I will never hear her say those words again.
I turn away and hear the door close behind me. Before me, the Academy would provide a hundred different distractions, yet I find myself walking to a balcony edge. Watching the ebb and flow of the people below, I feel briefly jealous of their zombie-like state. “Zombie”—it’s a new term I’ve learned. A living corpse. A shell of what they had been, only concerned with their next feeding. Except for the scattered mentors, every single person below has endured kidnapping, has been taken from their homes, has been severed from a magic and a people they have loved. Yet from the trickling laughter and happy clinking of glasses, one would never believe it. Part of me would like to pick up a glass and forget, but remembering is not the enemy here. Leo, Mama, and magic still live in the echoes of my memories, and I will not place a hand over their mouths and smother them into silence.
I walk the length of the ledge, no destination to my wandering. I feel as though a thin frost covers my soul and I am lost in winter, waiting for spring and its chattering of birds. Birds. Oh, how I miss birds. There is so much to miss, my heart seems never allowed a respite from grieving.
Now I see that no path I could follow is free of loss. If I choose the Rising, as Ramose has begun to call the rebellion, I lose Alessio. That is clear to me now. I have found love, what some people search their whole lives for. Some would say it’s worth trading everything.
But truly—everything? The sounds of a spring morning, the breeze on my face, the incredible opportunity to watch a sunset? The smiles of friends, the arms of family, the unique peace of being home? And even more, the ability to face my own reflection? For how could I live with my conscience if I do nothing after what I have experienced, what I have been shown?
I cannot have the love of my life and myself as well, it seems. The hole that bores through my chest has become a canyon, echoes of sorrow captured there.
I see a familiar head of blonde hair, pulling me from my trance. Where before I always tried to get away from her, I now find myself walking closer. Azure has her chair turned intentionally away from any others, giving herself forced privacy. I haven’t seen her since she last stood in front of Gadian, a gun to her temple. Then she had stood tall, but now her shoulders are bent, just as a twig the moment before it breaks.
“Azure,” I call out to her, and she turns around, surprised. I smile at her. A true smile, genuine.
“Joanna, hey.” My smile seems to have caught her off guard. I see that she holds the same sketchbook that she’s had during many of our sessions. This time she has drawn a variety of eyes. “Sorry I haven’t been in for a couple of weeks. I haven’t been feeling well.”
I step closer, gingerly entering the private corner she created for herself. “Let’s be honest with each other,” I say, as gentle and kind as I can. “What happened to that man has shaken us both up.”
She lets out a faint chuckle without a smile, just an acknowledgment that I’ve called her bluff.
“Can I sit?” I ask.
“Sure.” She waves to a chair a little ways away. I pull it over, and the moment I’m seated, she meets my eyes. “He died. Did you know?”
I nod slowly. “I’d heard that. But . . .” I decide to measure how much she knows. “I didn’t hear how. When I saw you in the infirmary, he had stabilized.”
“Blood clot,” she answers quickly, as though she wants to believe it’s true. We are silent a moment before she goes on. “I keep thinking, ‘That was someone’s baby. That was some mother’s son.’” I can only nod, knowing words have nothing to offer right now. Azure reaches to a glass next to her as if it will anchor her, as if it alone has the strength to hold her steady against a storm raging all around her. “I have a son. Did you know that? His name’s Judd.” She pauses, then looks at the papers in her lap. “Here.” She flips through her notebook and stops at a portrait of a handsome young boy with hair the same light shade as hers. He can’t be older than eight.
“I had no clue.” I tilt my head, looking at Azure, who seems to morph a bit each time I see her.
“I don’t talk about him much. It’s too hard. I only get to see him every couple of months. We video call every day, but it’s not the same.”
“That must break your heart.” I wish for better words.
“Yeah. But it’s going to be worth it. See, he’s sick. He has medulloblastoma.” She pauses and gives me a weak-hearted smile. “Try saying that ten times fast.” Somehow her small joke seems to be a piece of that same courage she had in the infirmary. Every time you can laugh about something hard, Mama would say, you win.
I smile, but don’t say a word, and I think of how little I’ve understood the woman sitting before me. All those times I assumed her banter was facetious, perhaps there was something human to her. Could she have been being genuine? I used to look at her and see only a snake hiding in the leaves. Yes, there had been something hiding from me, but I hadn’t the faintest idea.
“He stays with my parents while I work here. His ‘sperm donor’ stuck around all of maybe forty-eight hours after Judd’s diagnosis. I knew he had a jerk side to him, but I never imagined he had that in him, you know? So every hospital bill is made out to me, and believe me, it’s a pretty penny. So . . .” She shrugs. “I work.”
“But . . .” I look at her, confused. “Many jobs wouldn’t require that you not see your son for months.”
“No,” she agrees. “I chose the Academy. Actually, I worked my hiney off to get here. I told you about some of the Academy’s contributions to science. Most recently, just a few months ago they found the cure to a type of cancer that was called leukemia. That was the first puzzle piece in place—they are on track to curing all cancer.” She exhales and manages a hopeful smile. “To healing my baby. Anything I can do to make that happen, I must. Every single day, he is at risk, but if my contribution can speed up the process at all—”
She cuts herself off and shrugs again. “I tell myself that I’d rather miss out on seeing him for a couple of years while we find this cure if it means that I’d then get to see him grow up for many, many years to come. If it gives him the chance to have a full life. Even if I miss the rest of his childhood, even if he resents me forever, it’s worth it if he gets to have an adulthood. Fall in love, marry, have kids of his own. Grandkids! Wouldn’t it be something if he died of old age? Of course . . .” She inspects the contents of her glass, but doesn’t drink—just talks to the liquid and ice chips. “. . . that brings us to the great paradox of my life. He could die at any moment, and then these days have been wasted and I’d want them back more than anything. If only a time machine were available to all of us, huh?”
“You couldn’t use it? Just to go back once?”
“Oh, no. It doesn’t even go back within the last hundred years. That feature was intentionally built in so people couldn’t have two of themselves in one space of time. But even if it did, there’s only the one-time machine in the Americas, and it’s dedicated strictly to science. Can you imagine if it was open to the public? Everyone has regrets we’d love to go back and change. It would be chaos.”
“So,” I tread carefully. “If a time machine isn’t a possibility, you think the Academy will save your son?”
Almost imperceptibly, she nods several times before answering. “You can’t rely on people. But science—facts, formulas—that you can rely on. When a scientist makes a discovery, what they are finding is truth. A truth that has always been there, waiting to be found. Isn’t that beautiful? Anything you need to know, science answers.”
Anything you need to know, science answers, she said. She believes it with her whole heart and soul, but at those words, something within me shivers and squirms in protest. No, that isn’t right. That isn’t right!
I am quiet for a moment before choosing my words. “When you chat with your son on a video monitor, why is it not the same?”
She looks up, confused by my question. She looks to the side, then back at me
. “I would think it’s obvious.”
“You scientists, you watch—what do you call them?—atoms gathered on a video monitor, and you keep voices trapped in a box for research. You take blood samples and study the brain and the body. But all the research in the world could only give an utterly inadequate representation. Your experiences with Judd are immensely fuller, more interesting, more expansive.” I lean in, begging her to understand. “How could science, with all its knowledge, ever wrap up all that this little boy is?” I point to the blond-haired sketch on her lap. I think of Mama, of what she had told me were her favorite moments of being a mother. “Of the feel of his little arms around your neck, or that certain face he does when he is trying to be brave. Who he is on the inside is bigger than the heavens, and the richest, truest account of that won’t be found in a full-spectrum lab, but in your home. In your heart. There is a sight, a clarity granted by love.”
As I speak, I know where I must stand. Even if Alessio cannot accept it. “We ‘know’ things in more ways than we realize. Don’t you feel it when you sketch?” I motion to the papers she always has with her. “My best friend was an artist, and I know he didn’t do it just for entertainment or to pass time. He did it because art takes us to a level of understanding where language can’t capture the deepest realities. Surely you must feel that!” I scoot to the edge of my chair, hands reaching toward her. “Not all forms of knowledge can be held and studied and analyzed! There are less tangible ways of knowing, but they bring pure knowledge none the less. The call of the beautiful, the sight given by love, the compass of conscience, the understanding brought by gratitude. These give us glimpses of truth we could never otherwise know.”
Watching Azure, I can almost see how at first my words just sit on the surface, then slowly began to sink in, and I can only hope they will drench every layer. Soak her until she understands. She’s leaning on the arm of the chair, her finger curled under her chin, as she carefully answers. “Joanna, don’t kick against this. Keep working with us scientists so we can take you back to your time. Your mother needs you.” Her voice breaks as she pleads.
We look at each other, nothing but respect in our eyes. I realize that though we will always stand on opposite ends of the battlefield, she is not my enemy. She’s like most soldiers, torn and worn, and just fighting their hearts out for what they think will make things better.
I swallow and nod. “I hope you find a cure for your son.”
“I will,” she promises me. She promises herself. Standing, she pulls me into a hug, and I hug back. “I’d better get to bed. Tomorrow I’ll feel up to working again, I’m sure of it.”
“Until then.” I smile at her.
Slipping through the halls of the Academy, I find that the canyon inside me doesn’t ache as it did earlier. A flash flood of understanding has cleansed it, left it new. I grasp now why Azure’s heart beats, why she does what she does. Sure. But in doing so, I came to understand my own heart deeper. There is only one path for me. I don’t feel happiness, necessarily, for I know that where I go, Alessio will not follow, but I do feel peace.
Opening the door to my room, I find that Ramose has already gone to bed and the lights are out. I get myself ready with as little light as I can, though the occasional stirring from his side tells me he is not fast asleep. At last, I pull my duvet over me and switch off my bedside light. I wait a moment until I’m confident the microphones and cameras have gone to sleep.
“Ramose?”
“Hmm?”
“I need you to teach me how to get in touch with my abilities.”
___
“What are you talking about?” Gadian turns and leans on his elbow.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. You know, after the oven incident.” Still on my back, I fold my arms over my face to hide the streams that have begun flowing down my cheeks.
He lays an arm across my waist. “You’re still thinking about that? I didn’t mean anything by it—”
“No, you’re right. What if I don’t remember how long I’ve been sitting at a light? Or forget someone is in my blind spot? I’m putting people’s lives in danger every time I get behind a wheel.”
Gadian exhales slowly, then nods. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve been worried about this too.” He gently pries my arms away from my face to look at me. “I would take you myself, but I have to get this in before my deadline. I’m farther behind than I thought. Can you give me two hours?”
I only slightly shake my head and bite my lips, tasting the salty tears. “No, I’m already late. It will be practically over by then. There’s no point.”
Reaching over, Gadian brushes the hair from my face. “Why don’t you get a book and read next to me while I work? We’ll have a nice night at home, just us two.” He smiles wide enough for both of us. “We don’t need anyone else.”
TWENTY
The Californian Remains, August 2048 A.D.
Ramose doesn’t respond, leaving my words hanging in the dark between us as piercing and pure as music. They seem that way, at least. At last he speaks up.
“You don’t understand what you are asking.” His response is quiet, yet there is no mistaking him across the rooms.
I had thought he would have been pleased to teach me. Obviously, if we can access our abilities, it would help the Rising. It may take time, but we could break apart the grip of the Academy like ice in cracks of stone. If it would further the rebellion, how could Ramose not teach me?
“In hundreds of people here, you seem to be the only one to have figured out how to get back in touch with your abilities. How can you keep it to yourself?”
“You imagine that I keep it to quiet out of selfishness?” he answers, a lump of hurt in his tone. “Joanna, there is nothing legal about going down this path. And it is not as though they have prison here. Those who stand up to them…” His silence, as dark and deep as a shipwreck, carries more weight than even speaking the words would have done.
I clench my jaw, suddenly angry. I realize that we haven’t talked about the Rising in a few days—he has always been asleep or gone when I came back to our room. Finally, I see that was not accidental. “I’m not naive about the risks. Anything I can do to further the Rising, I want to do. I choose this. I want to learn.”
“And I have my own choice. I will not teach you.”
Where did this come from? I want to stomp over there and whip back his blankets, make him look me in the eye. But I know the main motion sensors would kick on and the conversation would end without me getting any answers.
“Why did you introduce me to Wild Dove if you don’t mean to include me?”
“Believe me, these last days since showing you Brigetta’s memory, I have thought of nothing else. Now having those thirty taken. . .” He pauses, and when he speaks, his voice is firm, decided. “This has consequences we could never undo. My gift may be knowing, but knowledge does not always equal wisdom. I acted rashly when I thrust you into this uprising, and I can see it was a mistake.” He tries to make his voice soft and kind, but right now, it only infuriates me more. I don’t need a condescending pat on the head—I need his help! I need magic again!
“Why are you doing this?” As I finish speaking, the realization hits me.
“You don’t trust me,” I answer my own question. “You think I’m more loyal to Alessio than to the Rising.”
He doesn’t respond, a confirmation that I have hit upon the truth.
“Ramose, you are wrong about me. I give you my word—nothing is more important to me than giving magic a second chance.” I pause, anger and sadness and determination each twisting into a knotted mess, like a pocketed necklace, at the end of my throat. “This is bigger than my relationship.” My chins quavers and I take a moment to steady myself, swallowing the knot. “We have to help everyone here. We must do everything we can. To do that, I have to get back in touch with my magic, Ramose! You must teach me!”
He is quiet a moment before
speaking as gently as he can. “You are tired, Joanna. Let us not speak any more of it now. We can do nothing tonight.”
He is unrelenting, yet it seems there is a chink in his resolve. I had given him my word, but perhaps he has learned, just as I have, that a person’s word can be carved out of lies. But actions—those don’t lie. A person will tell you they feel one way, but their actions will always show the truth of where their heart is.
And I know what I must do. I suppose I’ve always known.
I slowly stand, pillows tumbling from the bed in my wake. The motion sensors flick on the lights in the main room, dim but plenty to see by. Turning to my armoire, I unearth a long, elegant robe to cover my nightdress and stride determinedly to the door.
“Where are you going?” Ramose sits up on one elbow, the soft light making his features stand out. His eyebrows turned in and his concerned eyes, the color of damp soil in the summertime.
I meet his stare, but don’t answer. He doesn’t need my words anymore. My words can only prove to him who I want to be, but my actions will prove to him who I am.
My necklace unlocks the door and I step out, the weight of those brown eyes heavy on my back, watching me go.
___
I sit in a hospital gown, feet dangling from the edge of the examination chair as though I’m a child. Under me, the paper crinkles as I shift my weight.
I had to taxi here to get the CAT scan without Gadian’s knowing because he was so adamantly against it. “It’s a waste of money. You might as well set fire to cash.” He had mimicked holding a bill and striking a lighter. “You just have a bad memory. So what? You’ll always have me here to take care of you.”
Easy for him to say—he’s not the one staring at a future in a straitjacket. And for another couple of months, what I do with my money is still my business. So here I sit, with hands trembling, waiting for the guillotine to fall.
They Called Us Shaman Page 14
