Altered

by Gennifer Albin

  “But you must have known what the Guild was capable of,” I say.

  “The Guild is not so different from the governments of Earth. Civil war, world war, these are the inventions of men,” he says. “Terrible inventions, but part of the span of human history. Perhaps someday we may as a species evolve past violence.”

  “And you think the Guild is capable of that kind of growth?” Jost asks in a mocking tone full of resentment. “I’ve seen what the Guild can do. There’s been no evolution.”

  “Evolution is dependent on change. The change of generations. Children learn from the mistakes of their parents. Even small shifts can create a ripple effect, moving people forward, bringing progress. But how can such change occur if the generations are stymied?” he asks, letting the question linger in the air above us.

  “You’re referring to the race of immortals running this party,” Dante says, leaning forward. His tea is abandoned on the table next to him. “Immortals you created.”

  “A most regrettable side effect,” Albert admits. “We were working on a tight deadline against our enemies. The weapon the Axis powers were perfecting could have destroyed everyone. It was a bomb unlike anything the Earth had ever seen. I warned the Allied powers, and when they presented an alternate solution meant to preserve life—”

  “The Cypress Project?” I guess.

  Albert nods. “I was the one who introduced the idea of splicing strands into threads. It was meant to prevent illness and strengthen the population. We could not foresee the effect this new world would have on the immune system, but our technology could circumvent unexpected diseases. Renewal patching was meant to safeguard the fledgling population.”

  “But the Guild abused the technology you created.”

  “It is every scientist’s dream to better the human condition. But, as you surmised, the officials realized they could use the technology to prevent aging. It allowed them to stay in power.”

  “It gave them absolute power,” I say.

  “A very dangerous thing,” Albert says with a sigh. “In retrospect I should have anticipated this issue, but the government didn’t give us time to think outside of creating the looms and starting the project. I didn’t stop to consider how the looms could be misused. I was merely concerned with making Arras functional and safe for the population. I have often regretted my participation, but I do accept my role in what was done.”

  Shame falls over his face, but I see the value behind his motives. Unlike Cormac, who tried to sell me on the good of the many, Albert actually acted in such parameters. He had done what seemed best, only to realize too late the dreadful repercussions his actions would cause.

  “Why not bomb Arras? Take them down?” Erik asks, and I frown at his callous suggestion.

  Albert’s answer mirrors my thoughts. “I wanted to save lives, not destroy them.”

  “How did that work out for you?” Dante challenges.

  “Intentions again. I accept my role, and if you could do the same, we could move on,” Albert replies.

  The reprimand settles over the room. Everyone reacts differently. Dante sits up straighter. Jost and Erik look at each other. Valery slouches, turning her attention to the window.

  “You said you didn’t anticipate the Guild misusing the looms,” I say, prompting him to return to more fruitful topics.

  “I did not,” he admits. “I should have. You must understand, the government pushed forward with the project, but they weren’t the ones who would form the Twelve Nations. Not as you understand them today.”

  “If the Guild isn’t comprised of the governments of the nations, who are these men? Who is Cormac Patton?” I ask.

  “Ah, Patton, nasty piece of work but a very rich man. They all were. War had stretched America’s funds to the brink. Families were living on rations and going without. Everyone was doing their bit to help, and many of the other nations in the Cypress Project were doing the same.”

  “Funny that they never bothered to get rid of those provisions once Arras was a reality,” Jost mutters.

  “There is security in knowing your people are totally dependent on you to survive,” Albert says. “That was one of the first indications that something had rotted at the core of the Cypress Project. I’d had qualms about allowing the financial backers of the project to take positions of authority, but I was merely a scientist. No one would listen to me.”

  “No one listens to the man who creates the solution,” Erik says with an empty laugh. “No wonder things didn’t work out.”

  Albert raises his cup to this as if toasting the lunacy of the predicament. “The officials were heavily involved with the project. These were powerful men—men of immense wealth—and they seemed obsessed with a positive outcome as long as it guaranteed a world where their own standing would not be diminished.”

  “Warning sign number two,” I say.

  “Indeed. But they were invested in how the science of the looms could benefit their businesses. They sold us on their concern about the world, the people, their customers. I recognized the greed in them.”

  “But you missed their ambition to use the looms as a fountain of youth,” Dante points out.

  “Having never been obsessed with such a ludicrous notion, I did. I fancied myself a man of science, not a man looking for glory and immortality. It never occurred to me,” Albert says.

  “But how did they do it then? If you didn’t help?” I ask.

  “Not every one of the scientists shared my ideals, but many of them shared my intelligence. Men like Cormac and Kincaid hung around asking questions—not to explore how the looms could be used to their advantage, but to ascertain who among the scientists could help them achieve these possible benefits.”

  “So one of your men turned on you.” It’s Valery who points this out.

  “Yes, my lady. The officials established who would help them in their grand plans and set it in motion in secret laboratories in Arras.”

  “And they made themselves immortal,” I say.

  “That is not entirely correct.” Albert stops me. “To truly be immortal, you would have to be nearly untouchable. They are still vulnerable to disease and injury.”

  “But they have those who can alter and patch them into health.”

  “Yes, but their so-called immortality skirts a fine line. It can be taken in an instant.”

  “So Cormac can be killed,” I say.

  “He can,” Albert confirms. “Do you feel it necessary?”

  “How else can we liberate the people? Separate Earth from Arras?” Dante cries, the words a fervent verdict of Cormac’s fate. “The Guild’s time is up.”

  Albert holds my gaze. He’s not asking us a practical question, he’s asking me an ethical one. He’s asking me to look inside myself and see how far I’m willing to go.

  “If we separated the worlds, Arras would have to learn to depend on its own resources. There would be upheaval. Change,” I say softly.

  “The course of evolution would begin again,” Albert replies.

  “Does anyone have any clue what we’re talking about?” Erik asks, but Dante tells him to shut up. If the others are having trouble following, they aren’t about to interrupt.

  “Where do we begin?” I ask.

  “I can guide you,” Albert says, a sad smile peeking from beneath his mustache, “but it will be difficult. Arras is a parasitic universe syphoning Earth’s time and resources, but if the edges of Arras were bound and released, the composition of Earth would achieve critical mass, creating a rift in space-time that Arras could occupy, separate from Earth. It could heal. The looms would be useless then, but Arras would be self-sustaining.”

  “And the Whorl can do this?” I ask in a breathless voice, trying to wrap my head around what Albert is telling us. If Arras was separated from Earth, both could survive. I wouldn’t have to choose which world to save, and I could prevent the growing threat of all-out war between them.

  “The Whorl can tie the
edges of Arras together, separating them from the looms and knitting Arras’s time into an infinite weave.” Albert knits his fingers together into a circle and holds it to his eyes. “Time will flow from beginning to end in a ceaseless circle of life.”

  “That’s why we need you. We need the Whorl,” Dante says.

  “Ah, dear boy, I do not have the Whorl.”

  “Then where is it?” Jost demands. He’s risen from his seat and he grips the mantel. His desperation to get back to Arras and save Sebrina is written in anguished lines over his face.

  “The Whorl is not a thing. It is a person,” Albert says.

  “You’re the Whorl,” Dante guesses.

  “No,” Albert says with a shake of his head. “She is.”

  His finger points directly at me.

  THIRTY-NINE

  THE BURDEN OF HIS WORDS SETTLES DOWN on me, weighing across my chest. I don’t hear how the others react. They blur out of focus as I’m forced once again to confront responsibility and purpose. I should be accustomed to this tangled dance of power and obligation, but I feel the constriction of it. I tried to let go of the idea of saving myself, of saving Amie, but the idea of saving the world on my own—of wielding such terrible and awesome power—is nearly more than I can bear.

  “Adelice.” Erik is beside me, coaxing me back to the present. His hands are wrapped, hot, around my wrists. “You okay?”

  I anchor myself in his presence. Erik pushes me and accepts me when I’m still only human. If I can latch on to him and syphon his strength, maybe I can face what’s coming next.

  “How can you know that?” Dante is demanding of Albert. I focus on his words, willing my mind to participate in the exchange of information.

  “You said she was the Creweler,” Albert says, but he’s holding something back. I can see that.

  “I was supposed to be the Creweler,” I correct. “I never finished my training.”

  “So you can catch the elements and command them,” he says. “What else? There is more.”

  I nod, pushing the information out of my torpid mind. “I can alter like a Tailor.”

  “So genetically you have both powers,” he says.

  “Yes, I must have gotten them from my parents,” I say, filling him in on the strange relationship between Dante and me. On how the time dilation has affected our lives’ courses as we lived on the disparate timelines of two worlds.

  “Has your mother been tested? It would be interesting to analyze her genetic makeup, along with his—”

  I stop him before the lump in my throat swells and dams my voice. “My mother is a Remnant. I doubt she’d cooperate.”

  “Her mother’s genetics and mine,” Dante jumps in, “created something special, unique, like a mutation.”

  “Not exactly, dear boy,” Albert says, and then pauses. “I feel especially strange calling you that now, given that you have a nearly grown daughter.”

  “It’s weird for the rest of us, too,” Erik says.

  “Genetic abilities skip around, appearing in seemingly strange fashion, but they’re not random. Once it became clear that I had a method of separating the worlds, the Guild worked feverishly to prevent that from happening,” Albert says.

  “Why? Why would they want to remain dependent on Earth?” Jost asks. “Earth was a threat to them.”

  “And an opportunity. You must not forget these were businessmen,” Albert tells him. “Earth had resources, and the Guild was uncertain we wouldn’t require more of them. But I think, truly, they were unable to divorce themselves from the possibility of this world. What if they could discover ways of using it to their own advantage later? And then there was the real need of a hiding spot should their schemes be discovered.”

  “In case anyone found out the same men were running the show,” I say.

  “But they had Tailors to keep that a secret,” Dante says.

  “Yes, but men are fickle. Uprisings occur no matter how tightly you grip the masses in your hands. Earth was an insurance plan, but more important, tying Arras off from Earth would take away their looms. It would take away their control.

  “Your story about your unusual parentage answers a lot of my questions,” Albert continues. “The Guild tried very hard to prevent you from existing.”

  “And they’ve always seemed overeager to have me.” None of this was news. Dante had told me this before, but Albert had insights Dante could only guess at.

  “Marriage laws, segregation, courtship appointments. It is a strange way to run a world, no?” Albert asks.

  “They told us we had to be pure.”

  “An antiquated means of control, but unfortunately many well-meaning parents and authorities bought into it. Those laws enabled the Guild to hide the true motivation behind their actions.”

  “Which was?” Dante asks.

  “Controlling the genetics of those who came into the weave,” he says. “We engineered Spinsters, cultivated the creative, life-giving nature of women, but Tailors were an unanticipated side effect.”

  “How did it happen?” I ask.

  “We studied boys, too. We needed to see how the experiments would affect male offspring. They did not seem to possess the necessary abilities, so we felt assured we could measure and control the populace. We could easily guess which girls might be born with the ability. Marriages were arranged, children were watched, we waited for signs.”

  I recall Loricel telling me how she watched me, covered up for me. No one would second-guess her motives. It was clear she had wanted to be done with the system after decades of choosing sacrifice over self, but how had they not known I could be the thing they dreaded the most?

  “So you tagged us?” Dante says with a note of disgust.

  “I’m afraid so. When we realized we had misunderstood the nature of the genetic ability in boys, I saw my opportunity. A child born with both sets of the genetic makeup to weave and to alter could bind Earth off. Everything centered on that child.”

  “It couldn’t have been a boy then?” I ask.

  “No, only a girl could possess both genetic traits. The weaving trait refused to manifest in male children, but alteration could pass to a female. The Guild worked hard to prevent that through monitoring the population,” Albert explains.

  “But I don’t understand,” Jost interrupts. “How can she have both if the abilities are both born of the same engineering?”

  “The genes evolved, much in the way that genes have evolved to make us smarter, more resilient. Think of it as lines in a book.” Albert lifts a volume from the table near him and opens to a page. “We cannot have two line ones in the same book. Weaving is line one, and Tailoring, or altering, is line two. They are different lines of the genetic code. Adelice possesses both genetic lines from her parents. They are separate and unique abilities, even though on a fundamental level their structure and composition are strikingly similar.”

  “And because I have both I can capture the elements needed to ensure Arras is whole—”

  “While being able to tie it off, altering its fundamental makeup in the most profound way,” Albert says, his words more an intonation to the universe than fact.

  “Good,” I say, blinking. “I wouldn’t want this to be easy.”

  “I know it is a lot to take in,” Albert says.

  “Yes, and we’re on a timetable,” Dante butts in. “We’re going to have to sort out this tangled web elsewhere.”

  Albert gives him a curious look. “You assume Lucas will betray you?”

  “Remember how we said we fell in with Kincaid,” I say quietly. “We gave him the slip, but it won’t take him long to track us.”

  “I see,” Albert says. “If you have the abilities you claim, you know it will be difficult for me to leave this island. I will need your assistance.”

  I pause and stare at him, not understanding.

  “You must see it,” he prompts. “Use your sight, Adelice.”

  Everything around me fades to the b
ackground, softening into a weave. The room comes to life in a snarl of colors and light. The time threads are frozen into place. I stare harder at Albert, willing myself to see his composition. It’s still difficult for me and I slow my breath and let go until he shifts into strands of the universe—strands tied to the time of this room.

  “That’s why you’re allowed to live here,” I say. “They’ve bound you to this moment. This house.” Albert couldn’t leave if he wanted to, not without help from someone who had the skill to disentangle him from the weave of the house’s place and time. He was frozen in a prison of space and time.

  “Say what?” Jost asks.

  “He’s been altered. They’ve wound Albert’s strands into the time and matter here.” I turn pleading eyes to Erik, knowing he can see it as clearly as I can, but he gives me the barest shake of his head. He won’t reveal his secret, and I feel the burning promise I made to him in my very flesh.

  “So he’s a part of the house,” Erik says slowly, obviously playing dumb.

  “More or less,” I confirm for the benefit of the others.

  “Can you, I don’t know, extract him?” Erik asks.

  “I think I can.”

  “I was hoping for a bit more assurance,” Erik says.

  “I can,” I say more confidently, “with Dante’s help.” I want Erik to volunteer, but he’s made it clear that he won’t admit his alteration skills to his brother.

  Dante nods, surveying Albert and the objects in the room.

  “Why don’t you guys wait outside?” Dante suggests.

  As soon as the others leave, Dante comes to my side and I see the same look of concentration cross his face. I know he can see the composition of Albert and the objects in the room, which should be enough.

  “Can you see it?” I ask.

  “I think so, but, Ad, I’m not as gifted as you are,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I can see Albert’s strands, but it’s obvious this is more advanced than simple alteration. You need someone with real training. Someone who knows the Guild’s handiwork better than I.” The statement peaks on the final word, and he leaves it hanging there. He knows Erik can alter, but he leaves the suggestion open.