2 — Entourage
Johnathan became overwhelmed with laughter. Daelus found himself blushing. He stayed silent until the laughing fit had died down. “Have I said something
taboo
?” Daelus finally managed, as if he had chosen every word with tweezers from a bowl.
“No, no,” Johnathan replied. “Just the way you phrased the question. Yes, my goodness,
yes
, everyone present in
this
room is a person. In fact, entourage are actively discouraged from being projected within the lodge, particularly during a gathering. It is considered, how do I put this, a matter of
decorum
. These gatherings are for delegates —
strictly
.”
“It’s just,” Dealus said, eyes going to the door he had just stood within for a discomforting span, “just before I arrived here. Before, you know what I mean, in the time
before
, in the place we were before this? I was told…” The more he focused, the more he realized that the past several hours were slipping from his memory. He began to worry that the drink had begun to affect his mind. His eyes went to his glass. Usually he had enjoyed the effects of alcohol, but he wasn’t currently.
Johnathan grew quiet and learned closer, taking on a tone that could almost be considered tender. “It’s
not
the drink. There’s a period of disorientation after crossing over. Memory of the process itself sort of just,
poofs
. It is nothing to be concerned with. We all experience it, and come out fine in the end.”
Daelus nodded, and tried to relax. He accepted that his memory of the last day, events leading up to the moment of crossing over, were fading and would be lost. He could still remember his childhood, his mother, and the work he had done that was so valuable it had earned him a place in the delegation. Those memories were safe.
Johnathan leaned back in his seat, seemed to recalibrate, and then leaned back in close, speaking in almost a whisper. “You are right to be curious; the entourage ability is a
big deal
. It’s going to change your life.”
Daelus nodded emphatically. “They told us. As candidates, we knew. It was promised to us. But I've never seen one. I don't know how it works. When will I be taught?”
Johnathan straightened up, licked his finger and turned an imaginary page in midair. “
Entourage
, noun, plural form,
also
entourage. It is an ability, the effect of that ability (often called a
projection
) and the thing or things that ability may result in. It is, in brief, our Benefactor–granted ability to create
puppets
.”
Daelus nodded. “Yes, I remember that much.” There had been talk, but no training nor preparation, nor even a demonstration. He was told that it was something people
could
do, that he would be able to after crossing over, but had never seen it done.
Somehow the memory of all of that made him grow anxious. A hand on his shoulder slowly calmed him.
“Imagine,” Johnathan began, his hand then moving to Daelus’ opposite shoulder, encircling him, “needing something, and the simple act of
actualizing
that need could manifest a being capable of providing it for you. What would you do with such a power?”
Daelus smiled, realizing that he did feel comforted, and began to let his guard down. He answered without hesitation. “I’d create another
me
, I suppose.”
Johnathan laughed again, but this time any hint of teasing was absent. It was earnest,
kindred
. “Is it really so difficult to trust
anyone
but yourself? Is that it?”
Daelus shook his head. “Well,
no
, it’s just that—”
Johnathan was, perhaps, not
quite
listening. “All delegates experience and utilize their entourage differently, but there are a few things most of us do. Take myself, for example.
“I have tasks that must be done. I can not do them all myself, but they do not necessarily need a
person
to do them. So, I project an entourage. It is a bit of my will and intention put out into the world. It’s
magic
. The projection is, in a literal sense,
real
. It can be
seen.
It may interact with the physical world. It is
solid
. If I desired, it can
speak
. It could even—”
“So you just… imagine an entire
person
?” Daelus cut in with some urgency. It aligned with what he had been told, but he realized he had always been skeptical.
Johnathan read this reaction as
excitement
. “No
no,
my dear fellow. They are
not
people
. No more than a recording of your voice is a person. They are a creation of the mind but exist as merely an
extension
of it. They are ventriloquist dummies. Marionettes. A
spyglass
.”
“A spyglass? So, you can
see
—”
Now it was Johnathan’s turn to cut in. “Yes,
precisely
! If desired a delegate may see what their entourage sees. Say anything they desire to be said. With tremendous practice it can be done
en mass
e. They allow delegates to see through many eyes and speak with many voices. They may also be set up like clockwork automatons, running a mindless routine, out of sight, out of mind. They can be taught to react to simple cause and effect scenarios.”
“That's… incredibly exciting,” Daelus began, and then felt a thought well up from within. “I wonder, in such a state, where does the delegate end, and the entourage begin?”
“The question is without meaning. They are
tools
, no more and no less,” said a new voice, and suddenly there was another person present at the table. It was a small man with a smooth head and low jowls. His eyes seemed to be trying to retreat into his skull. He had slipped into a nearby chair while Daelus and Johnathan were having their focused exchange.
“Goodness, the General Michael
Jossimer
himself!” Johnathan proclaimed. “You grace us with your presence! Or are you here to carve off a part of our newest member to add to your collection? Nothing
I’d
miss, I hope.”
Jossimer seemed quite content to ignore the comment. “You would be wise to take this gift with the
utmost
gravity,” he barked to Daelus, in a tone that sounded immediately like scolding. “They are our foot-soldiers; bodyguards. They are what separate us from the rabble that surrounds us. They keep us separate, keep us safe, keep us
clean
.”
Johnathan seemed to be growing bored with the general’s approach to the explanation, and rolled in with a different angle. “Every delegate manifests their entourage with their own specific flair or personality. Some craft detailed personas, authored characters, and place them strategically in society as tools to gain influence.
“You should see how our mayor, Phaeros, utilizes his projections. For him, they can be a voice in a crowd that cheers or boos at the right moment. They could be a rival politician who finds their way into office only to somehow play into Phaeros’ hands at every turn, with none the wiser that it’s merely a sock-puppet. It's quite incredible, really.
“Meanwhile some, like our
dear
Jossimer here, have an army of neat and tidy
butlers
and
maids
.”
Jossimer snorted, which caused Johnathan to erupt in laughter. Daelus felt as if he was being left out of a private joke. “Terribly sorry chap, I forget how much fondness you have for the face you’ve chosen for your lot. No maids — e
xclusively
butlers.”
Jossimer ignored him. “I am told that you are in need of
lodging
, Thresh.”
Daelus nodded slowly. In truth, he hadn’t thought of it at all, but at the mention the matter became clear. He wasn’t exactly sure where he lived anymore.
“Here is the address to my estate. I have a room for you. In short order I will procure an additional manor worthy of a delegate. At that time, you shall relocate. This concludes our business. Goodnight to you
both
.”
Daelus looked at the small card Jossimer had slipped him. The address seemed incomprehensible, but he knew he would work it out.
The conversation with the General had been short, but nevertheless left Daelus
drained
. He was relieved to resume his conversion with Johnathan. “So you imagine a
person
and it just…
does
as you ask?”
Johnathan leaned in, conspiratorially. “I've heard that not all of us bother with the
entire
body. An entourage can exist as a flurry of
hands and feet,
working busily at their master's bidding. I've never seen that done myself but the theory behind it is sound. Some have even learned how to manifest inanimate objects, though doing so is surprisingly more difficult.”
Daelus’s imagination was running wild. He downed the rest of his glass, and took a deep breath. “I look forward to devouring the user manual,” he mused.
Johnathan wasn’t the only one who went silent. Everyone within earshot seemed to. Daelus could feel strange eyes on him. He had definitely said something wrong. “
Fuck
, I'm sorry,” he uttered quickly.
“Daelus, to be clear,” Johnathan said just as quickly, in a tone and in a volume that was clearly intended for everyone within earshot. “Writing
anything
down about the ability beyond what the Benefactors have provided for us is strictly discouraged. No, strike that, let’s go all the way — it’s
forbidden.
The ability is a
secret
.”
“Ah,” Daelus said, suddenly feeling even smaller than he was used to. “Of course. Yes, I had forgotten.” It felt wrong. Before crossing over, the entourage ability wasn't just known; it was central to the Benefactor’s recruitment campaign.
As quickly as it happened, the other delegates resumed ignoring him, save Johnathan, who appeared primed to resume his grand soliloquy.
The change in atmosphere sunk Daelus into his own thoughts. He knew his question shouldn't be asked, and knew that no one would be able to answer it in a way that could satisfy him.
Ever since he had learned that it was possible to mentally inhabit the body of the entourage, he wondered; how would it feel to be anyone other than himself?
And why did he find himself longing for it?