The timelessness here is maddening. It’s hard, sometimes, because it feels like he’s back and that nothing has changed but– but now he has company.
(He finds out that Tseten has been part of Hazel’s army of nature, which once again, makes a twisted kind of sense, but also makes him wonder if he ever visits their Earth. For the sake of his sanity, he tries to think no.
Claire, though, always says he doesn’t always have to forgive.)
They’re. Interesting, to say the least– Emi likes the quiet or the robust, but they all have that underlying feeling of hurt– Dorje recognizes that flicker of rememberance anywhere, because it mirrors his. They always say that the Past is a healer. The only thing he sees here are people struggling to let go.
“It’s a bit ironic sometimes,” Penny says, fingertips flying across the holographic screen with the cadence of migrating birds, “but we do end up here because we can’t move on. That’s why we’re the past, the department of history. But nobody learns from the future, remember that.”
So Dorje learns to navigate through the ethereal Library of All Things behind his eyelids, hair pinned up by kind stray hands, and his fingers learn to connect data to people like they’re webs to be drawn. In the open, sheltered, and peaceful room of learning, Dorje learns to become the person he used to be. His hands sketch natural lines of understanding now, linking minds to memory, and the fluidity is a reverse of taut bows and harsh arrows.
“One could only hope he actually uses the knowledge,” he says dryly after giving Arve the information he needs, and the people around him laugh.
“Please, sweetheart,” Yasmina says. “There’s a reason why lawyers always need to crack open old cases to build new ones. They have no capacity for memory.”
They probably shouldn’t trash the chosen lieutenant of Iustitia, but honestly. They’re the department of the past, where people who can’t let go cling to history together. Here, they cling to old hurt together.
Claire clicks her tongue through the communication line. “Children, behave.”
But they can hear her smile, and they grasp it as a victory.
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