Much to my displeasure, I couldn’t help tak out the corpses.  was  d try to chow down on one, there was no way I could have helped lift the  or push the beds without making my extremely precarious hazmat suit arrangement come apart at the seams. I had to constantly tweak the weaves I was using to keep myself upright uch to my frustration, even with dopplgenneths at my side, while also delicate maneuvers ed to create the impression that I was lifting bodies and bearing their weight  to be more than I could handle.


    Andalon insist it would get easier if I changed more, and while I didn’t doubt her, a General (and his sister) had ordered me not to do that


    I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.


    But I was getting used to that.


    I was less used to  Jonan  Ani after her mother fell into a coma. Apparently, Dr. Derric Ani one conversation with her mother


    If only  fractured spirit   easy as the spirits  m.


    Speaking of which…


    —specifically, Third Me—. Though myin was always growing, the battle had sent them into me by the hundreds. B and byYuta had approached Third Me with a question, ingrather than


    I tried to tell him that I am also you, but that didn’t work out.


    apologized to , as I/We had tried to explain to Yuta thatmore like  than true copies. Not only was —at least, most of the time—was predominantly responsible for what they said and did. Unfortunately, all  to say was for feeling that way


    It’s not like  a guide to the wyrm consciousness etiquette, and I could understand how off-putting  would be to someone who hadn’t experienced .cting through Third Me, I’d offered Yuta a demonstration of what that simultaneity was like, but he tly declined.


    So, I recentered myself, putting Second Me in my body’s driver seat, leaving First Me  behind my desk in my mind-office, with Yuta in the chair on the other side. I’d offered  a change of  more modern butagainhe decline. I also couldn’t get him to put his katana in the safety cubby.


    So… yeah.


    las my hands together, interwv my fingersesting my arms top my desk


    Gosh, my spinny chair was comfy.


    “So, Yuta,” I said, “what can I do for you?”


    He narrowed his eyes  me. “This is you, correct? Not one of  puppets”


    Instead of getting frustrated with his continued doubts, I just fidgeted with my bowtie.


    Thankfully, Andalon was there to back me upfloating beside my chair


    “Yup yup,” she said. “This is the Mr. Genneth that made alls the other Mr. Gennetheths.”


    I nodded. “What she said.”


    Yuta stared at  for a moment, but then withdrew his suspicion. “Good,” he said


    I trilled my fingers on the desktop. “So…hat seems to be the matter?”


    “I feel useless,”  said, in a soft voice.


    “If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t think I’d have made it out of the lab with my humanity intact if it wasn’t for you.”


    I looked him in the eyes.


    And he looked back.


    “Dr. Howle…”  squeezed his fist. “You don’t understand. I came to this future of yours with all its wonders, yet the same old horrors continue to play out.  stop at nothing to get what they want. make would rather destroy themselves than accept defeat. It makes Mu’s cult of honor seem tame by comparison.”


    “Belief is a powerful thing, Lord Uramaru,” I said. “For Mu, the Trenton colonies were just another geopolitical adventure. But for Geoffrey and his ilk, it was an affront to eternity.” I sighed. “There’s a saying: ‘if the Church falls, the world falls with it.’ To this day, there are Lassediles who genuinely. There’s a passage from scripture.”


    I recited it from memory:


    “The Beast holds us over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider or some loathsome insect over the fire. It abhors us, and is dreadfully provoked. Its wrath toward us burns like fire. The Moon looks upon us as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into unending winter. In the Angel’s eyes, we are ten thousand times more abominable than the most hateful serpent is in ours. Mankind is a pestilence upon the good earth. In but a moment, the Godhead could wipe us all away. It is only our submission to the Bond and our obedience of the Law which stay the Angel’s hand.”


    “Mr. Genneth, Andalon look at me with wide eyesthat sounds very mean and scary and bad.”


    I nodded. “Lassedite Harold II was not known for  warm-hearted,” I said. “He was the first  to  Lassedi Athelmarch’s demise. Harold was terrified that mankind’s sins would bring about the end of the world. If Athelmarch’s sins had brought Darkpox into the world, imagine what horrors  if we angered the Angel again. When the threat of failure is divine annihilation, a man will stop at nothing to succeed.”


    “Even killing children?” Yuta said.


    I nodded. “Even killing children.”


    He shook his head. “I feel… powerless. You  rescu the captives prevent horrors, t


    “What?” I asked.


    Yuta shook his head. “By all accounts… I would not call the battle that followed a ‘success’, and, for all their cruelty, were ultimately for naughtYou might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    I turned morose. “I… I mean…”


    But he was right.


    I let my head hang low.


    “Have you learnt anything about the rift?” Yuta asked.


    y head even oe. “NoI learned the knights don’t know what stars are.


    “What does that mean?” Andalon asked.


    “I’m not really sure. Could —one different from Yuta’s, I mean.should I expect them not to know, because … well, I really don’t like not knowing. Especially that.


    “I traveled in time,” Yuta said. “I cant remember the details


    “What?” I asked.


    “You have gone through my memories before,” Yuta said. “Why not try again? Pould


    I nodded vigorously. “—Yes, I can look deeper. I’ve been meaning to do it, I just lost track of time.”


    “You have literal dozens of yourself. How can you lose track of time?”


    “That’s what I keep trying to tell you,” I said, “they’re all the same me. Many heads, one mind.I sighed One easily distract mind.”


    “Then enter my memories, before something elsdistract you.”


    I turned to Andalon. “C’mon Andalon, I’ll need you there, too.


    “Why?” she asked, cutely.


    I want to know what you have to say about it.”


    The little waif immediately perked up at that. She wiped her face on her arm. “You—you want my help? I can be helpful?”


    “Well,” I said, “it’s what I’m hoping for.”


    Here we go again…


    — — —


    Something was different this time around. The landing was much… bumpier, for lack of a better word. But, I soon found myself elsewhen once more. It was nearly the same elsewhen as the Observatory. The biggest difference was the point of view.


    Before, standing outside the Observatory, I’d seen a large, impressively fortified compound further down the hillside, within reach of the Trenton village nestled in the foothills. Now, things had changed places. Turning to my left, I saw the Observatory at the top of the hill, glimmering in the torchlight


    So, we were in the compound, now.


    Not just a compound, I thought. An estate. I shook my head.


    “This must be the Urumaru Estate,” I said.


    “What’s that mean?” Andalon asked.


    “Well, we’re about to find out.”


    As Yuta had told us, Uramaru manor was one of the perks that came with the peerage Sakuragi had gifted him, and it definitely had the look of someone who’d earned Sakuragi’s favor. The building was a shapeshifter, inside and out, with walls and screens—plain, or paneled—that could be slid from side to side to reconfigure the space at a moment’s notice. Paper lanterns hung beneath the long verandas, shaped like stylized heads.


    Cats, foxes, ravens, four-horned demon.


    The lanterns’ flames burned bright in the paper creatures’ eyes, casting shadows on the walls. Above, the canopy of stars twinkled in greeting.


    The gardens were poetry in stillness. A mix of forest, swamp, and marsh had been cultivated in the fortification’s stony confines, though—in usual Munine style—the architects had kept the landscape wild and untamed. Flowers’ pinks and blues peeked out like roosting spirits from underneath the shadows and in between the boughs of trees. The lanterns’ light danced on scattered ponds, following the cylindrical stepping stones across the waters’ stillness, beneath arching bridges, creeping up to the verandas’ edges.


    Andalon floated along that path—over the pond and beneath the bridge—her feet drifting just above the water. Landing on the veranda, she sat down in a squat, her nightgown spilling over her legs and feet. She was lost in excitement, pointing out the koi as they ambled through the water. The lantern light winked like fireflies on the koi’s bold scales.


    “Look, they got mustly-stashes!” she said, squeing in delight.


    Then I heard gunshots. The sound sent a shock down my spine.


    Andalon reacted like a startled deer, raising her head, her eyes wide and spooked.


    “What’s happening?”


    She looked around this way and that, as if boogeymen were about to leap from the shadows and pounce on her.


    The gunfire was far enough in the distance that I had to look for it. There was a sliver of space in between the top of the fortifying stone wall and the start of the starry sky. Through it, I caught a glimpse of the town down below. Its buildings’ uncurved pitched rooftops couldn’t have contrasted more strongly with Yuta’s manor.


    I heard more gunshots. Andalon flinched, lifting her arms to shelter her head.


    Gunsmoke spewed in the distance. The wind blew the smoke, spreading it over the town like a veil of fog.


    “That’s probably the soldiers of the Third Crusade, doing their thing,” I said.


    “Huh?” Andalon asked, looking at me in terror.


    But where was Yuta?


    “It’s—“


    —The gunfire picked up in intensity. It was getting closer.


    “C’mon, Andalon,” I said, “let’s move!” I beckoned her with a wave of my hand.


    I ran down the veranda of the nearest building, turning around the corner to bring the other half of the manor—the front end—into view, only to step headfirst into a wave of something foul.


    It was a smell of blood, pus, rot, and death, choked in fumes of burning flesh. My eyes watered.


    Andalon shut her eyes and crushed her palms against her ears.


    “Make it stop, Mr. Genneth,” she pleaded, lowering her head. “Make it stop!”


    I gasped in shock. “Andalon!?”


    “I… they… no, no…” She looked up at me. “They hurt me. They want to hurt me!”


    “Who wants to hurt you?” I asked.


    She opened her eyes. Her pale cheeks were red with fresh tears.


    “I…”—but I cut myself off. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” I motioned my head toward the center building. “We need to find Yuta,” I said.


    She nodded in agreement.


    We just needed to find an entrance.


    I hoped the smell wouldn’t bother Andalon as much as the sounds of war. I started to walk off down the veranda, when Andalon grabbed the back of my coat.


    Turning, I saw her sticking out her hand at me, silently begging me to hold her hand. Looking her in the eyes, I gently clasped her hand in mine.


    She nodded with relief.


    “Let’s go,” I said.


    Crossing the main courtyard, we soon reached an opening in the paper walls. Warm light streamed out from the opening, accompanied by miasmas and other things too horrible to name. I did myself a favor and stole a look inside a second or two before Andalon could, just in case it turned out that things inside the building were as bad as I thought they were.


    It was one of the wisest decisions I ever made.


    I staggered back, dry heaving. Andalon tried to look around the corner to peer through the opening, but I pulled her away.


    It took several deep breaths before my stomach settled.


    The opening paper door led into a spacious room floored of mats of tightly woven rice straw. The only trace of life or beauty was the sizable bonsai cypress in a pot in the corner of the room. Dozens of futons had been laid out on the floor in a grid. A fresh or fledgling corpse lay atop each and every one. Every one of them was Munine, every one of them had Darkpox. There was blood and worse pooled on the floor, most of it still relatively fresh. A few of the victims moved, pleading for release. Their eyes were bloodshot. Subcutaneous hemorrhages bled ugly, blurry-edged bruises beneath their skin. Black necrosis turned fingers, noses, and toes into mummy-flesh, gangrenous and contorted.


    I imagined the bodies in the room belonged to estate servants, high ranking colonists, and various supplicants.


    Ugh, it was like my childhood nightmares all over again.


    In those days when I needed Dana’s comfort to keep the darkness at bay, I’d dream of victims of Darkpox, horrifically disfigured by the disease, courtesy of the nightmares a certain historical documentary had planted into my young, ever-so-impressionable brain.


    Even though it was some four hundred years in the past, to this day, there were parts of the country that refused to accept that Trentoners had taken blankets, rags, and undergarments used by Trenton children sickened with the inevitable darkpox infections of childhood and had used them against the upper echelons of the Munine occupation.


    Suddenly, I stopped cold in my tracks.


    Neurophysiologically speaking, memory and recall are not the same thing. Memory is the capacity to remember, and the stores of information contained therein. Recall, meanwhile, is the ability to dredge facts up from that storage.


    Even though my memory was now and forever photographic to the extreme, my recall was still more or less what it had been when I’d been human. As the self-help group had taught me, I could have adjusted that if I’d wanted to, but I’d been wary of doing so, simply because it made me feel very weird, like encyclopedia entries were playing out whenever I looked at anything—anything at all. I’d been hoping to ease my way into it.


    I guess I should have put that on an accelerated schedule.


    “Oh fudge…” I muttered.


    “What’s wrong?” Andalon asked.


    I sighed, staring blankly. “Oh Geoffrey. Geoffrey, Geoffrey, Geoffrey.”


    Athelmarch showed great promise and a brilliant tactical mind. He is generally credited with being the first to darkpox against the Munine during the Third Crusade, giving him the dubious honor of being the first known user of biological warfare in Trenton history.


    “What does that mean?” Andalon asked.


    “It means we need to keep Geoffrey and Yuta as faaaaar apart as possible,” I said.


    Geoffrey’s consciousness had fully loaded in my Main Menu, but I hadn’t taken him out yet, and, given what I’d just remembered, I probably wouldn’t be taking him out anytime soon.


    I hope.


    “Uramaru  must have been targeted in the biological attacks.”


    So that was how Yuta and his family had gotten infected.


    I turned to Andalon.


    “We’re gonna go inside, and you’re gonna follow me,” I told her. “I’m going to hold your hand, and I promise not to let go, but in exchange, I need you to keep your eyes closed, okay? And don’t open your eyes until I tell you. Can you do that?” I asked.


    She nodded uncertain. “Andalon will try,” she said.


    I nodded. “It won’t take long,” I said, adding a softly muttered “I hope” under my breath. “Let’s go.”