausting to observe."
Devons muscles stiffened. "Hubert."
"Please. Hugo. We are not opponents." Hugo opened his palms signaling goodwill. "In our manner we are both reacting to human anguish. You pursue its signs. We tackle its source. That attorney you met today Elara. She discovered peace. Is that wrong?"
"You took her away."
"We uncovered her. Beneath all that effort there existed a person who merely wanted… to exist. Not to transform. Is that really so awful?" Hugo moved closer gazing intently into Devon's eyes. "Consider yourself. Exhausting your energy from both sides, to… why? Shield a world that yearns to slow its spin? You're watching over a cage and naming it liberty."
His speech was like pins piercing every joint in Devon's shield of cynicism. The emptiness, within him grew larger murmuring that Hugo could be correct.
"Don't pay attention!" Nathania's voice cut sharply through the room. "It's a deception! The symbols, the phrases… they. They disconnect things!"
Hugo exhaled softly a tone of remorse, in his breath. "Youth frequently confuse comfort with robbery. Javier grasps this. Before long everyone will." He turned toward Jeffrey. "Our vehicle awaits, Archivist. It's time to start your task."
Javier Jeffrey rose. He offered Devon one vacant glance. No call, for aid. No quiet fight. Merely a courteous concluding nod. Then he exited alongside Hugo Hubert abandoning his mind amid a collection of well-arranged books.
Nathania trembled. Devon remained motionless Hugo's reasoning a serenity coursing through him. Outside a smooth quiet electric vehicle drove off transporting an intellect to a vault of forgetfulness.
His Europol phone vibrated in his pocket. Pamela. He responded mechanically.
"Duncan. Bring this to a close. The Elara Vance investigation is concluded. She has released a declaration: she feels satisfied is of clear mind and desires no additional communication. The matter is resolved." She paused. ". Duncan? Use some of your required time, off. You seem… distant."
The call abruptly ended. Devon gazed at the hearth. He hadn't acted enough. He hadn't been persuasive enough. He had faced the reality of a conflict—a battle waged with gentle tones and proposals of easy capitulation—and sensed his determination falter.
He was not a fighter. He was a tired man. And the Industry of Idleness had just demonstrated its most potent weapon: it could make surrender look like sanity.