[Alexander Pierrot]

Inside every story made with pride,

the architect lives on inside

---

"Am I a good man?"

Alexander's arm was raised to the sky, his expression twisted into a torturous frown as he slowly lowered his hand to his chest and clutched it within the palm of his other hand.

"Am I a madman?" 

His hands trembled and an illusion flicked across his face, briefly replacing his expression with one that was wide-eyed and had a rictus grin.

"It's such a fine line, between a good man and a..." 

Alexander vanished from his place and instantly appeared next to it, a far more malicious look on his face than the tortured one he had before. 

"...Do you really think that I would eeeever let you go? Do you think I'd ever set you free? If you do I'm sad to say, it simply isn't so. You will never get away from me~."

The original reappeared, haunted and forlorn. His arm swung as if to both punctuate his point and dissipate the apparition. As the conversation continued the two personas continued to replace one another. 

"All that you are is a face in the mirror! I close my eyes and YOU disappear." 

"I'm what you face when you're facing the mirror. Loooong as you live I will still be here."

"All that you are is the end of a nightmare. All that you are is a dying scream. After tonight I shall end this demon dreaaaaaaaaam!"

Alexander swept his arm out with every bit of his energy as he held the final note, eyes passing over the crowd as if to look each one in the eye as he spoke. All manner of faces looked his way, dozens if not hundreds paying rapt attention and hanging on to his every word. One in particular caught his attention, a pair of eyes with a quite literal gleam to it. He did not have time to dwell on the interesting personage for long, for the show must go on. 

---

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance." Alexander said with a smile while extending his hand towards Marlene. The interesting face he'd seen in the crowd had come to him like it was destiny, the opening of a grand play bound to chase the world. Alexander only narrowly refrained from showing the excitement he felt deep inside, the scent of a story to come. It was rare that meeting with fans after a play led to such a result but it made all the other times worth it. "My name is Alexander Pierrot, may I ask for yours?"

---

Tags: Marlene Lovechild

[Marlene Lovechild]

Marlene liked theater.

She visited often, even got a discount card. Most people visited to get themselves acquainted with cultural heritages, or to spend time as couples. The automaton girl always came alone. Hers was a different purpose than leisure. It was ... closer to academic interest. She was on a mission, after all. A task she was built for, yet which she had seen nothing but failure with. Not that it would stop her from trying. But this place was given insights. It was full of humans that pretended to be other people, and pretended to experience emotions they were meant to experience according to the script. 

And now, her favorite human of this sort was on the scene. 

He was a master of his craft, truly. Despite being barely a few years older than herself. This performance, she felt, must have been especially difficult to pull off. To pretend to be a human with not just one, but two personalities... Two sets of emotions to express, all at once, within such a short time frame... Marlene could not fathom even attempting such a thing! She could barely manage one face... Much less others. To have so many... and to change them so easily, each time there is a new script and new performance... 'How does he do it...'

The machine did not know. Another mystery kept from her by the virtue or sin of her creation. The spectacle was over soon, and she stood up from the chair, and clapped. One face among the crowd. Her unblinking, glass eyes focused on the actor she felt was above and beyond the rest. Most lifelike. Most human, somehow. Their glances crossed, but Marlene made nothing of it. She did not think of herself as anything noteworthy, especially not when there were so many real people here.

Still, when all performers assembled on the stage, to receive accolades, the automaton girl approached, among many others. Her strict black and white dress did make her stand out a bit, among all the whites, reds, and yellows of other women, young and old. In her hands was a bouquet of amaryllis flowers. The nice lady at the flower shop told her it was just the thing to give to an artist. So she bought them. The machine patiently waited for everyone to go first. Mostly because if she were to force herself through the crowd, there would be harm. And besides... she did not like the onrush. Gifting things was supposed to be special. And, it seemed, that her patience was rewarded. The actor she was interested in the most lingered, and noticed her. The girl knew his name, Alexander Pierrot. He was about to know hers. She made a step forward, the wooden floor creaking lightly under her surprisingly heavy step. Her head tilted up, a small mechanic whir in her neck. She blinked, because she was supposed to blink. When offered a hand, the automaton looked at it, and took it, for a handshake. She tried to be gentle, but one could feel the rigidity of metal through her silicon skin.

"Good evening. My name is Marlene Lovechild. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mr. Pierrot." - the automaton spoke in a neutral tone, though a small, metallic reverb at the back of her voice betrayed excitement. She then offered him the bouquet she bought for him. "These are for you. You are my favorite actor. Your performances are very believable. It is like you are many people at once. How do you do it?"

[Alexander Pierrot]

Inside every story made with pride,

the architect lives on inside

---

Shaking Marlene's hand the cold core he could feel within the falsified humanity resonated with him. Pinocchio. That was what Marlene reminded him of. The puppet who wished to be human above all else. Ah, what luck he had. To stumble upon such a tale in this modern day. 

"The pleasure is all mine, Marlene." Alexander genially replied while accepting the bouquet. "My thanks, dear. Your gift and praise are highly appreciated."

With a thoughtful expression on his face he considered Marlene's question. He could give the same reply he gave anyone else. Yet it did not seem fitting. Pointless at best and an affront at worst. Not to mention the missed opportunity. The chance to guide one seeking what it is like to be human, the age old question exemplified by a girl that seemed to have stepped straight out of metaphors and stories.

"It is both simple and complex," He began before pausing just long enough to ensure he had her rapt attention. "By striving to understand the duality of man. To understand that I will never truly understand the essence of what it is to be human. It is said that the best method to learn empathy is to put oneself in another's shoes and there is truth to it in a way. Yet a mix of both empathy and clarity is needed."

Alexander paused for a moment, considering how to best word what he meant. Gazing down at the bouquet in his hands an idea came to mind.

"Have you heard of the tale of Amaryllis and Alteo?"


------

Tags: Marlene Lovechild

[Marlene Lovechild]

Marlene smiled, as she let go of the boquet, and relinquished it to the artist she admired. It was a good attempt, by her standards. She practiced smiling often. With the blushes she wore on her artificial skin, and the little crinkles at the corners of her mouth, it was almost human. Almost. Except for the small imperfections, like one corner of the mouth being a little bit above the other. And the absence of emotions in her eyes. Never really got that part right, no matter how hard she tried. Still, the automaton girl listened, to what mr. Pierrot had to say, sharing the secret of his marvellous performance. His answer surprised her. 

"You cannot understand the essence of being human? But... you are a human, are you not?"

To hear a human, and a master of the craft, say that even he did not fully understand their own essence was ... disheartening, in a way. Not that it would stop Marlene from trying to accomplish her purpose. Still, it was not something she expected, or wished to hear. Right after, though, the man offered a way to achieve clarity and empathy, at the same time. All she had to do was to put oneself in situations other people experience emotions in. And then... see what happens? It was something she did not try before. 

It made Marlene think about it. So much so she was pulled out of it only when mr. Pierrot asked her about Amaryllis and Alteo. Scanning through her memories, the girl found no answer. She shook her head.

"No. All I know is that Amaryllis flowers are to be gifted to artists, to wish them success in their endeavors."

The automaton girl tilted her head up, eyes meeting. Hers did not blink. A studious curiosity visible in them. But at the same time... admiration? And a small bit of longing for... something well out of reach.

"I would like to hear it, though..."

[Alexander Pierrot]

Inside every story made with pride,

the architect lives on inside

---

"Ah, but it is exactly because I am human that I cannot understand." Alexander explained with an enigmatic smile, straightening his back and holding the bouquet with one hand while his other raised to gesture alongside his explanations.

"To be less is to be more, for one can breathe every day of their life without ever understanding how. It is a luxury that leaves one blind to the truth of the matter, a truth that is far easier for someone to which it does not come natural to realize. After all, no one thinks of the process more than an asthmatic struggling for air."

Instinct was the realm of emotion and in Alexander's opinion emotion was rarely rational. It was the everlasting curse and burden of mankind that the two sides of what it meant to be human, rationality and emotion, were so often at odds. A duality as fascinating as it was frustrating and one that rendered discerning an objective truth utterly impossible. With a wave of his hand Alexander almost seemed to brush the thought aside as he continued speaking.

"While the story is unlikely to be as old as many claim, the tale of Amaryllis and Alteo is one of single-minded passion and a yearning for love. Upon falling for Alteo, a man who claimed he would only fall in love with a girl who brought him a flower he had never seen before, Amaryllis sought out the Oracle of Delphi for aid. The Oracle told her she had to spill blood to earn his love and so she walked to his house each night and pierced her heart with a golden arrow, a symbol you may recognize from stories of Cupid, until finally on the dawn of the thirtieth day a crimson flower bloomed from where her blood had been spilled. Said flower," Alexander explained, "was named the Amaryllis in honor of her and earned her Alteo's love."

Taking a half step back Alexander raised his head to the sky, closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if trying to take in the story told through the air in which it hung. Opening them once more and looking Marlene in the eye he fixed her with an artificial smile that looked far more real than the one she had given him.

"That. Is art. The unrelenting pursuit of passions and patient perseverance resulting in the creation of something entirely new. Something perhaps even greater than what you originally set out to do, but I digress." He concluded before clearing his throat and taking a moment to collect himself.

"Understanding what it is to be human requires both clarity through looking at something from an outside perspective in order to see the results and understand that few actions taken, if any, are purely rational as well as empathy through standing in another's shoes and seeing what caused their actions. Above all it is knowing that no matter what one does every piece of information attained passes through the filter of one's own perception and as such to truly see the essence of man is impossible."

Letting out a thoughtful hum Alexander considered how to best provide an example. There were many he could use yet his audience this time was highly unlike the usual which meant usual explanations would not suffice. Snapping his fingers in realization he continued.

"Coffee," He stated confidently before offering an apologetic smile and explaining. "It is a wondrous creation that strains the water of life through the filter of the self. Yet while the result is inspired by the objective truth, the granulated coffee beans, it produces a far different product. Many would argue one greater than its origin."

Bringing the bouquet closer to his face he inhaled deeply before facing Marlene once more.

"Can you see the reason why Amaryllis flowers are gifted to artists?"


------

Tags: Marlene Lovechild

[Marlene Lovechild]

"To be less is to be more. Does it mean I can understand humans better than humans do?"

Marlene tilted her head to the side. She did indeed study humans a lot. Always. She got very good at identifying things. But ... something about it felt wrong, somehow. What was the point of all this knowledge, if she could not replicate humans to a degree they would buy it? Or... at least, fool her mom enough to stop flinching every time she walked into the room... 

Still, she listened. Mr. Pierrot had plenty to say. And the automaton girl felt glad that someone as busy and famous as him took the time to explain things that she, by her own admission, was so very poor at. His first quip could even be considered encouragement. So, she soaked in more. The story about the two lovers was likely an allegory. She knew that word, and the examples of it. If the story were to be taken at face value, it would be a terrible story. Alteo had no qualities to himself besides liking flowers, and being incredibly picky and facetious with women. But as an allegory, he was an image of perfection and a goal to strive for, while Amaryllis was the striver. In relation to art, it meant that one must always seek perfection.

"I think I understand." - she nodded. "Gifting these flowers is an unspoken wish for them to never stop striving to achieve perfection."

For Marlene, it was a bit of a revelation. Her own quest, too, seemed like an endless and hopeless quest. But if there was no such thing as perfection, then the artists were, perhaps, in the same boat? That thought made the machine emphasize with the lot. And with this man in front of her too. 

"It is impossible to achieve perfection in something as subjective as art, though." - Marlene said, her shoulders drooping a little. "Does it upset you?"

[Alexander Pierrot]

Inside every story made with pride,

the architect lives on inside

---

"Ah, what a saddening response," Alexander answered ruefully. "Do you believe yourself less than human because you do not have -and forgive me if I am incorrect- blood running through your veins? Because you are not a, and forgive my crudeness in rendering the soul down to mere biology, pile of meat piloted by electrical signals sent through nerves?"

Shaking his head side to side with a theatrical flair he clicked his tongue.

"Nay, to be human is not a matter of what you are made of in the physical sense. It is a matter of what you are made of in the metaphysical sense," a broad sweep of his arm served as his gesture towards the crowd. "Ask a hundred of the people here what makes a person human and you will receive a hundred different replies. Some will say it is to be the center of one's own universe, to experience life in all its colors and all its potential. Others will say it is to stand on two feet, think complex thought and have opposable thumbs. Some yet may say it is to be a mother, a father, a brother, a sister, a son or a daughter. Pray tell, which of them are correct?"

With a conspiratorial air to his movements he leaned forward to whisper into Marlene's ear. As if he were imparting her with the secrets of creation itself.

"All of them."

Proudly he stood straight once more and spread his arms wide, his eyes gleaming with the manic energy of a fanatic believer.

"All of them are correct. So too are all of them wrong. There is no such thing as a single thing that makes one human. No one crucial component one must possess to be so. What is it to be human? In my opinion it is a choice."

Alexander slowly built momentum as he continued to talk, working his way up to a blazing finale.

"Humans much like anything else never stop changing through their entire lives. They -we- are the result of choice upon choice layered atop one another until it creates a person. A personality. An ego. A mindset. The circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

He pointed straight at Marlene's chest, his hand hovering mere inches in front of where her physical heart would be had she been flesh and bones. 

"Who you are deep inside only you can decide. No one else can make that choice for you."

His parable told, Alexander took a moment to catch his breath before launching into the story of Amaryllis, nodding in response to her understanding of the flowers' meaning and giving her some time to gather her thoughts. He wondered whether she would realize how contradictory his two explanations in regards to 'less is more' were. Even more he was curious whether she'd pick up on the nuance and understand that both were true in their own way despite being contradictory. 

"Upset me? Dear heavens no. The alternative is far more horrifying," A genuine smile had settled on his face at Marlene's next question. "Tell me, Marlene. Once you achieve perfection, what is left?"

He let the somber air that followed his question hang while he took a deep breath. 

"Allow me to ask a different question. Do you know why mankind from its very beginning all the way to now keeps coming up with new gods? It is to have something greater. To reach the apex that is perfection, to accomplish the final accomplishment there is, would undo everything one strived for. There is nowhere left to go when perfection is reached. The only way forward from there is down. Yet perhaps even worse is the alternative. Stagnation and stasis. The end and death of creativity, creation and the self."

He seemed to look through Marlene as he continued speaking, gazing at something far past, perhaps in both distance and time alike.

"Perfection, my dear, is a wondrous goal and a terrifying result. It is the duality that makes it so interesting to pursue."

Blinking his eyes back into focus and aiming a warm smile at Marlene Alexander concluded his speech.

"Strive, Marlene. You are on the right path," he declared while gesturing at the card he'd given her. "I'd be honored if you came to see my show at the Unity Festival. It shall be an interactive performance. Come witness how you and other alike react and try to figure out why. Understanding beckons. The path is yours to walk."

------

Tags: Marlene Lovechild