Back to June, 200x. The most recent inbound Life Fountain gets her tiny column of coverage on the Daily website.

Nursing his black eye with ice and tossing back a beer, Augustine is reading the article aloud and making a proposition to his viewers. What do you all think?

He breezes over the introductory fluff of what Life Fountains are and where Roha came from, and the call-to-action the Foundation has wedged in for an employment petition. He gets straight to the meat.

They look like regular people. I know, not that exciting, but I read they’re like, hundreds of years old. Sounds like one of those sexy video games. Wed and take to bed the little girl who’s secretly a millennia old. If I see anybody in the comments bring up faeries - give yourself a slap right now, you know those pretty little ladies almost never live past their fifties.

He ponders and a smile spreads across his face.

In the mountains… healing powers. ‘Aura’? Man, that’s really videogamey. What, am I gonna have to fuck her to save the world? And check this: Life Fountains mature after 20 years, and then growth decelerates. Forever young. But not too young…

He zooms in on the photograph of her - rolling the cursor around the pixelated bust area of her cotton dress - and licks his lips. 240 years old. Oh yeah - plenty mature where it matters.

He sits back and stretches. Just think about it. 200 years of experience. Could be fun.

—

While Kir’s uploaded content was readily archived by fans and critics alike, there are hours of footage that never made it online. The trove of hard drives and cards I received at the Kir manor contained much scrapped material. There are gaffes and multiple takes of certain ‘scripted’ segments, test or accidental recordings, mediocre content that was simply cut for quality, and some borderline illegal exhibitions wisely kept from the public. But it was all saved - Augustine and his assistants were fastidious in their file-keeping.

Timestamped to the evening after Kir set his sights on Roha, I witnessed their meeting.

—

It is 7:00pm on the dot when Kir waltzes into the Life Fountain’s quarterly fundraiser banquet, which doubles as a meet-and-greet for the latest arrivals. It is held in one of the Regional History Museum’s function rooms, a vast ballroom with dripping chandeliers and high damask curtains. The event is open to all, but Kir has nonetheless taken the opportunity to dress up.

The man in a suit and tie looks nothing like the man who scandalizes online in various states of undress. He wanders through the crowd unrecognized. Some question the camera he’s pointing at them, to which he politely replies he’s working on something for a class.

He spares a moment to film the buffet spread, helping himself to a substantial melon canape. For all the gloom they put in the news, Life Fountains aren’t doing so bad. Then again, I hear they eat a shitload. But where are they? Where’s this new chick? This is the bad thing about the ones that blend in…

He approaches a few guests (after assessing ‘that guy looks important’) and casually asks the whereabouts of the ‘new girl’, but receives no clear answer.

Don’t tell me she missed her own party… A speech begins on the stage and he sighs, turning the lens on the speaker. That’s the lady who was crazy enough to marry the Life Fountain head honcho. Something Carthage from the big shot lawyer family. Could spot her a mile away. Especially with those. Once again he takes aim at the bust. Whew. Well, the foundation prez sure has taste.

But as with most things, Lemina Carthage does not hold his attention long and he wanders out one of the wedged-open doors and into the dusky gardens. There is a stunned pause. A few feet away, Roha is sitting on a stone bench. Against a backdrop of shadowed shrubbery she appears bathed in a faint, ghostly light.

Shit, shit, there she is. Despite the obscenities, Kir’s voice is low and controlled. He may have been feigning panic for his audience. In the next moment he is upright, confident and making his play.

You must be Roha. The speech is a little too much, huh? Guess we both needed some air.

Her gaze makes a tired arc from him to the object in his hands then, disinterested, back to the graveled path.

Augustine deploys his usual tactics; lamenting loneliness, the schedule, how this brief window of time they are sharing is an oasis in the wastes of city life. Scattering compliments and comparisons between her and ‘other girls’ - flattering her, of course. He tries to draw her into talk of ‘a good bar nearby’ and offers a getaway. At his grandparents’ socials, this line has hooked many a young dilettante. But Roha’s head continues to droop, nodding absently as if his words are a lullaby. Kir goes quiet; his patience is being tested. Somewhat abruptly he asks, hey, are you alright?

Her eyes fully open for the first time, sapphire-blue eyes wide but bleary with confusion. Why are you asking that?

Doubly taken aback by the returned question, Kir fumbles. You look, uh, sick. I mean, tired.

I’m not sick. It’s… it’s very hot. That’s all. Am I alright? What a strange question. She tugs at the high neckline of her dress, another thick cotton slab. Kir has a devious idea. He reaches out and begins to unbutton.

Here, let me. This will help. Central summers can be tough, but if you just loosen up a little… nobody’s looking. It’s okay… Here, there is a sound that is either fabric rubbing or Kir snickering. I’m an inspector, you see. A health inspector.

Oh, you’re like a doctor? And with Life Fountains?

I can, if that’s –

He stops and turns with a yelp. The view of the camera whizzes across the dark, landing on nothing, forgotten for a time. Until somewhere above, Roha says, what was that?

Thought I saw someone looking – something in the trees. There seems to be genuine fear in his voice, and then the camera returns to her. His free hand is still grasping the fabric. The top of her dress unwrapped and hanging loosely around her elbows, and Roha is exposed from collar to waist. Under a ragged white undergarment, the curve of her skin rests against his outstretched hand. He recovers. Well, you certainly look better now. Feeling better?

A little.

God, this is really too easy. You’re just dying for it aren’t you?

I’m sorry?

No apologies necessary, miss, I’m a prof-

The camera makes a sudden lunge at Roha, bounding off her and landing in the grass. Kir yelps again. The voice of Cadmus, head of the Life Fountain Foundation, roars What in the world is this?

—

So much for an all-inclusive gathering, Cadmus. Dumb bastard.

Augustine Kir did post a debriefing video the following day to cover his adventure in the museum garden.

The girl herself was even better than expected. Total angel. If only it hadn’t been so dark! She didn’t suspect a thing, or maybe she did, and liked what she saw. Either way…

It is not entirely clear why he did not include footage of the encounter considering how smitten he appears to be. No images from that night ever made its way to the channel. Perhaps, the stern talking-to from Cadmus and Lemina gave him second thoughts. Or, considering his unexplained fit of panic midway through, he did not consider his actions to be sufficiently cool and on-brand.

I swear, it was like sinking my hand into a giant marshmallow, just this sweet soft pillowy thing all over. I think I got a real feel for her… hah, get it? Bet she’ll melt in the mouth too. Are you all ready for more?

—

A colleague of mine who is helping to review the years of footage does a slow pan through the duo’s first meeting. The moment Augustine rips off her clothes in preparation for ravishing. The same moment he chokes up and swivels in fear.

Tapping through, frame by frame, my colleague catches small glints of light on the bench, in the grass, on the trees. Roha brings the camera back to task. Augustine says he thought there was ‘someone looking’.

Having made a name for himself off shameless subversion, it’s something of a laugh that he was spooked at the prospect of being watched. But to be fair to Kir - this appears to be hundreds of ghostly eyes peering from the shade of an empty garden.

The ‘eyes’ are bright and blue. The same blue of the particles Roha scratched from her hands the day she came to Central. They aren’t eyes - this is Roha’s aura.