“Ran Doc Min knows many things.”
“You’re a Determinist?”
“Hartman.” That’s Lament again, his fingers tightening around my wrist, tugging now. I hear the urgency in his voice, but I can’t focus, not with this stranger standing before me, digging up my past and spouting doom. Not with the floor crumbling beneath my feet.
“It is my duty,” says the professor, “to deliver this prediction, and in doing so spread Ran Doc Min’s knowledge. And yet, I must admit I have a personal interest in this matter. Master Ira and I, too, share a history. I’ve seen firsthand what a hypocrite he can be. I thought you would be pleased to hear that the man who gave up on you will soon reach his own end. The universe has a way of righting wrongs, does it not?”
“Enough,” Lament practically snarls. “That’s enough. We don’t want to hear your predictions. You shouldn’t even be here. Hartman, let’sgo.”
This time, Lament’s anger is enough to shake me out of my stupor. When he pulls at my wrist a third time, my knees unlock. We march away, and I tell myself not to look back, to be strong enough to just keep walking.
I’m not strong enough. As we step into the elevator, I glance over my shoulder to see Professor Morton wearing a strange, satisfied smile.
12
We traverse the detachmentin silence. Lament is slightly ahead of me, but I can see the edge of his chin, the arch of his cheekbone. He’s agitated.I’magitated. I want to pull my ray gun into my hand, let its solid weight ground me, but of course, it’s not at my hip. I hook a hand around the back of my neck instead, dig my fingers into the tendons there. It doesn’t help.
I’m not sure anything would help.
There’s the question ofhow. How did Professor Morton know all those things about my past? And, more specifically, about my relationship with Master Ira? It’s one thing for Ran Doc Min to use his simulation to predict large planetary events. Very much another to know intimate details about my history. Has Ran Doc Min’s simulation—FPS—gotten more powerful? Is he using it to predict not just floods and fires, but the future of individual lives? Can he look back to see what we’ve done in the past? And if so, why would he have any interest inmypast?
“That was completely inappropriate,” Lament says as we head down the hallway toward our rooms. “Whatever Morton was trying to tell you, you just… you can’t let it get to you.”
I nod, which Lament doesn’t see, because he isn’t looking at me.
“This is what Determinists do,” he continues. “They surprise you out of nowhere and make these big, sweeping predictions without offering specifics, and then just expect you to react. To begrateful.”
Another unseen nod.
“The professor shouldn’t evenbe here,” Lament bursts in a rare display of emotion. “Not just on our flight deck. I mean, at all. On the Board of Directors or as a member of the Legion. He’s a recent appointee. When he was voted in, no one knew his ideologies—those only came out later. Unfortunately, being a Determinist isn’t enough grounds for removal. Itshould be—” At this, Lament stops and swings around like he’s going to fight someone. Me, I guess, since I’m the closest target. “By the stars, if the Legion would stop being suchass fucks, they’d see what a disaster it’s been having a Determinist in a position of power when we’re currently at odds with the Determinist leader, but they won’t, so we’re stuck with him.”
“Did you just sayass fucks?”
Lament tosses me a withering look. “Don’t.”
“I can tell you don’t curse much.”
“I find profanity loses its effectiveness when overused.”
“Whereas the speaker loses their effectiveness when under-practiced. Evidently.”
Lament rolls his jaw. “Do you always have to make a joke of everything?”
“It’s a coping mechanism.”
“It’s insufferable.”
I’m aware. But I have to make light of this, Ihave to, because if not…
What if Ran Doc Min’s prediction is true? What if Master Ira is in some kind of danger?
“Hey.” Lament plants himself in front of me. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Catastrophizing.”
I frown. “What makes you think I’m catastrophizing?”
