Fran folded her hands in front of her. “We’ll go over the projects you were working on before the pandemic hit. And I understand the world has unlocked enough for you to do some work at Palazzo Barberini.”
“I was lucky to do that, yes.”
“Very lucky. A fortunate easing of the oppression that has weighed upon us all.” She glanced at Mo, her brows knit in annoyance. “It’s a miracle, to be sure.”
“Now, don’t sound so disappointed, Fran. You might be an introvert, but people like us—” he indicated himself and Aida with a wave of his hand “—crave human interaction.”
Fran opened her mouth to respond, but Disa cut her off with a sharp clap. “We don’t have time to dally. We have a full schedule today.”
“My, my. Look at you, suddenly all order and organization.” Mo shook his head at her in wonder.
“Enough,” Fran said, like a mother scolding her children. “Miss Reale, please give us your account of Palazzo Spada.”
Palazzo Spada. Aida had gone over her notes on the plane, but she was surprised at how much she remembered, considering that the job had taken place over six months before. She and Luciano had long talked about when the forgetting happened, and it seemed that it began within a few months after they did their MODA interviews. With the pandemic, this was the longest she had gone between her meetings. There was a profound sadness in knowing this interview would mark the beginning of the forgetting of the museum, the memories slipping from her consciousness as the final data—the interview and whatever thoughts the gods might have—was uploaded into Pandora.
Pandora. She and Luciano had agreed that they would let the events of the interviews determine if they should attempt to find her. Neither of them had known when their meetings would be held, so they couldn’t really plan, but knowing that he’d also had his in the morning gave her hope that they could try to find the automaton that afternoon.
The interview went much as all her previous ones, save that Fran and Disa seemed far more annoyed than usual at Mo, who was fully fixated on Aida’s every word. He was as snarky as ever, but there was something underlying it, something Aida interpreted as affection. It suddenly occurred to Aida that he must have had some sort of hand in reducing the number of COVID cases and the subsequent easing of restrictions, and they were unhappy about it. Had he done it for her? Maybe he really did consider her a friend.
Finally, the interview was over, with no indication that the gods knew about their discovery of Pandora. “I’ll walk you out,” Mo said, rising from the table.
“No, you won’t.” Fran’s voice was dark and commanding. “You will remain here. Disa is correct. There is much to do, and your work for MODA takes precedence. Miss Reale, please go ahead and collect your bags. We’ve arranged for you to return to Rome right away. Thank you for your illuminating report.”
Aida thanked them, replaced her mask, and let herself out of the suite. When the calm disappeared again, she frantically texted Luciano to let him know she had to return to Rome.
Why don’t you go ahead and try to find her?she suggested.
I’m not doing this without you. And I think she might respond better to a woman. Let’s figure out how to return to London.
An hour and a half later, Aida boarded the plane with both relief and disappointment. Relief that MODA was not aware of their discovery of Pandora, that Disa didn’t notice her recognition of Luciano, and that she did not have to spend time with Mo.
But they still were no closer to bringing happiness back into the world.
25
June–September 2020
As the summer unfolded, a renewed sense of optimism was in the air. The streets of Rome, once eerily silent, began to thrum with life again. Coffee bars and museums cautiously opened their doors, welcoming locals and a trickle of tourists with new safety protocols in place. Masks, though a constant reminder of the pandemic, became part of the city’s new normal.
Despite the cautious resurgence of life, the remains of the Colosseum stood as a stark reminder of the devastation that had swept the city. Once the symbol of Rome’s resilience, the ancient structure’s collapse had sent shock waves through the world. The area around it remained blocked off, fenced with towering barriers that kept the masses away. Rubble still filled the surrounding streets, and the nearby metro construction, meant to bring new ease to the city’s transportation, had been abandoned. Now, the Colosseum’s ruins loomed over the deserted streets like a wound that had yet to heal. Reconstruction efforts had been delayed indefinitely because of the pandemic, and no timeline for the area’s recovery had been announced.
Aida’s first assignment after returning from London was at a site immediately next to where Trajan’s Column used to be, Palazzo Valentini, built in the sixteenth century and now serving as the seat of Rome’s Provincial Administration. Beyond its stately facade, Palazzo Valentini hid a remarkable secret beneath its foundations: the ruins of ancient Roman houses. The site had beentransformed into a multimedia museum, where cutting-edge technology, including light projections and sound effects, brought the ancient world to vivid life. As she strolled through the remains of Roman homes, peering into living spaces, baths, and kitchens that once teemed with activity, her usual wonder was infused with a new appreciation for the world beyond the pandemic.
But every time Aida approached the building, she felt a gnawing sense of unease. The collapsed Colosseum wasn’t far—its ruins a constant, looming reminder of everything that had changed. The sight of it every day made her heart clench. What else could fall? The city itself seemed fragile, as if the ground beneath her might give way at any moment, swallowing what remained of the world.
During her time at the site, Aida kept expecting Mo to appear. But it wasn’t until late in August when she was cataloging happiness at the Villa Farnesina on the edge of the Trastevere that Mo finally appeared.
The photographer had just finished his work in the Loggia of Cupid and Psyche and departed when Mo brushed past him into the sunlit room. “So, this is where you hide when the world starts breathing again,” he remarked with an unusual, playful edge.
“I wasn’t aware I was hiding,” she said, welcoming the calm that had preceded the god’s entrance.
She didn’t want to look at him because then she would be expected to say more, so instead, she gazed up at Raphael’s magnificent ceiling, which, ironically, featured scenes of the gods. On one side, there was the Council of the Gods, in which Jupiter decided to give the drink of immortality to Psyche so she could become a god and marry Cupid. On the other side was Cupid and Psyche’s wedding feast.
“Look,” she said, pointing up. “There are the Three Graces. Seeing the goddess Euphrosyne is a breath of fresh air after the weight of coronavirus upon us. Are you familiar with her?” It was a dangerous question, but when she first saw the fresco thatmorning, a seed of panic was planted within her. The pandemic had given them a taste of the world without happiness, and she had no desire to have what little joy she had left taken again.
“Happiness is always fleeting. Humans are greedy. They never get enough of it,” he said, coming to stand beside her. He pulled off his mask.
“If the guards see you, they’ll yell at you,” she told him, disappointed that he didn’t say anything useful about Effie.
