[10:45 AM, May 6th]

Homer has pulled up a chair to sit in a corner of the room with his head in his hands. Faye and Jessica made their way to an upper room. Lucas, Wren, and Alfred sit in chairs around the center of the room. On the floor between the three of them is the burlap bag holding the exotic fruit. Alfred still holds one in his hand. His interest-lacking demeanor has not changed, but a twinkle of enthusiasm has begun to grow in his eyes as he prepares to speak.

He addresses Lucas first. “Homer described to me what happened in the alley before you collapsed: the ‘second guy’ as he called it.” A chill passes through Lucas’s body, shown in his surprised expression. He can no longer convince himself that those events were hallucinations. Lucas leans closer as Alfred continues. “That occurrence is a direct result of consuming this fruit. To elaborate, I need to use Homer as an example.”

Homer raises his head and Alfred looks at him as though asking for permission to proceed. The man sighs and shrugs dejectedly.

“Lucas,” Alfred addresses him again, “pinch Homer on the arm.”

While apprehensive, Lucas complies. He rises from his chair, approaches Homer, and places a hand on his shoulder. It is after a moment of thought that Lucas uses his pointer and thumb to squeeze Homer’s upper arm. Then, he takes a step back and looks at Alfred. Before he can ask if this action was to his liking, he notices a sudden focus in both Alfred and Wren, which is directed at Homer. Lucas turns back to see what has caught their attention.

The scene is reminiscent of Lucas’s first encounter with Homer in the alley. A figure emerges from behind the man, as though climbing out of some infinitesimally thin plane in space. Lucas takes another step back, remembering the sequence of events that followed this sight before. A replica of Lucas comes to stand next to Homer. A notable difference is that this newcomer also bears the bandages currently wrapped around Lucas’s left forearm.

The hunter’s heartbeat quickens as his mirror image approaches him. He takes a fighting stance, but finds his attacker’s movements to be less malicious than he remembers. The clone simply places both hands on Lucas’s shoulders and shoves him back with enough force to make him stumble while remaining on his feet. Afterward, the doppelganger dissipates into fine dust which quickly becomes nothing but air. With that, the ordeal is over.

Lucas relaxes and looks over at Alfred, who is still shocked. Evidently, this is his first time seeing the event.

“It’s really something, seeing it in person.” He collects his thoughts and prepares to give commentary. “Compare that with the alleyway incident. Back then, when you kicked Homer into the wall, the doppelganger was much more aggressive. Here, you merely pinched him and its actions were mild. The retaliation is proportional to your action. And once the apparition has succeeded in retaliating, it disappears.”

Alfred pauses to let his message sink in. Lucas returns to his seat.

“The phenomenon is bizarre and defies explanation. But it clearly follows a set of rules.”

Wren intercedes. “Why do you think this relates to the fruit?” Her eyes narrow as though interrogating a criminal.

Alfred thinks nothing of her manner of questioning, answering with the same tone he has always used. “I’ve heard stories and read niche studies of absurd things happening as a result of eating one of these. The result differs wildly between individuals, but always manifests after consumption. I had no way of investigating first-hand until Homer came along. Now, I’m convinced.” He takes a breath, marking the end of one thought and the beginning of another. “So, I will explain what I know and how it may help in your current situation.”

“Homer.” Wren addresses the man in the corner of the room before Alfred can begin his next sentence. She gets up and walks over to him, kneeling so that she can be at face level while talking to him. Her voice takes on a gentle, comforting tone. “Why don’t you go meet your family upstairs. They’re waiting for you.”

With a lifeless sigh, Homer rises from his chair and drudges up the nearby steps. Once he’s out of sight, Wren turns back to the center of the room.

“The information you are about to divulge is classified by the Court of Patras.” She gives Alfred an emotionless yet targeted look. “I don’t know where you got it, but I do care where it goes.”

Alfred thinks for a moment, moving his gaze between the top of the stairs and Wren in front of him. His response, while expressing remorse in words, is accompanied by no such sentiment in tone. “I’ll be more careful.” He then continues to address Lucas while getting up and walking towards a smooth work-table along the wall. Its surface is polished with an expensive-looking wax, upon which stand metal and glass alchemical apparati. He grabs a small knife from a drawer built into the table and brings it close to the fruit, which he has placed onto the surface.

“First thing’s first.” He cuts the fruit into two equal halves and holds one in his hand. “One alchemist has found that the active chemicals causing the effects are present at unsafe levels. According to anecdotes, eating a whole one deteriorates the mind and eventually causes varying degrees of madness. Judging by Homer’s disposition, would I be correct in assuming that he isn’t usually so depressed and anxious?”

“We can’t say. Neither of us know him personally.” Wren replies.

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. He told me that he ate a whole fruit.” Alfred then reaches across the table and brings a magnifying glass up to the flesh of the fruit. He looks into it as he continues. “Half is enough to arouse the effects while keeping the psyche intact. I say this because I’m going to recommend that you, Lucas and Wren, both consume half of this fruit.” He pauses to let them process this as well as to hear their responses.

Lucas bends forward to get a closer look at the inside of the fruit. At the same time, Alfred rises and turns towards the other two. Wren casts her gaze on Alfred with hard eyes.

“How will making copies of people when I’m hurt help us get the Smiths out of Athens?” Lucas asks.

Glad to have a reason to look away from Wren, Alfred turns his attention to Lucas and answers. “The effects of eating the fruit vary by consumer. From what I’ve read, the specific phenomenon has some dependance on the subject's mental state and reflects their major personality traits.” He sighs before continuing. “All of that emotional jargon means this: whatever anomaly you produce will be a reflection of your psyche. This is why philosophers call that anomaly a ‘Prism’. It is the filter through which you view the world and the filter through which others can see the naked mind. Something like that.”

Alfred grumbles through his last sentence, clearly less comfortable relaying philosophical conjecture than alchemical theory. Lucas straightens himself out and looks at Alfred.

“What I’m gathering is that you think getting the Smiths out of Athens will be nearly impossible, at least without this ‘Prism’-thing.” His expression turns serious, not out of contempt, but in anticipation of an affirmative response. “Is that right?”

Alfred, upon receiving this question from a such severe expression, looks down at the halved fruit and becomes contemplative. With a sigh, he looks up at the staircase leading to the room currently occupied by the Smiths. His eyes narrow. Finally, he looks back at Lucas and replies. “Yes.” He turns and tends to the table, cleaning the small knife and placing it into the drawer from which it came. At the same time, he continues. “Not to doubt either of your abilities, of course. But closing the port was an official emergency order by the Assembly. Anyone’s chances of successfully defying it are very low, especially with the ‘cargo’ you’re trying to export.”

Lucas is cautious but not suspicious. He examines Alfred’s posture and looks into his eyes, trying to determine if what he’s saying is genuine. But his instincts have already driven him to a conclusion. The man standing in front of him saved his life with no real obligation to do so. Lucas reasons that, if Alfred’s goal were to take advantage of him, he would have treated him only to a certain degree and dangled his life in front of him. For the first time in Lucas’s adult life, his ability to survive was not in his own hands. His heart sends him a clear message: that Alfred is trustworthy.

Lucas nods in affirmation and lowers his hand towards half of the fruit on the table. After picking it up, he looks back at Alfred. “I’ll eat one. But I can’t speak for Wren.” He then turns to her. “You told me a few days ago that you drank an elixir made from this. Any more might be harmful.”

“Agreed. Although I’m not entirely convinced that eating the fruit in pure form is safe to begin with.” She brings her attention to Alfred. “How do you know any of this?”

“I have no problem showing you. One moment.” He walks off towards a door on the other side of the room and enters the room behind it. Not long afterward, he reemerges with a small locked chest atop which rests a key. He sets these onto the table, carefully moving the half-fruit and the bag of fruits aside. The key is then used to undo the lock and allow the top of the chest to be lifted. The contents are revealed: folded up papers, one on top of another, all with notes written on their exteriors.

Alfred ruffles through them and whispers to himself. “What did you want to know…” A paper catches his eye. “This one.” He draws it out of the chest and unfolds it onto the table and addresses Lucas and Wren before explaining its contents.

“All of these papers are discarded notes from studies done by professional alchemists in this city. They’ll research anything that interests him, even rumors.” Alfred takes a breath, in which time Wren intercedes.

“If they’ve been discarded, I’d think they’re full of errors. How can we be sure that you know what you’re talking about?”

Despite the critical perspective coming from Wren, Alfred shows no signs of being offended. Rather, the slightest glimpse of eagerness begins to show through his depressed demeanor. “I’m also an alchemist - in training, anyway. We’re actually standing in my mentor’s laboratory.” He looks at Lucas. “She specializes in medicinal alchemy, which is why I was able to treat you.” He then puts his hand on the paper open on the table. “Anyway, you’re right, having only one thrown out paper doesn’t warrant any conclusions about the fruit. But quite a few local alchemists have thrown their brains at it. Individually, none have made much progress in defining the fruit’s effects. But this chest is full of different perspectives, which yield some strong inferences when cross-examined for common findings. They all reported a few of the same things, implying at least some consistency.”

Alfred removes two more papers from the chest and opens them onto the table. While Lucas is at a loss for interpreting any meaning from the symbols and notes, he notices that Alfred looks at them with eyes of understanding. “There may be no way to convince you to believe me, but I’m certain that what I’ve said is true.”

Wren steps forward and places a hand on the papers. She looks at them with narrow eyes, appearing to think back to a time when she saw something resembling the notes. “I didn’t think the fruit’s mysteries were known outside of the researchers in Patras…”

“However your alchemists crafted the elixir you drank, I have no reason to doubt their work. The goal was likely to help you develop a Prism, so expect such an anomaly sometime in the near future.” Alfred explains. “It may help you achieve your current goal.”

“Speaking of which,” Lucas steps forward and places a small green stem onto the edge of the table, some glistening blue fibers still attached. He wipes a drop of juice from the corner of his mouth. “How long should I expect to wait?”