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Jean continued in her drudgery as a Indigenous American interloper within the city limits of 18th Century Rome. The drudgery never seemed to end. Except the occasional trader, no one could enter or exit the city anymore. Jean was a slave, and the chances of her escaping were diminished since Rome was isolated from the other Italian city-states, as well as the other European nations.
Jean couldn't stop thinking about a deep-water diving suit. It haunted her. She had momentarily glimpsed a sketch of one, drawn by Leonardo Da Vinci. Decades had passed after he drew it. Yet, no one had ever figured out how to construct one. Jean believed she could make the suit.
As Jean scrubbed floors, washed dishes, and made beds at the estate where she worked, the diving suit followed her around. Always at the corner of her eyes, it raised its leather arms.
At times Jean would shout aloud, "Are you trying to strangle me if I let my guard down?!"
Yet, Jean might interpret the diving suit as benevolent sometimes, and again couldn't contain herself. She spooked the other slaves with proclamations like, "Are you the one who will release me from my chains?"
The other slaves knew Jean had suffered damage to her head, because their mistress had slammed it against a wall repeatedly. They kept Jean away from their mistress, because Jean frequently talked out loud about her plans to escape. When Jean did, she addressed her words to no one in particular.
Occasionally, Jean had moments of clarity, and these terrified her, because she would remember earlier speaking aloud on matters that should be kept secret.
During one of these lucid moments, Jean decided she had to focus on planning an escape. Jean knew she didn't have much time to consider, because the hallucinations and memory loss could return in no time at all. Therefore, Jean thought as quickly as possible: How do I make my way to Venice? This is probably the best point of departure, with all the chaos surrounding the city.
What then? The diving suit gets me on board a English ship? Do I hide until this ship sets sail for the Americas, assuming it ever will?
Then Jean started to feel light headed during this particular moment of clarity, so she stopped sweeping the courtyard floor, and leaned against a wall. Her wrists had marks from where they had bound her against the bedroom wall. Her feet were sore because they had made her stand tiptoe on wooden slats. Surprisingly, her back, having been whipped, was not especially in pain.
Jean craved sleep as her vertigo grew. She would never be allowed to sleep in the middle of a day.
The diving suit returned, and its sleeves reached for her head. Jean said loudly, "Are you going to help me escape or not?"
Jean's owner, Verda, was walking along the opposite wall of the courtyard, and then stopped.
"Do you intend to leave us?" asked Verda.
ns 18.68.41.175da2
