“Good evening, viewers,” a news anchor said from one of the Tower of Rebirth’s hologram screens that hanged from its walls. “We bring you live to the Hall of Æthelwulf where Acting President Julius Nabritt’s press conference is about to commence. He has just signed Executive Order 21528 of 10 Regenus, Year 17, titled ‛Establishment of Preventive Measures Against the Biological Hazard Posed by a Mutation of Virus H5N1’.”

And for the first time, fear blazed in people’s eyes. Of all classes. At least, those gathered in Section A’s main plaza. And for the first time, they did not know who ruled the country. For the first time, they thought their reign would end. For the first time, they thought they could perish. For the first time, they had become Naturals and Impures. For the first time, the Achroites and Fenglas realized what the lower classes had known all along; what they had hammered into the minds of those they thought contaminated.

That they could die. At the hands of someone stronger.

Even the handful of children hugging their parents knew; in tears, asking if they were going to live.

So anyone could have felt relief, but I did not feel vindicated. I did not feel satisfied. Because vengeance didn’t fulfill me. The solution to oppression was not to oppress those who afflicted you before. And certainly not to call an ethnic cleansing against anyone who dared opposed you, but to end discrimination, to make everyone equal under the law. Not to become a victimizer yourself. Making children wonder if they would live was not justice.

I never thought I’d say this, but a twinge of sadness hauled my soul when I thought the Achroites and Fenglas had to learn their lesson in such a brutal manner. And an even greater one when I thought that the Naturals, and anyone who didn’t support that insane sociopath would have perished as well under Freedom Voice’s purification statute.

I would stop them. And I would find the cure. I would save them all, Natural and Enhanced.

Julius stood behind a podium. Twenty-eight year old Major Maximillian Carnot at his right, the Wind of the Loire. And at his left, finishing the Triumvirate that pillared Zielkkenhom’s rule, twenty-seven year old Warrant Officer Brass Knoll the Shredder. My brother. Though that was not his real name. Fearghal was. He chose it. When he forsook Our Lord.

Long waves of jet black hair coursed all the way to his waist, longer than Aisha’s or Almyra’s hair, but no one would dare confuse Brass Knoll for a woman because of his sturdy build, broad square jaw, mammoth arms, and even more massive shoulders, all more imposing than Tygo’s build or Zielkkenhom’s gravitas. My brother’s stance and deep voice could even shoot ice spikes through the bravest of Body Fenglas, to the point that even I did not want to cross him, and I had seen him cry. After the Harmonist explosion at the water plant he used to work in. Last time he did. Guessed any shard of compassion the Holy Spirit had instilled in him must have forsook him when I caught him snorting a ground Eugenex pill to pass the Ánwealdesbord’s admittance tests. And then he progressed through the ranks until he fought alongside the Body Fenglas and the Achroites. That made up for his long hair and lack of height. My brother wasn’t particularly short though, but among the Enhanceds, what used to be average had become substandard.

Brass Knoll preferred it that way though, for he loved challenges, and his ego bloated whenever a new Enhanced like him, could compete with the Achroite oldbloods. Had to, even if deep down he really loathed it, if he wanted to survive, if he wanted to fulfill his goal, regardless of the cost, regardless of the suffering he’d caused. Because they did not nickname Brass Knoll the Shredder for nothing. And though he’d sowed death in military training, favored by Zielkkenhom’s lackeys, I once saw him chastise his platoon for murdering a Natural without cause. Though Brass then lamented the Natural had remained a fool, instead of choosing Eugenex like him, I still hoped for him. I still prayed he’d regain his senses. Because I knew his old self. Had seen it. But I feared it had vanished, forever entombed in the Bridge. And only his new self remained. His new self that would die the eternal death. And there’d really be no hope left.

I hoped for all the Enhanceds to change. All but one. And though I wanted to believe it was because he could not change, I knew it was more because I was Jonah and he was Nineveh. And deep down, though it sliced my veins to admit it, because I knew that to be wrong, I kind of wished he did not change, so God’s justice would rain upon him. And eternally char him.

Brass Knoll was not the one who set forth the ire that drowned my soul, the Holy Spirit within me, the reasoning. Not even Julius or Zielkkenhom were.

Maximillian Carnot was.

I thought my wrath had subsided. I prayed it had. I thought the rage that pulsed through my veins that day would never return. I feared that day. Ice flames scorched my nerves, though I felt not snow, nor fire, as I expected it would have, but as a petrified axe that bulleted through my synapses, my veins, slashed my skin as a scimitar clashed against a tree trunk. Because it was the only day I thought I had it within me to kill someone in cold blood. And not just shoot him. Or stab him. But crush his skull and shatter his spine. Like an Enhanced would end someone’s life. Until he remained nothing but a worthless putrid corpse. Vermin food.

I did not, as Aisha stopped me, saved me, before I’d lose my soul. An Achroite had saved my soul. That’s why I thought they could change. That’s why I thought not all deserved to die. Though each day the Enhanceds seemed to rot even more. And Maximillian’s soul had putrefied even more than Zielkkenhom’s one, even though Maximillian was a Natural only nine years ago.

He shot Ellie.

Paralyzed her.

On purpose.

As a way to prove his commitment to Eugenex. His rejection of Natural genes. His embrace of Eugenex. That he was a new man. That he lived and breathed Zielkkenhom’s ríceablæd, though it cost him the hope his eyes used to glint. But I guessed he had succeeded, by all worldly metrics, by his metrics. The first Natural to become a Fengel.

My brother Fearghal was the second.

At a distance you could have confused Maximillian for a tall lithe woman with short slightly spiky hair because of his face’s soft features, lack of a broad jaw, and absence of broad lats that formed the v shape that meant you were a proper Achroite, though few Achroite women cared for such attributes, but you knew he was a man once you heard him speak. Deep voice, more than Zielkkenhom’s, though not as much as mine. Conciliatory and soothing. Must have been why Zielkkenhom chose him for peace efforts with the Harmonists and the EF, but his voice would never soothe me. Not after what he’d done. Not after what he did to an innocent little girl.

Bastard.

Didn’t know how he was still alive, though I guessed it was not my place to worry about what God did or didn’t do with other people’s lives. I guessed, I just had to focus on saving as many as possible. Regardless of circumstances. I just prayed I never had to save Maximillian.

I didn’t know if they could change, but one thing I knew.

None of the three were my friends. And they would not fool me.

“My fellow friends,” Maximillian said. “Before Acting President Nabritt details the course of action to defend ourselves against the Harmonist threat, and the biological attack they unleashed upon us innocent civilians through the H5N1 virus, I shall assure you of the continuity of our government, of the Fain administration and the Zielkkenhom Foundation’s programs.”

I stared at his face, hoping to catch him lying, but he sounded genuine, looked genuine. Must have learned from the master of lies. As I didn’t think Maximillian capable of having real feelings, empathy for others. Grief must have drowned him because the Harmonists had outwitted him and his gang of lost souls.

But then the gravels pummeled me. Because I could not see the pain in his eyes. Because I felt a scíollan of joy that he’d lost to the Harmonists. And though I knew that to be unchristian, I could not dispel it. An ice casket buried me. Because I was not sure it was only the gravels. I could not justify what he did to Ellie. And though I felt I had forgiven him, I guessed I had not. Because forgiveness was not a hollow word. Because forgiveness was not just something you said to feel good about yourself. Forgiveness meant action. Forgiveness meant strength. Fortitude.

As Ellie had.

She forgave him.

I had not.

But I needed to do the same. If I wanted God to forgive my sins as well.

My God, grant me the strength to forgive the bast … Maximillian.

I felt nothing. How callous. How sick. Was I just like my brother? Did I walk in his path? I prayed I would not fall. I prayed we would not fall.

Maximillian placed his hand on his chest. “We may have lost our leaders, our cabinet, our supreme justices and legislators, but we have not lost our hope. We have not lost our strength. We have not lost our commitment to prosperity.

“So let us join together, Natural and Enhanced, under the enlightened guidance of Acting President Julius Nabritt, and fight the terror that threatens to decimate our nation, that threatens to snatch our souls and rob us of the values we know are true and just.” He paused for a second. Let his words sink in. I still felt nothing, though I did not let the gravels lapidate me. Somewhat. “All onward the glorious land!”

The chorus of the Drythléop. The chorus of the national anthem. The chorus of the anthem I was forced to sing every day in the Rebirth School. Almost everyone cheered and raised their hands in unison at the melodic bass tune.

The Harmonist sympathizers in the crowd remained silent. Though for them I could feel grief. At their loss. But I knew Maximillian was worth the same as them, regardless of what he did. Though I still wanted him to rot in prison, face justice for his crimes. Which he never did. Because he attacked a Natural. And it was before the Non-Enhanced Defense Act.

Once those gathered in Section A finished singing the anthem, the Drythléop, or stomping the floor in protest, Julius adjusted the microphone to his height, though I thought it was just a way to activate the mike’s voice modulators, and gazed at the crowd for one second. Just like Zielkkenhom would have. And though I thought he’d have the Harmonist sympathizers arrested, he chose to do nothing. Did not even sneer at them. An ice blade sliced my veins. When I thought of the reason why.

“Firstly, I will to ensure that Freedom’s Voice and his gang of terrorists is not in control of our great nation. We are. Represented by yours truly. Supported by the virtuous servants who stand beside me, and an emergency cabinet comprised of the best and brightest mind of our nation. So fear not. Fret not. For I, Julius Nabritt, am in control of our country. For I, Julius Nabritt, shall save us from the Harmonist threat, as well as the even greater threat posed by the H5N1 virus bridger Cael Cavanaugh released into the world.”

His words seemed to calm the crowd. At the expense of my own. I wondered what the Naturals thought. What everyone at the surface thought. That the Harmonists had goaded me into setting forth the end of the world. And it was a good thing that Julius could ease the gathered crowds. Because his eyes had blazed fear, even if only for a quarter of a second. And if I had noticed, the Harmonists must have as well. There was no other option now, just in case Julius was thinking of letting me go. But now he’d have to demonstrate his strength to them. That he was in control. Not them.

And I’d be his guinea pig.

“By the authority vested in me as Acting President by the Constitution and the laws of the United States of the North, including section 1822 of the Biological Safety Act of 4 Reifare, year 2 and the National Security Act of 5 Mistaire, year 1, it is hereby ordered as follows:

Section 1. Bridger Services.

A) It shall be considered high treason to request Cael Cavanaugh’s services as a bridger or any derived services thereof, as his bridger license is from now on revoked and has been found guilty of conspiracy against the United States of the North. Anyone who assists or contacts Cael Cavanaugh for any reason whatsoever shall be guilty of high treason and be executed by the authorities as they see fit.”

It was as if thousands, millions of needles pricked me. And then Mildred’s words struck me: it will end badly for bridgers. Except that it didn’t end badly for bridgers. It ended badly for me.

“Section 2. Autonomous City of the Immaculate Conception.

A) The privileges bestowed upon the Autonomous City of the Immaculate Conception are hereby suspended, as is its legal status as an Autonomous City. B) The territory of the aforementioned city shall be granted in cession to the Zielkkenhom Foundation. C) The new administrators shall do with any future inhabitants as they see fit.”

The district. My district. My district going to the Zielkkenhom Foundation? And before I could even finish processing what had just happened, Julius continued.

“Section 3. Biosecurity Measures.

A) Until further information on the nature of the virus is discovered, everyone, Enhanced and Natural, who has come in contact with Almyra Bernhart, Cael Cavanaugh, Mildred Williams, or Samuel Gieves in the previous four weeks, shall be placed in forced quarantine.

This executive order is, as of this moment, in effect. I shall be in charge of the quarantine program. This is all for your safety. As I shall do my utmost to protect everyone.”

I thought everything had finished. But it had not. That reading was boxty compared to what followed.

“Your hero, bridger Cael Cavanaugh is not with you, Naturals,” Julius declared. “He is against you. And I have proof.”

A hologram projection emerged on everyone’s smartwatches. I guessed those in the Zielkkenhomvilles viewed it on the screen plastered on the buildings. But that’s not what mattered. What mattered was the content. What mattered was what happened next. What mattered was what made me question if I had done the right thing, if God was with me, and if I was really putting God above all. The projection began. Realistic. Almost as if it had happened while we were there.

“Do you not will to save the Naturals? Do you not will to save their world, free your kind?” Julius’ hologram said.

And then he edited the video. Devious bastard. And I had fallen right into his trick. Shouldn’t have. Didn’t know how I fell for it. I always thought myself smarter than those alpha wannabes, but I guessed I was wrong. Brutally.

“I don’t,” my hologram said. The room quieted, until not a sound echoed, but the words vibrated in my ears. Resonated. And I was alone, the echo of waves crashing into Ardoiléan, alone in my thoughts, in my mind, in the Bridge of my soul. Resonance in my brain. I don’t. What must have the Naturals been thinking? The Harmonists sympathizers? Those just waiting for the slightest excuse for bloodshed?

“So stand not with him, support not him,” Julius declared, as if he didn’t need the microphone. “Stand with those who will to save you. Stand with Warrant Officer Brass the Shredder. Stand with Major Carnot. Stand with your true liberty. With yours truly. Stand with Eugenex.”

The Impures in the audience cheered and applauded, their faces as if an angel had assured them they were going to Heaven. But their angel was darkness guised as light, and their paradise torment guised as apple amber. It ripped my soul, sliced it, that all I could do was watch as I let them fall into the utopia that would incinerate them. And that’s when it clouted me. I was my brother’s keeper. And I was their brother. I was the brother of the Naturals. But I was also the brother of the Enhanceds. And I knew what that meant. I thought about what they had done to Ashley, to the Naturals, to me. But I knew what I had to do, even if I had to absorb the bile that formed in my guts. Because bile was not of God. I was Isaac, and they Ishmael. I was the older brother, and they the prodigal son.

And then, it clouted me. Not a realization. An actual blast. A Eugenex windblast. Right at my raw Eugenex wound. Right at my bones.

“I shall not martyr you, guttersnipe,” he said. “You shall perish a traitor. Loathed by the Enhanceds. Abhorred by the Naturals.”

I would never forget that sound. The sound of my collarbone fracturing. Vibrated in my ears. Blades of fire. Gashes of ice. Into several pieces. Julius just sneered. And I felt my eyes tear up. But I forced the tears inside. Wasn’t going to cry in front of everyone, in front of the whole nation. I even prayed to God that He granted me the strength not to cry. But I guessed it was His Will for me to cry. I felt the tears scar my face. And I couldn’t do anything about that. That was what lacerated my bones, even more than the fracture. Maximum humilitation. Lost everything. I glanced at the screens on the walls. Cameras zoomed in on my face, my tears, so there’d be no doubt in anyone’s mind, so the whole nation would see me cry, like a child. But I didn’t sob. Remained silent as the tears kept flowing. And then the laughter began. All of them. Most of them. Was all equal to me. All I heard was the laughter, the mockery.

“Behold, the great bridger Cael Cavanaugh, the founder of the district system, in tears,” Julius declared, guffawing. Bastard. “A weakling is what he is. A crying milksop.” And they all kept jeering, recording with their smartwatches, sharing, posting; enjoying my agony.

“And to whomever wills to follow the crying guttersnipe’s footsteps,” Julius said. “Your district shall be ceded to the Zielkkenhom Foundation.”

But then I heard a voice, a familiar voice, a voice that strengthened me. Which soothed me. Somewhat. Because I did not know my family’s fate.

“Today is November 28, 2070 Anni Domini,” Aisha’s hologram said. I glanced in that direction. Through Lastenia’s smartwatch.

Aisha! She did care.

“Today is not 8 Koelaire, year 17,” Lastenia said. “But November 28, 2070 Anni Domini.”

A small act of defiance. Meant nothing to the Enhanceds. The ramblings of fools. Wasn’t even illegal. But to me, it was the strength that powered the martyrs, the wind that eroded canyons. A whisper, a zephyr more powerful than a hurricane, for no hurricane could make a canyon; only the whispers of strength that seemed weak, of voices that faded into the Bridge, but whose cords resonated for eternity.

And what axed my soul even more was that I thought the Naturals in the Section, those I had helped, were going to start chanting the old calendar, the Anni Domini, but they did not. It is said that silence deafens. But in this case it didn’t. The laughs, the taunts of the Enhanceds did. And the silence of the Naturals just compounded the laughter.

I had given them food, water, housing, religious representatives, everything Zielkkenhom forbade, without expecting anything in return, and they had paid me, not with their support, not with their voices, but with their apathy, their cowardice, their silence. Had I wasted everything on them, on lukewarm Naturals?

I was supposed to be selfless. And I thought I was. But I did not think God had wanted me to be that selfless. Perhaps I was being selfish, and I knew that to be wrong, but I did not want them to riot for me, or even fight. But would it have been too much to ask for a clamor, an Anni Domini at least? Had I not accomplished a thing for the Naturals?

God, grant me strength, to endure, to be selfless.

Some Esne guards silenced Lastenia, but did not arrest her. Because I signaled them not to. The clamors would have begun if they had. And Julius continued.

“Cael Cavanaugh is found guilty of high treason and shall be executed by drowning in Zee Gevangenis a week from now,” he said.

Zee Gevangenis. No one had escaped from there, and everyone who had tried ended up in the sea. Julius’ goons immobilized me, forced a biomask on me and paraded me through the Section, all the way to the elevator on the opposite end. I felt in a reality television show. But I didn’t care about the cameras.

“Traitor!” a man yelled. A Natural. Sadly. The one whose wife died in the blast, crushed by a statue. “I’ll kill you myself!” He drew out a gun and aimed at me but Tygo and some soldiers disabled him.

“Saved by the soldiers!” he hollered. “Saved by the Achroites. Traitor!”

Tygo just clouted the Natural’s thorax with a fist of rage so strong that bones cracked. And blood seeped from the Natural’s mouth.

The silent crowds were not silent anymore.

Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. The yells resonated in my mind. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. They even tried to knock me down. Spit on me. But Tygo airblasted them away, as if they were vermin. As if he needed to destroy them, but I stared at him and shook my head. It wasn’t worth it killing them.

For a second there, I thought Tygo wouldn’t listen, as he had even sighed, and the Esneas had decimated Naturals for less, but a speck of horror glinted in Tygo’s eyes when he caught sight of the Natural’s bloody shirt. Of pain searing the face of the Natural he’d just slammed. Of him being no different than the wrathful mob that craved for my blood. The Ánwealdesbord was meant to protect everyone in the nation, Natural or Enhanced. On paper, at least. And he was one of the few who truly believed those words. So Tygo just kept his fists ready to make a windblast, to intimate those who’d slay me, but did not keep them from hurling saliva droplets at the caravan of my fall.

Had they all forgotten about God so easily? Was everything I had done for them not worth a thing? Had I not changed a soul?

But their words did not matter, for I knew them false. And besides, I had my sight fixed on someone else. I didn’t want to die before I talked to her. “Please find my family if they’re alive. Save them. Save everyone. Tell them I’ll come back. Tell them I’ll protect them, and everyone. I promise.”

“I will,” Aisha’s hologram said. “I promise.”

“No Natural shall needlessly perish as I live,” Lastenia said.

Thank God. Not all was lost. And Aisha was talking to me again. For the time being. And I even caught a glimpse of my brother’s arm tilted forward. As if he wanted to help me. As if he wanted to airblast away the Esne guards taking me to my death. Probably to force me to acquiesce to Eugenex, but his reputation as the Shredder of the Ánwealdesbord preceded him. So I knew he’d not move a second to assist me, as much as it must have corroded what little remained of his soul.

But joy still streamed down my veins. Because a mustard seed was all it took. Just a mustard seed. Just a tilt. Even Julius seemed slightly disturbed at the vicious horde he’d unleashed. To the point that he even ordered his goons not to injure me as they thrust me into the elevator that lifted us to the Tower’s military heliport. Where I stepped in the jet that transported me to Zee Gevangenis.

“Ic will always uphold the law, Cael, and vouch for your release,” Tygo said, unable to hide the distress in his face. Probably knowing that his words would mean nothing to those in power. To those who’d decide my fate. “But if somehow you survive … worse laws have been broken.” We shook hands. “… Cuirfidh mé dlíthe eile i bhfeidhm sula dtabharfaidh mé na húdaráis leat.” I will enforce other laws before I hand you to the authorities, in Irish. I guessed the other soldiers could have translated it with their smartwatches, but they seemed too busy trying to appear on camera, that they had arrested the traitor Cael Cavanaugh. Was that all they aspired to?

By morning I was Cael Cavanaugh, Class A+ bridger with a success rate of 97%. By night, I was Cael Cavanaugh, national crybaby and traitor to all, to be executed upon a week.

What a day.

Should have worn a mask and called myself a new name.