Too Like the Lightning

by Ada Palmer

  Papadelias: “Thirty-four? Was whoever did this analysis told which crashes were preceded by Cato’s episodes?”

  Guildbreaker: “No.”

  Papadelias: “Yet it seems every single politically influential death was preceded by an episode.”

  Guildbreaker: “So it seems.”

  Papadelias: “And the crashes which were not preceded by episodes seem to have had no meaningful political consequences.”

  Guildbreaker: “So it seems.”

  Papadelias: “Thirty-five deaths over seven years. The rafting accident that killed their ba’pas was five years ago, right?”

  Guildbreaker: “Correct.”

  Papadelias: “So this has to have started before that.”

  Guildbreaker: “At least two years before.”

  Four minutes of reading in silence.

  Papadelias: “Hmm … You intend these as control groups?”

  Guildbreaker: “Which?”

  Papadelias: “Proportion of lethal food poisoning victims whose deaths had a detectible political impact, two point two percent; proportion of beesting deaths with a political impact, two point five percent; proportion of deaths from elevators breaking, two point three percent…”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes, control groups. I had my analyst do precisely the same analysis of these groups that they did on the car crash deaths, since it’s possible that, with five degrees of separation, anyone’s death can have a traceable political impact. Two percent can, it seems, but two percent is not fifty percent.”

  Papadelias: “No. No, it’s not.”

  Eighteen minutes of reading in silence.

  Papadelias: “Where did you get this data?”

  Guildbreaker: “Which?”

  Papadelias: “Cato’s episode in January did not precede a crash, but preceded the suicide of Tipper Casterman, which pulled Haleakala Banks out of the Nurturist movement. Cato’s episode in November preceded the alcohol poisoning death of Carlyle Gali, which stopped their uncle’s string of inflammatory speeches against President Ganymede. Cato’s episode in August preceded an unforeseen reaction to new medication which killed the infamous blackmailer Colorado Dix.”

  Guildbreaker: “Three weeks before that episode, an experiment Cato conducted in the Junior Scientist Squad lab in Chicago suggested the possibility of that very medication causing such a fatal reaction when combined with another rare drug, but Cato tried to destroy the data. I stole the files.”

  Papadelias: “You just confessed to a crime.”

  Guildbreaker: “I know.”

  Papadelias: “These deaths, these people who didn’t die in crashes, they have no connection of any kind to the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’, to Black Sakura, to anything. What did you do, analyze every single person who died the day after one of Cato’s episodes to see if any had a political impact?”

  Guildbreaker: “The two days after, yes.”

  Papadelias: “How? There must have been thousands.”

  Guildbreaker: “Tens of thousands. At first I asked the Romanovan Censor if they could do some calculations for me, but they were too busy. Their deputy Jung Su-Hyeon Ancelet Kosala was also too busy, and Toshi Mitsubishi is biased, so I asked Mycroft Canner.”

  Papadelias: “Naturally.”

  Guildbreaker: “Mycroft was also too busy, so I asked Jung Su-Hyeon to recommend someone else who could do calculations on this scale. They said I should hire a Cartesian set-set.”

  Papadelias: “Cartesian specifically?”

  Guildbreaker: “Cartesian specifically. They’re capable of following dynamic charts with up to forty-five variables at once, so they can do the work of ten Censors, at least as far as reading data goes.”

  Papadelias: “That’s the same kind of set-set Eureka Weeksbooth and Sidney Koons are, right?”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes. I hired one as the Censor recommended, and that set-set is also how I found the political connections of the car crash victims. The connections are so indirect that, on my own I would only have spotted a handful of them, but the set-set found them in a flash. All they needed was a computer system with software for tracking the relationships between all people in the world. Five such computers exist to my knowledge: the computers in the Romanovan Censor’s office, the Tracker System, the Transit Computers in the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’, the identical computers at the Salekhard backup site, and the Utopian Transit System computers, which are what I used for the purpose.”

  Two minutes of reading in silence.

  Papadelias: “From this report, the victims tend to be, how should one put this…”

  Guildbreaker: “Unpromising individuals.”

  Papadelias: “I was going to say ‘losers,’ but that’ll do. People with few friends, low-impact hobbies, and jobs which don’t generate much that’s used by anyone else—no artists, researchers, teachers, great industrialists, corporate leaders, athletes, or anything.”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes.”

  Papadelias: “And all the victims are either Masons, Cousins, Brillists, or Hiveless. No Humanists, no Mitsubishi, no Europeans, and, of course, no Utopians, since the Utopians have their separate transit system.”

  Guildbreaker: “Humanists, Mitsubishi, and Europeans have died in crashes on occasion, but Cato did not have episodes before those crashes, and less than two point five percent of their deaths were influential, just as in the case of beestings or elevator crashes. And they die in crashes substantially less often than Masons, Cousins, or Brillists.”

  Papadelias: “How did no one notice that before?”

  Guildbreaker: “Perhaps because there are many more Masons and Cousins anyway. Or perhaps because the entire press and media of the whole world is united in a conspiracy to conceal this. Or something in between.”

  Papadelias: “Heh. And one of them has the gall to go by ‘Sniper.’”

  Guildbreaker: “You see it, don’t you?”

  Papadelias: “It’s too much. I expected a small conspiracy, a couple murders, not dozens over years, thirty-five using the cars themselves, as many by other means, but Cato knew … No wonder the others wouldn’t let Cato quit and become a Utopian.”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes. Yes, that was what led me to this, actually.”

  Papadelias: “Oh?”

  Guildbreaker: “Cato said, quote: ‘The Utopians aren’t dirty like the rest of us.’ From the point of view of someone who runs the cars, the thing which most distinguishes Utopians from everyone else is that they have their own separate system. Utopians can’t be killed in crashes, and you won’t find any Utopian names in the lists of people killed by other means either.”

  Papadelias: “Of course not. Anything that kills a Utopian they investigate until they solve it. If I were an assassin I’d never touch them.”

  Guildbreaker: “Exactly. Utopians don’t profit from the system and they aren’t targeted by it. They’re untouched, ‘clean’ from Cato’s perspective, while the rest of the world…”

  Papadelias: “While the rest of the world has been held together by shoestrings and assassination for the past seven years.”

  Guildbreaker: “For the record, Commissioner General, would you please explain out loud the conclusion that you’ve come to, so a third party can compare it to my independently derived conclusion which I recorded just before I came?”

  Papadelias: “Relax, Guildbreaker. I know you’re a Mason, but there are limits to how methodical you have to be.”

  Guildbreaker: “For the record.”

  Papadelias: “Fine. Since coming of age, the current generation of Saneer-Weeksbooth bash has been carrying out a series of systematic assassinations. The two Cartesian set-sets, Eureka Weeksbooth and Sidney Koons, can use the Transit System computers to figure out how to influence events by identifying low-profile people to assassinate, whose deaths won’t seem suspicious but will have the desired impact. This bash’, or someone controlling it, has been using these assassinations to manipulate world politics for at least seven years. The
y’ve conspicuously avoided killing any Humanists, Mitsubishi, or Europeans, either because those Hives are backing them, or just because the bash’ are Humanists, they have old ties with the Mitsubishi manifest in the ancestry of Sniper, Cato, and Eureka, and … no, I have no theory about Europe at the moment. The assassins know they can’t kill too many people in crashes or the sudden increase will look suspicious, so members of the bash’ had to develop other ways to kill, culminating in the unfortunate Cato Weeksbooth, who’s been using their scientific expertise for murder, and feels so guilty about it that they come close to attempting suicide every time. Twelve times a year for seven years makes at least eighty murders, is that about right?”

  Guildbreaker: “My set-set is still looking at earlier years.”

  Papadelias: “It’s hard not to see it when you look. All it took was someone to point us at the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’ and connect it with Sugiyama through Black Sakura. Someone wants this exposed.”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes, that’s very worrying. I still have no clue who, or why. Do you?”

  Papadelias: “Only hunches. It’s best not to share hunches.”

  Guildbreaker: “May I ask a couple more details?”

  Papadelias: “Fire away.”

  Guildbreaker: “How do you account for the suicide deaths? The recording of the phone call to Aki Sugiyama proves O’Beirne was talking about wanting to kill themself, whether or not that was what actually made the car crash, and the autopsy of Esmerald Revere left no doubt that that was suicide. If you review the list of supposed victims, more than thirty percent of those who didn’t die in crashes are suicides.”

  Papadelias: “Suicide is the most common cause of death. Any smart killer tries to make their murders look like suicides.”

  Guildbreaker: “Would you guess this conspiracy involves every member of the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’ or just some of them?”

  Papadelias: “No telling yet, but my gut says all. They must know Cato is the weak link; if they’ve involved Cato they’ll have involved everyone. Plus, every member of that bash’ is insane to some degree. Being a mass murderer will do that to you. So will murdering your own ba’pas when they find out.”

  Guildbreaker: “Then you agree the rafting accident was no accident?”

  Papadelias: “I investigated that myself when it happened. There was no evidence of foul play, but it always smelled fishy to me. Now we know why. This system couldn’t work if the parents were against it, if nothing else the older set-sets would have figured it out sooner or later.”

  Guildbreaker: “Do you think the bash’ calls the hits themselves, or are they working for someone?”

  Papadelias: “It would be wonderful, wouldn’t it, if they were calling the hits themselves? Then we could jail them and have an end of it. But Ganymede sure did look worried talking to Sniper at the party. And it’s been people at the top, not in the bash’, above the bash’, working so hard to keep me off the case. Hive leaders involved in eighty assassinations over seven years will make Mycroft’s rampage look like a slow news day.”

  Guildbreaker: “Do you think Mycroft knew about this? They spend time with the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’. A lot of time. Mycroft doesn’t have spare time to spend.”

  Papadelias: “Maybe we shouldn’t have switched desks after all.”

  Guildbreaker: “Mycroft’s murders were thirteen years ago. We don’t know yet if this goes back that far, but the kids would have been awfully young. But the Mardi murders were the most politically influential deaths in centuries.”

  Papadelias: “No, I don’t … Mycroft was the mind behind … maybe. But the Mardis’ deaths were too early, and too conspicuous to fit the profile. And they didn’t exactly benefit the Humanists, or any Hive.”

  Guildbreaker: “Not all the deaths benefited Humanists. There are deaths here which benefited Masons, Cousins, or Gordian, many with more general benefits, to end a crisis, calm things down, anti-Mitsubishi land riots, Nurturists, all our hot spots.”

  Papadelias: “Yes. That sounds like something a lone bash’ might plot. Especially if the set-sets can see these things coming. Though possibly your definition of benefit is too strict. All Hives benefit when the world is stable and the economy is strong. Given how incestuous politics is today, a death that helps the Masons short-term may be a long-term good for everyone. Ganymede recognizes that, Andō recognizes that, MASON recognizes that.”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes. Commissioner General, I’ve been thinking … in a larger sense, this … assassination system … it’s arguably a good thing for the world. The vaguer economic influences aside, some of these murders provably saved hundreds of lives, thousands in some cases. Cumulatively many thousands. Thousands at the cost of dozens. We’re not talking about a secret underbelly of mass murder here, we’re talking about a secret underbelly of killing one to save ten thousand.”

  Papadelias: “Mm. Nurturism and the Mitsubishi land grab are the most volatile issues in our world right now, and a good third of these hits seem to have been designed to calm those down. If they hadn’t, I wonder what those set-sets see in their numbers. What would’ve happened?”

  ADDENDUM of Martin Guildbreaker, 05/21/2454: I feel compelled to edit myself here. It is strange rereading this history as an editor, with the fuller context adding layers to the facts. But nothing has changed more than this moment. I gave a different answer then, which I pass over here, a useless, reasonable, Mycroft might say rose-tinted answer. But now, as I reread, I hear a different answer, not in my voice, in Tully Mardi’s, prefaced by Mycroft’s desperate, silent plea: “Don’t say it! Saladin, don’t let them say it!”

  War.

  Papadelias: “You thought hard, didn’t you, before bringing this to me?”

  Guildbreaker: “Yes, it was hard. But I don’t have the right to make this judgment call alone. My mandate is to smooth over minor transgressions whose exposure would do more harm than good, but ‘minor transgressions’ is generally restricted to crimes which have not resulted in a death. This has resulted in at least eighty, even if it’s saved many thousands at the same time.”

  Papadelias: “I almost hope we won’t be able to find enough evidence. Because if we make this public we’re going to be the ones who started the fire.”

  Guildbreaker: “Then you agree we don’t have enough evidence yet?”

  Papadelias: “Not nearly enough. This is circumstantial, statistics, probabilities. You can see it, I can see it, but no panel would convict with just this, not with charges on this scale. Eighty murders. If we’re going to nail the assassins we’re either going to need a confession, or to catch them red-handed.”

  Guildbreaker: “That’s another reason I came to you. Working together we should have a better shot.”

  Papadelias: “Has anyone besides us seen the evidence you just showed me?”

  Guildbreaker: “Only my hired set-set, though they’ve been carefully isolated, and they don’t know why we are researching this. They don’t know know the cars were more important than the beestings.”

  Papadelias: “No one else? Not Mycroft Canner?”

  Guildbreaker: “No, Mycroft has been busy with the Seven-Ten list. Dominic Seneschal is currently pursuing the investigation independently; I don’t know whether or not they have discovered what I have.”

  Papadelias: “Anyone else?”

  Guildbreaker: “I have no reason to believe that the Porphyrogene cannot read my mind.”

  Papadelias: “I get the feeling it was hard for you to put that so bluntly. I’ll return the favor and not ask.”

  Guildbreaker: “Thank you.”

  Papadelias: “Guildbreaker, is there any chance J.E.D.D. Mason is in on this? They have their fingers deep in every pie. I’ve met them often enough to know they’re incomprehensible to us mere mortals, but if anyone could tell it would be you.”

  Guildbreaker: “It’s absolutely impossible for Dominus to be involved.”

  Papadelias: “How can you be sure?”r />
  Guildbreaker: “The Porphyrogene is incapable of willing or permitting death. I can’t explain precisely why, but you know how, before vat-meat, strict Buddhists didn’t eat meat because you never know if any given chicken might be a reincarnation of your dead grandparent? This is infinitely stronger than that, literally infinitely. Why do you think Mycroft Canner can’t kill anymore?”

  Papadelias: “Can’t and won’t are very different things, Mason.”

  Guildbreaker: “I know. I said ‘can’t’ and I meant it.”

  Papadelias: “Well, then, whatever impossible thing your J.E.D.D. Mason did to Mycroft Canner, let’s hope they can do it to ten billion more people before this news breaks. Eighty-five murders, it’ll be worse than the Set-Set Riots.”

  Guildbreaker: “No, not ten billion people. Seven. Seven is enough.”

  HERE ENDS

  Too Like the Lightning,

  THE FIRST HALF OF

  Mycroft Canner’s History.

  CONTINUED IN

  THE SECOND HALF,

  Seven Surrenders.

  AUTHOR’S Note AND Acknowledgments

  ADA PALMER

  I wanted it so much. So much sometimes it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Sometimes I would cry, not because I was sad, but because it hurt, physical pain from the intensity of wanting something so much. I’m a good student of philosophy, I know my Stoics, Cynics, their advice, that, when a desire is so intense it hurts you, the healthy path is to detach, unwant it, let it go. The healthy thing for the self. But there are a lot of reasons one can want to be an author: acclaim, wealth, self-respect, finding a community, the finite immortality of name in print, so many more. But I wanted it to add my voice to the Great Conversation, to reply to Diderot, Voltaire, Osamu Tezuka, and Alfred Bester, so people would read my books and think new things, and make new things from those thoughts, my little contribution to the path which flows from Gilgamesh and Homer to the stars. And that isn’t just for me. It’s for you. Which means it was the right choice to hang on to the desire, even when it hurt so much. And it was worth it. But it took a lot of friends to help me through. It took the teachers who oversaw the long apprenticeship that is learning to write: Martin Beadle, Katherine Haas, Peter Markus, Olive Moochler, Mary Shoemaker, Hal Holiday, Gabriel Asfar, James Hankins, and Alan Charles Kors. It took advisors who lent their expertise for my world-building: Irina Greenman, Weiyi Guo, Sumana Harihareswara, Yoon Ha Lee, Mary Anne Mohanraj, Johanna Ransmeier, and Sabrina Vourvoulias. It took friends who read the manuscript and told me that it really was good enough, when I needed so badly to hear that: John Burgess, Anneke Cassista, Valerie Cooke, Gina Dunn, Greer Gilman, Matt Granoff, Betsy Isaacson, Walter Isaacson, Ashleigh LaPorta, Michael Mellas, Lindsey Nilsen, Brent O’Connell, Priscilla Painton, Luke Somers, Warren Tusk, Milton Weatherhead, Alexa Weingarden, and Ruth Wejksnora. It took the friends who helped me launch this firstborn into the world at last: Lila Garrott, Teresa Nielsen Hayden, and Jo Walton. It took Lauren Schiller, who, for sixteen years and counting, has listened to me blither incoherent shards of plot when I can’t stand to be the only person in the world who knows. It took Jonathan Sneed, who is taking us to Mars now, stepping-stone by stepping-stone, and Carl Engle-Laird, who changed what friendship means for me, and is a real Utopian. It took my parents, the potent booster rocket of their untiring support. It took my mother Laura Higgins Palmer’s creativity and industry, my father Doug Palmer’s deep love of the fruits of imagination that I love. It took my agent, Amy Boggs, and my editor, Patrick Nielsen Hayden, who were excited to find a work about utopia, progress, about the future’s growing pains, but not the cataclysm of dystopia that has so dominated recent conversations. It took Tor, and all the people there who have dedicated their lives to helping the conversation continue: Miriam Weinberg, Irene Gallo, Diana Griffin, my excellent cover artist Victor Mosquera, my indulgent and meticulous copy editor Liana Krissoff, and the brilliant book designer Heather Saunders, who turned my request for period typography into pure text art. But, above all, it took the communities whose firebrand discourses of hope and future-building make me so excited to offer more fuel for their flames: the small communities of my science fiction and fantasy clubs, Double Star at Bryn Mawr, HRSFA at Harvard, the whole little intellectual utopia of Simon’s Rock College; and, beyond them, it took the vast, diasporic community of readers who see us among the stars. I received my hard-fought “Yes” at the 2013 San Antonio Worldcon, and I remember staggering back to our Cushing Library booth in the Dealer’s Room so overwhelmed that I could barely choke out the syllables to explain to my colleague Todd Samuelson why I was sobbing. And the pain ended. But the intensity didn’t. It transformed into something different, an acceleration instead of an exhaustion, just as overwhelming but so positive: it became gratitude. Because I wanted it so much, and I got it. So my work has just begun. I look forward to the next part of the Conversation—the part we have together. Thank you.