Mona Lisa's War

(Note: There is mention of war in this story, and in the title.)

It was a cold day in summer at Le Louvre and Bernardine had a problem. He'd lost his keys again. It was time to lock up for the night and he was at a loss for how he would accomplish his duty. In record time, he sprung into action. Was it in the African section? The Middle Easter tapestries? Was it in the bathroom? He knew he'd left his set of keys there before. All the while, time was ticking away. As he was looking around, something felt heavy in the palm of his hand, but he paid that no mind. He went on the search, looking through the museum as thoroughly as one could. Only to discover that the keys had been in his hand the entire time. 

"Again?" said Bernardine.

He then proceeded to lock everything up. He locked up the visitors area, the photo booth, the tchotchke machine, the merchandise center, even the mini zoo. 

"We should really be getting going," said another guard.

"I'll catch up to you. Really, it's okay."

Bernardine kept the lights on as he made one final pass through the museum, looking everywhere he could. He made his way upstairs, downstairs, and through each wing. It was a harrowing experience, but it was his life. He knew this place inside and out. But still, something felt...off. He didn't often have this intuition, but when he did, it was wise to take heed. Something didn't feel quite right at Le Louvre. 

"Somebody's here," said Bernardine, his fist tightening. 

He went into the Italian Renaissance section, to where "The Big Guy" was housed. He had no idea what to expect, but he was prepared for everything. His pepper spray was sitting right on its holder. At the spray of a second, he'd be able to take out anything within a five-foot radius.

He turned on his rock-solid flashlight, which doubled as a baton in a pinch. This was the situation. As he made his way through, he started to wonder: What was the point of it all? Open the museum, close the museum. Did it mean anything? Did it ever make a difference?

Suddenly, he saw her sitting in the Da Vinci room. He couldn't recognize her at first. He'd been there all day and he hadn't even seen her walk in. She hadn't been in any of the bathrooms or the gift shop. 

"Lady! Lady. Museum's closed."

She was silent. She just sat there, looking away. Her back was to him. It was almost as if she were deaf.

"Lady," said Bernardine, reaching out for her arm. "This is not the time. Nor is there any for this..."

Just then, he happened to look up at the the Mona Lisa, the famed Da Vinci painting of old. It had already been stolen at least once. He looked at the painting. So pristine. So serene in its formulations. But wait. Something was missing. Where was...she? He dropped his flash light for a moment, unable to process the reality of what he was seeing. Did someone spray the painting with acid? Was it a duplicate painting put up as a joke? As a lesson? Was the real one on some smuggler's run warzone, running toward its intended buyer?

Bernardine looked down at the woman. Surely, she knew. Or did she?

"My village," she said. "There was a war."

"Listen, honey, you have to leave now. Where...Where is the painting?"

"My village. There were many killed. We must return to save who is left."

By chance, Bernardine looked at her face. It was round and fierce, with thin lips and a conscientious expression.

"The Mona Lisa! Oh my God. Mon Dieu! What has happened to you?"

"My village. It is torn apart by war. There has been death and suffering. I must escape."

"No. You have to go back in the painting. It's where you belong."

"I cannot. It's too painful."

"How can I get the war to stop?"

"Talk to him. He'll listen to you."

"Talk to who?"

"Da Vinci."

"Da Vinci? He's been dead for 500 years!"

"He is there. In that painting."

"You want me to go into the Mona Lisa to convince Leonardo Da Vinci to stop the war?"

"It's the only way. I cannot go back. I have lost my family. There is a famine."

Bernardine had no choice. He took the Mona Lisa painting off the wall, with its giant, empty space where its protagonist once stood, and placed it on the floor next to a wall. He then got on his hands and knees and literally crawled into the painting. 

It was a sunny day in the Mona Lisa. The heat was oppressive, but there was a feeling of melancholy spread throughout. 

Bernardine walked through the area, looking for Da Vinci's home. Off in the distance, a few feet from where he had entered the painting, he saw a dark castle. It was high and imposing.

"That where Da Vinci lives?"

Bernardine advanced toward the castle, his trusty flashlight in his hand. When he got to the building, the front door was open. Bernardine couldn't believe his luck. He then entered the building. Inside there were paintings on the wall. Some by Michelangelo, some by Titian, though they had never been released to the public.

"Da Vinci!" said Bernardine, realizing he'd just missed his favorite show. "Da Vinci! Show yourself!"

Just then, Bernardine became nauseous and began to wince. A voice came into his head. 

"Who dares enter the secret lair of the Sultan of Sense, the Almighty God of the visual medium. I must not be disturbed. Must not. Must not be disturbed. The universe wouldn't like that. Must continue working, yes. One more invention won't do. I must invent them all. Reinvent them, too. I must...Who are you?"

Just then, Bernardine felt a jolt of energy course through his body. 

"Da Vinci! End this war so that the Mona Lisa can go home! She misses her family!"

"What's it to you? Are you a patron of the arts?"

"No. I am just a lowly security guard. A peasant, really. A hired hit."

"So what's it to you? Why do you sacrifice your own world for this one?"

"My boss will be mad at me if I don't put her back on the shelf!"

"So, if I end this war, you will leave me in peace to make my apps and smartphones?"

"Da Vinci, you have my word!"

And so it was. Da Vinci ended Mona Lisa's War and all was back to normal. Bernardine got laid off.