Lives

Lives

Inside Ga's art studio were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves (surrounding windows, doors, and over two stories high in the atrium); they were packed full of small black journals with color coding on the spine. "Holy ...," Muphose marveled, almost speechless. "What in the ..." "I don't know why, but I could cry," Fieson added, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "You have both signed a confidentiality agreement," Rorke said softly, "and let me assure you that we will hold you to that like you've never seen anyone held to that. Prison awaits if you think I'm kidding." "Are these ... sketchbooks? Are we doing a Leonardo Da Vinci deal here?" Muphose asked, shaking his head. "Arturo Ga is one of the very few people on the planet that give evidence of self-awareness through living parallel lives. He was cognizant of the fact that he was himself and other selves at the same time; different races, different orientations, different relationships - each and every life unique with ... later on ... the discovery of how they connected, were similar, came very close to overlapping," Rorke explained. "OH MY GAWD," Fieson gasped, officially and unapologetically tearing up. Rorke continued. "I said that he is one of the very few with this self-awareness, but he is the ONLY one to write every story distinctly from memory in separate journals. What you are looking at is a new understanding of time, of being, and of an afterlife. I need you to look at every book, every page, and verify its condition for preservation. You shouldn't read them, but you will; all I can ask is that you wear your gloves as if they're welded on, don't cry onto the pages, no photographs, and do not remove the books from these rooms." "Can we start tomorrow so that I can go home and drink today?" Muphose asked, excited and overwhelmed. "No," Rorke responded with a half smile, "but let's have a glass of champagne to kick this project off." Fiesen dabbed her eyes with the edge of her sweater, deciding she'd get a ladder and start with all of the journals bound in red.

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Translation

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