“Very different. Everyone owned guns and other weaponry; people didn’t even need a license for hunting rifles. You needed licenses for handguns in most places, but they were easy to get. Religion caused significant rifts among the general population. International trade was stronger, too. Also, America was far more diverse. People from all over the world lived here. Spanish was commonly spoken. The caste system didn’t exist. Every citizen could vote. The Presidency was limited to two four-year terms, and elections were a big deal. It was a democracy, once upon a time.” Rob frowned, staring at me. Reaching out, he brushed his hand against my cheek before taking hold of a strand of my hair and twirling it around his finger. “There wasn’t nearly as much of a stigma about couples from different castes being together. Sex was also a lot more… private.”
I giggled at the memory of Rob’s reaction to the brothel. “That explains a few things. Brothels weren’t common?”
“Prostitution wasn’t exactly legal. A frightening percentage of the population believed abstinence from sexual relationships was the only way to prevent pregnancy and disease, too. Birth control was regulated, and people killed each other over their opinions on abortion and women’s health.”
My mouth dropped open. “No way.”
“I was very startled when I learned how commonplace birth control is now.” Rob shrugged and untangled his hand from my hair. “Back then, if you were a poor woman, you probably wouldn’t have had access to health care. You wouldn’t have been able to afford it.”
“Afford it?” I demanded. “But it’s a basic right.”
“It wasn’t then.”
“No way. How could people work and contribute if they were sick?”
Rob tilted his head to the side. “You assume everyone worked, Alexa. Unemployment and difficulty finding work was commonplace. Not everyone was paid a fair wage, either. Homelessness was a bit of a problem.”
Homelessness was a new word for me, and I frowned, trying to figure out how someone could survive without a place to live. Living in the fringe was hard, but shelter could always be found.
Dead fringe rats couldn’t work. People died often, especially if they risked going out on a winter night, but shelter was always available in a group home. Some people chose not to take advantage of it, but the option was always there. “Homelessness? People didn’t just go to the group shelters? Why not?”
“They didn’t exist like they do now, Alexa. Space was limited or they had to be paid for. Homeless people often had no income and relied on kind souls to give them money or food.”
“How is that even possible?”
“How is it not?” Rob challenged.
I didn’t have an answer to that, which alarmed me almost as much as the idea of people who didn’t contribute. Maybe the elite controlled the lower castes with an iron grip, but everyone earned their way—and although it was difficult, people could rise to a better place in life.
I had done it through my sweat, blood, and tears. It could be done. It was hard, but it was possible. Like everyone else, I worked hard. “I don’t understand. Everyone contributes. Sure, it’s not fair to those in the lower castes. I know it; I’ve been there. But, no one starves. Everyone has the right to see a doctor. Everyone has a place to stay, even if it isn’t a great place.”
“Homeless people back then didn’t have any of those things. They were usually outcasts from society, too. Unfortunately, a lot of them were retired military personnel. They had outlived their usefulness to the government. Health care was bought by the rich and often denied to the poor—especially if you were a woman. That did change over the years, but it was a violent, bloody endeavor.”
“Violent? How?”
“Mass shootings, terrorism, that sort of thing.”
“Mass shootings? They actually happened?” The idea someone could just get a gun and open fire on crowds had been mentioned in the history books, but I had never really been able to imagine it. Baltimore was pockmarked with the evidence of gun violence, but it always seemed distant and surreal to me. “What is terrorism?”
Rob blinked at me. “You don’t know what terrorism is?”
I tilted my head to the side. “Should I?”
“It’s when someone tries to frighten a large population with the threat of death and violence.”
“So it’s like the police if we break the law?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I suppose you could consider fear of cruel and unusual punishment a form of terrorism, but it’s not what it meant back then. Most terrorism was driven by religion, racism, or some other form of prejudice. One group would announce their intentions to kill or harm the other group. Then they’d launch surprise attacks on the group. The United States was hit by such an attack. Terrorists took control of a handful of planes and crashed them into notable structures in several cities. Thousands died.”
I snapped my fingers. “Like countries threatening each other with nuclear strikes! That happens sometimes.”
“Unbelievable. They’re still using traditional, large-scale nukes? That technology is hundreds of years old. Why are they still using traditional nukes?” Rob threw his hands up in the air. “I give up. I’ll never understand Earth.”
I snorted. “Don’t worry, I don’t understand it either, and I wasn’t born yesterday. How does this relate to the dae?”
“That’s the question of the hour. The important thing is this: when I lived here, people had the ability to freely, without obstruction, pursue their ambitions. Many failed, but everyone had the right to try for what they desired in their lives. Because so many people were actively chasing their dreams and beliefs, it wasn’t a situation conducive to the formation of dae.”
“I think I follow. So, dae are a manifestation of ambition, right?”
“Right. That’s important. Before the reformation, people had hope they could escape their situations and become something new. You’re an exception, Alexa. You’re an exception because you’re exceptional. You’re practically unique.”
“There are three other students in my class who were merit-based, Rob. I’m not that rare.”
“Extraordinary, Alexa. How many people live in Baltimore? How many are in your age bracket for your class?”
I blinked, frowning as I considered it. “I don’t know, at least a couple of hundred thousand I guess? Baltimore’s a pretty big place.”
“Census before the Dawn of Dae reports the Baltimore region had a base population of six million, including all surrounding farmland territories, port districts, and suburbs.”
“Okay. And?”
“Of those six million, only seven hundred thousand were eligible for admission into the Bach studies program. You are one of four for this year. There are over four million people in the lower castes, a little under two million in the middle castes, and the remainder are in the upper castes. Of your group of four, one might make it into the Master program.”
“For someone born yesterday, you’ve done your research,” I grumbled.
Rob’s smile chilled me. “I like knowing the enemy, and this society is my enemy.”
A shiver ran through me. “So what? It’s difficult to make it into the Bach program. Of course it’s going to be hard to make it into the Master program.”
“In the United States I remember, all you had to do to attend school was have the money to pay for it, and if you were smart enough, your college or university would help you pay the costs of tuition. There were mass exams to judge intellect, and all students who graded well enough could go to college—usually one of their choice.”
Once again, I felt my mouth drop open. “Are you serious?”
“Very. The world is a changed place and not for the better. Gun violence is down, which is a good thing, but the hopes, the dreams, and the aspirations of the people were crushed, packed into boxes, and discarded for a rigid system designed to subdue instead of help people grow. That’s the universal condition, Alexa. Suppressed passions, hopes, dreams,
and silent wishes no one dares to express are the catalyst for a dawning. When it reached critical mass, boom, you have the Dawn of Dae. All at once, the suppressed powers of human belief, dreams, wishes—whatever you want to call it—erupted. It’s a bit like a nuclear blast, except instead of radioactive ash, you got the dae.”
I grimaced. Primary schooling had included lessons on the ramifications of nuclear warfare, and it hadn’t been pretty. No one had detonated a large-scale nuclear device in decades, but almost every nation had one. Most cities had at least a few of the devices ready to be armed in case of war with foreign nations, but few people believed it would actually happen.
Everyone had the bombs, and one nation launching a nuclear strike would end the world, which no one wanted. I had always wondered why they kept the devices, but I hadn’t been brave enough to ask.
Knowledge was dangerous, and questioning the way things were done was a good way to draw unwanted attention.
“I follow, I think.”
Rob smiled at me, but it was such a sad expression I held my breath, wondering what had caused him such anguish. “Do you remember the language I spoke to you when I first saw you in your apartment?”
I did. “It was beautiful.”
He had been beautiful, too, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it out loud. I loved how the years had slipped away from him, leaving him mature yet playful, but I had liked him older, too.
“It was a language spoken on Earth, once upon a time. Time moves differently through the portals I take. Sometimes, if someone takes a wrong step, they can end up in the right place but at the wrong time. When I first saw you, you reminded me of an older time. I didn’t realize you spoke English until you said something.”
“Oh. What language was it?”
“Ironically, Hebrew—a very old form of Hebrew. Too old for even modern speakers to understand, but I wasn’t thinking too clearly at the time. Portal hopping is tiring and disorienting.”
“The same language as was written on that gold and white book in the vault?”
“The same.”
Just how old was Rob? Grateful for a change of subject and intrigued by him, I kept flipping through the Bible, marveling at the number of notes written in the pages. “Okay, so you’re a little older than I initially thought. I know you’re not human; you have a highly specialized and intangible diet. You seem to believe refrigerators are the height of travel, and you have a twisted sense of justice. Anything else I should know?”
“A lot of dae aren’t nearly as nice as either me or Colby.”
“I figured that one out all on my own, Rob. Tell me something I don’t know. Why did you all show up one morning?”
“This is where it gets complicated.”
“I have time.”
“You won’t like what I have to say.”
I arched a brow, planted my elbow on the counter, and rested my chin in my hand. “Stop the verbal dancing, Rob. I’m ready for my introduction to dae magic. You’ll find I’m an attentive student who asks smart questions.”
“You have a smart mouth.”
“Biologically, you’re approximately what I expect from a human man, although I have my suspicions you may be slightly more robust and energetic in certain areas. Unfortunately, I don’t have the experience to make a definitive judgment. So, you look like a human, you eat plenty of human foods, you talk like a human, and you act like a human. Why aren’t you a human?”
“I eat because I enjoy it, not because I need to, for starters. I’ve already told you my real sustenance is acquired through pleasure and other positive emotions. Yours, to be specific.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “How many others can you use as a food source?”
While it was subtle, Rob tensed, and his expression soured. “I haven’t exactly done extensive studying on it. A little here, a little there—enough to survive.”
“You look younger than you did before.”
“You’ve had a lot to do with that.”
Over the months, I had had a lot of suspicions about my dae lover, but I hadn’t had the courage to speak my mind. “Because you’re not running half starved any more. Am I right? You weren’t actually eating enough, were you?”
“You don’t pull your punches, do you?”
“Does talking about it make you uncomfortable?”
Rob sighed. “Well, there’s no helping it I guess. Yes, you’re correct. I’ve always been attuned to positive emotional energy, but the amounts I could absorb from others has been minimal at best.”
“Until you met me.”
“Until I met you,” he confirmed. “Yes, my physical age manifestation is directly connected to the fact I have more basic energy to work with. The happier you are when I’m around you, the better off I am. So, understandably, it’s in my best interests to keep you content. Fortunately for me, you’re an interesting, vibrant woman, so I enjoy being with you. In that regard, I’m no different from a bonded dae, except you’re an unawakened.”
“Okay, let’s start with that. If I weren’t unawakened, what would having you around do for me?”
“You’d understand dae, for one,” Rob muttered, slumping onto the counter with a groan. “This is like trying to explain the sky to someone who has been blind from birth, Alexa. We just know. How do you describe the color blue to someone who can’t see?”
“I guessed as much. When the dae came, their humans learned things about them. Something I don’t have. Everything changed so fast, but so many took it in stride. Why? How?”
“Their dae helped. Remember, I’m not like the newborn, either. I was created before any race manifested dae. I don’t know what it’s like to wake up one morning and discover I’m something completely different from when I went to sleep. I think it’s easier on those with externalized dae. Those bonded to externalized dae are, fundamentally, still human. Like I do with you, their dae absorb things from them. Energy, emotions, things like that. Arthur Hasling is probably an externalized dae who consumed his human and found he was slowly starving. When he found you, he realized you could feed him.”
“Like you. Earlier, you said that the dae were like nuclear fallout, the result of some big, magical bomb. If that’s true, how do the dae know so much about what they are, then?”
“Like me.” Rob’s cheek twitched. “You’re right; I’m not all that different from him in that regard. As for the dae’s knowledge, that’s also difficult to explain. When the Dawn happened, during the explosion, so to speak, the newborn dae tapped into us portal dae for the knowledge. They know because we portal dae know, and they’re not much different from us. We were created with the knowledge of what we are, and so were they. Magic, Alexa. But, that said, I’m really no different from Hasling in too many ways. You’re right. I’m like him.”
I reached over and poked the dae’s nose. “Except you didn’t flatten me into asphalt and try to find out how far you could go before you killed me. Big difference, Rob. A very, very big difference. I can accept I’m a walking meal ticket for you. How long can you be away from me before it starts to hurt you?”
“A week. It becomes problematic after a week. It’s true I had work I had to attend to, but I wanted to find out what my limits were. It gets worse; it’s harder than it used to be to gain energy from others, too. I’ve even found other unawakened humans in the city. It’s not the unawakened. It’s you. You’re different, and I don’t know why.” Frustration sharpened Rob’s tone, and I straightened, my eyes widening as I considered his words.
In my worries over losing my independence, I hadn’t thought about the adjustments Rob would have to make because of me. “What will happen to you if we’re apart for more than a week?”
Rob ran his hands through his hair in brisk strokes until it stuck up in all directions. “I can’t tell you. I don’t know. Probably a gradual decline. Accelerated aging is likely. I’ll be tired and sleep more, too. Maybe with time I’d be able to get energy from other unbonded in desp
eration, but it’s not like I’ve been in this situation before. It’s as new for me as it is for you. It’s not something I’m really keen on testing. I crave being with you when you’re gone.”
I understood cravings far too well. “Okay. So you’re a helpless addict and I’m your drug. Do I have it right?”
With a groan, Rob draped his arms over his head. “You have it right.”
“Okay. So, what can you do? You don’t breathe fire, do you? I have a no fire policy. I’ve had enough burns for a lifetime, thank you.”
While Rob laughed, it was a weak, strained sound. “I don’t breathe fire.”
“So what’s your magic trick? All dae have tricks, don’t they?”
Rob lifted his head and met my gaze, his expression serious. “I suppose you can call our powers magic tricks. Some shapeshift, some breathe fire, some manipulate water, some fly, and some even grant wishes.”
Wishes.
A chill ran through me, starting with my toes and sweeping upwards, until I shuddered from its intensity. I understood wishes far too well.
I had wished my parents out of existence, and if I believed Rob, it had worked. Could a child’s wish actually come true? I was afraid to ask. If he confirmed I had wished them into their graves, what would it mean for me?
I had been a child.
“Wishes,” I echoed.
“Wishes,” he confirmed. “You don’t want to believe in anything, do you?” With a gentle touch, he took his Bible and patted the worn cover. “You shy away from religion like it will bite you. You don’t want to believe in it. You set goals within your reach, and you never quite dare to go beyond what you can actually achieve. All of your hopes and dreams are within your grasp, and you work hard to make them into a reality. Am I right?”
Not trusting my voice, I nodded.
“You’re a rare and exceptional human, Alexa. If only all humans could be like you, then the world would be a completely different place—but they’re not. They weren’t. They never will be. What if I told you that, once upon a time, the Bible wasn’t actually a religious text?”
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed at the idea the Bible, the focal point of several different religions, wasn’t actually a religious text. “I’d probably tell you that you’re crazy.”
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