Divergence

“We look at the sun and we see something warm and living. We put the spirit in it.”

Ivan tasted the idea. Sheets of paper were now being passed through the crowd. The lyrics to be sung. Ivan took one and held it absently.

Eva was warming to her theme.

“It means that if we hate something that much, then really we hate ourselves. You’ll hear it in a moment when these people begin singing.”

Veni Creator Spiritus? thought Eva. Come creator spirit? We are the creator spirit. The Watcher is just a reflection of ourselves—I realize that now.

The sun tipped over the edge of the hill. Golden light shone out everywhere. The band began to play, and the drunken people of the Narkomfin, the halt and the lame as well as the able-bodied, all got ready to sing. Eva held up the sheet of music and waited, along with the rest, for the cue to enter, all the while gazing up at the sun, happy at her reflection and, for the moment at least, comfortable with herself.

It was another morning. The residents began to sing.

Hail Smiling Morn, smiling morn,

That tips the hills with gold,

That tips the hills with gold,

Whose rosy fingers ope the gates of day,

Ope the gates, the gates of day,

Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!

Eva and Ivan, the whole of the Narkomfin, faced the rising sun.

DIVERGENCE

A Bantam Spectra Book

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Bantam Spectra mass market edition / May 2007

Published by Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2007 by Tony Ballantyne

Bantam Books, the rooster colophon, Spectra, and the portrayal of a boxed “s” are trademarks of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-553-90367-6

www.bantamdell.com

v1.0

For my parents, Henry and Lynne

prologue: 2242