“A lot of people want to believe in an afterlife because they’re looking for something better than this world,” Jacob Ellwood said, as he set the translucent figures between his hands rotating. “I say, there’s no guarantee of an afterlife, or that if there is one it’ll be like you think. This world’s the only sure thing, so take what joy you can from this world and this life. Some take joy in getting stuff, others in seeing the world.”
He nodded toward the illusory scene formed, floating, between his palms. Subtle changes affected the figures.
“I take joy in practicing, creating, and perfecting ephemeral art,” Jacob said, then nodded across the manicured park. “I’ve been coming out here off and on for seven years now. Every day, Winston has been here, rain or shine, caring for the trees and shrubs. It’s what he enjoys. Does that answer your question?”
He sat in silence for a few minutes. Both Jacob and his companion outwardly focused on the older man, Winston Tykma, moving amongst the trees of West Park. A couple local kids, no older than eight or nine, trailed along behind him. The breeze, funneled by the buildings around them, set branches swaying.
It was, Jacob reflected, nice to get out of the apartment studio occasionally. Even if it meant being accosted by people from time to time.
His companion, introduced as Esmond Woodbine, shook himself.
“It is certainly something to consider, Mr. Ellwood. But, it doesn’t answer my question about how what you do relates to the entity Aedolan.”
“Yes. Caught that, did you? Well, that’s a whole other day’s talk.”