It’s hard to believe she was once one of these children. She cannot remember her time at the Center of Discovery and Learning or the Matres who raised her. Her life began at the Waking.
She doesn’t like to think of it—her first memory—the moment she opened her eyes after Tabula Rasa. Inside a bright room filled with hospital beds lined up like the keys on a piano, she startled awake to the sound of screaming and crying. She was drifting. Alone. Terrified. Around her was a sea of white-clad men and women in various states of confusion, trying to grasp for logic with their frail, muddled minds. She thought it was death, but it was worse. It was a birth into blankness.
She remembers feeling herself drowning inside the chaos, her legs and arms tied down by fear. Until a calm voice spoke, soothing her. Everything will be okay.
The voice told her stories. Through it, Aris learned about the Last War and how the Four Cities came to be. It taught her the way things worked in their world, gave her a name, told her where home was, and assigned her a place of work. It was her access to every book and all the knowledge contained inside the Four Cities. Without it, she would be lost. Lucy.
Aris lets out a big sigh, and the sound echoes in the dark space, making it seem as if she is surrounded by others hiding from the weight of the world. In the cool room, dead animals of the Americas gaze out with their marble eyes. Stuffed bison, bears, and deer perch on their constructed habitat behind their glass confines. They are frozen in postures that resemble their living states—or someone’s perception of them.
A black bear stands on its hind legs, startled by a rattlesnake at its feet about to strike. She thinks of the angry man from earlier, wondering where he is now. Professor Jacob said the man’s dreams were the culprits behind his outburst. She thinks of her own recurring dream. It leaves her with many conflicting feelings, but never anger.
She swipes across her watch absentmindedly. She sees something she likes on the screen and taps on it.
“That was quite a lecture,” a familiar voice says.
“Oh hey, Thane,” she says without looking up.
Aris has given up being surprised by his presence. He shows up in the most random corners of the museum, as if he can materialize anywhere inside its walls at will. Maybe Thane is a part of the museum, like its walls and its exhibits. She has never seen him outside it. He is always here before her and never leaves until after. Does he even go home? Does he have a life of his own? She rarely hears him talk about dates.
She cannot understand why. Although plain by her standards, Thane is not unattractive. He has nice periwinkle eyes. He wears his brown hair cropped short. Though his pale skin could use some sun.
“If that’s to butter me up to do more docent duty, you’re in for a world of disappointment,” she says. “I was horrible. Kids yawned. One asked to go to lunch. I almost forgot to close with the slogan. If I were you, I’d reexamine whether I’m equipped to do docent duty.”
He laughs. “I’m not here to butter you up. Just wanted to say thanks.”
“For what?”
“For getting Professor Jacob here.”
Aris waves her hand. “Oh, it was just a happy coincidence.”
“He’s quite taken with you.”
“The professor?”
“Said you’re charming. For a young lady.”
“There’s a disclaimer?”
Thane laughs.
“So why was the superstar of academia here?” Aris asks.
“There’s a project he wants my help with.”
“Really? What’s it about?”
“Oh, nothing fun,” Thane says. His eyes are on the mountain lion stalking a rabbit behind glass.
She narrows her eyes. “A secret mission?”
Thane scoffs. “Why do you always think everyone has a secret?”
“Because they do.”
“Most of the time it’s just boring.”
“So why aren’t you telling me?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Aha! It is a secret. Come on, you can tell me. We’ve known each other long enough. I’m trustworthy.”
He sighs.
“Thane?” she says, advancing toward him. Her lips curl up on one side as if he has already given in.
He takes a step back. “All right, all right,” he says, “But you have to promise.”
She nods vigorously.
“Professor Jacob is getting on in age. He wants someone—me—to help him.”
“On what?”
“Research, mostly. He’s writing another book. On the Planner’s personal life.”
“You’re right. It’s boring.”
Thane looks at her as if she has an arm growing out of her head.
Aris laughs. “I’m kidding. It sounds fascinating. I’d like to learn more about the Planner. I can’t imagine it being easy to find personal information about him. But why can’t you tell anyone about it? It doesn’t sound like a secret to me.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not going to ask. I’m just happy he chose me.”
“I forgot he’s your hero.” Thane had often spoken of his admiration for Professor Jacob over the three and a half years he and Aris had worked together.
“He’s an amazing man. I don’t know how he did it. His book is a marvel.”
Professor Jacob’s book on the Planner’s ideology was published near the beginning of this cycle. The behemoth tome is so complete and thorough that some refused to accept he had worked on it for only a few months after the Waking. Rumors flew that he had composed the book over multiple cycles. But that’s not possible. All minds are wiped every four years. Aris suspects the gossipers are jealous, latching on to an absurd idea to discount the professor’s brilliance.
“We saw someone being arrested today,” she says. “He looked like he was from Elara. Not sure what he was doing here.”
“What happened?”
“He was yelling at people mostly. He was so angry. At the world. At Tabula
