Master Sinistre is in my library again. Weeping, as I hear him through the corridors. As the battle to remember rages on in Prime, his counterpart tries to forget. They exist in tandem, yet also, in opposition. Curiosity and youth on the one hand, and regret and the will to forget what is known on the other.
This realm is my own, although constantly changing, it is the place where I feel most hope. In the dusty archives of history, we find the hope for the future. For Michael, that hope lies in Kant and the project of Enlightenment. Perhaps, for Sinistre, this hope lies in the possibility of love, and unity within himself. I enter this chamber, and Sinistre is unbenknownst to me again.
“Magister” I said, trying my formalities. I’m not very good at dealing with these real emotional situations very well. “Talk to me, what is the matter?”
“I like being in this place, Destre.” Sinistre said, his voice, gentle, his face buried in his hands. “I prefer this place of hope.”
“These books and archives are what has commenced.” I reply, moving to lean on the wall of one of the study booths. “Your life is being lived, to read is to relive. You have your own chronicle, your own story, your own thoughts that you must attend to, besides, this library is mine, and not yours; my memories, my desires, my paternities”
“There is no mention of love in this place, Master”, Sinistre sniffed. “I enjoy how this is a place of the a priori; without relation to the world of experience, the world of feeling.”
“I am not proud of living in this domain, Sinistre”, I replied, calmly, with an air of defeat. “You have control in the phenomenal realm where my grasp there is limited, in that world I am but a crippled mess of a man; where you, you, are hope, for myself, and Michael.”
“To be free is to also be subject to much pain.” Sinistre replied, “to be able to live, is to face the possibility of death. To have the possibility of happiness entails the possibility of failure.” Failure, I understand now.
My library is, much like Sinistre Prime’s own creation, an archive of my mind; my memories, my influences, my thoughts. But it is inert. I am, unlike the other Areopagites, severely limited in my physical functioning.
S: The first time I fell in love. I was filled with hope, joy, inspiration, and a plan for the future.
D: Those days are over, but there is always something to gain from it.
S: She’s with a guy who seems better than me…he’s a better musician, and he is interested in more interesting philosophy and the like than me. He seems far more interesting, and wonderful, appealing and just generally superior to me in every way.
“What nonsense!” Antisophie claimed, as she stood from the balcony above us. “You mustn’t compare yourself to him like that!”
S: He’s got a recording deal and CD pressings; he’s far more technical and emotive a performer, he likes more conversation-worthy philosophy than I do…I can’t compete with men like that.
A: Do you want to be him?
S: No, his interest in those petty philosophers like Nietzsche are merely for literary worth; I am interested in systematic philosophy.
A: You are a different person to him-
D: You are judged by your own standards. If you judge by those of others you won’t be worth judgment…
S: I just wish she didn’t leave me.
A: Perhaps you still do love her, Sinistre; but you have to accept she has her own life and she lives it. Even if you were together, you couldn’t be around each other all the time, she has her own interests, her own friends, and her own commitments and time management. The modern world is such that everyone has a complex plethora of identities; man is not just a worker, he is a lover, a father, a mentor, a brother, a son, a teacher, an enemy, a friend, a national, a human, and so on…
D: Antisophie’s point is that our lives are very multifaceted. We can move apart from people over time.
S: She was my hope, and I lost her.
A: There is more to the world than just her, Sinistre.
S: But does it even matter? Does it matter if I could be a philosopher one day, if I have no means to enjoying that feat?
D: Like the King of Midas; whose lust turned everything into gold; but everything, rather than just some things became godl; he had no capacity to appreciate.
A: Perhaps the moral then, is that we need to be seperate from that which we love insofar as we can love them?
D: That sounds like a transcendental condition, methinks.
A: Silence, Destre…
D: So you feel that you do not compare to this feelow?
S: I cannot compete with her affections with a guy like that, he’s superior to me in every way; and I refuse to change how I am just to be closer to her. I am consigned to lonliness, it seems. I want to move on, but there isn’t anything to move on to…
D: That, is the ultimate question here, Sinistre. Do you think you can find someone again?
S: No, not as special as she, nor would I want anyone different knowing of her beauty and perfection. Helen is now with Paris, and Menelaus must accept his defeat as a man.
A: Don’t feel too bad on yourself, Sinistre. Maybe there might be some other route, some other special person for you, or another goal.
S: I don’t want anything else, nothing I could imagine would be more for me than to have her.
D: But since you can’t, what must you do now?
S: I’m nothing without her. I may have the knowledge and actions of a person, but I feel without a heart.
D: Give it time, magister. Talk to Sinistre*, you need to find resolve in yourself; it is this resolve you need prior to any love you have with another.
S: I’m starting to remember now…the inner resolve of courage and ferocity, the calm that comes through pensivity. I remember that is what Prime used to be. I must confront him, and find the secrets and powers within myself, and from myself
A: Be strong, dearest Sinistre. We need to hold the fort during Michael’s absence. Its more important we keep ourselves intact during his absence…
And so we continued. Antisophie talked to me a little afterwards about her concern for Sinistre, and the latter’s blindness to the feelings of others. Sinistre, in turn, sought to find his counterpart, who is stuck in the room of mirrors.