Quibble, 62. Cascade

Nish, Vega, and Aladfar piece together their enemies’ plans for a war of genocide and utter control against Ones and Zeros alike.

62. Cascade @Definition

The dream is different. The boy is no longer faceless: he bears the face of my son, just as I know him now. And still he stands in the forest clearing, but no longer alone. I stand with him, one protective arm draped over his shoulders.

Three wolves still circle us, still snarl, but now their circuit does not tighten like a noose upon us. They’re snarling at the Zeros, cloaked in black and maroon, who gather around us on all sides.

Their faces obscured by their hoods, the Zeros stand motionless. No glass or dagger comes forth in threat. Yet I feel as much dread as ever I have felt in the dream’s throes, and I realize, as ever, I cannot control it. I’m rooted to the spot.

A maroon-cloaked Zero raises both hands to the hem of the shadowing hood, and even before it’s pulled back, I know I’ll see the face of Quotation. He doesn’t grin as he did when last I saw him. He only stares at me, eye to eye, as Quibble would. Then he strides forward, and to my dismay, the ring of wolves gives way before him.

Suddenly, all else in the dream vanishes. Quote and I are alone in vast darkness. Within? No, we’re floating. Quote’s cloak billows out around him. We’re in the hub of an Egg. And now, as we orbit some invisible barycenter between us, the sun-illumined surface of Earth looms in my periphery. Soon it has engulfed my whole field of vision. At last Quote speaks.

“This will be my death,” he says, “and you will doom me to it.”

I don’t understand his meaning, but I can’t find my voice and say so. He tells me no more.

The planet slides from beneath my gaze, and now the rays of a blindingly bright light stab my eyes. Into view comes the sun, spoked like a dream of fiery control. As Quote passes into its face, he becomes only a shadow, the featureless shadow of a man being swallowed by light. Then, as though it is emerging from eclipse – from behind an enormous lens which has been shading it – the sun shines out more fiercely. Now truly blinding, it shallows Quote’s form entirely.

Its heat smites me. Within mere seconds, my clothes ignite. Then my flesh boils, puckers, flashes aflame. The pain as I burn outdoes anything I’ve ever known, yet still I cannot make a sound.

Quote can, though. He screams and screams.

Eager to go, I roused Glossary at first light. I didn’t wake Index. Though I wanted to bend over him, caress his hair, and plant a kiss on his forehead, I was still wary of the wolf who guarded him, so I only stood by the cot and watched the two of them sleeping, curled into each other.

Gloss boiled a pot of porridge. We ate breakfast in silence. Then we saddled Mustard-seed and Moth, and we were on our way. The weather was fair. We reached the High Meadow about an hour before noon.

“Do me another favor,” I asked Gloss when we reined up. “Rasalased will likely return the way she went. Tell her what’s happened, and tell her to join us at the Adroit consensus with all the speed she can. I hope you’ll come with her.”

“I’ll deliver your news and your message,” the hermit promised, no more. “Oh, I almost forgot! What day is it?”

“Touch.”

“No, I mean—” Gloss looked sheepish. “—out of the whole year?”

“The first touching at the hottest.”

This answer given, I wheeled Moth and spurred him to a gallop across the High Meadow. From there, our going was downhill, but I resisted the urge to hurry, aware Moth had likely eaten poorly during his travels and might not be as surefooted as ever. We cantered through the monastery gates in the early afternoon. Grateful, I led Moth to the stable and gave him an early dinner of oats. Noting Cobweb now occupied a stall, I sought out Ellipsis in the kitchen and asked if Quotation had come home, too.

“Yesterday,” the Dazed said. “But you’d better go see the Zeros first.”

“The Zeros?”

“The lord Aladfar and the lady Vega await you in the hall.”

“Thank you, Ell.”

“Of course, Adroit.”

“No, I mean it, Ellipsis: thank you! I don’t say it often enough, I know. I’ve been too hard on you.”

Ell hardly knew what to do with my gratitude. Flustered, she tottered off to fetch buns out of the oven before they could burn.

I entered the hall to find the two Zeros ensconced in the wingback chairs, where Cate and I had been accustomed to sitting in the evenings. On seeing me, Vega sprang from her chair. “What’s happened?” she demanded.

“The worst,” I told her, “and it might have been avoided if you’d trusted me.”

A maelstrom of emotions, strange to see in a Zero, clouded Vega’s face. Then she closed her eyes, not in assent, and hung her head. “Quibble’s dead,” she murmured.

Reassured that at least this was the worst news Vega thought I might bear, I replied, “When I saw her, she was alive. I have no idea whether that’s still the case. But I know this: she was bested at the game of glasses.”

“Then where is she?” Vega cried.

“Silence!” Aladfar admonished her. “Let the Adroit speak!”

“Have you seen Quotation today?” I asked them.

“Quotation?!” said Vega in perplexity.

“We saw him in the cloister when we arrived this morning,” Aladfar told me. “Why?”

“He’s your phantom.”

Vega grew very still, as if now disarmed of every question she had. I recounted my news as quickly as I could, ending by urging the Zeros to act as quickly as possible to rally kindness and secure the Eggs in orbit over Earth. Now Aladfar was perplexed – “The Eggs? What do they have to do with it?” – but Vega took my meaning.

“Copycat!” she said, aghast.

I raised an eyebrow at her and nodded. “They mean to sacrifice Quote, just like you sacrificed Cite,” I said. “That’s why they need Meissa’s amber. When she rectified Claim, it converted controls to kindnesses. I’m guessing Cite also held it in the hub—” Skancing Vega, I noted a grim look. “—and then it had the power to create not one but two excelsiors. Now utter control has put those pieces together. They’re working on the theory this amber can perform miracles in their favor as well. Perhaps it can reconvert kindnesses to controls. Or perhaps it can just make Ones blind to all dreams but those of control. I’d guess the latter, but either way, kindness will be rendered impotent.”

“But if that’s their idea, they can only do it once,” Aladfar scoffed. “At most, a few hundred Ones subjected to utter control in the Depth of Night—”

“Kindness began with a single Zero who couldn’t accept control,” Vega retorted. “And how do Ones come Without? If 17-Utopia is correct, if Connotation’s syndrome is really an evolutionary adaptation, then Ones must come Without – that’s not ideology anymore, it’s just a simple fact! But utter control assume what they want is what every One needs. They’re blind to inconvenient facts! If martyring Asuja succeeds, they prove it can be done, and then I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more martyrdoms. You’re right, Definition, they’re probably betting on a generation of Ones who only see control giving birth to another generation who only see control. A domino effect, a cascade of control Within! What they can’t see at all is that they’ll end up killing off half the Ones!”

“Necessity versus ideology,” the silence quipped.

“A war Within!” I said, catching Vega’s drift. “A civil war of Ones and Zeros! Ones against Zeros, even Ones against other Ones!”

“What else?” said Vega. “Ideology can’t suppress a biological imperative. Even an ideology of utter control can’t do it. If in their very bones people have to be free, then they will be free. They’ll make themselves free, somehow.”