7.

Inquisition

Prime Enforcer Cillian Gant doesn’t look intimidating. In fact, he looks a lot like my Ancient Civ professor. Short, maybe five-foot-seven, though it’s hard to tell with him sitting behind a desk. Compact frame. Large, owlish head topped with black hair that’s thinning at the front. Pale, cleanly shaven face with bland features. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on a narrow, chiseled nose.

But his eyes… the color of dirty ice. Or shark’s skin.

It’s hard not to flinch as they inspect me now.

“You must be Wil.” He rises from his seat to shake my hand, his grip vise-like. “I’ve heard so much about you. Have a seat.”

My designated chair is made of rigid wood, set so low I have to look up at him as he speaks. Something smells acidic, maybe his breath.

 “My condolences, young brother. It must be hard to go through such a senseless tragedy. I’m sure you’re mourning the loss of so many close friends.”

I thank him for his sympathy, finding it hard to look in his eyes. There’s something not right there, an edge that doesn’t go with the kind words.

“Given the size of the blast, it’s a miracle any of you survived. If you hadn’t gotten lost when you did, you’d probably be crippled or dead right now. The Founding Three must have been watching over you, Wil.”

I nod. “They must have been, sir.”

“Which is the most interesting part of this tragedy.” He opens his palms. “Why you?”

“Sir?”

“Why did the Sacred Spirits spare you, young brother, while letting so many – how do I put this? – pure-blooded Guardians perish? No offense, of course.”

“None taken, sir.” I force a tight smile, wondering if he can sift the words now running through my head. Obviously not, because he’s still smiling.

“Did you know,” he continues, “that ninety-nine percent of all Guardians, myself included, are descendants of the Great One? He was, of course, the first psion – the one who predicted the Cataclysm and the War of Purification that followed. Without his glorious vision, our ancestors wouldn’t have known to seek shelter. None of us would be here today.”

“Thank the Three,” I say reflexively.

“Indeed. I’m sure you also know all High Founders can trace their blood back to at least one of the Founding Three: The Great One, The Wise One, or The Just One. Our saviors chose three thousand Founders to follow, selecting only the purest of blood, mind and body. But they also needed workers to build the new world – a thousand physically superior men and women, whose progeny…” He cues me with his hands to finish the thought.

“Became Settlers.”

“Correct! These were your ancestors, Wil. The builders. The soldiers. The beasts of burden. But you…” His eyes pin me to my seat. “You’re different, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“No need to be modest. Your pedigree may be low, but your achievements… let’s see.”

Gant shuts his eyes and blinks, pale lids fluttering like moth wings. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was having a seizure, but I’ve seen this once before. Some High Founders have cortical implants that give them telepathic access to the Link – Neoden’s virtual information database. That’s what he’s doing now: dredging up my life history in a few blinks of an eye.

His lids snap open and he starts rattling off my stats: “Color Sifter. Psionic ability: ninety-ninth percentile. Thought structure: alpha dominant. Raw intelligence: ninety-ninth percentile. At first, I assumed the obvious. That there’d been some mix up. At least one of your biological parents had to be a Founder, and a High Founder at that. It’s curious your recruiter never bothered to track them down.”

He removes his glasses, shark eyes studying me with cold curiosity. “Remind me, how exactly were you discovered?”

“It was during a Camp screening.”

“Ah, of course! Your screener would have noticed there was something different about you. Am I right?”

I nod, picturing the kind young Guardian named Thea. Remembering the terrifying moment when she’d paused in front of my desk to single me out for additional testing. For a heart-stopping few seconds, I’d thought she was going to tag me as a Gamma. It’s one of the only vivid memories I have of my childhood.

“She couldn’t sift me,” I say. “That’s how she knew I had the Gift.”

Gant frowns. “Your recruiter was female? What was her name?”

“I don’t remember.” For some reason, the lie just springs from my lips. “It was a long time ago. Why does it matter?”

“Why does it matter?” He snorts. “A Sifter of your ability discovered in a Camp? It’s like finding a diamond in the trash! Talk about incompetence. Your biological parents should have been tracked down immediately. If I’d been the one to find you…”

From his expression, I get the feeling he would have removed my brain for scientific study on the spot.

“Oh, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter now that we’ve tracked them down.”

“You –” I swallow. “You found my parents?”

“Yes, we did, though it was harder than I would have expected. They were born before Settler ID chips became standard. Then there’s the fact that your mother died three years ago. We didn’t track Settler deaths as closely back then.”

His face blurs, going in and out of focus as he says this.

“She’s dead,” I register numbly.

“Yes. I’m sorry to inform you, but since you never knew her…” He shrugs to finish the thought.

“How did she die?”

“Cancer. Good news, though: she signed up for an experimental treatment, so we have samples of her DNA. That’s how I know you’re a match. Same thing with your father. He submitted his blood as a potential stem cell donor. Settlers aren’t exactly known for monogomy, but remarkably, your parents lived together all these years.”

“I see.” I look down at my hands, which have balled into fists. “And where is my father now?”

“Dispersed to the wind.” Gant thins his lips. “Turned to ashes, like your mother. He died fighting the Sinovoss in the Eastern Territory, just over a year ago.”

I’m not sure which part of this news stuns me more: that the parents I never knew are both dead, or that they stayed together without…

“You’re wondering why they never came back for you, aren’t you?”  Gant leans forward, cold eyes probing.

“No, sir.” I look away. “That’s what Settlers do.”

“Precisely. And that’s the thing, young brother. Your parents were Settlers, neither one of them with a drop of Sifting ability. Your father was a classic Beta. Little more than a mule, built for manual labor. And so was your mother…” An odd smile plays over his lips. “Although physically, she was quite stunning.”

“You have a picture of her?” I ask, feeling my throat tighten.

“You could say that.” He laughs, as if enjoying a private joke. “She’s in the Unified Cancer Registry. Quite a beauty, even in her disease-ridden final days. I can only imagine what she looked like when she was healthy.”

He must notice the way I’m fidgeting, because he presses on. “At first, I thought that was the explanation: that she’d sold herself to some High Founder with questionable morals, becoming pregnant with you. That you were a mixed blood like your friend Vin.”

His words hit me like a hammer. “You mean Vin’s father is a – a High Founder?”

“Obviously! He only exists because some idiot couldn’t keep his pants on. Until now, mixing has always been the explanation whenever we find a Settler with any Sifting ability.”

“So then I’m –”

Gant shakes his head. “An anomaly, Wil. You’re no mixed blood, even though the fool who found you recorded you as one. Turns out you carry both your mother’s and father’s Settler genes. By all logic and reason, you shouldn’t exist, and yet here you are, sitting right in front of me.”

How do you respond to that? Silence seems like the best option.

“You’re…” Gant searches for the right word, beaming when he finds it. “Miraculous. But isn’t that the point? Aren’t all Guardians miraculous? Aren’t we all heirs to the first miracle: the birth of the Great One himself. Isn’t our vision just an extension of his?”

I agree, trying to mirror his fervor.

“What do you know about the Ancient Religions?”

“Sir?” I blink up at him, surprised by the question. Talking about the beliefs of the Ancients is strictly forbidden. Gant must be testing me.

“The Ancient Religions,” he presses. “Surely you learned about this in the Academy.”

“There’s only one true religion,” I answer primly. “The Sacred Vision of the Founding Three.”

“Of course. But the Vision didn’t come from nowhere. The Great One himself said as much. He took inspiration from one of the Ancient books. From the story of Genesis. Surely you’ve heard of that?”

“The Garden,” I blurt out.

“Right. The first Garden. The Ancients called this place Eden. Imagine the glory of humanity in its divine form, young brother! One man and one woman, living in pure innocence. Sharing one transparent mind, free from the evil of selfish thought.”

His words trigger a distant memory. Fragments of a story I heard once in First Year. Wasn’t our world, Neoden, named after this mystical place?

“But then a serpent entered the garden, whispering lies into the first woman’s ear. He offered her an apple from the tree of knowledge, promising divine wisdom, and even though she knew the fruit was forbidden, she took a bite. Then she shared it with the first man.”

Gant scowls, as if personally betrayed by this mythical couple’s sin. “And in that one instant, they lost everything. Their minds turned inward, becoming selfish and cold. Walled off from each other. Walled off from the divine, growing more and more isolated and bitter over time. For countless generations, this curse held, bringing with it endless cycles of division, violence, misery and fear. Until the Divine Spirit blessed us with the Founding Three, led by the Great One himself.”

I lower my head, knowing where this is going. We’re headed for safer territory, to the story of the War of Purification and the rebirth of humanity.

“You see, the Great One’s vision lifted our ancestors from the fire. His gift – our Gift – broke the ancient curse. It shattered the walls and freed our minds, redeeming humanity. We Guardians exist for one purpose and one purpose only: to keep those walls down forever. To never let the evil creep back into the minds of our people. The serpent is still in the garden, whispering into their ears. Don’t you believe this?”

“I do. With all my heart.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Wil. And I want to believe you. Truly, I do. But we’re not just here to get philosophical, are we? We’re here to talk about what happened in Washton.”

“Right, sir.” My heart flutters. We’ve finally reached the point of this meeting: my inquisition. “What would you like to know?”

Instead of answering, Gant stands and suggests we go for a walk. When he opens the door, the two Enforcers who’d escorted Vin are waiting outside.

“Come, my boy.” He places a firm hand on my shoulder. “There’s something I’d like to show you. We can talk about Washton on the way.”

***

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