"I find it difficult to believe that after two hours, you have failed to grasp even the simplest aspects of life here. I have no option but to assume that your thickness is merely an inelegant attempt to spend more time in my company." She smiled, knowingly.
"I object to that accusation, but will not dignify it with a response."
"Too late. At any rate, perhaps we should try a different approach. Perhaps you should tell me what you have grasped."
"Alright." I took a deep breath and plunged into the chaos of my short term memory. Fortunately, my mind had calmed down from the previous day. It had taken me five minutes to remember how to open doors. "I understand that when I tried to find my dog in the sewers, I walked into the STORM -"
"And the STORM is?" prompted Eleanor.
"Steam Trolleys..."
"Operating in Ridiculous Manners. You really aught to know the name of the event that nearly killed you."
"That might have been a relief," I muttered to myself, only half serious. The idea of living with these people had not quite settled in my stomach. All I wanted was to throw it up again, but I knew that that would just make a bigger mess, so I had to try to digest the nasty stuff. Of course, the process led to some nasty heat bur, by which I mean depression. At this point, I will kindly stop with the digestion metaphors.
Eleanor sighed. "I know this must be difficult for you. However, try to consider it from our point of view. Assuming that Collins had even a scrap of moral integrity, which I grant you is somewhat in doubt, could he have left you to die in the tunnels?"
"No. I'm not saying he shouldn't have rescued me, but -"
"And when you feinted, could he have just dumped you above ground?"
"He could have taken me to a hospital or even left me just outside the tunnel," I suggested.
"My dear Geoffrey, do you honestly believe Collins could carry you to a hospital, above ground, dressed as he was, before you recovered and started to ask questions? We do not have any legal vehicles, and leaving you unconscious on the pavement would likely have been just as dangerous as leaving you in the STORM. Furthermore, how could he have known at that point that you were an eworlder? As he pointed out, your dress was not that far from our own, and almost no one comes into those tunnels unless they have business with us."
"Fine, but once you found out I'm not one of you -"
"weren't, you weren't one of us. You are now." She gave me a look indicating that disagreement would end badly for me.
"Once you found out I wasn't one of you, you could have blindfolded me, guided me out somewhere, and left me? It isn't as if anyone would believe me if I told them that blooming steam monstrosities are raced through the sewers." Eleanor smiled knowingly.
"I believe you underestimate Scotland Yard. Did you think that no one else has ever stumbled upon the Guild?"
"Well, I - "
"Several decades back, a policeman discovered us. Our headquarters were above ground then, and he happened to get the address wrong on a domestic disturbance call. We let him leave. There was nothing illegal about what he had seen. We thought that if we simply moved to a new location and fortified the door against a break in, we would be able to continue our existence undisturbed. However, the policeman had resolved to find what he could about our organization. Somehow, he managed to find one of our ex-members and found out even more about us. Although Scotland Yard would never admit it, they have an ongoing search for us. Since then, joining means joining for life, and an outsider discovering us can mean one of three things, joining, erasing, or death."
"What do you mean, erasing?" I demanded, not wanting to think about the last option.
"You know that we are part of the SecSocSoc - "
"Remind me, please?"
"Agh, did you by any chance hit your head as a child or do you intentionally forget everything I tell you?" Her slippered foot tapped on the wooden floors.
"I thought it was an act to spend time in your company," I teased, reaching for my cup of tea. Unfortunately, it had gone cold. Nothing dampens a joke quite like wasted tea.
"Remember what I say this time. The SecSocSoc is an abbreviation for The Secret Society Society. Several other groups enjoy...alternative lifestyles. We have formed the SecSocSoc so that we can help one another keep our societies secret."
"So, what does this have to do with erasing?"
"I was about to explain. One of the societies, WAND, specializes in magic. They are able to remove memories. However, it is a delicate process done with an indelicate tool. Magic is not so much a scalpel as a battle ax."
I attempted to repress it, but I could not control myself. A geyser of laughter bubbled out of me. Steam punk societies underground and insane races through the sewers, I could believe. However, anyone who believed in magic had to be a few tealeaves short of a pot. Eleanor hardly seemed pleased when I fell out of my chair, laughing.
Eleanor sighed. "I know this must be difficult for you. However, try to consider it from our point of view. Assuming that Collins had even a scrap of moral integrity, which I grant you is somewhat in doubt, could he have left you to die in the tunnels?"
"No. I'm not saying he shouldn't have rescued me, but -"
"And when you feinted, could he have just dumped you above ground?"
"He could have taken me to a hospital or even left me just outside the tunnel," I suggested.
"My dear Geoffrey, do you honestly believe Collins could carry you to a hospital, above ground, dressed as he was, before you recovered and started to ask questions? We do not have any legal vehicles, and leaving you unconscious on the pavement would likely have been just as dangerous as leaving you in the STORM. Furthermore, how could he have known at that point that you were an eworlder? As he pointed out, your dress was not that far from our own, and almost no one comes into those tunnels unless they have business with us."
"Fine, but once you found out I'm not one of you -"
"weren't, you weren't one of us. You are now." She gave me a look indicating that disagreement would end badly for me.
"Once you found out I wasn't one of you, you could have blindfolded me, guided me out somewhere, and left me? It isn't as if anyone would believe me if I told them that blooming steam monstrosities are raced through the sewers." Eleanor smiled knowingly.
"I believe you underestimate Scotland Yard. Did you think that no one else has ever stumbled upon the Guild?"
"Well, I - "
"Several decades back, a policeman discovered us. Our headquarters were above ground then, and he happened to get the address wrong on a domestic disturbance call. We let him leave. There was nothing illegal about what he had seen. We thought that if we simply moved to a new location and fortified the door against a break in, we would be able to continue our existence undisturbed. However, the policeman had resolved to find what he could about our organization. Somehow, he managed to find one of our ex-members and found out even more about us. Although Scotland Yard would never admit it, they have an ongoing search for us. Since then, joining means joining for life, and an outsider discovering us can mean one of three things, joining, erasing, or death."
"What do you mean, erasing?" I demanded, not wanting to think about the last option.
"You know that we are part of the SecSocSoc - "
"Remind me, please?"
"Agh, did you by any chance hit your head as a child or do you intentionally forget everything I tell you?" Her slippered foot tapped on the wooden floors.
"I thought it was an act to spend time in your company," I teased, reaching for my cup of tea. Unfortunately, it had gone cold. Nothing dampens a joke quite like wasted tea.
"Remember what I say this time. The SecSocSoc is an abbreviation for The Secret Society Society. Several other groups enjoy...alternative lifestyles. We have formed the SecSocSoc so that we can help one another keep our societies secret."
"So, what does this have to do with erasing?"
"I was about to explain. One of the societies, WAND, specializes in magic. They are able to remove memories. However, it is a delicate process done with an indelicate tool. Magic is not so much a scalpel as a battle ax."
I attempted to repress it, but I could not control myself. A geyser of laughter bubbled out of me. Steam punk societies underground and insane races through the sewers, I could believe. However, anyone who believed in magic had to be a few tealeaves short of a pot. Eleanor hardly seemed pleased when I fell out of my chair, laughing.
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