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The Cathedral of Our Lady of Paris, aka Notre-Dame-de-Paris, is a Catholic church in the centre of Paris, which took almost 200 years to build. Style: Gothic. * (footnote missing) You cannot choose your family, but you can choose your institution. So why have these walls been sucking the life out of me for two years now? No, seriously. You know, when you're forced to do things, you learn a lot about yourself. Especially about your abilities. As it turns out, I have absolutely no ability to express my thoughts. Let me tell you, the Department of Art History was repelling me with its endless writing. Nevertheless, at the same time, it inevitably drew me in with knowledge of art history, religion, mythology and culture. During my studies, I had to deal with completely different disciplines. Philosophy, drawing, photography, cultural studies, literature; who knew that even physical education was a mandatory part of any art historian's life? Oh, and of course, how could one forget tour guiding. Especially it. Most art historians have to work in museums, on tours and in galleries. But let's think about those who don't yet know where to apply. The difficulty in choosing is very real. Guess who has been faced with it? Problems start small, and the big decision will follow later. For now, what's important is that my ability to choose a topic, for a History of European Art essay has stalled at the very beginning - the choice of topic. I dragged it out for a long time, because I had no willingness to write another boring paper in Word with a certain number of obligatory pages, introduction, a table of contents, list of references and other such things. Unfortunately for me, by mid-October I had to declare my choice to the shared spreadsheet of our study group. This had to be done so that the head student could later submit it to the teacher under the guise of ‘see, we are very busy and responsible’. The choice was not much of a big deal at least for me personally. We were pretty much left to our own devices in our selection, yet nothing really caught my fancy or interest. However, some of my fellow students were particularly resourceful. Many took cathedrals, crowns, basilicas, ensembles, sculptures and churches from all over Europe. The only criterion other than location was that the work had to have been created during the medieval period. Some of the names in the spreadsheet were vaguely recallable. Perhaps apart from blissful sleep in those classes, I was actually paying attention to something. What a miracle. Looking at the lists of medieval architectural structures and monuments of art, occasionally squinting my eyes at the spreadsheet, I finally made my choice. Notre Dame. The Great Cathedral, which I immediately thought of as soon as the list went to the letter ‘N’ and showed me it as one of the first ones there. Hope sprang up in my chest and the computer mouse moved back to the tab with the chart; no one had picked it. Must be fate.
The choice is done, now it's time to get down to work.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Monday evening continued productively. At least now it was clear where to start. However, the search officially began at midnight. Before that, I had been postponing this task in every possible way, trying to occupy myself with anything to avoid the most tedious part of the assignment. But there was nowhere to run away from it, and so my protest ceased. Resistance was futile. As is most often the case, returning to Word was accompanied by indescribable agony and patient adjustments to font, letter size and other trivialities. Next, after the selected page for the title page of the essay, came the next one for the table of contents. The worst part was over. The page about the cathedral on Wikipedia did make a lasting impression. At least from the initial description of it. Of course, just a few paragraphs about the grandeur of this Gothic work of art would not compare to seeing it in person. But alas, we have what we have. The site was loading steadily, gradually opening pictures of the buildings façade and then the sections of the article, but something was preventing it from loading as quickly as it used to, which made the whole page unnaturally white, long and empty. I reached the bottom of the screen with my mouse wheel and hoped that this would make the site load faster, but in my periphery there was a strange pixel spot that stood out in contrast on the bright display. I pointed my cursor at it and was about to click on it when suddenly…
The room fell into impenetrable darkness. My computer shut down with a low, resounding groan, and immediately switched itself off. The lights went out. Silence descended on the room. Outside, where I usually saw the windows of other buildings and streetlights, I was met with the same picture. A total blackout. Only my cat, who was comfortably nestled in her oval cot on a chair, didn't seem to be disturbed by anything. In a way, it wouldn't have bothered me either, since this kind of overload often happened in my apartment building, if it hadn't been for one thing. There was no light at all, except for the flickering headlights of passing cars in the distance. Such incidents were solved in a few seconds, the system would return to normal, and everything would be back to the way it was. However, this was not the case. Did an accident happen? It's been a long time since something like this occurred... Hoping that the electricians would answer me at this late hour, I fumbled for my phone on the table and staggered. It wouldn't switch on. At all, although just a couple of seconds ago it was still charging, almost full. What's going on...? Primordial dread crept into my head, previously forgotten due to the constant light that accompanied me into my dreams before. Something unseen pressed against my temples, and my heart began to pound hastily as my fingers trembled nervously. I realized that I was suddenly in total darkness. The situation was made worse by the emerging indescribable and unfounded feeling that someone was watching me. Of course, I thought, my favourite cat was in the room with me, who else would be watching me (Oh, how wrong I was then)? By some miracle, by touch, I found the shelf above the computer monitor, gently and quietly walking along the wood looking for anything. I needed to check the switchboard by the front door, and maybe confirm or deny a hunch I made. My hand fumbled for a cylinder and immediately, touching its bottom, switched a small knob. The cylinder flashed with a warm orange light, and I had a artificial candle in my hand. A white plastic light bobbed on its surface, illuminating a small space near my face. I felt a little calmer, but the feeling of being watched still lingered. My cat, who had been snoozing peacefully in her cot, perked up and yawned before climbing out, hopping to the floor with a muffled thud. She gave me a brief curious glance before meowing and heading towards the middle of the room as if nothing had happened. Her silliness and bravery was both inspirational and, a little worrying. Taking a deep breath and deciding that I would buy a flashlight on my next trip to a shop, I followed my pet. After overcoming the double doors to my room, I found myself in a corridor. On the left hand and at the end of the corridor was a guest room. On the right hand (it felt oddly cold at that moment) was the bathroom and the kitchen with the balcony. In front stood the massive front door. Not much room to move around. In the darkness, a dim little pea of red finally showed itself. It was the switchboard. Muttering nonsense to myself to fill the silence of the suddenly hushed house, I looked for the familiar white spot of the triangular cat's face that always watched my actions and movements with curiosity. But she wasn't there. Apparently watching me at the entrance to the room. No matter. My nasal chatter continued, partly addressed to my pet, like ‘I'll repair it now, kitty, don't worry’ or ‘The damn electricians didn't do a good job of checking the wiring again’. In a way, there was some comfort and hope in these conversations and reassurances (although admittedly, I was just talking to myself out loud). It helped me not to give in to the panic and not to be afraid of the dark. I held the candle closer to the faceplate, trying to gauge by eye what state it was in now, and whether anything about its appearance caught my eye. Something, let's say, that seemed ‘out of the ordinary’. On initial inspection, everything looked acceptable. Within the bounds of switchboard self-expression, if you could call it that. With my free hand, I lifted the main lid, pulling it aside. Within, I was greeted by a familiar, thank goodness, sight. Toggle switches, bulbs smaller than a fingernail, numbers and letters. And the most important lever - ON and OFF. It was now in the switched-on state. Gently, using my finger, I switched it to the right side, to the big letters ‘OFF’, and then, after waiting for a while, I returned it back to the ‘ON’ state. Alas, nothing happened. Now what?“Things are not looking good...,” I muttered with vexation. The conversation with Shishka continued, and my worry intensified. Plans of what I might do came to mind. But before I could devote even a few seconds to each of those desperate ideas,
what happened next, I admit, couldn't help but freak me out.
“What is going on here?” A deep, slightly hoarse baritone suddenly came from the darkness, snarling menacingly at me. My mind forced my body into a stupor as my eyes stared in the direction the voice had come from. The artificial candle fell out of my sweating palms, landing on its side before bouncing off and rolling further down the corridor. I might have thought I'd misheard it, since even the thickest walls wouldn't save you from the neighbours' swearing. But there were two things:
First, the candle stopped, hitting something dark and purple.
Second, someone's thin, long, wrinkled fingers gently began to lift it up. My soul just left my body, and my eyes followed the movement of the light with horror as it lit up the space around me in tiny bits as it moved. The intruder was in no hurry, and I had a chance to look at him, trying to get a rough image of the man. The candlelight moved across his dark and long robes with many creases before reaching the strange looking shoulder pads and stopping short. The impostor hesitated for a moment before finally lifting the glowing cylinder closer to his face, apparently wanting a better look at the object. It was at that moment that it hit me. I knew who stood before me. He was a tall, elderly man with grey hair and dark eyes. His wrinkled face with sunken cheeks was focused on the candle, turning it slightly, watching as the plastic blaze trembled lightly on the wire. Because of the old man's elongated and hooked nose, the light left bizarre shadows on the other half of his face, giving it the appearance of a sinister theatre mask. I realised I'd been staring for longer than I was allowed to when the night visitor abruptly looked away from the candle and stared back at me, eyes squinting sharply and his lips pursed. A moment later I realised that he was searching the darkness for the source of the voice he had addressed.
But the search ended before it began, for as soon as the stranger strode resolutely into the darkness, horror took over, and I shrieked.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The cathedral was built on the foundations of a Gallo-Roman temple dedicated to Jupiter.
BLASPHEMY! It all happened so fast.Fingers clawed at the sorceress's ridiculous clothes. Still, she continued to shriek unbearably loud. Newfound strength, born of panic and righteous anger, surged through the bulging veins of his tense arms. Judge lifted the girl off the ground and, with a loud, thudding sound, pinned her back against the wall. The witch's slender fingers clung desperately to the Minister of Justice's robes, struggling to grasp his cuffs. The man gave the girl another good shake and slammed her harder into the wall. In response, he heard her yelp in both shock and pain. The strange candle pressed into the witch's sternum, the only source of light between the two of them. The collar of her bizarre garment was now pressing against her throat. At the very least, the girl was quiet now.The judge himself, equally frightened, looked her over quickly from head to toe. There was nothing but sheer terror and rage in his blazing pupils. His mind was a mess, and all attempts to piece together a coherent picture were immediately failing. The man hesitated for a moment before one truth became clear to him. He squinted his eyes, and his lips pressed into a thin line. The strange girl stared at him.“What have you done to me, witch?” He hissed with a voice full of hatred. By now, his mind was desperately trying to resist fear. Fear of what this girl had done, and perhaps what she had in store for him. Nevertheless, the judge's steely grip did not weaken, and his voice was as sharp and firm as a blade held to a throat. “Answer me, sorceress! Where have I ended up?!”It was as if the words didn't come to her right away. She must have been weighing her options for what could be said to the man, how she could trick him and bewitch his bright mind. Or maybe it was the collar that was tightening around her throat. Only the Devil knows with these women. “I'm not a W-witch! In fact, You're the one who barged into my house!”And she still dares to claim something like that? Witches' lies! Frollo glared at her with a furious glare as the girl frantically tried to justify herself and babble about her lack of involvement in the devil's work. The judge gritted his teeth and clenched her clothes even tighter than before, so hard that his knuckles turned white as his hands shook.“Don't lie to me, witch! You're the one responsible for bringing me here. You and your dark arts! And you know it as well as I do!” He shook the girl with anger again and then suddenly froze. The Lord was their witness because suddenly a tiny metal cross jumped out from under her clothing and gleamed in the light of the ‘candle.’ Little Christ desperately tried to intervene in their heated quarrel, either to protect the witch from the diabolical fury of the judge or to ignite some reason back into the Frollo's mind. In a split second, the thread on which he was hanging stretched to its limit, and the cross was pulled back beneath the black collar.“Listen to me! There is no such thing as witchcraft, hags, and the like!” The man's brief moment of confusion allowed her voice to harden and fight back. But he no longer listened, his blood boiling and his head aching. The mark of the Lord, but why on a witch's body? Surely some lie or trick; this lecherous brat was the last person who could be called a Christian.“Liar, blasphemer!” He practically growled and pulled her collar so tightly that the girl involuntarily began to choke. The hands that had previously held his cuffs began to loosen, and her legs began to shake. “Witchcraft is a plague upon the whole world, a curse from the infernal depths! And you dare to claim that none of this is of your doing?!”Like a frightened beast, she howled in despair.
“Good heavens, I swear it's not sorcery!”
What was astonishing was that the Lord actually heard this heretic's pleas. A miracle took place.
Blinding white light immediately blazed above them, and a barely audible hum arose around the two.
Frollo was caught off guard by the sudden and unrelenting onslaught of stimuli. The flash stunned him, and ubiquitous sounds all over the place disoriented him. The corridor in which they now stood seemed to have come to life, with something shining or humming in different ways, with monotonous, rumbling voices. The judge instantly became dazed and let go of the girl. Along with this stupor, he dropped the candle, which, upon hitting the floor, shattered into several pieces and then went out. As he started to back away, the man closed his eyes and turned away from the whole scene, hastily retreating. Unable to see exactly where he was headed down the, what appeared to be, a corridor, Claude slammed his shoulder hard into the door frame. Frollo, hissing in pain, still had to witness the horrifying reality. The judge glanced around wildly, restlessly trying to understand what had happened. The witch, however, was now doing the same.Having fallen to her knees before, she was coughing and rising hastily, keeping her gaze fixed on Frollo. He expected to see hatred, or perhaps contempt, in her eyes, but he saw only confusion and astonishment. The girl seemed to be examining him just as intently without uttering a word. The judge slowly lowered his hands and finally allowed himself to look around. It was a narrow corridor with no tapestries, no wooden piles, and no sign of life except the girl. It was a strange and unnatural place, and Frollo felt everything inside of him curling up with dread. This was certainly not his office.Claude remained in a state of shock. The light was no longer as blinding, and the sounds only left a slight ringing in his ears. Frollo lowered his head in confusion as he pressed his palm against the aching shoulder and tried to collect his thoughts. And then at last: the judge found his voice.“Then... Where am I?”The strange woman was silent for some time, presumably thinking over what to answer and how to worm her way out of the situation. She spoke with restraint, still holding her neck, red from strangulation:“This is my fl....My... Let's call it my ‘humble abode’. And I hope that while You are here, You will behave like a proper guest,” Her voice was a bit hoarse, no other reason than because of the yelling, but at least now she was managing to stay calm.
Frollo gave a snort of irritation and slight disbelief, narrowing his eyes. Her ‘humble abode’ was this barren corridor? What a pathetic sight. Even a horse stable would be more comfortable than this bare stone. How could anyone live in such a place? Crossing his arms over his chest and fixing his thinning hair, the judge frowned again. He looked down at the girl haughtily, trying to suppress his own unease. Of course, this churl tried to speak to him as an equal, but the minister already considered her beneath any upstanding Parisian. The wretch did not even bother to bow when speaking with him, having the audacity to still demand something. The sheer insolence, nothing else. Frollo cast a piercing glance at her and replied wryly:“A guest? I'm hardly a guest if you brought me here yourself, witch.”The sorceress only narrowed her eyes slightly but did not object. It seemed that to argue with him would be a bad idea from the very beginning.“Do I even look the part?” Her dark eyes gave the judge a small sneer as she straightened up.Frollo's gaze darkened, still looking at her with suspicion. The judge had already noted her cryptic squint, made more mysterious when the girl dimmed the lights in the corridor just by flicking something off. Witchcraft! As she picked up the broken ‘candle,’ the judge took a step forward and squeezed out his words with difficulty:“You don't look like a pious and upright Christian woman, I tell you.”The girl struggled to contain her indignation before sighing in defeat: "But why would a witch want to bring you into her house in the first place? Who would you need to be for potential warlocks to turn on you in the first place?"
She didn't know who he was!? Such ignorance! Of course, it was to be expected from someone like her, but it still hurt the man's pride. Wasn't one glance at his expensive robes enough to realise his regalia?
“I am Judge Claude Frollo,” He said firmly and confidently. It appeared to give him considerable pleasure to enumerate his achievements. “Judge of Paris, Minister of Justice, and an honourable man.”“Alas, that tells me nothing.”
This was soul-crushing. Frollo was completely stunned by her reaction. What do you mean, 'it tells you nothing'!? Even a crooked-toothed pauper is familiar with the notion of ‘judgement’! Such nonsense! She can't be so uninformed, can she? Surely the girl is pretending to be an oaf on purpose. What gloom!The witch, however, began to approach him cautiously step by step, continuing to scrutinise the man. The judge, meanwhile, continued his assessment of the appearance of this irrational woman. And indeed there was much to look at.Their clothes were starkly different from each other. Needless to say, the witch was dressed in who knows what. You could hardly call them chosses; the fabric was hanging shapelessly, and Lord have mercy, the girl wasn't even wearing a proper dress! Her confusing shirt was practically sleeveless and exposed the witch's arms almost up to her forearms. She looked so... indecent.
Frollo had to force himself to keep a certain composure; the mere sight of this garment made him shake. She dared to talk to him in an indecently liberated manner, dressed no better than a shabby courtesan. The judge, suppressing his bile, spoke again:“I also don't recall you introducing yourself, sorceress.”
“Oh? You're suddenly curious if a ‘witch’ has a name?” She gave a mocking snicker and held out her hand to him before introducing herself.Her name seemed familiar, but like everything around her, horribly warped. At least something brought a touch of familiarity to this incomprehensible chain of events, even if only remotely. Even witches can have decent names. But that didn't mean he'd call her that. Far too much honour.“Now I suppose we know each other?”Frollo looked disdainfully at her outstretched hand. A proper greeting after all that had happened?! Overcoming his arrogance, for the sake of propriety, he shook her palm slowly, without much enthusiasm. The man's eyes followed her every gesture, and his grip was firm. There was an awkward silence between them, but the judge's tense voice broke it:“So, how exactly did you bring me here, Pauline?” Of course, he couldn't resist twisting her name in his own way. The girl didn't seem to appreciate this strange enunciation, but when he tried to correct the older man (his hearing might be failing him), she was met with a frown, and Claude jerked his hand away squeamishly. He had no intention of changing his pronunciation.“My mistake,” He replied curtly, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Now please answer: How did you bring me here?”“As if I know...” She sighed faintly and, rubbing her temples, walked into the next room. Frollo, not wanting to lag behind his captor so easily, followed her. This room was strikingly different from the long corridor they had been in before, and the judge could not help but look at this new environment with a pang of disgust. The room was filthy, with the broad bed looking like a nest for a giant bird, with clothing scattered around in complete chaos and lying wherever it could be found. The yellow walls, muted by the dusk and warm light, were more disturbing than comforting; they gave Frollo a headache. Some parts of them were ‘decorated’ with motley, incongruous unframed paintings. Someone apparently had a very deplorable taste in art. And in the middle of it all sat... a familiar. Black, whiskered, and with white spots on its muzzle. Frollo held his gaze on the cat for a moment, watching as the animal tensed, eyeing him suspiciously.The man stepped forward, shifting his gaze from the creature back to the mess. The judge felt sickened by the mayhem. It was unlike anything he was used to seeing in his life. Frollo lived to maintain order and judge others. Obviously, this damsel was completely incapable of running a household. Although it was worth admitting, the place didn't reek at all. Surprisingly. Noticing that the animal kept its piercing yellow eyes on him, the judge turned his attention back to it and reached out a hand, intending to pat the cat on the head. But the pious stranger was evidently out of honour with the witch's servant, and the creature, pressing its ears to its head, dashed away, scurrying under a chair. The girl seemed rather amused by the spectacle. Frollo wanted to chase after the devilish beast but held back. At his age he should not be chasing after vile creatures. In fact, this chamber was full of all sorts of oddities. Starting with the black, rectangular, large mirror that somehow miraculously stayed on the wall, and another one on the table next to the window, similar to it but slightly smaller. Must be witchcraft artefacts, for who in their right mind would need two huge plates of black agate? The room itself was lit by strange-looking light sources: small fires hanging on the wall, as if entangled in a spider's web, and a curved metal ‘flower’ with a white lid. The mysterious, monotonously humming black box that was hiding under the table raised many questions. It all seemed so foreign and unfamiliar to him.“You...you call this home?” Claude asked, a note of scepticism in his voice. He glanced around again to see if he had overlooked anything. His irritation was still easily readable in the tone of his voice, but there was a twinkle of curiosity in his eyes.“This is my flat.”
A what?
“There are other rooms, of course, but this is where I sleep.”Frollo frowned upon hearing her answer. A flat would mean... other rooms. Not surprising; he had spotted a few other doorways in the corridor, and they must have led to other places.“You live here, in this, er... ‘flat’[1]? In all this chaos?” He enquired with a note of unconcealed disgust in his voice.“It's just a little mess, nothing too bad. It could have been worse.” She sat down on the bulky chair beside her desk with her legs tucked underneath herself. This muddle could be ignored for now; there were more pressing issues at hand. “Why don't you sit down? I believe we need to discuss your... predicament.”Frollo scowled at her casual attitude to the disarray around them. Such behaviour was both unnerving and bewildering, for such chaos was unbearable to the man. He was not going to sit down until everything was spotless. After a bit, the judge grudgingly replied:“My predicament? I think you have a lot of explaining to do first.”Claude folded his arms across his chest and circled the room with a glance:“What is this place? Is it some kind of trick... sorcery?” The answer she'd previously given didn't seem to satisfy him.“This is my flat. Like a house, only smaller. Think of it... as a honeycomb. Each little cell is a little house – a flat. Several flats make a house.” She was patient in her explanation, maybe even a little unsure. “It's no sorcery, just... centuries of human architecture.”
Frollo's eyes narrowed scornfully as he listened to her explanation. Who does she think he is?! It is as if she is explaining this to an infant! He's a judge, a dignified and civilised man, not an ignorant imbecile! Taking a step forward, he spoke with ill-concealed resentment:
“I know what a ‘house’ is, woman! I'm not some daft peasant! I've lived in Paris longer than you've been walking this accursed land! You can call your dwelling anything you please, but it does not answer the question ‘what is this place’, especially when it's so disgustingly filthy!”“Well, if I'd known I would have had a guest, I certainly could have cleaned up.” She shrugged her shoulders somewhat guiltily, eyeing him with some sincerity.
Frollo sighed heavily, still not quite satisfied with her explanation, but unable to argue with what she had told him. If the girl wasn't expecting him, it was only natural that the room was filthy.“Very well. Let's assume I believe you. But what about the rest of this? That black mirror on the wall? What is it for? You can't see anything in that. Or those... lights.”“Oh, that. I think it would be difficult to explain it all at once.” The girl sounded extremely worried. She didn't seem to be particularly eloquent in speaking.“What do you mean, ‘it would be difficult’? Stop misjudging my discretion. I'm more than capable of grasping whatever you might be attempting to explain to me here," He replied firmly, almost challenging her. "I don't like your patronising tone. I've learnt a lot of things in my life that are far beyond the reach of the ordinary crowd.”“Are You sure you're ready to comprehend it? I'm not trying to insult Your intelligence. It's just that these things... they're a little difficult for me to explain myself.”Frollo furrowed his brow at her question. What a scampish witch he'd come across. Being offered as a sacrifice to Satan would have been less harrowing. The judge was already struggling to keep himself together. How could she not understand her own magic?The girl sighed slightly and pointed to one of the lights that stood on her desk: a rough metal shape with a cylindrical head and a beam of bright light that was now pointed downwards. “Let's start with something easy. This is a lamp.”That's it. His patience has run dry. Something easy. SOMETHING EASY? Was she seriously going to explain a LAMP to him now?!Catching the old man's angry shake, the girl realised that something absolutely irretrievable was about to take place, and she rushed to clarify:“Yes, yes. But it does not glow from the flame you are familiar with but from being heated by electricity.”
Frollo immediately grew cold, as his thoughts raced. How could one get light without flame? This already sounded like magic, like sorcery. He took a fearful step closer to the lamp, studying it more closely. The light seemed unnatural, but the judge had to admit that the glow was much brighter than from a torch or a candle, not to mention the lack of a distinctive odour.“E-le-ctri-city?” Claude, slightly straining his voice, stretched out the strange word as if to taste it.“It's some force of nature that makes this thing and other stuff do all sorts of things.” She raised the lamp up slightly, showing him a bright glowing ‘pear’ inside it.Frollo squinted involuntarily but continued to listen attentively to her trying to explain electricity. It was kind of fascinating how hard she tried. Light from heat? The sort of way that red-hot metal emits a soft faint glow.But this force of nature was clearly superior to ordinary furnace fire since it was able to produce that kind of dazzling light and not fade away. Such power...was exciting his mind. The judge carefully reached out to the ‘pear’, expecting to feel the familiar devastating heat, but his fingers were met with a warm glassy surface. Everything seemed so simple and yet so complex.“Things, you say? And what else do you use this… electricity[2] for?”“Oh, where do I even start, Your... honour?”
Oh, wow. Finally, a modicum of civility. Excellent.
“Exactly, 'Your honour',” He seemed to enjoy the formality, and a note of pleasure appeared in his previously stern tone. “So, show me, what else can this ‘electricity’ do? Apart from producing light, of course.”
“I can, but it might scare you a bit.” The girl got up from her chair, walked round the judge and made her way to the mysterious black plate on the wall. Pauline picked up a thin, irregularly shaped box with many colourful beads, which was lying on the table near some strange instrument. The judge's curiosity came back, and he watched with interest as to where this was all going.“Scare me?” He clarified with a slight scepticism in his voice, but his body visibly tensed. “What could electricity do to scare me?”“This.” She pressed a small red bead, and suddenly a cacophony of loud noises pierced the silence of the room.
Frollo shrieked, and his hand instinctively flung to his chest. Images of people talking to each other, accompanied by loud, foreign-sounding music, appeared before him. The formerly black lustre turned into a strange enchanted window in an instant. The judge took a step back, his eyes widening as he tried to comprehend what he saw before him. It felt as if Frollo could have extended his hand and been there if it wasn't for the glass. But when the perspective changed and the same people appeared on a different side, the man became utterly confused.“What—what is this?” The judge gasped.“This is a TV.” The girl suddenly pressed another bead, and the image of people on the rectangle began to slowly grow quieter, while the image itself continued to flicker. “And the frame around it is a television set.”
Frollo watched as the people on the bright plate suddenly became quiet: their mouths still moved, but all the sound had disappeared completely. Watching it, his body was struck with an awe and dread that the judge had never experienced before.“TV...”[2] He was practically whispering in a trembling voice, “Where are these people? Inside the wall? Inside this mirror? Why is it moving like... so?”“Well, they don't exactly exist right now. But it's... How do I explain it...” It seemed the judge's barrage of questions had thrown off her train of thought a bit. “Imagine how paintings can preserve a piece of an event that has already happened. It works the same way here; only there are thousands of these paintings changing rapidly and quickly... and everything appears to be moving.”Frollo listened intently as his mind was working overtime trying to make sense of her words. A TV can show events that have already happened, like records of the past on paper? He involuntarily began massaging the temples with his fingers, trying to comprehend such a concept.“So all those images and sounds... it's like a memory stored inside the TV?”“You could say that.” - Apparently the answer to that question was several times more complicated, but she had no intention of explaining everything in detail right now. The man was already evidently not coping well with the new information. “It's a fairly new invention, quite literally from the beginning of the last century.”Frollo continued to study this marvel while his mind panicked and screamed to burn this blasphemy against nature. But somehow it proved simply impossible to tear his gaze away. Piety struck his old body; this was neither looking at a fire dancing in a fireplace nor at church stained glass windows. This was the Devil's window.
“Please cease this demonstration at once!” He spoke with a certain desperation in his voice. The girl immediately pressed something, and the screen went out, whilst she looked questioningly at the trembling man.“I told You... and that's not even all, your honour.”“And what else can your bloody electricity do?” The judge didn't even sound angry anymore; no, he was near hysterical. And no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check, it was obvious from the look of it.“Hmmm... I might have an idea of what to show You. I promise there won't be anything frightening anymore. You might even enjoy it. Come, follow me.” The girl gestured for Frollo to follow her and left the room, turning right down the corridor.The judge followed her hurriedly, certainly as far away from this Satan's plaything as possible. In his head he was already going over what terrible things this power could do in the hands of this sorceress. But as they say: forewarned is forearmed. While this girl is his only source of knowledge, it is obvious that without her help he won't be more than a lost lamb here. No holy fire will save him.Pauline led him through a dimly lit... kitchen, dining room? At least the crockery and cutlery by the metal basin told him that meals were being served here. Frollo held his temper with all his might. It's unbecoming of someone like him to be startled by every new thing, he thought, before he braked abruptly. And there it was again, another leprous ‘television.’ No sooner had the judge begun his hasty retreat than the girl stopped in front of the glass door and window before looking back at Claude and holding out her hand to him.“Are You afraid of heights?”“Afraid? Not...not at all,” He had other priorities on the terror scale right now. “Why do you ask such a question?”“No reason,” She smirked and confidently grabbed his sleeve and pulled him along, unlocking the glass door with her free hand. “You'll see soon enough.” Frollo, not expecting such insolence, didn't even have time to realise it but was already dragged inside, onto the stony balcony. There were empty plant and flower pots all around, filled only with dense soil. It was a cold, dark night outside. But what finally dispelled the anxiety, replacing it with sheer delight, was a breathtaking sight, right in front of his nose. Millions of small lights twinkled like stars in the distance. Frollo had never seen anything like it in his entire life, not even close. A cold night breeze blew across the small balcony, but the man didn't notice it. The judge was too mesmerised by what he saw before him. This was definitely not the Paris he was familiar with; it was something completely new.“It's... it's astounding...” His voice was filled with real awe. Frollo stared, not taking his eyes off the rows of tall buildings that stretched further than the human eye could grasp. “What... what is this place?”“It's a humble northern city – Saint Petersburg. I don't think it had yet existed at the time you're from....” She put her elbows on the stone railing and looked at the lights too.Saint Petersburg[3]the city of the future. It was so strange, but everything started to come together. His thoughts raced as he came to a full realisation of the dreadful situation in which he found himself. The artificial lights, the disproportionately tall houses, the horseless carriages – it was all so foreign to him. Where he found himself wasn't just someone's rotten dwelling or a creepy trap. He was in a world where the ultimate evil had triumphed. The apocalypse had come, and it looked like this..
“Oh, and You haven't seen the cultural centre yet. It's pretty much a 24-hour-a-day bustle. This is just a small part of the neighbourhood where I live. If it weren't so late now, You'd probably see more lights across the street and all around,” She went on as if nothing had happened. “It's quite a big city.”What Frollo saw before him already seemed titanically huge and grandiose. He could not even conceive in his mind what more there could be. During his life, the judge had travelled almost all over France and England. He'd even had the chance to visit Rome, and it was probably the only place that could compete, in scope, with this.The man sighed and asked with a doomed look:“So... this is the future?” Claude saw Pauline nod, and his eyes slightly narrowed. A satisfied smile played on her lips, which to him seemed like a cruel mockery. The judge gritted his teeth slightly; his pride was shattered at the thought of his utter helplessness compared to this girl. She was clearly like a duck to water here. But he braced himself, remembering that he had no choice but to try to understand this reality. “What are these horseless carriages?”“Cars, lorries, buses.[4]. All varying in size and shape.” Frollo frowned as Pauline explained the strange wagons he had noticed. The idea of horseless carriages was simply unheard of for his time and felt something comparable to a flying broom.“And... how do these carriages move if no one is pulling them in the front?”The girl only smiled broadly, still looking at the distant road where the judge had spotted the lone vehicle:“Electricity.” He was slowly becoming irritated by the word. And Pauline's smug smile added a nauseating tinge to it. Everything in the world seemed to be powered by this damned electricity. A little more and he would have believed that people had traded the manna of heaven for this bloody miracle.“So everything in this world is powered by electricity?”
“Well, pretty much, but steam engines or winding mechanisms use other methods.” The witch decided to go back, and Frollo followed her. As the girl walked back to her room, his mind was still trying to make sense of all this talk. The judge tried to contain his confusion, listening to such an influx of the incomprehensible and inexplicable. Slowly he was getting a genuine migraine. Not only was he overwhelmed by these revelations, but the fear of this foreign reality was only growing. Everything familiar was losing all sense of meaning. As Frollo followed Pauline down the corridor, a sense of hopelessness kept him on his toes. Claude was trapped in this strange, incomprehensible world, and it was slowly driving him mad. He didn't know what to do. The man felt lost, completely out of his depth. For the first time in his life, he felt completely and utterly helpless.
“Is there anything else I could explain to You, Your honour?” The judge was pulled out of his musings by the witch's voice. She stopped at the entrance to her room and looked back at the judge, sensing the tension. A bit of rest and quiet would be bliss. Frollo looked at her, still tense and confused. He didn't respond for a long time, as if pondering his words.“No...” The judge paused and then continued in a somewhat bitter tone, “I think I have had enough for one night.” Claude had no idea where he would sleep, but he knew he didn't want to spend the night pondering the wonders and disappointments of this new world.He looked at Pauline expectantly.“Well, where am I going to sleep? Certainly not on your bed.”
“There's an unoccupied bedroom down the corridor to the left. It could be Yours. Shall I... help You settle in?”Frollo thought about her suggestion for a moment, but his pride had remained somewhat intact.He wrinkled his nose a little. “I think I can handle that.” The judge nodded briefly and walked past her, not wanting to devote even one more unnecessary minute to this girl. Frollo grumbled sullenly to himself as he headed for the guest bedroom on the left side of the corridor, passing a meagre bookcase. His shoulder pad rubbed lightly against the outdoor clothes hanging from the ceiling, and the older man grumbled unhappily.The judge had already begun to feel the fatigue and emotional exhaustion that came over him in a sudden wave. Entering the room, the first thing that greeted him was another goddamn television set. There was no escape from them anywhere. Letting out a cry of exasperation and despair, Frolo collapsed onto the bed. The interior was tastelessly empty, plain, and, most importantly, completely ungodly. There was not even a hint of a single, godforsaken cross in the room.Bitterness and confusion still reigned supreme in the man's head. Frollo realised he was in a strange predicament; it seemed to him that even notions of religion here had faded into the background. Trying to bring himself to consciousness, he ran his hand over the side of his face, feeling the wrinkles and lines of age and stress. That way the judge could at least make sure that he was still himself. “What have I gotten myself into...?” Frollo took a deep breath, trying to calm his buzzing mind. He should be getting at least some rest right now.The judge stared at the white ceiling as his eyelids closed. His thoughts were racing and his heart was heavy, and yet he felt hopeful. Perhaps his prayers would be heard. If God had not already left this faithless place.“Lord… please, show me the way in this new land. Guide me and show me Your will.” Frollo said in a low, anguished voice, his hands folded in prayer and his eyes tightly closed, hoping to find comfort in the dark room. He continued to pray, and his voice grew more and more desperate and pleading. “Lord, please show me Your mercy and guide me to where I belong. I am Your humble servant, and I will do whatever You ask. Just please, I beg you, give me a sign…”His voice trembled with agitation. The judge hated every minute spent here. Never before had he felt like a literal nobody. “Lord, I don't know how I got here. Perhaps it is a test of my faith. But I am only human, and I am weak. Please don't abandon me. I beseech thee.”
But no one came to save him. He was all alone.
Frollo felt a surge of despair as his prayers went unanswered. The judge hoped for some sign, some indication that God heard him, but nothing followed. Only a heavy, eerie silence that echoed in his heart. He let out a quiet sob, and his voice faltered. “My Lord, why have you forsaken me...?”Lying in bed, Claude felt tears welling up in his eyes. The judge knew nothing, and that uncertainty was more frightening than the prospect of never returning home.
Frollo's voice became a broken whisper.
“Please, Lord... not like this...”
***
It had been a restless night for the judge. More prayers, more pleading, more desperate begging. He barely remembered the rest of it. Only somewhere in the back of his mind were rare fragments of how he had tossed and turned in bed, tormented by his thoughts and fears. How hunger had driven him to the kitchen, and what a simple joy it had been to find the last slice of familiar black bread. There followed more restless lays and prayers, until at last, at dawn, he managed to fall asleep from exhaustion. Even so, slumber was unforgivably cruel to him. Frollo tossed and turned, haunted by nightmares and fears that he would not remember upon awakening.Finally, after many hours, he suddenly awoke. His heart pounded hurriedly as the judge tried to get his bearings and realised that for once he had finally had a good night's sleep. Frollo sat on the edge of the bed, trying to remember where he was.
A new day had dawned. This nightmare was not over.