Judgment (23 page)

“Benjamin and I saw that program,” Charlie said. Then he did a double take and stared directly at Jabari. “Wait. You’re—”

“What, Charlie?” Piper asked.
 

“I never made the connection.
You’re
Dr. Jabari? Under Bertrand Delacroix?” He looked toward Cameron. “Jesus, I guess I just assumed you were a man. Did you know this, Cameron?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”
 

“Benjamin used to joke. Don’t you remember? He’d say, ‘The da Vinci Initiate has a PhD your age. Why don’t you get your PhD, Cameron?’”
 

“Sounds like my father’s idea of humor.”
 

“Benjamin Bannister — Utah, Walker Ranch — he was fascinated with you,” Charlie said, now goggling at the viceroy.
 

“I was the Initiate’s media contact,” Jabari said. “
I
should have been giving that interview on Astral Day, and I’d have said all the same things. It made sense, to urge disclosure. Governments are always killjoys, aren’t they? Bertrand only filled in because I was gone. I’d lined up all sorts of contingencies in place, just like Meyer said he did. A private jet on permanent standby at a tiny airstrip in Auckland. We had a refueling stop in India at a similarly remote airstrip. We ignored all the no-fly restrictions and took our chances. Fortunately, things went well.” She looked at Piper, and Piper wondered if Meyer had already told her how terribly their own cross-country trip had gone despite similarly well-laid plans. “Cairo was hell, but nobody was going into the area, and only a handful of excellent guessers — nuts, most of them, rather than informed — went to the monuments at Giza. I was ready when they came. But they didn’t take or replace me.”
 

“If you’re on our side,” Jeanine piped in, “then why were we arrested?”
 

“You were running around my city with a machine gun in plain sight,” Jabari said. “What did you think we were going to do?”
 

“They
thought … ” Jeanine trailed off, but Kindred was nodding at her. “They thought we were
supposed
to go to the archive. That the … the Astrals, I guess, but the humans too … wanted us to reach it, and would let us walk right in.”
 

“That’s correct. That’s what they want you to do. You particularly, Mr. Bannister. But we’re on a razor’s edge here. Ember Flats has been a peaceful city for years, but it’s a fragile balance. The Astrals provide all we need, acting as friends to the city and collaborators to the human government. They respect our administration and understand PR enough to let us be as long as we don’t cause them trouble. The people of Ember Flats live a fine existence. One might even call it
privileged
. All thanks to the Astrals’ help. But people have long memories, and most here remember how Giza
was
. They remember events like Moscow’s destruction, before our peace. It wouldn’t take much to hurl this city into chaos, and if we hadn’t acted, that might have triggered it. So we had to stop you — though make no illusion, I’ll let you unlock the Ark in time.”
 

“But not now.”
 

“Not yet,” Jabari agreed.

“That’s convenient,” Peers said.
 

“Enough,”
Meyer growled.
 

Peers stared back. Jabari rose from her seat and approached him.
 

“Mr. Basara,” she said. “I don’t believe you like me much.”
 

Peers sputtered, suddenly at a loss for words. Nocturne licked his lips.
 

“I don’t need to read minds like young Clara to read you. Meyer told me your story. And for it, I’m sorry. The city was not always so peaceful. There were days when harsher methods were required. I could not oversee every member of my security forces, and as you know, those were paranoid times. We all did our best. I would not have allowed what happened had you been brought to me rather than troops taking matters into their own hands. But it is not an excuse. I cannot and will not expect you to simply forgive me and my people. But I offer you my most heartfelt regrets nonetheless.”
 

Peers looked smacked. He looked at Piper as if waiting for orders.
 

Cameron cleared his throat. “You said, ‘Not yet.’ You want it opened … but later.”
 

“My people — when they were in better touch with the resistance, before the Internet fell — believed what I’m told Charlie does: that the Ark is like a jury. That it’s still collecting evidence but already has a record of everything that’s happened since the Astrals were here last. When it’s unlocked, the information-gathering phase will stop, and the jury will take its recess. Then once the Astrals and the Ark are finished with their deliberations, judgment on humanity will be rendered.”
 

“And if we’re found
guilty
?” Jeanine asked.
 

“Then the human race will be eradicated,” Charlie answered. “They’ll save a representative group of survivors to start over and try again next time — plus a few new gods left to tell the stories,” Charlie answered. “Just like every other time the aliens have come to Earth.”
 

Piper’s eyes went to Clara, but the girl seemed unfazed by Charlie’s casual description of armageddon. In the most important ways, she was more adult than all of them.

“Oh, well … let’s hurry and open it up, then,” Cameron said, sarcastic.
 

Nobody answered.
 

Piper finally broke the silence. “But you said, ‘Later.’”

“I need you do to something for me first,” said Mara Jabari.
 

“What?”

“Ember Flats makes a monthly State of the City address that’s broadcast to all the capitals. The next one is in three days. I need Meyer to appear onstage during the event and introduce himself to the world.”
 

“That’s it?” Peers chuckled. “Everyone already knows Meyer Dempsey. Even over here, we knew him before Astral Day.”
 

“That’s true,” said Kindred. “But this time, there are two of us.”
 

Lila found her father still sitting beside the fire that wasn’t a fire. Mara Jabari and her attendants were gone, just like all of the Titan guards in the hallways. They were apparently free to mill about wherever they pleased now that stories had been told. Whether they were true, Lila didn’t know. And Clara, now asleep, wasn’t talking.

Meyer was alone. Kindred was back in his room, with Jabari, or strolling the place as she had been. Strangely, Lila realized she’d be formulating words differently if Kindred were present. Both men loved her like a daughter because Lila
was
a daughter to both minds. But Kindred had remained very Meyer Dempsey while the true Meyer had evolved into something else. Perhaps the way Lila felt more comfortable with the real thing these days was a betrayal. Was it a better expression of love to appreciate the man as he was or as he’d always been? For most people, the distinction was one of present versus past, both sides housed in the same body. But for Lila, the choice between her father’s two personalities was literal.
 

“You’re still up,” he said as he saw her, his eyes flicking to the big clock on the mantel. “It’s almost midnight.”
 

“I couldn’t sleep.”
 

“What about Clara?”
 

“She didn’t have the same problem.”
 

Meyer smiled and patted the chair beside him. He seemed too near the fire for Lila’s taste, but it generated no heat. It was less an energy source than art on display. Would it ever burn out if it didn’t truly blaze? Lila had watched Kamal feed it ordinary logs when they’d been here with Jabari earlier, though where they went once swallowed by the purple flames seemed a mystery.
 

“Has she told you anything?” Meyer asked. “Clara, I mean?”

“About … ?”
 

“About what Mara said.”
 

Lila looked around, but the jammer — apparently a bit of Terrence that survived past death — was still in place on the ottoman, apparently on and granting them privacy.
 

If they believed Jabari. Or any of it.
 

“No. I don’t think she knows much.” Lila didn’t go on and say the rest:
But she definitely knows
something
about
something
.
Lila was afraid that Clara knew more than she let on about the archive, or about what might be coming. But she didn’t want to ask, and face the answer.
 

Meyer shook his head, looking toward the fire.
 

“What is it?” Lila asked.

“We keep going back and forth on this thing. This appearance Mara wants us to make.”
 

“You and Kindred, you mean?”
 

Meyer nodded. “Usually, we can reach an agreement. This time, we can’t. Kindred thinks we should refuse, but I’m inclined to do what she says.”
 

“Why?”
 

“We both think she’s telling the truth about her intentions. Just like we know she’s telling the truth about who she is. They
didn’t
duplicate her. She’s
not
a Titan. There is no ‘Kindred’ for Ember Flats like there was for Heaven’s Veil.”
 

Lila watched her father’s eyes. It was strange to think that not only did she have two equally valid fathers, she’d also lost one that everyone had forgotten. He’d been her father, too. In that first copy’s mind, he’d been Meyer Dempsey. He’d built an empire, raised two children, had twice been a husband. And yet he’d died without anyone knowing until later — swept under the rug until Kindred’s Astral memories could give them all the grizzly details.
 

The newest shift in Meyer’s eyes was hard to pin down, but to Lila it resembled defeat. Was it crushing to know the Astrals had found him unfit to lead a capital as himself but had no such compunctions about letting Mara Jabari do the same?
 

“If she’s telling the truth, why don’t you agree?” Lila asked.
 

“You know how Kindred is. The first time we found the Ark, it barely fazed him. He and Charlie have been saying we made a mistake from the start. But you want to know what I think, princess?”
 

Hearing him use the long-dormant term of endearment, Lila felt something shatter inside her. Whatever it was had been teetering on an internal shelf — a glass figurine, saved from her nearly forgotten childhood, when this man had been more dictator than father.
 

“What, Dad?”
 

“I’m starting to think that Cameron is onto something. Maybe we shouldn’t open the thing at all.”
 

“And just delay things forever?”
 

“Why not?” Meyer shrugged. “Forever is a very long time. The Astrals here aren’t like they were in Heaven’s Veil. I watched one of the Titans remove the key from Cameron’s satchel, inspect it, then return it to his bag. Kindred says they know what it is and what it’s meant to do, but they gave it right back. I think Peers is right. They stopped
chasing
us a long time ago. Now they only
follow
as if keeping tabs. Because they’re content to wait. Nobody knows how long the Astrals were around in previous epochs. Did they decide humanity’s fate right away or take decades? Centuries? Even Charlie can’t say. So is it terrible that I wonder if we should just never open it? The Astrals will wait, long past our deaths. Then it will be someone else’s problem.”
 

Lila watched her father. This wasn’t the man she grew up with, and the beard wasn’t the only difference. Something had wormed under his skin. Meyer Dempsey, both before and after captivity, faced his problems. This fatalism was as disturbing as a confession.
 

“The Astrals don’t care, princess. They don’t care if we keep going as a species or are wiped out. They don’t even care if we’re judged one way or the other. As far as they’re concerned, humanity’s case file can stay open forever.”
 

“They killed Cameron’s dad to get the key. They destroyed Heaven’s Veil to find the Ark. So what’s changed that now they don’t even care?”

“They found the Ark. They know where the key is. Someone shuffled their deck, but now everything’s back where it belongs.”
 

To Lila, the explanation tasted funny. They’d spent years fearing and running from the Astrals, certain that what kept them coming was a desire to steal the key and activate the archive. The notion that they’d wait an eternity for someone to decide whether or not to pop the thing’s top didn’t sit quite right. They’d been nudged along the way, always suspiciously guided into the right spots at the right times.

“What about the thing Mara Jabari wants you to do?” Lila asked.

“Same argument. Kindred wants to open the Ark, and I want to let it be. He wants to stir the world’s peace, and I’m inclined to let that be, too.”
 

“What does she want, Dad? Specifically.” Jabari had been vague on the details. Kindred and Meyer would both be surprise guests at the State of the City address, and the fact that there were now two Meyer Dempseys would, seemingly, shock the world. But how, and why? Lila was unconvinced, and that was just one of a dozen topics on which Clara seemed suspiciously silent.