Thanks to MissJenny54 for editing/proofreading.
This is a fictional story, and all the characters are over the age of legal consent.
Part 2 -- In Liskov's Trap
2.1 Longing
It might sound like a cliché to say that time doesn't stand still, yet as the years go by, I feel that the days, weeks, and months are passing increasingly quickly. It has now been ten years since that crazy night when the desire for physical connection drove my sister, Agnes, and me into each other's arms. In the meantime, many things have changed in our lives. After finishing my studies, I moved to another city where there were better job opportunities. I had a few girlfriends, but those relationships were not long-lasting; they were more like acquaintances that came and went from party to party.
For some reason, I felt that something essential was missing from all of these love affairs, but I couldn't say what it was. My sexual adventure with Agnes left a lifelong impression on me while also evoking mixed feelings. Some of my concerns at that time were not unfounded; I often felt an unfulfillable, platonic desire for my sister. In retrospect, despite the time that has passed since then, I still wouldn't be able to decide what would have been better: to leave each other alone or to enjoy the sweet taste of the forbidden fruit, knowing we wouldn't deal with the matter afterward. It's not that simple.
Agnes had said it wouldn't be easy for us to process the situation. Nevertheless, for me, the result wasn't how to cope with a sexual encounter categorized as taboo with my sister but rather the faint, nostalgic longing for her. This subtly but continuously vibrated deep within my consciousness, like the background noise of the universe in measuring instruments.
As time passed, I consciously tried to think less about that evening. Sometimes repressed memories found their way into my dreams. It was a recurring theme: we were in our old small room, making love passionately, but I always woke before either of us reached climax. And there was one more strange thing; I wanted to ask her something, but before I could, I woke and couldn't remember what I had wanted to say.
And Agnes?
After returning from Paris--where she studied on a university scholarship, obtained her degree and earned a living by translating books and teaching French--she grew closer with one of her professors during her last semester. After a few months of acquaintance, he proposed, and they married. Although voices suggested she might be rushing into things, our family traditions dictated that everyone always respected each other's decisions, and this was no different. At her request, the wedding and subsequent party were held in a small family venue, and she asked me to be her witness. Her husband had a beautifully furnished apartment in the university district, known as "Professor City," where he and Agnes moved at the start of their life together. Thus, neither she nor I lived in our hometown any longer.
There was another strange phenomenon that I occasionally experienced. It seemed as if we could sense each other's troubles, even when we were not physically close. For example, I once slipped while riding my bicycle on a wet road and broke my collarbone. That evening, Agnes unexpectedly called me after not hearing from her in a long time and inquired about my well-being, saying that she had a faint, bad feeling about my condition.
At other times, I was overcome by doubts about the success of her marriage--doubts that seemed to come from an indeterminate source. Over time, this apprehension was somewhat corroborated by various rumors that always found their target, whether or not the person concerned wanted to hear them. One such unsolicited piece of news that reached me was that Agnes's husband had maintained his old habit of mentoring graduating female students--in his own way. Of course, Agnes couldn't have overlooked this; it definitely impacted her emotional well-being, and over time, I somehow sensed this as if I had a natural intuition for it.
Regardless of my feelings, whenever we met, she never complained about her marriage or her husband. But I had long known she never burdened others with her troubles. She never neglected those with whom she had good relations, no matter how she felt. Our secret affair was never spoken of, nor did it become known to anyone else. Except for one person...
2.2 Tekla
I met a girl named Tekla, with whom I had been living for two years. Since she wasn't the "romantic type," our relationship seemed more like a friendship with a physical connection. We got along well, but, as with my previous love affairs, I had a vague feeling that it was good, yet something was missing.
Tekla was an unusual woman with unusual interests, particularly esotericism and natural healing, through which she earned a decent income with her small consulting business. It was from her that I learned about the Taoist and tantric practices of sex, where the goal is not to achieve physical orgasm but to find an extended experience in union with the universe, which she referred to as Tao. Moreover, she also claimed to be an "energy clairvoyant," basing her knowledge on the assertions of so-called "quantum psychology," which is regarded as pseudoscience in academic circles.
Its first proponent was psychologist Helena Liskov, who taught at Harvard University, and whose teachings came to be known as the Liskov Theory. In simplified terms, as I understood from the explanations, it posits that every human emotion creates an energy field around the individual. These energy waves are preserved in a so-called crystal space, which is most akin to a space in another dimension. For individuals who are deeply and emotionally connected, the external orbits of their energy fields may intertwine. This connection is independent of space and time and persists despite the two individuals being far apart. Additionally, they can influence each other from a distance; if something happens to one, it can also affect the other. Similar phenomena are described in quantum physics with distant particles; hence the name "quantum psychology."
Perhaps the most interesting point is that these emotional energy fields can be perceived by those with the "ability" to see energy, once a characteristic of all humans, but has been lost over time. It can be regained through various meditation practices, now largely forgotten, and by opening the figurative "third eye" in the middle of our forehead. This is how Tekla explained it to me. I didn't really believe in it and gradually forgot about it, but I later recalled it in a completely unexpected way.
On a rare occasion when we gathered at our parents' house to celebrate our father's birthday, I invited Tekla. Of course, Agnes came with her husband. We were very happy to see each other again but were concerned about our parents' visibly deteriorating health. Our observation was not unfounded; within a few years, both of our parents passed away. As they say, "They carried each other away."
However, today, the hours spent together passed in joyful celebration, though they flew by quickly. That evening, when we were home again, Tekla and I sat in our room talking about the day's events when she unexpectedly asked:
"You have a strong bond with your sister, haven't you?"
"It's not surprising since we are siblings."
"This is more than sibling love; you love each other like lovers, even if you're not aware of it."
