Guardian (5 page)

Liam lost his hand for the revolution, but loss was easy. Addition was hard. How do you become something more than yourself? Inspiring others. Manifesting their dreams. It was a burden Liam was glad not to carry, knew he wasn’t strong enough to carry. He preferred his role in history to be small, narrowly defined. Keep Syd safe.

Dr. Rahat ordered Syd to turn and Liam caught his breath as the sinewy chest came into view, the scar across his collarbone from a childhood knife fight, the small trail of hair rising to his belly button, the soft skin of his neck, the dark obsidian shine of his eyes staring back at—

Liam turned away quickly. Studied his boots. He felt himself blushing. Had he been staring? Had Syd
seen
him staring? Why was he staring? Syd was just an assignment, and a difficult one at that. Liam had to remember: an assignment.

Syd mattered to the Reconciliation, so Syd had to be protected. Liam didn’t have to feel anything about Syd beyond that.

Shouldn’t
feel.

Shouldn’t. Shouldn’t. Shouldn’t.

Maybe Syd hadn’t noticed the look. Or maybe he figured it was just Liam being cautious, making sure the doctor didn’t harm his patient. Machinist assassins everywhere; one can never be too careful.

What an idiot,
Liam cursed himself.
Focus on the job. No emotion.

Waterfall. Waterfall. Waterfall.

He sighed and looked up.

And he met Marie’s gaze. Lying on the cot, she looked at him with just the faintest hint of purple still in her eyes. And on her lips, the slightest smirk forming around the edges.

In a moment, Syd stood beside Liam.

“Take me to the Advisory Council,” Syd said. “I need to speak to them immediately. And someone should bury the Guardians we left in that alley.” He turned to the doctor again. “Bury. Not burn.”

The doctor nodded, scratching absently at an itch on his cheek, and Syd stormed outside. Just before Liam rushed after him, he glanced back at Marie.

“Interesting,” Marie said, but Liam didn’t have time to say anything back. He had to get Syd through the crowd. That was his job. He had to do his job. Keep Yovel alive. Nothing more and nothing less.

“YOUR CONCERNS HAVE BEEN
noted.” The chair of the Advisory Council leaned forward on her kneeling mat and pressed her index fingers together in a triangle. Her voice echoed in the cavernous space of the empty factory.

She looked from Syd, seated on his own mat before the semicircle of Advisory Council members in the center of the factory floor, to Liam, kneeling beside him with his hands folded in his lap. Unlike Syd and the eighteen counselors, Liam did not have a mat to kneel on and the hard floor pressed into his knees. Beads of sweat collected on his upper lip, and he could feel several more making a mad dash for escape down his back.

Behind the Council, a ring of white-masked Purifiers stood with their clubs hanging from their belts, ready to do the Council’s violence, should such violence be called for, or to protect them, should such protection become necessary.

“I don’t just want my concerns noted,” Syd objected. “I want them heard!”

“And we
hear
them,” Chairwoman Pei responded, her voice hard as stone. She was not accustomed to argument from teenagers during her Council meetings. “Your concern for the nonoperative entities speaks greatly of your compassion, but poorly of your intellect. Nonoperatives are not people and thus, cannot be—what did you call it?”

“Murdered,” Syd said.

“Can livestock be murdered?” a counselor to Syd’s left mused aloud. “Can feral cats be murdered?”

“The Guardians were born people,” said Syd. “The old system transformed them. They’re as much victims as any of the proxies you’ve trained to kill them.”

“Mind your tone,” Chairwoman Pei snapped.

“I’m just saying, it’s not right to kill them like that.”

“There is no right or wrong with nonoperative entities,” the chairwoman replied.

“If I may,” Counselor Baram, kneeling just to the chairwoman’s left, interrupted. She glared at him. There was no love lost between Counselor Baram and Chairwoman Pei, that was plain to see. Baram addressed Syd without looking at her again. “The nopes—as some have taken to calling them—have no volition. They cannot act with any intention of their own; they cannot think for themselves, or speak, or even recognize themselves in a mirror. There is no definition of personhood that can be applied to them. They may have been born like other people, but they are no longer. It is a mercy for us to end their suffering.”

“I wonder if they would agree,” said Syd.

“They can neither agree nor disagree,” said Baram.

“So that, like, makes it okay to kill them?” Syd wished he had Baram’s way with words. He never was great at arguing. “Because they can’t complain?”

“Because they never knew they were alive to begin with,” Baram countered.

“How do you know?” Syd asked.

“We will not sit here and argue philosophy with a teenager,” the chairwoman snapped at Syd. “We decide the best course of action for society and our decision is made.”

“But there are other ways than killing them!” Syd pleaded. “You can look for a cure for what’s wrong with them, but you don’t want to. It’s more convenient to get rid of them because they remind everyone of the past. And the Reconciliation is all about the future, right?”

“And what is wrong with looking to the future?” another counselor asked.

“You can’t just erase the past,” said Syd.

“You assume the worst of us, Sydney,” said Baram. “We have worked on a cure, but found none. For the safety of all, extermination of the nonoperatives is the only viable solution.”

“It can’t be,” Syd said. “Do you even know what’s wrong with them? Do any of you even care?”

“We have done our best to find a cure!” a counselor whose name Syd couldn’t remember blurted out. “And all our researcher found was Machinist propaganda and—”

“Pardon, Counselor,” the chairwoman interrupted the man with a clap of her hands.

The offending counselor blushed and hung his head. The chairwoman nodded over her shoulder and two Purifiers stepped forward.

“You are tired and speak against protocol,” she told him. “Perhaps you should rest.”

“I . . . I . . .” The counselor turned pale, looking around the semicircle in wide-eyed panic, but before he could say another word, he was lifted from his place and dragged away into the darkness beyond the circle.

Syd knew he would not be seen again.

“You may not think we are doing the right thing by eliminating these entities.” The chairwoman turned back to Syd. “But it is not up to you. We make the determinations that are best for society. These determinations are not made by seventeen-year-olds.”

“So a cure isn’t good for society?” Syd pressed.

“A cure is not politically viable at this time,” the chairwoman replied. “And our discussion of this is over. Our decision is final.”

“The Purifiers enjoyed the slaughter,” Syd said.

“Purifiers take no personal enjoyment in their duties.” Chairwoman Pei recited dogma of the Reconciliation. “Their joy comes from service and it is a joy shared by all. A joy you would be wise to embrace.”

Syd’s jaw clenched. He looked to the shadowy figures of the Purifiers, couldn’t make out Finch, and felt some relief. If the Council wouldn’t do anything about their policy with the nopes, he could bring at least one person to justice today. He would denounce his old classmate. It wasn’t much, but at least he’d be doing something. “I know of one Purifier who takes personal joy in cruelty.”

“If so,” the chairwoman said, “then he’ll be brought in for self-criticism.”

Syd nodded. “His name was Atticus Finch; now he calls himself Furious. I used to know him at school. Before. He was laughing when he slaughtered the Guardians.”

“Nonoperatives,” one of the counselors corrected.

“That’s all?” The chairwoman rubbed her hands. “Laughter? Laughter is not a crime.”

“But you just said—” Syd clenched his fists. It was clear she had no intention of pursuing the matter. Syd glanced at Liam, who tried to shake his head.

“No,” said Syd. He heard Liam sigh. “Finch—er, Furious, he also attacked me. Threatened to kill me. I think
that
is a crime.”

A gasp rippled around the room. The eyes of the Council then shifted to Liam.

“This is a serious accusation,” Baram said. “Treason.”

Syd’s hands went clammy. The punishment for treason was death. He wanted Finch transferred, humiliated, maybe even hurt a little, but he didn’t want him killed. He’d spoken rashly; he’d gotten mad.

“Is this true?” the chairwoman asked Liam.

Liam nodded.

“And where were you at the time this attack took place?”

Liam tensed. In the shadowy heights of the catwalk above the factory floor, a lone figure in green leaned casually against the railing and watched. His perfectly bald head caught a gleam of light in the darkness. Liam pictured the sweat on his back turning into razor-sharp icicles.

“It’s not Liam’s fault,” Syd broke in. “I’m the one who—”

“Each of us must answer for our own failings and Liam will answer for his,” Chairwoman Pei cut Syd off.

“I have no excuse,” said Liam, keeping his eyes down.

“And you do realize, young man, that the life of Yovel is of vital symbolic importance to our efforts, do you not?”

Liam looked up, but dared not meet her eyes. Instead, he looked at the folds of her neck, the green banded collar of her uniform with eight vertical white stripes around it, signifying her place on the Council.

What the Council was going to do to him for letting Syd be attacked, he couldn’t know. In denouncing Finch, Syd had really denounced Liam for failing to protect him. And failure was never tolerated. It could lead to reassignment to a work camp; it could lead to a public whipping; it could lead to a sudden and permanent disappearance. The Advisory Council was unpredictable.

Unpredictability was, in fact, a tenet of their philosophy. They claimed that it strengthened the revolution. A storm cannot be bribed nor can a flash flood be infiltrated. The Reconciliation modeled itself on natural disaster.

Lightning strikes might have been more predictable.

Before they did what they would with him, Liam figured he could, at least, let Syd know whose side he was on, whose side he’d always been on.

He took a deep breath.

“He goes by Syd,” Liam said.

“Excuse me?” Chairwoman Pei lowered her hands to her lap.

“With respect, Chairwoman.” Liam cleared his throat. “He prefers to be called Syd.”

The chairwoman’s eyes darted to Syd. Syd too looked at Liam with surprise.

“Yovel was the name given him by his late father in service of the revolution,” the chairwoman said. “Sydney is the name given him by the patrons of the old system. It is his proxy name. The Reconciliation does not recognize these names.”

Liam shrugged. He gave Syd a small smile.

Syd knew what he had done. Chairwoman Pei, as leader of the Advisory Council, could order the death of almost anyone for almost any reason.

Anyone except, of course, Syd.

He’d been angry and felt helpless and wanted to punish Finch for how he felt. Instead, he’d punished Liam.

“Syd is my name,” he announced. He put himself between Liam and Chairwoman Pei. “It’s the only name I’ve known and I intend to keep it.”

“I understand you feel attached to this name,” the chairwoman told him. “But we are a new organization now, with new structures, and new expectations. Your personal preferences must be subordinate to the needs of all. Your stubbornness undermines what we are trying to build. If the people are to abandon faith in the return of the networks, if we are to stamp out these Machinist cults, then the people must believe in something else. They must believe in
our
symbols. In Yovel.”

“I never asked to be your symbol. I’m seventeen. I just want to be like everyone else my age.”

“Everyone else your age obeys the advice of the Council!” The chairwoman threw her arms in the air. “We have countless seventeen-year-olds in our ranks—Liam, here, is seventeen. He obeys. The Purifier you are so quick to denounce, he obeys too! Why should we expect different from you?”

“Because”—Syd cleared his throat—“like you said, you need me. I’m of vital symbolic importance.”

A few counselors shifted uncomfortably on their knees. Syd might have been just a teenaged boy, but to many of them, he was still Yovel, the savior, and they didn’t like to see him get a public scolding.

Chairwoman Pei, for her part, appeared to relish the opportunity. Syd knew by the way she adjusted her posture that she was fighting the urge to have him beaten to death by the Purifiers behind her. Teenagers were moody and demanding. The chairwoman would certainly have preferred a martyr to a flesh-and-blood teen.

“Anyway, what happened with Finch today wasn’t Liam’s fault,” said Syd. “I snuck away from him. I—” Syd had to find the right words here, the words that would undo the damage he’d done by letting his anger cloud his judgment. He had to get Liam out of the bind he’d put him in and had, in spite of himself, to keep them from executing Finch. Syd didn’t like having a bodyguard around all the time, but no one deserved to die for it. “I shouldn’t have let myself get dragged into a petty argument with a Purifier. I provoked Finch and I deserved to be hit for it. It wasn’t treason. Just settling an old score. No real damage was done.”

“You provoked him?” The chairwoman looked skeptical. “Yovel provoked a Purifier?”

Syd nodded.

Behind Syd, Liam pressed his good hand into his leg, willing Syd to stop talking. Syd was stubborn and opinionated, and he didn’t realize that the chairwoman could always find ways to make him suffer. She couldn’t hurt him, but she could make his days very uncomfortable and it would be Liam who would have to enforce her will. That way, both of them were punished.

Syd would hate Liam for whatever the chairwoman made him do, but Liam would have to do it, or he’d be removed from Syd’s protection assignment. And he knew that wherever Syd was was where he wanted to be. He couldn’t help it. He was just like the people from the crowd. In spite of himself, he was a believer.

“Is this what happened?” Chairwoman Pei asked Liam. To her left, Counselor Baram knelt quietly, watching Liam with an expression that expressed nothing.

“I can’t say,” said Liam. “I only saw the end of it.”

“Liam didn’t do anything wrong,” Syd said again. “He—”

Chairwoman Pei raised her arm, demanding silence. “Your objections have been heard, and your testimony noted. In spite of our better judgment, no action shall be taken against this Purifier. Next time you make an accusation, you best make sure you are prepared. That is all. You will be escorted to a billet for the evening.”

“I—” Syd looked over to Counselor Baram, who shook his head ever so slightly, a small warning to Syd not to push it any further. Two more Purifiers stepped behind Syd. It was not an idle suggestion that he accompany them. “And Liam?” Syd asked, looking to his bodyguard kneeling on the floor.

Liam didn’t look back up at him.

The chairwoman smiled without opening her lips.

“He’ll be along shortly,” Counselor Baram said as Syd was led from the room.

• • •

The moment the metal doors closed behind Syd, the chairwoman fixed her steely gaze on Liam, but it was Counselor Baram who spoke:

“Liam, you have failed, on several occasions now, to maintain watch over
Sydney.
” The chairwoman scowled. Baram cleared his throat. “You allowed him to get into a scuffle with a Purifier. In public. Then you shot another Purifier for no apparent reason. Does something have you distracted?”

“Nothing has me distracted, Counselor,” he said.

“Maybe some private thoughts?” Counselor Baram studied him with eyebrows raised. Liam’s mouth felt dry. He imagined a holo floating above his head, projecting his every doubt, regret, and desire for all to see. Private thoughts, which kept an individual apart from the community, had also been banned.

Liam shook his head. “My feelings and thoughts belong to the Reconciliation, to which I devote myself fully.”

“Purifier Alvarez,” Chairwoman Pei barked and suddenly, Marie stepped forward. Liam’s heart thudded in his chest. “Do you have any reason to doubt the statement you have heard given to the Council? Do you accept Liam’s statement and forgive him for the wound he inflicted on you?”