Page 104

I look directly at Rolaev . “You have my attention. Use it carefully.”

Rolaev ’s gaze holds mine. “Sel Aris housed a partial causal archive from a civilization older than the Precursors by several orders of historical inheritance. The archive contained fragments similar to what you have seen here: origin experimentation, unstable creation cycles, inherited metaphysical systems, and records of later custodians suppressing public access. At first, I believed the same thing you believe now. I thought revelation would free minds from curated mythology.”

“I’m guessing this is the part where you explain why freedom is bad.”

“This is the part where I explain what happened when small fragments escaped containment.”

The projection shifts.

Images appear in the gray light beside Rolaev : colony domes under orange skies, crowded plazas, temple courtyards, residential blocks, people I do not know walking through ordinary lives that no longer exist. The images are grainy and partial, but the normality in them hurts. Children chasing each other near a water reclamation fountain. An Alzhon priest blessing a new transit station. Human workers laughing outside a market stall. An Odex family sitting together under shade screens while dust storms move beyond the dome.

Rolaev watches the images with no visible satisfaction. “The first leak reached a mixed-faith colony called Marrit’s Well. The population included Alzhon pilgrims, Vakutan veterans, human settlers, Kiphian traders, and Ataxian reformists. The fragment was small, distorted, and stripped of most context. It suggested the Precursors inherited soul-recognition systems from earlier architects and later allowed dependent religions to claim origin authority.”

A new image appears.

The same plaza after violence.

I swallow hard.

Rolaev continues in the same controlled tone. “Within twelve days, temple leadership denounced the fragment as enemy corruption. Reform factions accused the priesthood of fraud. Bonded couples in conservative enclaves were harassed as artificial pairings. Three suicides occurred in the first week, all among individuals whose identities depended heavily on sacred mate doctrine. By the twentieth day, a militia attacked the central archive to seize the original source. The counterattack killed one hundred and forty-two civilians.”

Brakk’s face has gone still.

Ghar says, “Fragments do not kill people. People kill people.”

Rolaev turns toward him. “Yes. And responsible people account for what people are likely to do.”

“That argument excuses every censor who ever lived,” I say, but my voice does not have the force I want.

Rolaev looks back to me. “It also condemns every scholar who treats consequences as someone else’s discipline.”

The words hit too cleanly.

I hate her for it.

She continues before I can answer. “The second exposure occurred on a Pi’Rell devotional habitat. The fragment concerned Precursor inheritance and the possible artificial ancestry of jalshagar recognition. The habitat did not descend into open war. It became quieter. Families stopped registering new bond pairings. Fertility vows were suspended by two major houses. Several elders argued that bringing children into a cosmology stripped of intention was an ethical violation.”

Sira would know how to answer this.

Sira would stand with her hands folded and ask the one question that turned Rolaev ’s certainty inside out. Sira would not let the horror of consequences become proof that suppression was righteous.

Sira is not here.

That absence feels suddenly strategic.

I speak anyway. “You’re describing people responding to partial leaks, not prepared disclosure.”

Rolaev inclines her head slightly. “Good. That distinction matters. I once said the same thing.”

The admission catches me off guard.

Rolaev ’s projection shifts again, showing ruins, riot fires, and empty streets beneath emergency lighting. “So I tried preparation. Controlled councils. Clergy first. Scholars. Civic leaders. Medical authorities specializing in bonded psychology. We built frameworks around the fragments. We softened language. We contextualized. We waited until people we considered wise and resilient told us the truth could be borne.”

Her voice remains calm, but something old and bruised moves beneath it now.

“Then the third colony burned anyway.”

The corridor’s hum becomes oppressively loud.