Chapter Five – I Really Wanna Visit Your Home

“Wisdom is a relic. Truth is a malfunction. The only things that matter are what can be sold, stolen, or weaponized. Ideas don’t pay rent. Morals don’t keep the lights on. And if knowledge was ever power, it got outbid a long time ago.”

–Cute-cute cocobooty, Vtuber, 2032

***

It wasn’t often that I considered visiting someone at their home, but I was willing to make an exception for Gomorrah. Mostly because she lived an elevator’s ride away and I didn’t actually need to step out of the house to visit her.

I rode the elevator down to her floor, then stepped out into a sort of mini lobby space that Gomorrah had created.

There was a bench to one side, and a nice front door with a mat on the ground before it that read Welcome in some fancy script. It was kind of cozy, I supposed, though I was keenly aware that there were two turrets mounted to the ceiling, their nozzles pointed right at me. There was a little flickering light at the end of each, a flame no bigger than what a lighter could put out. A pilot light, I think?

Was the bench and that little mat fireproof? They’d have to be if Gomorrah ever decided to cook a door-to-door salesman one day.

I walked up to the door and rapped my knuckles against it in a quick ‘shave and a haircut’ pattern, then I sat back on my heels and waited.

It took a minute, but eventually I heard movement on the other side, and the door swung open. Delilah stood there, a frown in full view as she took a moment to scan me up and down. “Catherine?” she asked.

“Yo!” I said. “I brought cookies.” Apparently, people with houses brought each other gifts when visiting, which was something I was all for since people kept showing up at my place. I presented Delilah with a box of store-bought cookies, and she took them by instinct.

“Uh, thank you?” she said. “What are you here for? Did you want to step in?”

“Sure? If I’m not bothering? You and Franny weren’t–“

“Franny isn’t here right now,” Delilah cut in before I could imply anything amusing. “She’s taking care of some things. What’s the visit for?”

“Can’t I just stop by to say hi?” I asked as I stepped in. I couldn’t help but swivel my head around and take the place in. It was a very different style than my place. A lot more… sleek modernism. Blacks and whites all over, bright fluorescent lighting, and minimalist furniture. The living room I saw had a few sofas that looked like cushioned slabs and a fireplace that looked a bit too large for its own good.

Delilah eyed me for a moment. “I suppose. But I’m inclined to suspect that something is up.”

“Literally nothing is up,” I said as I followed her past the living room and into her kitchen. It was nice and spacious, larger even than the one at our place, but it looked… kind of empty? I guess it was because it was so clean. Not that ours was that messy, it’s just that Lucy left out some of the spice racks and frequently-used tools, and it made the space feel lived-in and used. I wasn’t sure if this kitchen here had even been used to boil water yet.

“Well, you’ve been quiet for nearly a week, which is the longest time I’ve ever not seen you causing trouble,” Delilah said as she sat on a stool. She gestured for me to take another and I did. “Are you really just laying back and taking a proper break?”

“Eh, so so? I’ve been fixing my mech, which is taking a surprisingly long time. It got chewed up good, you know? Gonna be a while before it’s back to a usable shape. And other than that, I don’t know what I have to really do. That’ll probably change soon, though.”

“Oh?” Delilah asked. “Are you planning something? Also, do you want anything to drink?”

I considered it for a second, then shrugged. “Sure. Anything would do. And yeah Lucy’s going to this school. Uh, CIAL, with the big campus right next to New Montreal.”

“I know of it,” Delilah said. “I have a few friends that have gone there.”

“Really?” I asked. She came back with a can of soda from the fridge and I popped the tab.

She nodded. “Of course. The school I lived in only covers education up to a certain level. Early college, at most. Those who want further education need to go to a school that specializes in whatever subject they’re particularly interested in. CIAL is one of the better-reputed schools in the region.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Right, I guess that makes sense. Not all the mini-nuns at your nunnery are there to become… mega nuns?”

“Please just… remove all religious vocabulary from your mind. It’ll save the whole world a headache,” she said. “But in essence, yes. I’m not from an orphanage, Cat. The others, like Franny and the other sisters you met, have families outside of the dormitories. A lot of those have corporate ties and would like to see their daughters rise up the ranks, and that can mean a good post-secondary education. What surprises me in all of this is Lucy taking the time to get an education.”

“Hey, it’s not just her,” I said.

Delilah stared at me. “You’re going to school as well?”

“Yeah? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I can’t imagine you sitting down in a classroom for more than three minutes without someone dying,” Delilah said. “Does… does the school know how much trouble they’re inviting?”

“They know, and I think they want it,” I said. “Look, I’m only taking classes that seem kinda interesting, and I’m gonna bail the second it’s boring. I’m mostly there because Lucy wants to go, and I want to make sure no one gets any ideas.”

Delilah eyed me for a bit, then shrugged. “Fine. Can’t say it’s entirely a bad idea. With things globally quieting down I suppose we all need to find something productive to do with our time.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “What about you, then? What are you doing with your ample free time?”

“I’ve been focusing on myself, in part,” Delilah said. “Some time off has been good for me, I think. But also, I have been studying a fair bit in my free time, and I’ve started to assist a few volunteer programs across the city.”

“Really? You know, community service done before the crime doesn’t count, right?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m aware. I’m doing it for the actual good of the community, however. It’s one of the few things that I actually genuinely enjoy doing.”

“What’re you studying, then?” I asked.

“Philosophy,” she replied.

It was incredible how a single word could almost put me asleep all on its own. “The philosophy of burning things?” I asked. “Or is that more a therapy thing?”

“You jest, but I’m serious. We have great power. Some would say that that power comes with a moral cost. That we have to use that power to assist and improve the lives of others.”

“I don’t know. Every oligarch I’ve ever seen had had great power, and they seemed pretty happy on their super yachts and mega mansions,” I said.

“Some would say that they’ve failed.”

“Some people wouldn’t be heard over the live orchestra they can hire to play a symphony every time they take a shit,” I countered.

Delilah sniffed. “And this is why we need philosophy.”

“Sure,” I said. “So, did you find anything more interesting than ‘rich people bad’ in your studies, or was that the whole of it?”

“No, it’s more than that,” she said. “How much do you actually care?”

“I mean… I came here, with cookies and everything. I don’t just do that for people I’m not friends with, you know?” I tried.

Delilah eyed me for a few long seconds, then shook her head. “You’re a weird woman, Catherine.”

“That’s not very nun-like of you to say,” I said.

“Currently, I’m studying the philosophical principles of interconnected ignorance. It’s less a philosophy and more… a repeated observation about human nature, I suppose. Essentially, it posits that at certain times, a group of people or a network collectively lacks knowledge or hold a misconception as truth, and due to their shared ignorance, they reinforce their belief in the wrong conjecture.”

I nodded sagely. “I know most of those words,” I said. “Just not in that order.”

“Yes, I think the ignorance part of the entire idea is one you encapsulate well,” she shot back.

“Hey now, I can at least tell when I’m being insulted, most of the time,” I said. “So, what’s all that got to do with the price of butter?”

“Not very much, but it does suggest that… let’s sit down in the living room. I need a black coffee and better seating if I’m actually going to cover this with the likes of you.”

***

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