Translation - Play: "Death of the Roses" [Khan and Andrey Dialogue/Conceptual 'Analysis' of the Polyhedron]
From a play I was writing about the Lilich sisters, the Mistresses and the Polyhedron
Andrey followed Caspar into his father’s study, his head tilted to look at the boy directly. “Don’t be like that, boy. You’re still young but there has to be somebody that interests you. Life is about more than just studying all day, or whatever it is you do. The best thing about being human is other human beings.”
Caspar grimaced. “Every time you visit I remember why my mother likes you and my father can’t stand your company.” He spoke with complete disregard to how Andrey smirked at his words.
“Ah, but I left a strong enough impression for them both to speak of me. Did Miss Maria comment about me, by any chance?”
The young Kain hesitated, lips thinning. “Yes… But I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”
They stopped before Victor’s desk, prompting him to look up to regard them both with an even stare.
“Father. Mr Stamatin wanted to speak with you.” The glacial formality of his tone and stiffness of his posture seemed unsuited to the occasion. Andrey elbowed the boy, spiting the seriousness he bore around himself. “How many times have I told you to call me Andrey, pipsqueak.”
Victor completely disregarded the clash of personalities happening before him with the ease of a man married to what would arguably be the biggest personality in town. “Thank you for bringing him here, son.” A subtle dismissal.
Caspar started to retreat before Andrey settled his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “The boy can stay, he’s big enough to listen to us talk shop.” He disregarded the boy’s wide eyes and stiffened shoulder.
“Very well, then. What brings you to the Crucible, Andrey?” It was hard to discern if he spoke with apathy or resignation.
Andrey cracked his neck before speaking, making his present company wince. “I thought I ought to warn one of you, and I’m aware your brothers are more deeply invested in this, but decided to check in with yourself.” The way he explained himself seemed to be to nobody’s benefit, perhaps just to extend the exchange. “The Polyhedron is almost complete and ready to be erected.”
Victor spoke evenly, but his eyes reflected reticence. “It’s hard not to be invested in a project the scale of the Polyhedron, but proceed.”
“I’ll take that as a taciturn adherence to my brother’s ambition.” The architect’s tone indicated he took pride in that fact, even as he deferred credit to Peter. “Now, before I continue, I’d like confirmation on how much you’re willing to invest in this.”
“A lot, according to our expenses.” Victor spoke flatly, just enough subtlety not to seem rude.
Andrey’s expression remained pleasant. “Yes, of course, and Peter and I are grateful, but my question possesses a more… Metaphysical meaning.”
“Metaphysical.” Victor echoed.
“Metaphysical.” Andrey repeated, perhaps only to be vague.
The men stared at each other at an impasse, Andrey with a slightly smug smile. Caspar turned to him after avoiding his gaze since he arrived, a sort of childish spark of curiosity in his eyes. “What metaphysical price could a construction have?”
The architect broke eye contact with Victor to clap a hand on the boy’s shoulder again. “Good boy, great question. Let’s say that a building in this scale had immense potential for mutation. Its mere existence is a crime against nature, which brings me great pride and completes my curriculum of illicit activities in this life, for now.”
“Your point being?” Victor asked, rubbing his forehead with a sigh.
Andrey tilted his head down, making Caspar feel patronized. “What does the younger master Kain think?”
The boy seemed pensive. “Everything that rises, falls. If the tower won’t, it isn’t going to follow the laws of physics.”
“Precisely!” His voice was excited, not a hint of indulgence to be found.
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “This is absurd, Andrey. Honestly, I thought you were working within the parameters of the realm of possibility.”
“An anecdote from the life of a charlatan, Victor: if the rules don’t favor you, change the game.” He was fully serious.
“What you’re doing isn’t a change of game, it’s cheating the laws of physics.”
“And I tell you, as an architect, that it’s entirely within our capacities. The circumstances around here seem to favor the strange and absurd.” There was a joy in Andrey’s aura that was rarely witnessed in the Kain home.
Victor spoke slowly, as if dreading what he would unleash. “I suppose you would know a bit more about the strange and absurd than me.” A sigh. “Very well, proceed with my tolerance, but don’t exaggerate.”
Andrey chuckled. “I think you maybe should’ve said that before my brother invented an inverted tower that cannot collapse.”
“As if I didn’t know.” Victor seemed to age as the conversation went on. “Make yourself at home, I need to speak to my brothers about this matter.” He waited for no reply as he took a sheaf of notes from his desk and walked out of the room with even strides.
Caspar relaxed noticeably and took his father’s seat, leaning back on the chair and crossing his legs, feet resting on the polished surface of the desk, fishing a travel-sized book from his pocket and opening it with the smooth motion of someone who took such a posture frequently. Andrey thumbed through the stacks of paperwork on the desk lazily, humming.
“When my father said to make yourself at home, I hardly think he meant ‘Of course, Andrey, please suit yourself to my personal documents with no regard to the privacy of the family’.” The boy spoke as if it were an absentminded thought but with an authoritative tone.
Andrey chuckled. “I’d take your criticism more seriously if you weren’t sitting pretty in his chair without lifting a finger to impede me, boy.”
“I don’t involve myself in the affairs of adults.”
“Sometimes I don’t understand if you want to be a contemporary Peter Pan or if you simply can’t wait for the moment you obtain the authority of seniority over others.” Andrey spoke as if he himself didn’t believe what he said, and it was only for the sake of responding.
They looked at each other for a moment, sizing the other up. “The Polyhedron will be ruled by the rules of which game, in the end?”
“We’re not sure yet. Peter says the tower will sustain itself like a flower, following biological precepts and forming its own lifelong fibers. He was always more creative than me, after all, he was the one who devised the Rose.” Andrey looked out the window, a grounded wistfulness tainting him.
Caspar narrowed his eyes at the avoidance. “And what do you think? You’re the architect who put the idea into practice.”
Andrey waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t know, but if pressed I’d say it’s a process a bit less organic. No, perhaps it could be organic, but certainly not natural. Let’s say I’m of the opinion that a sort of alchemy is possible in this specific case. The ascension of an object to a standard unreachable in nature itself, but at a cost.”
The book in Caspar’s grasp was closed audibly, and when he spoke, it was with intrigue. “Alchemy? Chemistry, you mean. The Polyhedron will suffer a transformation mediated by a sort of energy exchange?”
“Someone’s been studying.” The man said in lieu of an answer.
Caspar mirrored the prior dismissive hand gesture. “I’m surprised you have any interest in chemistry as an area of research.”
“How do you think I discovered the best ways to produce alcohol at home, squirt?”
Caspar’s eye twitched. “You’re a questionable individual.” He firmly set his book down on the desk. “What could the Polyhedron possibly lack to become an edifice, then?”
Andrey rubbed his chin in consideration. “It lacks nothing, necessarily, only time. Let’s say we want to catalyze a process that is already in motion.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t a natural process.” Caspar countered, slightly bewildered.
“Not yet, but given enough time everything becomes possible, and therefore impossible. Your uncles wanted the tower to be constructed in our time by our hands, and I admit I’m interested in seeing it in our lifetime. Lucky for us, my brother and I were born in the right place at the right time.” Not a trace of smugness could be found in his demeanor, only sincerity.
Caspar tilted his head. “And what’s the catalyst?”
Andrey sat down on the desk and crossed his arms, settling in for a long conversation. “We’re not sure.”
“Your reticence points to the contrary.” The boy got up from his seat, eyes narrowed.
“Do you read the dictionary for fun, punk?”
Silence. Caspar crossed his arms and stared into Andrey’s eyes. The architect threw his hands up exasperatedly. “Bah! You’re persistent like your mother, and your dad’s dead eyed stare doesn’t help the matter.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I find it helps a lot.” Caspar spoke with a straight face, but he exuded smugness.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about, you have her sharp tongue and his obtuse determination. Unbearable, a union straight from Hell.” Andrey was clearly more peeved than actually unsettled.
Caspar raised his eyebrows. “Yes, and you’re intimately familiarized with Hell, seeing as you came directly from there.”
The man paused before guffawing good-naturedly, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Speaking to you is always a pleasant surprise, kid.”
“Pleasant enough to incentivize you to tell me what the catalyst is?” He didn’t even try to mask the cloying in his tone.
“You know, if there’s one thing we have in common it’s that when I was your age I was a lot like you, despite the precocious sense of humor. You’re clearly not going to give up, so I’ll tell you our hypothesis, but this stays between us and you’re not going to make any smart comments.”
He waited for Caspar to nod before continuing. “You’re asking the wrong question, we’d been doing so for a good while. It’s not about what the catalyst, but who. Peter agrees that the Rose requires human care, but we think such an edifice can only be cultivated by the hands of someone truly exceptional.”
Andrey thumbed the straps of his suspenders as he spoke warmly. “We had a colleague, Farkhad. a phenomenal architect. You might’ve heard that he was the one responsible for a decent part of the most impressive constructions around here. The Cathedral and the Stillwater were works made by his skilled hands.”
“I never understood the Cathedral. It’s not as if it’s a monument to a specific deity.”
“Of course not, boy. Time is a transcendental power in itself. If it suits you, you can even make a statuette dedicated to Kronos and erect an altar there.” Andrey was transparently making light of Caspar.
The boy disregarded the jab with an eyeroll. “Isn’t it a bit contradictory? A space dedicated to time?”
“Ask your uncles, they’re the ones who requested it be built. They wanted a space where time doesn’t pass within, but that alters its passage without.” He closed his eyes as if he could feel the flow of time on his face.
“And the Stillwater?” Caspar tapped his foot impatiently.
Andrey cracked one eyelid open with mirth. “Ah, that’s a bit more complex.”
“Is it?” A genuine query. “Isn’t it just a hostel? I know it can function as an observatory.” The comment would almost come off as haughty, were it not blunt.
“The Stillwater could be considered a Polyhedron prototype-”
Caspar piped up, almost excited by the prospect of having something to add. “But weren’t the staircases to nowhere also prototypes? I heard my uncles talking about it.”
“A project so big as to shelter a human soul must have at least a hundred blueprints, fifty mockups, twenty prototypes and two iterations. The Stillwater was Farkhad’s.” Andrey’s claim weighed like absolute truth, as if those were tenets he lived by. Caspar supposed at least he followed some code of conduct, albeit only as an architect and not a moral person.
The boy hummed. “I don’t see the resemblance. The Stillwater is short and round, not a single edge. The Polyhedron is made up of at least 70% sharp edges and it towers over clouds, in the right weather conditions.”
Andrey seemed nonplussed by the skepticism. “Yes, and see the ingenuity of its concept. Farkhad thought that a building with the objective of hosting a human soul and nurturing its growth and ascension should be flat, to serve as a foundation and anchor the individual. The task of ascending would consequently be left to the inhabitant themself.”
Caspar’s expression cracked, perturbed. “But isn’t that the place where nobody can stand to stay for a long period of time?”
“Yes, which is why the idea was discarded.” The architect didn’t seem concerned about the fact. “The new guest shows a remarkable resistance to its adverse effects, I hope she stays. Miss Eva Yan is lovely company.” Caspar frowned at his smirk. “But don’t disconsider the importance of the house, its influence demonstrates that there’s merit in the idea that the spaces we inhabit have a profound effect on us.”
“Does this include our estate?” The boy looked around meaningfully.
Andrey spoke with mirth. “Worried?”
“Not at all.” His voice wavered, but his stance was firmly prideful. “The house is ours, it’s under our rules.”
“I don’t doubt the young master can command his place of residence, but you underestimate the influence of the walls that surround us.” He grinned and leaned forward. “What makes you think the way you behave now isn’t entirely the influence of your environment?”
Caspar shivered visibly, the silence amplifying the weight of the words. “...You’re just trying to disturb me.”
“And I’m accomplishing it.” Andrey seemed delighted by the fact. “But that’s your opinion, maybe I’m trying to teach you something here.”
“I’d believe that more if you had expressed any interest in my education prior to this moment.” Caspar replied, retreating into the comfortable pace of idle banter.
