He looks at me. “I see everything, Jackie. At least, as much as a single human being can see. It is my job, and I am the only person in the Tower that is given this responsibility. Only a person assigned to the position of director is given access to this much knowledge, much like your father is the only person allowed so much knowledge of the Creep. Every man and woman to their task, and none other. The left hand cannot know what the right hand is doing.”
“Why?”
“Because too much knowledge makes the people discontent,” he continues. “You already see it on Floor 1. Who seems happier to you, Jackie? The people on Floor 1, that live their daily lives consuming Voluptas, or the people on Floors 10 or 11 that can honestly celebrate the Scavenging?”
My teeth almost drain the blood from my lower lip as I try to figure this out. “The more you know, the less happy you are?”
“Jackie, I am the least happy of all the people in Tower Pisa, because I alone carry the burden of knowing there is no leaving this place. All we can do is keep the Creep at bay. Now, imagine if everyone that lives here knew the truth? That the stories they clung to were false? What then?”
“They’d… they’d…” I know what he’s saying. I don’t completely believe The Book of the Tower myself, and that’s already depressing. “They’d get desperate.”
“Exactly. As of now the lower levels believe that Floor 1 is securing the future for them. The Scavenging gives them hope and brings new and exciting times to their lives. They believe that the technology we acquire will help battle the Creep. It might not be enough to make them happy, but it’s enough to keep them content. Meanwhile, those on Floor 1 know that everything we do is futile. You’ve already seen it, their condition. Why they need the Voluptas.” He chuckles as he folds his hands on the desk. “Now imagine with me. What if the people of Floor 1 stopped taking Voluptas?”
“They’d get… sad. Depressed.”
“What if they stopped doing their jobs?”
“Then the Tower would stop functioning.”
“And what would the people of the lower levels do?”
I look down, shrugging. “I dunno. Get angry. Curious. And like I said, desperate.”
“What you mean is more desperate than they already are. And what happens when 15,000 people, all at once, suddenly get depressed and desperate? How do you think the Creep would react?”
My eyes shoot up to his. “Oh my God.”
He leans back in his chair, his folded hands resting on his chest. “Which is why I alone am given the duty of watching the Tower and soaking in all I can about its daily functions. So it was decreed, long ago, by the Builders.”
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are we here? Why did they build this tower?”
“Again, sadly, I don’t know.”
My fist slams the table. “Why not?”
The director leans forward, smiling, but he looks sad at the same time. “Because memory is painful. I’m not sure even I want to know why we’re here. What caused us to be here? It’s hard to discern the truth in our stories, but one constant lies in every part of The Book of the Tower: that, once, we brought the Darkness upon ourselves.”
He gestures around. “If a man is not remembered, did he ever exist?”
“Well, yeah, he did. Right?”
“How would you be able to tell?”
“He leaves something behind. Something he owned or thought was important.”
Director Pygmalion’s lips curve halfway. “And when those are gone? Did he ever, really, exist?”
What am I supposed to say? I don’t know and he can tell, so he continues, “A society, on the other hand, isn’t quite the same. With so many people, something inevitably gets left behind.” He points to the ground beneath us. “The Tower is a perfect example. But why was it built? What was its purpose? You can’t destroy every relic of the past, but you can wipe out the memories of why they were created.”
“But why are we wiping those out?”
“Is a man guilty of something he does not remember?”
I feel like he’s playing mind games with me, so, for a minute, I’m just staring at this guy. I mean, seriously, I have no idea what he’s trying to tell me. “I’m really not getting you. What do you mean?”
“Take ten people in a room. One person kills another. Everyone knows who the culprit is. Then, their memory of the killing is erased, and the murder weapon removed. Is the man guilty?”
“Of course he is!”
“According to who? Who will accuse him?”
I’m stuck. I’m for real stuck; I got no way of answering this guy. “I… Someone. Someone has to be. Right? Of course, he’s guilty.”
“No. He’s not. He’s not answerable to himself or to the people around him. Neither will they expect him to answer. Now, what if all those people were guilty of the murder?”
“How can everyone be guilty for one murder?”
“What if they all took knives to the victim?”
“Well, I mean, then everyone’s guilty of it.”
“And will everyone feel guilty?”
“Maybe not everyone. But, c’mon, most of them would. I think. At least, I hope.”
Pygmalion lifts his finger. “Exactly. Now you’ve got them all trapped in a room they can’t escape. You’ve got people feeling terrible about murdering an innocent man, a few that don’t, and you ask them to stay together for a few days. Perhaps a few weeks. What happens when those that can’t take the guilt demand that justice be done? What happens when they demand accountability?”
I say, “I don’t…”
“What happens when you take away their food and water and tell them only one side can have any?”
I stutter, “I just…”
“What happens when those that feel comfortable with murder decide they’re unwilling to share food and, worse, are willing to hide the truth?”
I stammer, “It’s not that simple…”
“What happens, Jackie, when you put that much pressure on people?”
I drop my head. “Things go bad.”
Pygmalion snaps his fingers, and a few of the screens grow humongous. He waves at one. “Behold,” he says, getting up and staring at it. “A husband and wife, both wealthy by any standards of the Tower. The woman, a doctor charged with cultivating the Creep for use in Reinforcement. The man, an athletic instructor that secretly despises the use of that practice.” He turns toward me. “He can’t admit it, of course, but I see it, in his face. Each time the Reinforcement is broadcast, I see the small strokes of his face, the cringes he makes. Should his wife tell him she’s in charge of creating that same substance?”
My mouth drops. “What? They don’t… they don’t talk to each other? About what she does?”
“No one in Science is allowed to talk about the specifics of what they do,” he says, leaning in at me. “You know that, though.”
“Dad…”
“Precisely. You know he and your mother chose to live on Level 4. Because of the sensitivity of their work, they would have been first choice for Level 1, but your father always was a bit of an unusual one. We knew that from the start, but he always complied with the rules so we had no reason to ever intervene in his life. His first violation of any Tower rule was, indeed, his rescue attempt of you.” Pygmalion smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “A man, a society, we are only what we know and remember. Even marriages are built on a single thing: knowledge. Interrupt that balance in an individual, a relationship, or an institution, and it can come crumbling down. We are the only people of our species, Jackie. This institution, this tower, cannot crumble.”