Pilgrim World

"Welcome to Pilgrim World! Witch trials every day! Twelve o'clock and two o'clock," exclaimed a bearded old man in pilgrim garb.

"Trials against witches who were almost certainly innocent. I lose more faith in normies daily," Wednesday commented, looking at the old man with icy eyes.

"I guess that's normal," Luke said with a yawn.

"What do you mean?" asked Wednesday.

"They're weak. If they know a person who can easily kill them, or mind control them, logically, they would want to murder that person no matter how much they have done nothing wrong. To prevent a future crime or something," Luke replied.

"Like in Philip Kindred's book. Although normies can't foresee crimes," Wednesday said.

Philip Kindred wrote a science fiction short story called: Minority Report. This story features a system in which crimes can be foreseen before they occur, and potential criminals are arrested before they commit the crime.

In pilgrim times there was no such thing, but the normies thought that a person with unknown powers would be a danger to their community, so it was best to kill them. So they were the system and falsely accused many innocent outcasts to murder them and be safe.

"Exactly. You like science fiction?" asked Luke with surprise. He didn't think Wednesday would understand his reference.

"I like it, but it's not my favorite genre. Philip has some good novels, though I didn't read all of them," Wednesday replied as she walked down an uneven path, with overgrown vegetation and areas cleared of dirt and gravel.

"If he'd had a better life, he might have written better novels," Luke said ruefully.

Philip was an influential writer in the science fiction genre. Luke read him both in his past life and in this one. In this world, he did exist, unlike Stephen King.

"Mental problems, drug use, suicide attempts, and many disorders," Wednesday said.

Philip's life had all the problems or more mentioned for Wednesday. More than a science fiction novelist, he looked like a rock star.

"He could have lived longer if he'd taken care of himself," Luke said shaking his head.

"Maybe all the disorders he had and the drugs he took helped him write and make up stories," Wednesday commented with a thoughtful look putting her hand on her chin.

"I hope you don't think about taking drugs to try to write. Or going crazy or anything like that," Luke said. Although a normie would most likely think Wednesday was already crazy.

"I won't. My mind is much stronger than those normie addicts. Wait... How do you know I write?" asked Wednesday, looking at Luke pointedly. From Luke's earlier tone, it seemed almost certain that she wrote.

"Enid told me you have a typewriter," Luke replied, lying through his teeth.

With Enid, he didn't talk. Only on the day of the harvest festival did they talk and she made that promise. If they started getting close again the promise they made was meaningless, so they were still apart.

"Mm, I see," Wednesday said. It seemed odd to her that if they were ex-couples they would be in contact, but she was the least likely to try to understand couple relationships. She saw Enid this morning before she left the room, and she seemed very interested in Luke, so it made sense for them to keep talking.

"I saw Carrie. The movie that came out recently," Wednesday commented. Thing was again surprised that Wednesday would bring up a topic of conversation again.

"Oh. What did you think?" asked Luke. It was strange that he could hold such an extended topic of conversation with Wednesday.

'I guess she talks a lot if it's about novels, catastrophic prophecies, or serial killers,' Luke thought.

"Trash. I hope you didn't help with the movie script, or you betrayed your work,' Wednesday replied mercilessly.

"Direct and to the point. I didn't help with the script. I was on Nevermore. I was consulted on almost nothing," Luke said.

He knew why Wednesday thought the Carrie movie was garbage. The movie script was not faithful to the book. In his past life, the first Carrie movie was more faithful to the book. This one wasn't. There were a lot of things that Carrie readers didn't like.

As for Luke, he couldn't do anything. He had no time, no desire to help with the script. Even the power he had was little. So he couldn't have done much.

"The script is not faithful, but people liked it. The movie did well at the box office," Luke said with a shrug.

"A lot of movies do well at the box office and are garbage. This one is no exception," said Wednesday without changing her mind.

At that moment Wednesday felt several taps on her shoulder. She knew it was Thing. He was more annoyed than usual today. She was having a nice conversation, wait...

'Nice conversation?' thought Wednesday, pausing and stopping to listen to Luke, who was saying something about Carrie's movie.

Today, she had engaged in strange behavior that she didn't understand. Since when did she think the conversation was pleasant? She turned her head and looked at Luke, who also stopped and looked at her.

"Wednesday?" asked Luke.

"We should look for the clues. Let's stop wasting time," said Wednesday.

"Oh, that's right... Where the hell are we?" asked Luke, looking around.

They reached the end of the road. The terrain was uneven and overgrown with vegetation. An American flag flew on a flagpole. They had walked without noticing where they were going and ended up in a deserted part of town.

"Let's go back," Wednesday said, turning around and walking toward the center of the colonial town.

Luke nodded and followed Wednesday. They both kept silent on the way back.

'Concentrate. I came here to complete the mission as quickly as possible,' Luke thought, just as Wednesday was interested in the conversation and also found such a thing strange.

Arriving back in the center of town, they joined a group of tourists being led by a light-skinned woman with reddish-brown hair, pulled back and partially covered by a white cap with scalloped edges. Her eyes are blue and bright, and she has dark, defined eyebrows.

"Good morning, everyone. I am Mistress Arlene, a true original colonist. You are about to step back to Jericho's first Pilgrim settlement from the year 1625. Follow me," Arlene said with a subtle smile and started walking.

Luke and Wednesday followed the group of tourists who had cameras and excited expressions for some reason.

"Who's excited to see this?" muttered Luke.

"Weird people, I guess," Wednesday replied.

"Mm, maybe. I think it's weirder for the two of us to categorize people by weird," Luke said with an odd expression.

"Look, the cult venue. Inside is a collection of artifacts related to the most beloved and blessed founder, Joseph Crackstone," said Arlene, pointing with her outstretched arm to a building with a pitched roof and weathered shingles.

"Blessed? Ignorance is bliss," Wednesday commented in a tone that was heard by the entire group. Arlene and the tourists turned and looked at Wednesday, who was still wearing a stoic, unperturbed expression.

Luke was struggling to contain his laughter. He put a hand to his mouth, to keep the laughter from escaping. His shoulders were shaking slightly.

'This girl is very bold,' Luke thought. She had called the whole group ignorant fools, and her expression was still the same as ever. She didn't even care that she was being looked at by many strangers with a frown.

Arlene took a breath and ignored Wednesday's insult. She continued with her tour.

"Any questions?" asked Arlene after she finished her summary explanation of the most important settlements in the Pilgrim village.

"I. What artifacts of the pious Joseph Crackstone are on display?" asked Wednesday. The pious part was said in a very sarcastic manner, mimicking Arlene's tone of voice.

"Pff..." Luke held back his laughter. He stood behind Wednesday so he couldn't be seen laughing.

He didn't know that Wednesday also imitated people's tones. She did it very well compared to her usual monotone. It just made them look like they were dumb, making the person she was imitating angry.

Arlene had a slight twitch in her left eyebrow. She took a breath again and decided not to start arguing. After all, this rude girl had paid the entrance fee.

"There are original farm tools, crockery, and even the Crackstone chamber pot, among other things," Arlene replied.

The group, including Luke and Wednesday, entered the cult building. Unlike the show, they were not renovating the exhibit.

Luke looked at the most important venue in the Pilgrim world. It was no big deal. In the center was a creepy, low-budget statue of Crackstone. Several paintings on the walls, clothing from that era, and little else.

"The most beloved? I doubt with that face anyone loved him," Luke commented, and Wednesday nodded in agreement.

Arlene and the tourists turned and looked at Luke. They had never seen two people so rude to their ancestors. Luke's face became familiar to many. You could say he is a celebrity in Jericho. He even met the mayor because of the success of his books.

Luke and Wednesday continued to examine the building. They came to a large painting where there were several pilgrims, one of them Crackstone, at a bonfire, most likely burning witches or about to.

"Pious? A person who burned people at bonfires every day, I doubt is pious," Wednesday commented, and Luke nodded in agreement.

'Wait... That's the girl from my vision, and she has the same book,' Wednesday thought, opening her eyes. In the farthest frame from the crowd was a blonde girl similar to her holding a book in her hands.

Wednesday continued to scan the place until she came to a display case with a black book in the center.

'It must be the book,' Wednesday thought, looking at Arlene, who was explaining to the tourists about a Crackstone object.

"Did you find anything?" asked Luke.

"Yes. I needed to steal this book. It distracts the tourists. Five seconds is enough for me. Then meet me outside," said Wednesday.

"Okay," said Luke, walking toward the tour group.

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