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“Looks like we found your trial Heracles. I do hope it doesn’t prove too confusing for you,” Oedipus taunted sarcastically. He and Heracles always joked about Oedipus’ wit and genius, as well as Heracles’, though it was not as prominent to the public.
“Yeah, maybe I should practice. By snapping you in half, you plug-eyed freak,” Heracles spat at him. Did he not get that he was joking? Oedipus loved him, and always complimented him on his cleverness, Heracles was clever after all, despite what others thought. He wanted to leave. The two only came to this job for the money, he hated having to keep up this image of the two of them hating each other.
Oedipus thought back to the first time he ever heard that insult. It was the last time he ever spoke to his wife, his mother, he was told her brow was furrowed in disgust, “If you could only see yourself now, Oedipus. You’re a plug-eyed freak.” He bit his bottom lip as he balled his hands behind his back. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry, he thought uselessly. It’s not like he could cry if he wanted to.
“I guess I don’t have to see you a final time, Jocasta, assuming this is our last visit,” even though no tears could fall, his voice still trembled pitifully. Silence passed between them, before he heard clicking heels turn and walk, echoing into the hallway until it eventually faded. He just stood there.
He heard the screeching of metal and was brought back to himself. The ground beneath him rumbled slightly and he could tell the wheel was being turned. A grunt of effort sounded from Heracles as he pushed with all his might, and then a loud click rang as the second lock slid into place.
“Is it my turn now?” Orpheus’ uncertain voice cleared the quiet, wavering as it was. The three other suits turned to the feeble musician and nodded.
“Yeah. And this time, don’t screw it up,” Heracles sneered at the boy.
Oedipus listened to the worst mistake of this poor man’s life, “Hylas was your fault. If you had stuck to the plan he’d still be here,” he said with some finality. Oedipus never knew Hylas, but remembered how Heracles came to him in tears. He knew in his heart that Heracles had loved the man, and he also knew he himself held a bitter resentment, despite it all happening before he and Heracles were lovers.
Oedipus was aware that Orpheus was a nymph, and that the people he worked with had killed poor Hylas, by spiking the wine that he took with his pitcher. Heracles must’ve been crimson with rage after Orpheus’ blame passed to him.
“Calm yourself. Now, Orpheus has a job to do, so let him do it,” Ariadne stepped forward with a clack of her heel and placated the air of rivalry, if only slightly. Oedipus heard Heracles take a shuddering breath and mutter something quietly, though he didn’t know what.
He listened as a lyre began to play its high sound as the singer plucked the strings. He heard his voice clear as he began to sing.
I’m not a gambling man,
I don’t know how to play this hand,
I was dealt by force.
Thought I could speak easy,
But you just bent my words right back on me,
Then I broke the law.
Oedipus could sympathize with the poor musician. He too knew the wrath of the ill-tempered City public, and how cruel the Olypmians could be. His work as a scientist led to him breaking many laws in the name of good, and everything he spoke was twisted by the press, by Arachne and Athena. Everything he knew that was not built on science, ripped to shreds by Tiresias’ words, if only he hadn’t been so blind. So indignant, so proud, perhaps he would still be able to see.
Now beneath the rust,
The skytrain rattles round,
Overhead,
The raindrops fall through dust,
And shatter on the ground,
Black and dead,
I never should’ve placed my trust in The City,
The vulture town that picked me clean.
He had seen the above the rust, only once. He saw the sky, clearer than anything he ever experienced, it was beautiful. He was brought to the surface to meet with the man known as Asclepius, who was one of the most famous and renowned medical specialists in all of The City.
Oedipus wishes he could’ve brought Heracles to show him just what their world could look like, why he so desperately wanted to escape with him, far from the deep warrens of the dirt. He remembered the feeling of leaving the surface, of seeing the true light of day disappear from view, and with it, his resolve strengthened to never trust what he saw down here.
I’m not a lawless man,
I always trusted in your plan,
I was dumb like that.
I chose the straightest path,
But all the landmarks moved as I walked past,
Now I can’t look back.
He didn’t think of himself as bad. He was misguided. He remembered the weeks where he could not be dragged from his lab as he worked on the cure to The Sphinx. Every twist and turn as he watched the results changed from child to child. He thinks back to all the times he had meetings with Hera and Zeus, their demeanor towering over him, intimidating and stormy. Their lies, his introduction to Jocasta, the set up he played into.
I’m not a fighting man,
I never act on wrath’s command,
But I know you do.
I’d rather run than stand,
You’d rather force my hand than understand,
That I’m not like you.
Oedipus does not fight, physically anyways. He recalled the night Heracles came to him with blood on his hands and tears in his eyes, backlit by the flickering bulb that hung in the hall by his lab. He recalled that he accepted him into his arms calmly, blood staining his white lab coat as he embraced the murderer. Is he really a murderer if he is not to blame? He didn’t fight Heracles when he started to yell, asking him why he didn’t stop him, as if he could tell him about the heavy sum Hera paid him to stay quiet about her manipulation. Is he to blame if he too was manipulated? He simply listened as the man cried until he was too tired.
The song eventually finished and the third lock was silent, but the sigh of relief he heard confirmed it had been opened.
“And what’s my trial?” Ariadne questioned.
Oedipus plugged his eyes back in, and let out a short laugh, almost a scoff, “To open the door, one of our number must prove a love stronger than life, and sacrifice themself without fear or hesitation.” It was a ridiculous request really, he knew of Ariadne’s opinions on love, after getting her drunk at Calypso’s once.
“I have to die?” She said in contempt.
“Quite. I’m sure your fee will be paid to Theseus, whom you love so unreservedly,” he jabbed. It was a cruel move, taunting her like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was in a bitter mood, and never found himself fond of Ariadne, especially after her father tried to pin the minotaur creation on him, as though he would create such a beast.
“No,” she spat. Her assertion made Orpheus and Heracles turn towards the shadows. The fifth suit emerged, Daedalus, and he spoke, “Open it.”
Heracles said nothing, as though he had no love left to give away.
Orpheus though? He did, “I’ll do it. Just get Eurydice out of that hell.”
Daedalus nodded curtly, “Of course. Just get it done.” Oedipus listened as the young musician stepped, and presumably entered the last trial, gears started to whir and fans started to blow, getting louder and louder, more threatening and dangerous, until it all stopped, all at once.
“There will be a 33% increase in fee for three of you, as long as the fourth is bound and used to open the door. I leave the choice up to you.”
Did Orpheus not do it? Oedipus had long since taken the circuits from his eyes and had no data to tell him what was happening, save for the fact that one would be sacrificed. He couldn’t have that, he had to escape, he had to show Heracles just how bright the sun can get, just how warm it feels on your skin.
“I’m not going down with the rest of you,” he snarled towards where he last heard the voice of Ariadne, Orpheus, and Daedalus.
“Well it ain’t gonna be me,” Heracles stood his ground. He internally sighed that his love would not be going down without a fight, no matter what he had said to him before.
“I won’t let you kill me,” Ariadne was fierce. If she didn’t want to die, Oedipus doubted she would. Which left only one left, a terrified voice sounded, “No, please no!”
The four started to argue and fight, Oedipus saving his anger away from Heracles. He would not make whatever this was worse with him. The noise was too much, and none noticed until Daedalus shouted in pain. Oedipus turned towards the noise and felt a searing pain against his face. He stumbled forward and tried to clutch onto anything, anything to stabilize him. He heard as Heracles yelled and suddenly he felt no pain towards himself, only resolve to find his love. He didn’t care as he heard blood gurgle from Orpheus’ throat or the pounding of Ariadne’s heart stop, he only cared for Heracles.
He felt a strong hand grab his leg and pull him to the ground, and Heracles spoke weakly, “Oedipus. I’m here, I’m here.”
He laid down beside him, and felt something warm and familiar by his face,
sunlight.
Everything he ever wanted laid to rest except one, the warmth of the sun ran over his bloodied skin, and despite everything in his body saying he couldn’t, he did. He grabbed Heracles and pulled him on top of him, “Heracles, love, do you feel it? I’ve always wanted to show you,
Sunlight.”