The new year brought little change to Aida’s disposition. She returned to work, this time at the Botanical Garden in Bergamo, northeast of Milan. The garden was quiet in January, closed to visitors and harboring a serene, almost melancholic atmosphere. Each day, as she cataloged the dormant plants, she couldn’t shake a subtle sense of foreboding that seemed to linger in the air, like a delicate frost clinging to the bare branches. Still, when she talked to the locals about the garden, she was filled with their happy memories of walking amid the nearly 1,200 different plants, all carefully maintained within an area of only 2,400 square meters. The garden was on a hill, and Aida found she didn’t mind the trek upward.
In its winter slumber, the garden held a silent beauty that was both haunting and comforting. In these moments, amid the sleeping flora, wandering through the hedge maze, Aida tried to feel hope. She was most hopeful about Luciano, who was coming to Rome at the beginning of March to manage the details regarding his uncle’s apartment. Much to Aida’s chagrin, a MODA project at the Belleville Market in Paris had prevented him from arriving earlier. At least Aida had his arrival to look forward to—if the world didn’t completely turn inside out before then.
For now, one of the only bright spots for Aida was that the garden was a treasure trove of information for her new novelin progress,The Botanist’s Muse. Losing herself in the story was a blessing.
Meanwhile, Yumi was relentless in her efforts to find Pandora. Day after day, she pored over her computer, the lines of code reflecting in her determined eyes. But the elusive IP address continued to dodge her every attempt.It’s like chasing shadows, she said in one of their texts.Every time I think I’ve got a lead, it vanishes into thin air.
Aida understood her friend’s struggle, the helplessness that mirrored her own. The weight of their mission, the uncertainty of their success, hung over them like a dense fog. They had no leads, and there was only silence from Sophie and her friends.
The third week of January, on the same day she returned to Rome, Aida received a text from Yumi to call her. When she finally had a moment to escape the palazzo in the guise of an evening walk and made the call, she was surprised to hear a noticeable tremor in her friend’s usually steady voice.
“Aida, I... I got laid off,” Yumi confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “They’re downsizing. It’s such bullshit. I know for a fact they had record profits in Q4. It makes no sense at all.”
Aida’s heart sank for her friend. “Yumi, I’m so sorry. That’s awful news.”
Yumi wiped at her eyes with one hand. “I’m sad about it... I liked what I was doing. But I can find another job. I’m not worried about that. It just sucks. The way they bow down to a few shareholders without any regard for how it will affect their employees or their customers.” She let out a long sigh. “But there’s a silver lining—they gave me a six-month severance. Plus, I plan on selling a ton of stock, which will easily tide me over for a while.”
Aida was relieved. “That’s wonderful. You’ll easily be able to find something in that time frame. What a comfort.”
“It is, but I’ve been thinking. I’m going to come back to Rome. I can stay without a visa for ninety days, and I want touse that time to help you. We need to figure out this Pandora situation, and I can’t let you do that by yourself.”
A knot loosened within Aida. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Yumi affirmed. “It will eat me up to be here. At least if I fail at finding that IP address, I’ll be with you in Rome.”
“We can fail together,” Aida joked. It was a bad joke, rooted in all too much probability, but at least Yumi cracked a smile.
“I’ve already reserved that dorky apartment again,” she said. “I’ll be there at the end of February.”
When they ended the call, Aida’s heart was lighter than it had been in months. The idea of both Yumi and Luciano in Rome at the same time gave her new optimism. She thought of Pandora, filled with happiness and hope. They couldn’t let it all disappear. “We’re going to find you, damn it,” she said aloud, causing a passerby to give her a wide berth. Aida didn’t care. It bolstered her. She would soon be in the company of friends.
The following day, Trista gave Aida her next appointment. “The Colosseum?” Aida asked, aghast.
Trista looked at her, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
Aida quickly whipped up her biggest smile. “This is wonderful! So far, I’ve been researching more obscure places, so this is exciting!”
But deep down, Aida was already thinking of the famous medieval prophecy of the monk known as the Venerable Bede: “Rome will exist as long as the Colosseum does; when the Colosseum falls, so will Rome; when Rome falls, so will the world.” If everything she researched was bound to disappear, what did that mean for one of the most iconic monuments in all the world?
“You’ll be there for three weeks. You’ll start in the hypogeum, under where the gladiators fought, and will conclude your work on the Belvedere, the fifth level. Dress warm. It’s cold on the underground level.”
Trista was right, the hypogeum was freezing. Aida tightened the scarf around her neck as she moved through the labyrinth of narrow stone-walled corridors under the Colosseum where gladiators once prepared for battle. A faint chill hung in the air, adding weight to the low murmur of the crowds above. Unlike other locations she visited, MODA didn’t arrange for her to be at the site without visitors. Instead, the staff blocked off areas so she could work, but the throngs of tourists were never far away.
The cold damp air clung to her as she switched on her recorder and began to walk slowly through the narrow corridors. “This was the pulse of the Colosseum,” she murmured. “From here, warriors and beasts were lifted into the light of the arena above—into a world of blood and spectacle.”
She paused near the faint outlines of ancient holding cells. Her breath clouded as she tried to imagine the atmosphere back then. “They were packed into these chambers,” she continued. “Gladiators, prisoners, exotic animals, all destined for a fight that would bring them death—or fleeting glory. Above, the crowd was buzzing, thousands of voices rising in anticipation, waiting for the violence.”
Aida leaned against the cold stone wall, her fingers grazing the rough surface. “This was happiness. The crowd’s joy came from the bloodshed, from watching men and beasts tear into each other. For them, cruelty wasn’t just tolerated, it was celebrated. It was entertainment, a source of delight.”
She tried to picture the faces in the stands—their laughter, their cheers as a blade found its mark.How could they find joy in this?she wondered, a chill settling in her bones. “It’s strange to think that happiness can be drawn from cruelty, but it often is. For the people who came here, the suffering of others brought them together, united them in their shared delight.”
The air in the hypogeum felt heavier as she spoke. “Happiness built on blood,” she said quietly into her recorder. What she really wondered was how joy like that could last. Could something so dark be the foundation of any kind of real happiness?
Yes, it could, she thought,for gods like Momus,Oizys,Apate, and Discordia.
She was reminded of her conversation with Mo, about the cruelty of the puppet show. Over and over as she walked through the ancient monument, she thought of his words:It seems that violence can make even normal people happy.
Aida shuddered, but not from the cold. Mo’s voice echoed in her mind, the casual cruelty in his words as sharp as any gladiator’s sword.You ever think about the Colosseum? Thousands of normal people, rooting for real bloodshed.She pictured the crowds again, this time with fresh clarity—ordinary Romans, their faces lit with anticipation, their cheers rising with every blow struck. Happiness, for them, wasn’t just watching. It waswantingthe violence,demandingit.
