“Yes. He could be easily distracted by the sidelines, believed the real triumphs and failures of human history were to be found in the minutiae of the everyday, in the lives of inconsequential people. Not in the monumental events you’re studying at the moment, but in humanity’s reaction to those things.” Booth’s eyes took on a faraway look, as though his mind had wandered past my grandfather into some secret room that housed memories that would never be archived. “That history could be altered by the simplest of changes to an insignificant life, like tossing a tiny pebble into a pool of water.”
“What do you believe, sir?” I asked, mesmerized by his insight.
His gaze focused on me a moment later, sharp now. “I believe there is no point in thinking about changing the past when our duty is to use our collective knowledge to ensure the most advantageous future.”
The words tightened my chest. After years of training, the mere mention of changing the past made imaginary hives break out across my skin. “I’m honored by the comparison to my grandfather. I’ll do my best to make his memory proud.”
“There is a difference, Miss Vespasian, between being a dreamer and being a rebel. I trust that given your family contains excellent examples of each, you understand where that line rests.”
The sawdust from earlier reappeared on my tongue. “Yes, sir.”
Booth’s insinuation was clear. My grandfather and my brother had gone disparate ways. One was acceptable. The other was not. It didn’t take a genius to know my path took a major swerve toward Jonah’s today. Even so, I fought the urge to defend my brother and his decision to live outside the System. His name was pretty much as taboo as visiting my thousands-of-years-dead True Companion.
And right now, I needed to cool it before my own guilt tipped me completely off my nut.
Booth nodded, but his gaze remained thoughtful. “You may go. I trust on our visit to see the Sun King in a few weeks you will keep your focus where it belongs.”
“That’s my favorite period. I’ll do well.”
He flicked a finger toward the door at my assurance, allowing my escape into the hall. Only Analeigh had waited, her eyebrows raised in a silent question.
“Pay attention to the assignment at hand, Miss Vespasian,” I rasped in a fair imitation of Booth’s scratchy voice.
Analeigh laughed, but the hollow sound said it was only to humor me. We had been off since I’d found Jonah’s cuff, and this morning’s trip didn’t help. She knew I was hiding something. Neither of us was in the mood for lighthearted fun, I guessed, and the chat with Booth sobered my lingering high after meeting Caesarion. No matter how badly I wanted to, going back wasn’t an option. The past could never be altered without consequence. I didn’t want to believe he had to die for nothing, but it had already happened; I needed to be happy with this morning’s interaction and leave it behind me.
Analeigh and I stepped into the dining hall for lunch, a larger space than most of the rooms at the Academy, but just as cold and perfunctory. No pictures hung on the white walls, and no carpets spanned the tiled floor. Round glass tables and steel chairs dotted the room, to the entire effect of making the space feel empty even when we were all in here at once. My mom said the sparseness was a Historian thing, and that the Agriculture Academy had walls made out of vines and flowers.
There were ten tables, one for each class and two extras for any Historians or Elders that wanted to join us, even though they rarely dined in our company. Our class, like most older classes, had split into two distinct groups, but we were no different from the rest of the System and were required to get along. Even the dissension between Jess and me wasn’t much to write home about—nothing like the epic high school battles waged in old movies or the electronic books I’d devoured as a child. No one had been pushed in front of a bus, no pig’s blood had been spilled. Perhaps because we had no buses. Or pigs.
We didn’t all love each other, but we were polite and avoided confrontation.
Jess, Peyton, and Levi were seated and chatting when I made it to the table, but fell silent at my approach. Oz shoveled asparagus stalks into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten for a week, avoiding my gaze, but Sarah looked up at the sudden pause, guilt darkening her light-blue gaze. I dropped my plate next to hers, my apple rolling toward the center of the table. By the time I’d retrieved it Analeigh had settled next to me, but no one had resumed talking.
“You guys are making it totally obvious that you were either talking about me or Analeigh, and you know Sarah’s going to spill, so you might as well share.”
Peyton and Levi glanced toward Jess, who shrugged. Sarah stuffed a huge bite of bread in her mouth, obviously keen on waiting for privacy before divulging the contents of the conversation.
“What’s going on?” Analeigh asked, folding her arms across her chest.
Oz mopped up the last of the vegetable juice on his plate with a final bite of bread, then sighed. “Kaia’s brother and his merry band of thieves and rebels are in the news again.”
My heart sped up. Not due to mortification, as Jess had likely hoped, but because news of my brother and his crew had been in short supply for months. The lack of information worried me. The System wasn’t big, and although there were places to hide, they couldn’t stay away from civilization forever. Since the moons and outer planets weren’t terraformed, eventually the … well, pirates, for lack of a better term, had to return for oxygen, proper attire, and sustenance. They pillaged those things, along with money and food and whatever else struck their fancy.
It was hard to reconcile the reports of their crimes with my playful, quick-to-smile, handsome older brother. No one knew why he’d left. If my parents or any of his friends had suspicions, they had never shared them with me. My anguish over missing him was rivaled only by my anger at being left behind without a word of explanation.
“What happened?” I asked after a bite, trying not to sound too eager.
“They hit the armory on Roma. Took a bunch of weapons and oxygen tanks.” Levi glanced around as though there were Elders peering over his shoulders, even though talking about subversives like Jonah was taboo at worst, not forbidden.
An idea formed in the back of my mind, tiny but growing into something substantial by the moment. “When?”
Levi frowned, then leaned forward and dropped his voice even further. “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”
It was true that I preferred to avoid gossip about my brother. I didn’t hate him the way the Elders thought we all should, and even though I was angry with him, I wanted him to be safe. Jonah wasn’t idle gossip. He was my brother. I loved him even though his actions put more pressure on me to walk the line, a line I’d rather keep just in sight, so our parents could be proud of at least one of their children.
So my grandfather’s legacy wasn’t completely tarnished.
My failure to answer turned all six pairs of eyes toward me. Jess and Pey both looked bored with the conversation, like they wished I would get over myself so we could talk about something more interesting. Levi’s dark features spoke of idle curiosity, as usual. He was kind of the gossip king of the Academy. Sarah’s face was pinched with concern, Analeigh’s eyes crowded with a million questions.
Oz’s steady gray gaze brimmed with suspicion and annoyance, narrowed and so focused on my face that it made me start to sweat.
I concentrated on not squirming. “I … I like to know he’s okay.”
“It was this morning around six,” Oz supplied, his voice softer. “They weren’t hurt.”
Sarah slid a sidelong glance at him. The hitch in her body language told me I wasn’t imagining his odd behavior, the gentle thread to his reassurance.
When I didn’t respond, the conversation around the table shifted. Jess changed the subject, blabbering about what decade of clothing she planned to wear for the sixth year’s upcoming certification party. Oz finished his food in three huge bites, then he and Sarah left the table. Pey and Analeigh stayed quiet, and my jumbled thoughts didn’t allow me to inflate the conversation.