“Do you know that they were all set to bring Dad down?” Malcolm says. He and his brother have been sitting in the mayor’s office for a good ten minutes, neither speaking, and he suddenly introduces this thought. “It seems his performance has been lagging. They were going to raid his operation, maybe replace him, maybe see what the city is like without a boss. They were set to do this, and then the war broke loose, after Xenon’s death. Amazing, isn’t it, how one little incident can change that?”
“It wasn’t Xenon’s death that persuaded them,” Odin says. “It was your election. We all wish you would take a little more credit. Your idea, for instance, has been working well, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“It’s chaos out there. Both sides are becoming more brazen. I’m destroying the city,” Malcolm says. “You call that a success?”
“I call it a strategy,” Odin says. “The National Guard is going to be coming soon, you know. Of course you do. Who do you think they’ll target?”
“Imagine, our father being taken out,” Malcolm says, “because he’s gone soft. When have you ever known him to be soft, even when he was still acting like that, like an even more supercilious Capote? The day changed, but he never did. My reforms? He claims it was his idea, but you can see it in his eye. Our Benjamin is still the same. It’s the world that’s changed around him. They going to remove him, not because he’s changed, but because he hasn’t. This war has produced a new environment of accountability. If you’re not capable of playing under the radar, like a Ulysses Kincaid, you’re a lame duck. Even Rancor would have felt the pressure. They prefer subtlety now. They want control, but they don’t want it flaunted. It’s the way they’ve always done it, I suppose, the sea of power. They are afraid, is the real answer here, they’re afraid that they won’t be able to pass their own test for much longer. They want scapegoats to throw around, unless the public begins to understand that our little democracy is more aristocratic than it’s been led to believe, even though the truth has always been in plain sight. The public is blinded by a useful myth.
“I’m not so arrogant to believe I won this office by any other method than what I’ve just described. Had I run without the reputation of my family, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. Who would have heard of me? Who would have misplaced their trust in me? I talk. That is the extent of my cunning. I have been fortunate enough so that I have been able to cultivate this meager ability, and its appearance has served me, along with my family. Yet not a day has gone by since the election that I haven’t felt like a fraud, Odin. I want to relinquish this office. And I make decisions like this in the meantime. The city is more dangerous now than it was a month ago, ten years into a war, Odin. I have made it easier for our friends to operate, but that has only unleashed a lethal combat, more deadly in one day than one month. There were those seething, Odin, seething at the opportunity. We mark ourselves among depraved men. They are filled with anger, and this war has directed that anger to a toxic degree. Once it ends, we will have discovered that the genie has escaped the bottle. If we win, we lose. If we lose, we will have sealed a history of shame. That was never what we wanted, was it? We were only ever in the pursuit of great things.”
“Some losing causes are remembered as noble, as bold,” Odin says. “They may remember us that way, as conquerors who were finally vanquished, as they always are. Does that make you happy, to think about it that way?”
“I wish it did,” Malcolm says. “There are no good days for us anymore.”
“If it makes you feel better, I am preparing to make things right again,” Odin says.
“What do you mean?” Malcolm says.
“I am going to cut away the cancer that has infected us,” Odin says. “The Barracuda.”
“There is great danger in that,” Malcolm says. “How do you hope to accomplish this?”
“I have secrets, Malcolm,” Odin says.
“I am aware of them,” Malcolm says. “Are you aware of mine?”
“We all are,” Odin says. “You are a politician first, but you are still regarded as our greatest warrior. Some know me as Unity. Everyone knows you as Malcolm Bidd. Don’t underestimate yourself. You were elected as much for your name as your talents. Names can only carry people so far. You have exceeded everyone in every way. Your old schools honor you, or have you forgotten? Would you like to make a visit? You won’t easily be forgotten, or derided, by history, Malcolm. How could you possibly fear that? You are better than all of us. I have been only recently trying to catch up, to measure up to a life that has exceeded every expectation, every dream. You are bigger than this city, Malcolm. The nation adores you, too. What do you think that means?”
“I think it means nothing,” Malcolm says. He is not one to mince modesties, only to sometimes fill an image. He does that most often when he is agitated with someone. When calm, he is rational, above the capacity of others. “I would not accept anything else. I want to give this seat up; why would I take any other? I believe that in days past I imagined something, and for a long time I believed in that image more than I was living in the reality of it. Did it take a war to do this? Perhaps it did. I feel shame for that, too. The time is coming when I am going to have to prove myself. I believe I will fail. I believe that when I have been truly tested, I will prove to be unworthy of the challenge. Is that so morbid? You call me a success, but I have never put these abilities to the test. I have walked through exercises and never seen if I were up to their counterparts in reality. I’ve heard what Unity has done. You’re more ready than I am, Odin. I have prepared Barracuda for you. His cancer will soon be eliminated. What will I have to boast of, meanwhile? Godsend is in retreat, the Eidolon incapacitated. Do you know I decided that myself? I am a coward, Odin. Don’t you see? I have never truly been worthy of all that has been handed me. What have I done? I am bringing about the final ruin of this city. Am I to be applauded for that? And they wanted to eliminate our father. Do you see the irony? What did he ever do that was half as terrible? And I did it for him. I wanted him to be proud of me. Is that sad? I can’t imagine it as anything else. I’m a failure, and when the time has come, I’m going to prove it in battle, too. I don’t sleep anymore, Odin. I can’t.”
“You should try sleeping when you know how much responsibility you have for this war,” Odin says. “I made a mistake. You want to blame yourself because of our father? He blessed my union with Elizabeth. That was a far bigger mistake than you could ever make. I made an enemy of Godsend. I brought you what you see as your doom. How do you think that makes me feel? The Solomons have left themselves out of this war. They aim to succeed you. Even with Cinder dead at the hands of Manner, they stand before power they haven’t known in decades. You want to know how this war will end? With the balance of power shifted. That’s what the war has been about this whole time, and that’s what’s going to be the result. We win, we lose. We lose, we lose everything. Neither of us is going to be alive at the end of this.”
“These are grim thoughts for you,” Malcolm says. “I have only ever known you as the bright-headed optimist. Have your experiences in this war really changed you that much? Then the wages have been too high. You have earned maturity at too great a cost. But then, these are increasingly dangerous times, all the more so because we continually allow ourselves to believe that we are advancing. Tell me, though, are we at the future everyone knows so well yet, the one with the flying cars and clones? They have those in comic books, but comic books don’t know what reality is. They cheapen themselves when they invent new technology to cover whatever logical gaps they’re having this month. That’s why they aren’t taken seriously, because they’ve allowed themselves to fall into a complacency where this is okay, where they don’t have to ground themselves in anymore reality than they think they need to. They pretend they do, but they only end up pandering. They want to know what real heroes are like? Look around. They’re too busy looking at themselves. Do you have a plan yet, Odin? Don’t take your focus for granted. Look around you, see what’s out there. I think it would be good for you to do some exploring. At a time like this? Yes. There’s none better. You’ll never find the world to be a more lucid place than when it’s threatened. People are less concerned with their problems than with the perception of them. That’s when they talk, Odin, and that’s when you discover what the world is really like. You will hear what people think then, and you can discover how they are interpreting things. That is all we’re ever doing, interpreting. Accuracy is never the issue. All that I’ve been saying about my place? I don’t now. Maybe I’m right and maybe I’m not. I’m beginning to reflect now. You will always hear the truest thought first, if you have heard anything at all. It is only when someone has found to think that they will put a different air on.”
“We never really talk about our father,” Odin says. “We take him for granted, I think.”
“If that’s true, then that’s what he wants,” Malcolm says. “I assure you, he never speaks about us. We are his future, but he is still concerned about the present. Why shouldn’t he be? He will outlive us both, you know. Can you imagine that burden? I think he’s always known that. It’s why he’s always sequestered himself, because he has been preparing. He has not been doing a very good job of it. He fears to lose us, and so he has spent a lifetime trying to fool himself into thinking he never wanted us in the first place. It is the same way with Clayton Neville. He believes he has only recently entered the path toward Barracuda. He has spent a lifetime preparing. This is the life he has always wanted. He misrepresents us because he has for so long misrepresented himself. There are files, Odin, of things he has probably hidden from himself, not to mentions others, certainly the government he once served. You should have seen his face when he was standing in this room. He has always been too eager. Have you seen that? Maybe you have to look for it, because he masks this, too. I’m not sure how aware he is of these things himself. He no doubt believes, as he always has, that he is only ever doing the right thing. Yet he has made two sets of dangerous enemies, and he is so blind to this fact that he would willingly target the Eidolon. I sabotaged him, you know. The Eidolon, despite what everyone, including our own father, believes, is quite safe. I have been pumping a steady stream of oxygen into his coffin. You did know of these things?”
“I hadn’t, actually,” Odin says.
“You can’t interfere, though,” Malcolm says, remarking on the eagerness that has flooded his brother’s own eyes. “I have always respected the Eidolon. I am giving him a test, and I am testing my foe as well. Neither you nor I will free the Eidolon. He emerges on his own power, or that of Godsend’s. This is the end of that. Is this a cruel game I am playing, another mistake? I don’t believe so, but I have been wrong many times before. I am more often wrong than not, I’ve come to understand, as we all must. At any rate, I think it’s time we were off to our duties. You have much to prepare for. I have a city to run in place of my father.”
Odin readily agrees. The eagerness is still evident in his eye, as is his self-awareness of this. Malcolm watches as his brother struggles with his good nature, walking out of the mayor’s office lost in thought. Malcolm is too, as he always is. He is a constant brooder; he always has been. He has always taken on so much responsibility, as an older brother and for his brother, as his father’s son and for his father, and as a caretaker, guardian, and warrior of this city, which he was charged to shepherd. He lost one of its flock and has now found himself expected to recover it, even though his philosophy is different from this thought. He believes the many are more important, and that he would be reckless to think any other way. The many in this instance require a great deal from him. He was not joking when he told his brother that he expected to forfeit his life in this conflict, that the approaching hour demands it, as inevitable, as necessary, as duty. What has he done with his life to deserve this? Nothing. It will be of that moment, that he brings it upon himself. He believes he will live long enough to see his city burn. There is very little time now for this to be accomplished. Malcolm only wishes he could know how he will be remembered. He has been writing all he knows. He is a constant student, and he sees only one way out. It’s a bitter pill.
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