‘Oh!’ I said. It had never occurred to me that he and I would cease to be colleagues. ‘But working with you is one of the great pleasures of my life!’
‘I know,’ said the Other. ‘And of course, I feel the same way.’ He paused. ‘Now I need to tell you the third reason. But before I do that, I need you to hear something else.’ He gazed intently and searchingly into my face. ‘This is the most vital thing I have to say. Piranesi, this isn’t the first time you’ve told me that you want to stop the search for the knowledge. This isn’t the first time I’ve explained why that’s not the right course of action. Everything we’ve just said? We’ve said it all before.’
‘I … What?’ I said. I blinked at him in astonishment. ‘What? … No. No. That is not correct.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it is. You see, the labyrinth plays tricks on the mind. It makes people forget things. If you’re not careful it can unpick your entire personality.’
I sat dumbfounded. ‘How many times have we said it?’ I said at last.
He thought for a moment. ‘This is the third time. There’s a pattern. The idea of stopping the search for the knowledge seems to occur to you roughly once every eighteen months.’ He glanced at my face. ‘I know. I know,’ he said, sympathetically. ‘It’s hard to take in.’
‘But I do not understand,’ I protested. ‘I have an excellent memory. I remember every Hall I have ever visited. There are seven thousand, six hundred and seventy-eight of them.’
‘You never forget anything about the labyrinth. That is why your contribution to my work is so valuable. But you do forget other things. And, of course, you lose time.’
‘What?’ I said, startled.
‘Time. You’re always losing it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know. You get days and dates wrong.’
‘I do not,’ I said, indignant.
‘Yes, you do. It’s a bit of a pain, to be honest. My schedule’s always so packed. I come to meet you and you’re nowhere to be seen because you’ve lost a day again. I’ve had to put you right numerous times when your perception of time has got out of sync.’
‘Out of sync with what?’
‘With me. With everyone else.’
I was astonished. I did not believe him. But neither did I disbelieve him. I did not know what to think. But in all my uncertainty one thing was clear, one thing remained that I could absolutely rely on: the Other was honest, noble and industrious. He would not lie. ‘But why do you not forget?’ I asked.
The Other hesitated for a moment. ‘I take precautions,’ he said carefully.
‘Could I not take them too?’
‘No. No. That wouldn’t work. Sorry. I can’t go into the whys and wherefores. It’s complicated. I’ll explain it to you one day.’
This was not very satisfactory but just then I did not have the energy or mental capacity to pursue it. I was too busy thinking about what I might have forgotten.
‘From my point of view this is very worrying,’ I said. ‘Suppose I forget something important, like the Times and Patterns of the Tides? I might drown.’
‘No, no, no,’ said the Other, soothingly. ‘There’s no need to worry about that. You never forget anything like that. I wouldn’t let you go wandering about if I thought you were in the slightest danger. We’ve known each other for years now and in that time your knowledge of the labyrinth has grown exponentially. It’s extraordinary, really. And as for the rest, anything important you forget, I can remind you. But the fact that you forget while I remember – that’s why it’s so vital that I set our objectives. Me. Not you. That’s the third reason we should stick to our search for the knowledge. Do you see?’
‘Yes. Yes. At least …’ I was silent a moment. ‘I need time to think,’ I said.
‘Of course. Of course,’ said the Other. He patted me consolingly on the shoulder. ‘We’ll discuss it again on Tuesday.’
He rose to his feet and went over to the Empty Plinth and examined the little shining device lying there. ‘In any case,’ he said, ‘I need to get going. I’ve been here almost fifty-five minutes.’ Without another word he turned and set off in the direction of the First Vestibule.
The World does not bear out the Other’s claim that there are gaps in my memory
entry for the twenty-third day of the sixth month in the year the albatross came to the south-western halls
The World (so far as I can tell) does not bear out the Other’s claim that there are gaps in my memory.
While he was explaining it to me – and for some time afterwards – I did not know what to think. At several points I experienced a feeling akin to panic. Could it really be the case that I had forgotten whole conversations?
But as the day went on, I could find no evidence of memory loss to support the Other’s claim. I busied Myself with my ordinary, everyday tasks. I mended one of my fishing nets and worked on my Catalogue of Statues. In the early evening I went to the Eighth Vestibule to fish in the Waters of the Lower Staircase. The Beams of the Declining Sun shone through the Windows of the Lower Halls, striking the Surface of the Waves and making ripples of golden Light flow across the Ceiling of the Staircase and over the Faces of the Statues. When night fell, I listened to the Songs that the Moon and Stars were singing and I sang with them.
The World feels Complete and Whole, and I, its Child, fit into it seamlessly. Nowhere is there any disjuncture where I ought to remember something but do not, where I ought to understand something but do not. The only part of my existence in which I experience any sense of fragmentation is in that last strange conversation with the Other. And so I have to ask Myself: whose memory is at fault? Mine or his? Might he in fact be remembering conversations that never happened?
Two memories. Two bright minds which remember past events differently. It is an awkward situation. There exists no third person to say which of us is correct. (If only the Sixteenth Person were here!)
As for the Other’s claim that I lose time and muddle days, I do not see how this can possibly be true. I invented the calendar I use, so how could it get ‘out of sync’ as he put it? There is nothing for it to get out of sync with.
I wonder now if this is why he asked me that strange question three and a half weeks ago? I mean the question with a strange word in it. Turning back the pages of my Journal I see that the strange word was ‘Batter-Sea’.
And then, in an instant, the solution presents itself! All I have to do is read through my Journals and discover if there are any discrepancies, any events recorded there that I no longer recall. Yes! This will certainly decide the matter. In fact, the only drawback with this idea is that it will take a substantial amount of time – my writings being lengthy – which I cannot just now spare from other projects.
I am resolved to read through my Journals at some point in the coming months and in the meantime shall proceed on the assumption that it is the Other’s memory, and not mine, which is incorrect.
I write a letter
entry for the twenty-fourth day of the sixth month in the year the albatross came to the south-western halls
The following is a transcript of the letter that I inscribed in chalk on the Pavement of the Second South-Western Hall.