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A little demo is in order.“Here’s my current task. I have to produce a report on the dangers of confusing the concept of cacotopia with the notion of cacodoxy.”
“What are those?”
“Don’t you know, you ignorant hillbilly?” I give her a playful nudge. “Cacotopia is a state of affairs in which things are bad as they can possibly be.”
“In other words, deep shit.”
I tip my wool bonnet. “Why, that’s a very concise and clear definition, Madame! I’ll be sure to include it in my report.”
“And cacodoxy?”
“It’s when people follow a doctrine that is wrong, regardless of how valid it appears.”
Marianne squeezes her eyes and looks upward, as if trying to paint a mental picture.
“Let me give you a real-life example,” I offer. “Everyone in Mount Evor believes that my sister Jeannette is responsible for the palace fire and its tragic consequences.”
Marianne’s eyes light up. “It’s almost like a doctrine! And we know it’s wrong.”
“Correct,” I say. “Unfortunately, I have yet to find a way to prove it.”
She touches my upper arm in sympathy.
I do believe her sentiment is genuine rather than a polite nod to her boss.Me, somebody’s boss… fancy that!Regardless, it’s a relief to talk to someone who fully supports me regarding Jeannette. Louis, Angie, and Rudy don’t seem convinced she was innocent of any wrongdoing. They’re helping me investigate only because they’re contractually bound to do so.
Incidentally, not much investigating got done since we left Mount Evor.
“I thought MINDFUCH would be a super exciting place to work at,” Marianne says.
“It is, for those cleared to do real work.”
Her eyebrows show bewilderment. “You don’t have that kind of clearance, Your Grace? Despite being a duchess and the wife of an emissary?”
“No, I don’t.”
Unlike Angie and Rudy, Marianne isn’t aware of the true nature of my marriage. I wish I could tell her, but I’m bound by the NDA that makes sure I can’t.
We pass an overflowing trash can with dozens of cigarette butts around it.
I point at them. “In my fantasies about the City of Light, I pictured all manner of unusual things, but never so much litter.”
“Paris was cleaner on my first visit but, still, it’s a special city.”
“It’s extraordinary,” I say. And I mean it.
We walk in silence for a little longer. Across the street, a park runs parallel to rue de Rivoli. I’m not sure what its name is, and I’m too lazy to open a map on my phone.
My thoughts return to the Christmas party at MINDFUCH. Unaccustomed to alcohol, I got tipsy after two glasses and let slip something I bitterly regretted the moment the words were out. I told Louis I was falling for him. Since then, we’ve been acting like it never happened. Except we both know it did.
Does this qualify as cacotopia?
No, I don’t think so. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been even more honest. My loosened tongue could’ve gone full rogue and confessed that I’m in love, that I think about him at work and during my classes, yearning for his touch, daydreaming that we make love again… And despising myself for it.
A delighted squeal from the park on the other side of the street distracts me from my desperation. I can’t see the kid, but as I peer, I make out unexpected shapes behind the elegant wrought iron fence that separates the park from rue de Rivoli. They’re fairground rides and a Ferris wheel.
“Looks like an amusement park,” Marianne says.
I pull out my phone.
