Conversation · Tiago

"My name's Harrier Du Bois, and my place in the world is lieutenant double-yefreitor."

"That's just the thing, homes -- none of that matters..." He sounds melancholy saying this, his limbs a mere shadow below the ceiling.

"Maybe that's why I feel so lonely -- without a name, I have no place."

"Don't worry, man, you got a place -- right here." He sounds happy saying this, his limbs a mere shadow below the ceiling.

"My name's Harry." (Extend your hand for a greeting.)

"That's just the thing, homes -- none of that matters..." He ignores your hand, his limbs a mere shadow below the ceiling.

"My name sets me apart from my fellows. How often do you meet a Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau?"

"Don't think I've met one yet, homes." He studies you silently for a moment.

The lieutenant raises his eyebrows and coughs.

That was him suppressing a chuckle.

"Tiago's my name, by the way, though the syllables don't mean much to me. A name isn't just your identity, but also, so to speak..."

(Shake your head.) "So many people losing their memory... A certain portent of doom..."

"Naw, ese, it's not like that. Best thing that could happen to you -- losing your memory..."

"I lost my memory, too, but I like it. It's like I get to create a whole new me, start again from scratch."

"That's not really the point, ese." He frowns. "You gotta give yourself over to service... Service of the Mother, that is..."

"I lost my memory, too. And it haunts me."

"No, man. You gotta let that shit go." He looks at you as if he wants to pat you on the back. "Then the Mother's light touch will fill you with rapture..."

"You're promoting the objectification of women with your reactionary depiction of female bodies."

(Rub your chin.) "You've got some nice... curves going there."

"Honestly, I don't get it. All these figures look half-finished."

(Squint your eyes.) "These seem a tad... derivative."

(Let's keep moving on.) "What were you before you became a crab-man?"

"Hey, it's your neighbours who came up with this name, not me."

"Sorry, you just weren't moving like a human."

"If you're not a crab, then what are you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"This is a special place. There's a perforation in the world up there. A way out, into nothingness." He nods toward the ceiling. "This church was built around it, for purposes of veneration."

"I circle it, nurtured by the silence bestowed by the Mother. One of these days, I'll be pure enough to go drink from it directly."

He said something about "saeraffic existence" before. Maybe this is what he was talking about?

"Are these yours?" (Show him the scarf and shoes you found lying around.)

"I think they were, a long time ago..." He looks at the red clothing items in your hand. "I had to shed them like skins, to get closer to the centre of the silence. You can have them. I don't need them anymore."

They'd only stop him from climbing.

They look pretty dapper actually.

"Right. I had other questions..."

The sinewy figure lingers on the wooden beams, blending into the shadows.

"Who's this Mother of Silence you keep talking about?"

"Oh, that's no simple question, ese. She is one who can't be painted or sculpted..."

"She is a cavity, in the dark, beyond sense. She saved me... but I couldn't describe her to you. No one can, homes, and no one ever will."

His adoration is beyond sexual. This cavity is something that no human form has.

"You sure you didn't just switch one drug for another?"

"It's not like that at all, man. It's just faith and joyful service."

Too gleeful, those words -- he is lying. Not to you -- to his very own self.

"I guess you have a point." (Proceed.)

"I know it'll take time. Don't sweat it."

"I think love might have been my drug of choice. And I think I'm still hungover from it."

"She took you for a good spin, huh?" He looks at you gravely. "Don't worry, bro, that love is but a drop compared to the ocean of the Mother's love..."

"...the Mother will eat all of you, and never spit you out."

"Let's agree to disagree." (Proceed.)

"I was being insensitive. Sorry. Let's move on." (Proceed.)

"No worries, man. I know this shit takes time."

"Hey, not judging -- I've got drug problems myself."

"I can see, and it saddens me. But devotion can save you -- it saved me."

"Faith is a kind of drug."

"I've heard that before, wey." He shakes his head. "And I know I can't convince you on the spot. But think -- when's the last time you woke up from silent communion with a hangover, regretting what you did last night?"

There are drugs darker than alcohol circling your system.

"Are these your shoes lying around here?" (Show him the red brogues you found.)

"I think they were, a long time ago..." He looks at the red brogues in your hand. "I had to shed them like skins, to get closer to the centre of the silence. You can have them. I don't need them anymore."

They'd only stop him from climbing.

These shoes look pretty dapper actually.

"How did you even find this place -- this church?"