Once We Were

Peter’s done. We do. We’re here because his plans worked. But no one can deny that Peter’s slow. Meticulous, yes. Careful, yes. And that’s all good, but slow. He believes in taking his time, and sometimes—”

“Sometimes there isn’t any time,” Addie said.

Sabine nodded.

“That institution you mentioned at the meeting,” Devon said slowly. “Powatt. How long has it been open?”

There was a hiccup of silence. Sabine shifted in her seat. “It hasn’t opened yet. They’re still setting things up, I think. Powatt’s going to be one of the institutions spearheading the new hybrid-cure initiative. They’re going to be testing some kind of—some kind of new machine that’s supposed to make the surgeries more precise.”

The word surgeries flashed us back to Nornand’s basement. To the feeling of cold metal, to Jaime’s voice babbling through the door, and sallow-lit hallways.

“There’s this guy,” Sabine said, “Hogan Nalles—he’s lower-level government. He’ll be downtown next Friday at Lankster Square, going on about how proud we should be, and all that. A pep rally of sorts. Stage and balloons and a couple hundred people, most likely.”

“A big, screaming crowd,” Christoph said. “Cheering on the systematic, government-supported lobotomization of children.”

Sabine grinned wryly. “I don’t think lobotomization is quite the same thing. And if we don’t do anything . . . if we just sit here and let Powatt open in a couple months, are we really that much better than they are?”

“Say what you mean to say, Sabine,” Cordelia intoned in what was obviously supposed to be a mockery of Peter’s voice. She giggled quietly into Sabine’s shoulder, and the other girl wrapped an obliging arm around her.

When Sabine spoke, though, her voice was utterly serious. “We’re going to stop Powatt from ever opening.”

As if it were really that simple. As if by Sabine declaring it, we could make it so.

“How?” Devon said.

“I don’t have a complete plan yet. I’d need more information. But I know how to get that information, and that’s a start.” Sabine watched Devon as she spoke, but if she was trying to read him, he gave her nothing to see. “I worked under Nalles for a few months last year, before Cordelia and I opened the shop. Pushing papers, making appointments. Things like that.” Her lips twitched up at the corners. “Don’t let Peter know. He’s got strict rules about getting involved with government. Anyway, Nalles has access to information. He’ll know the details of the Powatt plans—exactly when they’ll open, when they’re going to install the machinery, when the children arrive. Maybe even who the kids are.”

The chances were slim to none, I knew, but I couldn’t help imagining the possibility of a familiar face ending up at Powatt. What if Eli and Cal went under the knife? The doctors at Nornand had already tried so many experimental medications on them, attempting again and again to eradicate the less desirable soul of an eight-year-old boy. We’d seen the harmful side effects. No one had seemed to worry then. Nothing would keep them from trying surgery.

“Lankster Square is a block from the Metro Council Hall, where Nalles works. He’ll have everything on his computer, and I know where his office is. I stole my old work pass, too. It’ll get us past preliminary security.”

“By us you mean you and me,” Devon said.

Sabine considered him carefully. “I’ve heard you’re good with computers.”

Devon nodded. He was frowning, but it was concentration, not worry, that put the crease between his brows.

“You could break into his account?” Sabine asked. “Quickly?”

Devon had broken into our school system’s files. That much I knew. He’d seen how late Addie and I had settled; it had been one of many signs that convinced him and Hally to reveal their secret to us.

“Maybe,” he said. “Probably.”

“Would you?” Sabine asked. Anyone sneaking into a government building and hacking into their computer system was taking a ridiculously enormous risk. For Devon and Ryan, it was ten times worse.

“Wait,” Addie interrupted before Devon could answer. “You want him to just waltz in and break into this guy’s computer right in the middle of the workday?”

“That’s where the rally comes in.” Sabine didn’t miss a beat. “If we do this on the day of the speech, Nalles and most of his support staff will be at Lankster Square. And if we happened to cause some sort of disturbance at the rally . . . enough to distract everyone at Metro Council—”

“Like dropping a grenade right in the middle of the square?” Christoph mimed a throwing motion, and Jackson laughed, supplying the explosion sound through his teeth.

Sabine gave them a censuring look, but didn’t entirely suppress her smile. “A disturbance that doesn’t include death and flying limbs.”

Christoph leaned back against the couch. “I wouldn’t say no to some flying limbs.”

“He’s not serious,” Jackson told us quickly.

“I’m completely serious,” Christoph said.

Sabine ignored them both. “All we’d need is something no one will be able to look away from. Something that will draw attention—and security—to the Square and away from Metro Council. On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to have it be something that’ll serve as a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?” Addie asked.

“Of how these institutions and this cure have left a body count thousands high. Tens of thousands. More.” Sabine looked like a sculpture in the attic’s soft lighting. I hadn’t thought her a particularly beautiful girl before, but there was something striking about her now, as she spoke. “I was thinking fireworks, like on Memorial Day. This could be our own kind of memorial. A reminder.”

A way of paying respects.

By now, the tenor of the attic had transformed. Sabine had changed it with a sentence. An idea. A hope.

“Addie can draw,” Jackson said suddenly. Addie looked at him in surprise, and he rushed to elaborate. “If we want it to be like a reminder, we could make posters, you know? Include the names and faces of some of the children who have died.”

“Good idea.” Sabine’s bangs, cut bluntly above her eyebrows, only brought more attention to the unwavering nature of her stare. I found myself both slightly unnerved and utterly unable to look away—as if I were being sized up and couldn’t, couldn’t, be found wanting. “We’d have to find deserted places to set off the fireworks, of course. There are a couple buildings in the area where you can get access to the roof. We could toss the posters down from there; rain them on the crowd. We’d have to figure out the specifics, but no one would get hurt.”

What are the chances we get caught? I wanted to ask, but Addie was still in control, and Addie’s emotions were too tangled now to let her speak.

“Flyers and fireworks,” Christoph said, like he was musing over the idea and found it sort of funny.

Sabine nodded. She looked toward Devon. “But in the end, it all hinges on whether you’re able to get that information from Nalles’s computer.”

Devon was quiet. His expression stayed utterly impassive, his body still. Then he said, “I can do that.”

Sabine’s shoulders relaxed, just a little. She looked around the room at the rest of us. “So? What do you say?”

“I’m in,” Cordelia said.

Jackson wore that match-strike smile of his. “Same.”

Despite his earlier exasperation, Christoph was quick to nod, too.

<Addie?> I said.

She hesitated. <I don’t know.>

<It would send a message> I said tentatively. <It would tell everyone that the hybrids in this country aren’t just going to let them treat us however they want. And—and it could mean Powatt never opens.>

I was so tired of just sitting around. I was tired of being cooped up in our apartment building, going up the stairs and down the stairs but getting nowhere.