A nervous laugh escaped Soren’s lips.At least she has a sense of humor.
“I understand you’re an artist,” Krystal commented, taking his arm, veering them back toward her family.
“I draw and paint,” he answered, “but I’m a computer scientist—data harmonization and programming, like my father. And you play basketball?”
She bumped his hip with hers and smirked. “You know I do. Hey, no expectations tonight, OK? We have time to work things out. But after today, our futures will be entwined for a long time. I say we make the best of it.”
Hearing her say that lifted a weight from Soren’s chest, and he smiled for the first time since entering the hall. “That sounds like a plan.”
In the Unity House chapel, First Shepherd Severin Dray officiated their service and a dozen others. His robes were snowy white, braided golden cord in place of the usual fog gray. A pendant of the all-seeing eye in a pyramid hung around his neck by a silver chain. Dray might look ordinary—middle-aged, balding, slight-framed, long nose—but his voice held power and authority.
He led Soren and Krystal in their vows, which included treating each other with respect, financial and intellectual partnership, and staying together at least until two children had been born—preferably raised. Both understood these were unbreakable vows.
“You will grow to love one another as life-partners and helpmeets,” Dray said. “Two flames burn brighter than one, and bound hands cannot be broken. TheOracle chose you for each other. You arrived as two; now, depart as one, for the Oracle knows best.”
Music played, witnesses cheered. In keeping with tradition, she kissed him on the lips. Krystal’s hand closed around his with a pressure that steadied him—firm, warm, deliberately grounding. “Smile,” she hissed between gleaming teeth, then led them down the aisle.
The two fathers met the couple at the chapel door, giving them each congratulatory hugs. “What a blessed day!” Adélard Delacroix also embraced Krystal and shook her father’s hand. “They make a fine couple, don’t you agree?”
Mr. Smith rubbed a knuckle under his eye as joy radiated from his face. “I’m so proud to be joined to your family through the marriage of my daughter, and relieved. She could have ended up with a ruffian or a drunkard, bound to a disreputable name. Thank the Oracle for this blessing. A fine couple indeed.”
When Adélard slapped his hand on Soren’s shoulder, he felt his father’s pride surge through the contact, encouraging him that all would be well. “Now, son, off to your honeymoon. First, a cruise up New River to Bluestone Lake, then two nights in a cabin all to yourselves. And no studying—there’ll be time for schoolwork when you return.”
“I’ve heard the restaurants in Hinton are top-notch,” Mr. Smith commented. Soren didn’t know. The only times he’d ever left Clover Hollow were when his father had taken the family with him on a government trip to Parkersburg, and when he’d spent the summer in Harmony Ridge.
Instantly, his thoughts flicked to Nathan. He pictured his smiling face, his muscular chest and shoulders, his magic touch. Then he glanced at Krystal.I’m married to her now and will probably never see Nathan Frye again. There’s no point in thinking about him. This is the life I chose. Like Krystal said, let’s make the best of it.
Attendants tossed birdseed and clanged bells as Soren and his Amazonian bride descended the steps and boarded a trolley for the docks. Their fathers loaded their luggage. Their mothers huddled shoulder to shoulder, crying and waving handkerchiefs at them. Birds swooped for the seed as the car jolted, squeaky wheels rumbling on the track.
Adélard sent his wife and daughter on their way, assuring them Soren would be very happy, and returned to Core Mountain. Today was an important one for more reasons than one. He strode through the entry to Unity Hall, smiled and greeted the administrators, making his way directly into the Core lab. Fans whirred, motors hummed, keyboards clacked. Cameras recorded every step through the sterile concrete and steel facility; a faint ozone-metal tang lingered in the static-clean air. A smile warmed him from the inside out as he gazed through the glass wall at the glowing Core itself.
Stepping into the elevator, Adélard inserted his key, pushed the button for the first floor—restricted. Steel doors closed, and down he went. He hoped Soren would be happy with Krystal, but it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. Having a brilliant scientist for a son, someone he could pass his legacy to, was of far more value.
Exiting the elevator, a short Asian woman wearing a white lab coat, tablet in hand, met him. “Everything is ready for you to begin coding, Minister Delacroix. Isn’t this exciting?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, offering a nervous, eager smile. “The engineers can’t wait to see how you bring their designs to life.”
Adélard nodded, barely acknowledging the lab tech. Instead, he gazed across the vast chamber filling the base of the complex, delight kicking his heartbeat into double-time. A thrill of power, invincibility, and pride swelled in his chest as he beheld the new inventions. Before him stood rows and rows of metal robots—arms, legs, torsos, heads, all assembled, ready for his genius to transform them from spare parts into an army. While they bore a human size and approximate form, they had no faces, no trace of humanity about them. Mechanical marvels, to be sure, but would they do the job?
The technician babbled excitedly. “We’ve improved on the twenty-first-century prototypes. These have enhanced chromoly steel alloy frames, high-stress components, and precision tooling. Arrows and bullets glance off their plating. They’re faster and stronger than humans, although they’re still vulnerable to heavy explosives and armor-piercing.”
Curious, Adélard sauntered a few steps across the concrete to examine the nearest prototype. He stroked the smooth steel of its arm, noted the joined fingers and thumb. It could operate a weapon, all right.
“Now, in a few tests,” the woman in the lab coat continued, following on his heels, “a direct hit to a joint disabled the attached limb, but they’re virtually impervious—don’t need to eat, sleep, and can be recharged in the field with solar power.
“Instead of eyes, multiple cameras encircle the heads to record and stream color images to the remote operators,” she explained, pointing at the silver headpiece. “Ultrasonic, infrared, and other sensors detect how far away objects are, and the fingers are fitted with tactile pads that register touch.”
Adélard had insisted that the robots not be equipped with artificial intelligence. The Oligarchy agreed that the army should consist of automatons who blindly obey their programming and instructions. One AI trying to tell everyone what to do was enough.
“Once you’ve completed the programming, we can execute a proper field test.” The lab tech erected herself at his side, beaming with self-importance, clearly waiting for a pat on the back.
“Impressive,” he admitted. “How many?” Set in a tight grid, they seemed to go on forever.
“There are a thousand here. We’ll make more if these live up to expectations. The programming station is over here.” She motioned to a glass-paned office behind them and escorted him to the door. “I’ll leave you to do your magic.”
“Thank you.” Adélard didn’t remember her name; there were so many assistants, and this one worked in engineering. A blush rising in her tawny cheeks, she strode away, a jaunty bounce in her step.
Adélard was acclimating himself to the new workstation when First Cipher Aurelian LeCun strolled in, the bright lights shining off his silvery hair. The expression he wore was that of a cat who’d caught the canary.
“So, Adélard, what do you think?”
