Conversation · Tiago

"Oh hey, wey. There's coffee in the back... Oh, wait, I meant the Mother's love."

"Coffee in the back"? Something familiar about that. Coffee and stale cookies...

"Do you know where the other spooker is?" (Point at the strange machines around you.)

"Other spooker? Oh, esa viejita muy estudiosa!" He laughs. "Dunno, homes."

Viejita is... grandma?

"Right, thanks. I'll see if I can find her some other way..."

"You just have to wait until she comes back or..." He shrugs.

Or search through her radiocomputer.

"Wait, so there is another person living in the church -- and it's a viejita?"

"No, I just call her 'viejita' because of her clothes, she's actually quite young..." He scratches his head. "Or maybe not that young... Age is just one of the many masks we wear."

Wait, what if it's Ruby?

"Did it ever seem to you like she was hiding here from something?" The lieutenant seems to be thinking the same. He takes out his little notebook.

"You mean like a fugitive?" He glances at the abandoned radiocomputer on the other side of the nave, pulsing with light. Then he shakes his head.

"No, man, quite the opposite -- I don't think she cares much about authority or, anything else for that matter. Maybe only about her machines."

"I see." The lieutenant seems contented with that answer. "And where is she now?"

"I told you, homes -- I don't know."

"How can you not know that when you both live here?"

"Don't really follow her comings and goings. Just see her typing on her computer now and then. We've got different interests."

"So you've got nothing else to tell me? How she looks, what she does, who is she?"

"I'm afraid not, ese. You just have to wait until she comes back or..." He shrugs.

"Did it seem like she was hiding in here? Or running from something?"

"You mean like a fugitive?" He glances at the abandoned radiocomputer on the other side of the nave, pulsing with light. Then he shakes his head.

"No, man, quite the opposite -- I don't think she cares much about authority or, anything else for that matter. Maybe only about her machines."

"And you don't know where she is?"

"That's what I said, homes."

"You've been here a long time. Do you know why the church was abandoned?"

"Police raid a while back," he responds, his voice suddenly flat.

"Did you witness it?"

"Not really, or at least I don't remember much of it anymore. The Mother's Love has done its job... That's what's so great about the Mother -- it lets you forget about everything."

Could it be that he just doesn't want to discuss a police raid with another police officer?

It looks like he truly doesn't remember. There's a vagueness to his sense of time.

"Did you see what happened?"

"Okay then, thanks." [Leave.]

"I think we're done here, ese." The figure crawls off into the darkness above.

"That was... an interesting conversation."

"However, I'm still not sure whether we'll find our suspect here."

"However, I'm still not sure how it's relevant to our investigation."

"You must be the crab-man."

"Never known myself to be a crab. But if that's the name you've got for me, I won't stop you from using it."

"To be fair, it's really more like a spider."

He considers this for a moment. "I always thought of myself more like a flame. Flickering along the rafters and beams." He pauses. "It may be that I gotta work on my technique."

That's not the only technique he's working on. Look at those carved sculptures. And is that a satchel of tools over there?

"Wait, did you also carve all those sculptures?" (Point at the nearest pillar.)

"Sure am. Whittling wood used to be something I just did to busy my hands..."

"...now I use those same hands in service of something greater than my own restlessness."

All right. Let's consider the context and meaning here.

"I see what you've done there. It's as if these figures are trying to become one with the church -- or perhaps with the Mother herself."

"It's all just for the Mother, man. No need to overthink it."

"What were you before you became a crab-man?"

"I was in a gang, wey. But my memories of that time are fading... Most of them are already gone."

"So you used to be in a gang, but you don't really remember it? Sounds convenient."

"Convenience has got nothing to do with what goes on up there..." He gazes up at the ceiling.

There's a profound longing in that gaze. Like he wants to be one with whatever is up there, shrouded in darkness.

"Do you remember your name, sir?"

The lieutenant is not particularly interested in this information. He's just trying to assert some control over the conversation.

"Tiago is my name. But those syllables don't mean much to me these days. A name isn't just your identity, but also, so to speak..."

"...your place among your fellows, your place in the world. I ain't got no use for such a place anymore."

"I don't do names either. Names are out. I don't care what mine is."

"That's not quite right, but you're getting somewhere." He smiles enigmatically. "Any one of us could have been anything else..."

"We are all one, who sing the Mother's glory."