The Devil's Workshop

“That’s why the Karstphanomen will always fail,” Jack said. “Because justice is not a thing one can pursue. It is a perception.”

“What did you do to Adrian March?”

“March? The policeman? Would you like to know what he did to me, what beautiful art he created on my body over the past year or so? I could show you.”

“I only want to know what you have done to him.”

“I think he might be alive. I’ve tried, at least, to keep him alive. You have to give me credit for that.”

“If you’ve killed him…”

“What, Walter Day? If I’ve killed him, you’ll be unhappy with me? What is he, your mentor? That’s what he is to you, isn’t he? Your father failed in certain critical ways, and so Adrian March has become important to you.”

“Don’t speak about my father anymore. That is not your right. If I am not to speak of your mother, then—”

“Ah. Touché, as the Froggies say. You’re right about that, and I ought to allow you to cut me in return, oughtn’t I? You see how I think about things? How thoughtful I am? I think it’s time for you to have a new mentor. Is it too forward of me to put myself out as a possibility?”

“If I am ever free of this place,” Day said. “I know it’s not… No, but if I ever am, I will see that you are brought to justice. Then you’ll see what a real thing that is. You’ll see that justice is a thing to strive for, not a thing to be mocked.”

“Bless your heart.” The shadow was quiet again for a long time, and Day began to drift off. Then Jack spoke.

“I have an offer for you, Walter Day. A thing I will do for you, if you wish. To make up for having dragged your father and mother into our dialogue. It was wrong of me to punish you for mentioning my mother when I had already mentioned yours.”

“Why me? Why do you keep talking to me? What did you do to the man in the next cell?”

“He wasn’t special.”

“And I am?”

“I see potential.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Do you think you’re better than the man in the next cell?”

“No.”

“Do you think you’re worse?”

“No.”

“Believe it or not, that makes you unique. You don’t judge them, those many many people out there, all of them rooting about in their own messy fleshy lives, never looking up. You try to understand them.”

“Maybe you should try, too, instead of killing them.”

“I don’t kill them. That is only your perception. I try to help them understand themselves, to appreciate what is always there beneath the surface. I transform them. They are caterpillars, unable to see beyond the leaves they eat and shit upon. There’s an entire tree waiting for them if they would only look up and see it.”

“You judge them, but praise me for not judging.”

“Only because I used to be like you, Walter Day. I am fascinated to watch your journey unfold. I’d like to see if it turns out like mine did.”

“So you’ll take these shackles off?”

“No. I think you’ll free yourself without any help from me. And soon, too. Maybe not soon enough. We’ll see, I suppose. Maybe you’ll continue to bleed and you’ll die down here after all. But that’s not for me to say.”

“Then what? You said you would do something for me.”

“If you ask me to, I will go to your home and I will remove your wife and your unborn child from the sphere of your responsibility.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know what that means. I can free you, Walter Day, in more ways than you intend. I can do that for you.”

“Don’t you touch her! You stay away from my Claire!”

“Claire? What a beautiful name. She sounds lovely already. All right. I promise I’ll leave her for you. You have my word. But you didn’t mention the baby, and that makes me think perhaps you’d like to take me up on at least part of my offer. You don’t want to follow in the footsteps of your valet father, do you? Oops, I brought him up again. Do forgive me.”

“Leave them alone.”

“We’ll see. We’ll see. I’ll give it some thought and determine what might be best for you. But for now, you just rest. You’re going to need your strength if you’ve any intention of getting out of here.”

“Undo the shackles.”

“No. But I have every confidence in your abilities. After all, you have a lockpick. Good-bye, Walter Day.”

The shadow melted away into the gloom of the tunnels. The lantern was extinguished, and Day could not be sure whether Jack had left or had simply stepped back against the wall and was even now watching him. Nor could he be sure whether Jack had meant to leave the hood off this time. But he did his best to enjoy every breath he took of fresh air.

And he wondered which would be his last.

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