“Emery Hildur,” she said to herself. The museum was nearing capacity at around 1330, but it was quiet as if Emery and Hildur were the only two there. It annoyed Hildur a little, that so many people were constantly trying to figure out Siano’s identity. Seven years since the Siano debut and no one has gotten close. “Emery Hildur,” she whispers again. Her mind wanders off onto the thought of a strange dream she had. In the dream, she couldn’t sleep unless she drank some special tea Emery needed to give to her, but he had to chase her down. At the end of the dream, he finally caught her and gave her the tea. Siano music played. She couldn’t remember what happened after that.
“Yeah,” Emery said. “That’s us.”
Hildur nudged him on the shoulder and along followed a couple of Korean curse words. “That’s what I’m naming my painting.”
Back at home, Hildur was tucked away in her bedroom, seated at her easel. On the surface, the painting looked and was complete, but she had been debating whether to add a grasshopper somewhere on the painting. Ultimately, after several minutes, she decided against it. The grasshopper is Siano’s trademark. After declaring the painting completed, she waited for the wave of satisfaction to wash over her, but it did not come. She had painted a river that twisted and winded through a forest that was destroyed on one side, but healthy on the other. The river ran back into itself, but it was not a loop. The beginning, or the end, of the river ran off the page. This was intentional, but Hildur wasn’t sure what it meant or why she did it. She took out a lighter and lit the bottom corner of the painting. No, what am I doing?
She pocketed the lighter and left the room. “I think I need an excuse to burn something.”
“Your tongue,” Emery said. He was sitting on the couch cautiously sipping tea. He handed her the cup and she took a gulp and winced a bit. “That implied that it was hot.”
“No, it tastes bad.”
“Why are you still drinking it?”
“Thirsty.”
“You drank it all? How did you…? It was very hot. How did you just drink it like that.”
“I’ll leave you in suspense for several years before I answer that. No, no, sit down Em, I’ll make you some more tea.”
“Oh hey, I meant to talk to you about my version of the Deepmind Theory.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup. In my theory, or, my version I mean, artists of all kinds, from all over, share dreams. They meet in this huge hall and discuss their dreams, emotions, feelings. They’ll trade with other artists and when they wake up, they don’t remember the dream. Their subconscious does all the work and well, basically, it’s the source of inspiration.”
Hildur returned with another cup of tea and joined him on the couch. “I read this article, back in high school. It was my last year I think. Uhh, it was an article on Deepmind but it made so much sense and I spent so much time thinking about it. I don’t believe in many theories, but that one takes the… what’s the phrase?”
“Cake,” Emery said, sipping his tea. “What was the theory?”
“Okay, basically, if two people become so close to one another, they know everything about each other. The ins and outs. The rights and lefts. Ups and Downs, they would essentially rewire their minds to be something of a merged version. Two minds in one, basically. They would generate so many similar thoughts, feelings, emotions. Their empathy towards one another would be… something else.” Sometimes, I like to think we’re that close.
Hildur was a bit embarrassed to take such a theory serious, but her friendship with Emery over the years made it impossible not to. She started staring at Emery, hoping to put one of her thoughts in his mind. Although, if their minds did merge as per the theory, it would become their mind. Our mind should be called, Hilmery. Ah, now it just sounds silly.
After an unsolicited staring contest, Emery took a sip of tea and turned on the television. “Maybe we can do this later? It’s time for the Egania address.”
Hildur continued to stare at him for a few more seconds, one day its gonna happen. May not be the same day, but it’ll be the same thought, or feeling, or dream even.
The address was given by a man named Jakur Vivendis. He introduced himself as the messenger of Egania, and the Voice of the Eastern world. There was a long pause, and then, looked into the camera. “We’re going to war with the United States, and any country that decides to come their aid.”
The address went on for another hour. Jakur wasn’t saying anything new to Hildur and Emery. Hildur felt emotions brewing as if she was hearing it all for the first time. They showed pictures of the western government officials Jakur had dubbed, “The Corruptuals,” and it incited something dark inside Hildur. Something that wasn’t who she was, and she’d never imagined she’d become. Her hands twitched, and she couldn’t blink. She needed these men dead, but they were being protected by the corrupt powers that be. For the first time, she was glad war was happening and knew Egania would emerge victorious.
Emery turned the tv off. Silence.
Hildur kept staring at the screen, as if the faces were still showing.
“Shit,” Emery said. “Well shit.”
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