[center][h1]Emil Günther[/h1]
Physical state: Sick
Mental state: Apprehensive, curious, terrified[/center]


[color=fff200]”Doctor Wertheimer? Are you alright? I thought you went home an hour ago.”[/color]

[color=39b54a][i]
Werhtheimer? His name on his robes on me. I see.[/i][/color] [color=0072bc]”Yes, sister...[/color][color=39b54a][i]Wiseman[/i][/color] [color=0072bc]Wiseman. I am just fine. Just irregular hours. I really needed to refresh myself. Had a coffee on an empty stomach. I'll be fine.”[/color] He smiled through the bloody mask, but his eyes did not give it away. He nodded to her and she went down the hall from which he came, just a thud of footsteps and a smiling face.

[color=fff200]”Was the procedure successful after all? The patient is well, I hope?”[/color]

[color=0072bc]”I... I am afraid I do not know. We can always pray for the best and let god do his work.”[/color]

[color=fff200]”Someone's leaving atheism behind, I see. It must be the coffee.”[/color] She winked and entered the toilets.

[color=39b54a][i]Thank you![/i][/color] he thought as the toilet doors flew back but not knowing whom he was thanking. He peered from the corner but caught only far down the hall the disappearing frame of the professor who'd stayed behind [color=39b54a][i]far too long... The key is here in Wertheimer's pocket and another behind the door. A bigger one. The key is the key to the key. If I open it now and am forever caught in what lies beyond? Am I Pandora or is she in the box I am about to unlock? What difference does it make, then? If I descend  now into Hades and eat of its fruit I'll never ascend back for good, but be always drawn back to the dark that I'll be bound to. But now the watch hound is gone.[/i][/color]

He slowly went towards the room 125 as if against the current of a strong wind, but one thought in his mind: [color=92278f]Faye Desdemona[/color]. [color=39b54a][i]With dignity. No submission. I hold her metal soul in my hand. I ask the questions.[/i][/color] He stood in front of her door and spoke in almost a whisper, but clearly.

[color=0072bc]”Finally, we are alone, you and I. I know your name. The name alone wouldn't make you write that note. Anyway, It is misery, the name, is it not, Faye?”[/color]

From behind the door came a flat but endearing answer that sent the hair on his nape erect.

[color=ed1c24]”Your Greek serves you well, Emil. The companions assemble, I see. I've been waiting for long.”[/color]

[color=0072bc]”I'm no Moor, Desdemona.”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]”An outsider nonetheless. I am one, too.”[/color]

[color=0072bc]”An insider, rather, it seems to me.”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]”Not for long, I hear from your professor. What have you got in the pocket, Emil?”[/color]

[color=0072bc]”Your freedom. And mine. From all this. You heard well.”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]”Ja, Freiheit. . . Aber, es gibt keine wirkliche Freiheit mehr.”[/color]

[color=0072bc]”Es gibt keine Zeit für Philosophie auch. Ich habe Fragen. Viele Fragen.”[/color]

[color=ed1c24]”Komm, dann, und frag mich, Emil.”[/color]

He'd never heard anyone utter his name in such manner but he could not pinpoint the quality that separated it from even the most extraordinary voices. Alien it was, but still cordial, and plucked just the right string in him. He held the key at the edge of the lock and tried to think, but his rational mind was empty as on the day he was born, and only atavism of the flesh remained to govern him, that throwback of the body to its primal qualities, and soullessness of the primitive ancestry. Yet he felt at home, an animal let free for a moment from its sapient cage. When his humanity came back, he had no time for thought. With determination he turned the key thrice in the lock and entered.