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I was eleven when I entered its sculptured gardens and manicured lawns; beyond the cold iron filigree bars of the gate that separated the dirty city beyond. Little did I know that this seemingly heaven would become a hell. I greeted the Master of Emerald House on my knees and with my eyes on the floor as I had been taught so many years ago. Even the floors here were immaculate. Not a speck of dust or grime could be seen or felt beneath my forehead that was pressed against the hard and frigid marble. He bid me rise and thus I did so to look upon his cold and perfectly beautiful face. "Look around you, my child", he said. "Do you see anything here that is not the epitome of exquisite perfection?" He laughed as I struggled to know whether to answer or not. "There is only one correct answer, my dear. And, that is you. You are the only thing here that is not perfect." My eyes began that submissive downward glance before his words stopped me. "But, don't you worry. We will make you perfect in Emerald House. Perhaps even so perfect that the Emperor himself will weep." The irony of those words would haunt my dreams in later years to come but at that one moment, I could wish for nothing more. He turned on his heels to go leaving me with my thoughts and curiosities. I heard his voice echoing down the hallway, "And, Aspasia, the moment you show you are less than perfect, you will disappoint me and I shall be forced to send you away." It is no small thing for a child of that age to come to realize that love and hate could co-exist and embody a single soul. For it was that moment, that I both loved and hated the Master of Emerald House. And, just as sure was I that I would die before I disappointed him.
So how does one learn perfection? The answer lies in the most small and menial of ways. I was given a multitude of tasks to perform. With each, I was shown the way to complete it but once. After that, I was expected to duplicate the result and the format without deviation. The making of a bed with its bed clothing. The scrubbing of a floor until it gleamed. The recitation of an epic poem including inflection and emphasis of rhythm. The brushing and coif styling of a lady's hair. The body movements during a particular dance. A thousand tasks performed and then repeated when expected without a moment's notice. Perhaps the most strange of these tasks was when I was woken by an instructor in the morning and told that I was to be perfectly sad all day long throughout all of the tasks I was to complete that day. I was shown the nuances of sad behavior and given word phrases and images to think on to inspire sadness. And so through the day, no matter what occurred, I would show no emotion other than sadness. Days passed, more emotions I was given and tested on and more procedures each progressing in difficulty and complexity. But, I would not fail my Master. This year of torment passed slowly. But, at the end of it all I had become accustomed to the final test and wondered about it as the days dwindled till my birthday.
It came in the form of a package sent to my room. A note on the outside read: You will spend the day with me and you will make me believe that everything I do makes you happy.
And, I knew that nothing he did that day would make me happy. I would be hurt, degraded and humiliated. I also knew that I would not displease him and that I would make him believe that he was my world and his slightest whim would be the breath that I breathed. So, I put on the ridiculous dress he sent within the package and became his perfection. No, not just his perfection. That day, I became everyone and anyone's perfection.
