"Yes," I acknowledge, nodding to Bishop. "We have."
Years passed as we waited for the right moment. Dissent in the outlying domes had to reach high enough levels for there to be a credible threat, and for the attack on Hawthorne tower to be the obvious culmination. Samson and Shechara had to make contact with Erik Paine, and he had to do his own research to validate the information he'd been given. Being tech savvy, that did not take him long. Then we waited while he dealt with his criminal contacts in Dome 10, obtaining the EMP grenades and other devices he would need to deactivate the neural implants of each member of the Twenty so they would be in tune with their gifts.
According to Samson and Shechara, their biological son was not only telepathic but could leap higher than humanly possible. Whether his nine siblings or Daiyna and my offspring were similarly blessed remained to be seen, but one thing was clear: Erik had never breathed in the dust of the earth prior to exhibiting his abilities. The spirits' blessing had been passed to him through his parents' DNA.
Erik managed to locate each member of the Twenty via DNA samples from Samson, Shechara, Daiyna, and myself, utilizing secret Linkstream backchannels. He narrowed down the list and decided on the first one to contact: a law enforcer who worked the night shift, maintaining the curfew. An officer with an impressive record, but who had a tendency to be strong-willed at times and grate on the patience of her commander: Mara Bishop.
"If we do not find the Twenty," I tell the chancellor, "then all of this will be for nothing."
Hawthorne tilts her head to one side, seeming to view me in a new light. "You must realize they are adults now, living their own lives. They have been very well cared for, adopted by loving parents, received the best education. They serve Eurasia throughout the Ten Domes, contributing to their communities." She pauses. "They will turn twenty this month, and we have a celebration planned in their honor. A Revelation Banquet. They will be honored for their contributions to society. Most importantly, safeguarding our future for generations to come."
I know full well how important they are to Eurasia. Their sex cells have been harvested for years, and their genetically modified offspring have been farmed out to suitable upper-class couples across the Domes—all without their knowledge. Samson and Shechara learned this during their sojourn in Dome 6, prior to meeting Erik. It was all Samson could do to keep himself from marching on the Chancellor's tower then and there, a mechanized army of one.
I lock eyes with Hawthorne. "No more lies. From this day forward, truth will reign in your glass city."
"Or shatter it," Milton quips, as himself. "Once the spirits get loose, nobody's going to be paying for dust anymore. They won't need to."
"Your secret drug empire will crumble," James says, relishing every word.
She sneers at Milton. "What are you going to do? Kiss every dust freak in Eurasia?"
"If I have to." He doesn't look happy about it. Then, as the spirit possessing him decides to take the wheel again, he sits up straight and stares at the Chancellor. "Should I tell them who I am, Persephone? Do you think they would like to know that you are not only an addict yourself but also a murderer? That you killed your own husband to usurp his role as leader of the United World?"
This is news to us. All eyes turn toward Chancellor Hawthorne.
Her hands are folded in her lap, and they are trembling. She sits with her spine erect and chin held high. Her face set hard as granite, she glares at Milton and the spirit within him.
"Where did you hear such a vicious rumor?" she demands.
"We are not your husband," the spirits reply. Apparently, Milton carries more than one. "But we have seen your memories, and we can emulate his bearing, his nature, even his voice to your ears. We know that you poisoned him slowly over the course of many months. You isolated him from his advisors and the Governors, and you forced him to sign his authority over to you. When he died, you did not shed a single tear." Slowly, Milton rises to his feet, his eyes locked with Hawthorne's. She stares back at him. "Even so, despite all the wrong you have done, we would like to give you a gift—if you are willing to receive it."
The color drains from her face. Milton approaches, and she shudders with a cold terror. Then without warning, she reaches for him, and they kiss.
As their lips part, her eyes focus on the empty space before her. She convulses, screaming in horror.
"She sees him," Milton says. "Probably should've told her that's one of the side effects..."
"I don't know!" Hawthorne shrieks, her eyes wide as she curls inward. "How should I know where they are! I gave no such order!"
"The manifestation of her husband is interrogating her now," Milton explains. "To me, he looks like that big guy from my bunker—Jackson. He's asking about the Twenty."
"I don't know why my clones are collecting them." She squeezes her eyes shut and covers her face, screaming curses. "Get away from me!"
Milton gestures for us to step outside into the hall, leaving Chancellor Hawthorne alone with the ghost from her past.
"Let's give these two the room."
23 Milton22 Years After All-Clear
Once the cube door slides shut and we're out in the hallway, it's clear the room is soundproof. So we don't have to worry about neighbors calling up local law enforcement complaining about a woman screaming her guts out.
Emmanuel looks out of sorts, like someone who's witnessed something awful happen to a loved one. Or his boss. His sister squeezes his arm, wordlessly reassuring him that she's here,
