In the early days, just after your departure, Maximilian seemed to be suitably intrigued by my vigorous hunt for you. My passionate descriptions of your lectures, along with my more persuasive tactics, eventually caused Maximilian to agree to help me find you. He was, I believe, sincerely hoping to meet you, to learn what you had to teach. But as the months crawled past without any sign of your return, Maximilian began to lose patience. Our sessions became briefer and more hopeless in tone. I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost Maximilian.

When I broke the news to him that we would have to travel further, he was most resistant. It required me to use an even greater incentive, but eventually he acquiesced.

Earlier today, however, he informed me that he’s had his fill. He begged me to give up the vigil. This (needless to say) will never happen. But I managed to deceive Maximilian into believing that tonight would be our very last attempt to call you back from the rim of the darkness. Based on this lie of finality, Maximilian reluctantly complied.

*

As the grey daylight bled out in gloaming, I donned my vestments and set out to meet with Maximilian at his Observatory.

I feel I should pause here in order to describe my vestments to you, as I’m sure you would approve of their design, which is every bit as pragmatic as it is aesthetic. With my vestments I become the plague doctor of old; guising my face beneath a gasmask with a long beak of black leather. My ratty wide-brim hat adds a ceremonial touch, and my ragged duster coat is suggestive of a shroud. With a walking stick of lashed femurs in hand, I love to stroll the poisoned wastelands.

Earlier this evening, as I made my way to Maximilian’s locker, the clamped doors became an indistinct swath of corrosion and rust in my peripheral vision. Boulders of grey clouds had smothered the last of the daylight and made the sky appear heavy and low. There was a distant purl of thunder. (The rain never comes.)

Maximilian was pacing about the Observatory’s open doorway when I arrived. The smoke of one of his trademark black cigars swirled about his head like a personal fog. He was wearing his October Coat; a threadbare dressing gown of silk emblazoned with a tapestry of autumn-coloured leaves. It billowed about him in a dervish sweep. I gave him this coat some months ago, when we began our quest. I made Maximilian promise me to only wear his vestment on auspicious occasions; namely the sessions when we try to Observe you, Professor.