Altered

“And your guard and his family?” Jost asks.

“Lucas and his family are simple people. Lovely supper guests, but not terribly interested in physics and my scientific mumbo jumbo.” Albert pauses, his cup hovering near his lips. His whiskers tickling its rim. “I do hope you have not hurt them.”

“We sent them away,” I assure him. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

“A curious method of revolution.”

“We’re not here to hurt anyone who is innocent,” Dante corrects.

“But what is innocence?” Albert muses. “Ignorance?”

“Maybe,” Dante says, shifting in his chair.

“Or good intentions?” Albert adds.

I look across the room at my companions. Only Erik seems at ease, blowing steam off his tea and taking shallow sips. The rest roost with their shoulders hunched, hanging on Albert’s every word.

“Maybe a gut reaction,” I offer. “Lucas was acting on orders. Something we can all forgive.”

“You have acted under orders then?” he asks.

I remember the thick, coarse strand I removed from the loom under Loricel’s watchful eye. I had acted under orders with good intentions, but under Albert’s piercing gaze, I don’t feel absolved.

“I have,” I admit, “but not anymore.”

“And that is how you became a rebel,” he says. “Did you flee from Arras or were you born of Earth?”

“We’re refugees,” I tell him.

“So many of you and so young. How did you discover the truth?”

“I was taken into service,” I begin.

“A renegade Spinster? Delightful.”

“Adelice was set to be the new Creweler, and she can alter.” Erik jumps in. I flash him a look for interrupting me, but it’s clear he thought I should cut to the chase.

“Then you are the one I’ve waited for.” Albert’s words are so soft that I’m not sure anyone else heard them, as though they were meant only for me. “Do you each bear the mark of Kairos?”

“No,” Dante says. “Only Adelice and I do. The true rebellion died out years ago, but we are rebuilding. Although another man pretends to have the same agenda as our predecessors.”

“There is a false rebellion now?” Albert asks questions with the interest of a man awoken from a long sleep. He has no idea what’s happened in the outside world since he was left here.

“A man named Kincaid wants to find the Whorl,” I tell him.

“I know Kincaid,” Albert says darkly. “If he’s fallen from the Guild’s favor, he’s no one to trifle with.”

“Unfortunately we learned that the hard way,” I say.

“So this is it?” Albert asks. “The final withering offspring of rebellion.”

“No, there are more of us, but not enough to stand up to the Guild.” Dante has told me of the expectations he had when he came to Earth, of the stories his mother—my grandmother—whispered to him of a powerful legion of men who could free Arras. But they were only stories, and the rebellion was once a fledgling barely able to stand on its own legs.

“When they locked me away, armies were mounting,” Albert says, slipping into nostalgia. “They weren’t my armies though. No matter what they claimed.”

“Why not?” I ask, surprised.

“Because I wasn’t interested in starting another war. I didn’t believe it was my place to end the Guild or their politics. I merely wanted to stop their destruction of those that remained on this planet. The best way to do this was to separate the worlds and end Arras’s dependence on Earth.” His tea sloshes dangerously as he waves his arms.

“But you must have known what the Guild was capable of,” I say.

“The Guild is not so different from the governments of Earth. Civil war, world war, these are the inventions of men,” he says. “Terrible inventions, but part of the span of human history. Perhaps someday we may as a species evolve past violence.”

“And you think the Guild is capable of that kind of growth?” Jost asks in a mocking tone full of resentment. “I’ve seen what the Guild can do. There’s been no evolution.”

“Evolution is dependent on change. The change of generations. Children learn from the mistakes of their parents. Even small shifts can create a ripple effect, moving people forward, bringing progress. But how can such change occur if the generations are stymied?” he asks, letting the question linger in the air above us.

“You’re referring to the race of immortals running this party,” Dante says, leaning forward. His tea is abandoned on the table next to him. “Immortals you created.”

“A most regrettable side effect,” Albert admits. “We were working on a tight deadline against our enemies. The weapon the Axis powers were perfecting could have destroyed everyone. It was a bomb unlike anything the Earth had ever seen. I warned the Allied powers, and when they presented an alternate solution meant to preserve life—”

“The Cypress Project?” I guess.

Albert nods. “I was the one who introduced the idea of splicing strands into threads. It was meant to prevent illness and strengthen the population. We could not foresee the effect this new world would have on the immune system, but our technology could circumvent unexpected diseases. Renewal patching was meant to safeguard the fledgling population.”

“But the Guild abused the technology you created.”

“It is every scientist’s dream to better the human condition. But, as you surmised, the officials realized they could use the technology to prevent aging. It allowed them to stay in power.”

“It gave them absolute power,” I say.

“A very dangerous thing,” Albert says with a sigh. “In retrospect I should have anticipated this issue, but the government didn’t give us time to think outside of creating the looms and starting the project. I didn’t stop to consider how the looms could be misused. I was merely concerned with making Arras functional and safe for the population. I have often regretted my participation, but I do accept my role in what was done.”

Shame falls over his face, but I see the value behind his motives. Unlike Cormac, who tried to sell me on the good of the many, Albert actually acted in such parameters. He had done what seemed best, only to realize too late the dreadful repercussions his actions would cause.

“Why not bomb Arras? Take them down?” Erik asks, and I frown at his callous suggestion.

Albert’s answer mirrors my thoughts. “I wanted to save lives, not destroy them.”

“How did that work out for you?” Dante challenges.

“Intentions again. I accept my role, and if you could do the same, we could move on,” Albert replies.

The reprimand settles over the room. Everyone reacts differently. Dante sits up straighter. Jost and Erik look at each other. Valery slouches, turning her attention to the window.

“You said you didn’t anticipate the Guild misusing the looms,” I say, prompting him to return to more fruitful topics.

“I did not,” he admits. “I should have. You must understand, the government pushed forward with the project, but they weren’t the ones who would form the Twelve Nations. Not as you understand them today.”

“If the Guild isn’t comprised of the governments of the nations, who are these men? Who is Cormac Patton?” I ask.

“Ah, Patton, nasty piece of work but a very rich man. They all were. War had stretched America’s funds to the brink. Families were living on rations and going without. Everyone was doing their bit to help, and many of the other nations in the Cypress Project were doing the same.”

“Funny that they never bothered to get rid of those provisions once Arras was a reality,” Jost mutters.

“There is security in knowing your people are totally dependent on you to survive,” Albert says. “That was one of the first indications that something had rotted at the core of the Cypress Project. I’d had qualms about allowing the financial backers of the project to take positions of authority, but I was merely a scientist. No one would listen to me.”

“No one listens to the man who creates the solution,” Erik says with an empty laugh. “No wonder things didn’t work out.”