“A most regrettable side effect,” Albert admits. “We were working on a tight deadline against our enemies. The weapon the Axis powers were perfecting could have destroyed everyone. It was a bomb unlike anything the Earth had ever seen. I warned the Allied powers, and when they presented an alternate solution meant to preserve life—”
“The Cypress Project?” I guess.
Albert nods. “I was the one who introduced the idea of splicing strands into threads. It was meant to prevent illness and strengthen the population. We could not foresee the effect this new world would have on the immune system, but our technology could circumvent unexpected diseases. Renewal patching was meant to safeguard the fledgling population.”
“But the Guild abused the technology you created.”
“It is every scientist’s dream to better the human condition. But, as you surmised, the officials realized they could use the technology to prevent aging. It allowed them to stay in power.”
“It gave them absolute power,” I say.
“A very dangerous thing,” Albert says with a sigh. “In retrospect I should have anticipated this issue, but the government didn’t give us time to think outside of creating the looms and starting the project. I didn’t stop to consider how the looms could be misused. I was merely concerned with making Arras functional and safe for the population. I have often regretted my participation, but I do accept my role in what was done.”
Shame falls over his face, but I see the value behind his motives. Unlike Cormac, who tried to sell me on the good of the many, Albert actually acted in such parameters. He had done what seemed best, only to realize too late the dreadful repercussions his actions would cause.
“Why not bomb Arras? Take them down?” Erik asks, and I frown at his callous suggestion.
Albert’s answer mirrors my thoughts. “I wanted to save lives, not destroy them.”
“How did that work out for you?” Dante challenges.
“Intentions again. I accept my role, and if you could do the same, we could move on,” Albert replies.
The reprimand settles over the room. Everyone reacts differently. Dante sits up straighter. Jost and Erik look at each other. Valery slouches, turning her attention to the window.
“You said you didn’t anticipate the Guild misusing the looms,” I say, prompting him to return to more fruitful topics.
“I did not,” he admits. “I should have. You must understand, the government pushed forward with the project, but they weren’t the ones who would form the Twelve Nations. Not as you understand them today.”
“If the Guild isn’t comprised of the governments of the nations, who are these men? Who is Cormac Patton?” I ask.
“Ah, Patton, nasty piece of work but a very rich man. They all were. War had stretched America’s funds to the brink. Families were living on rations and going without. Everyone was doing their bit to help, and many of the other nations in the Cypress Project were doing the same.”
“Funny that they never bothered to get rid of those provisions once Arras was a reality,” Jost mutters.
“There is security in knowing your people are totally dependent on you to survive,” Albert says. “That was one of the first indications that something had rotted at the core of the Cypress Project. I’d had qualms about allowing the financial backers of the project to take positions of authority, but I was merely a scientist. No one would listen to me.”
“No one listens to the man who creates the solution,” Erik says with an empty laugh. “No wonder things didn’t work out.”
Albert raises his cup to this as if toasting the lunacy of the predicament. “The officials were heavily involved with the project. These were powerful men—men of immense wealth—and they seemed obsessed with a positive outcome as long as it guaranteed a world where their own standing would not be diminished.”
“Warning sign number two,” I say.
“Indeed. But they were invested in how the science of the looms could benefit their businesses. They sold us on their concern about the world, the people, their customers. I recognized the greed in them.”
“But you missed their ambition to use the looms as a fountain of youth,” Dante points out.
“Having never been obsessed with such a ludicrous notion, I did. I fancied myself a man of science, not a man looking for glory and immortality. It never occurred to me,” Albert says.
“But how did they do it then? If you didn’t help?” I ask.
“Not every one of the scientists shared my ideals, but many of them shared my intelligence. Men like Cormac and Kincaid hung around asking questions—not to explore how the looms could be used to their advantage, but to ascertain who among the scientists could help them achieve these possible benefits.”
“So one of your men turned on you.” It’s Valery who points this out.
“Yes, my lady. The officials established who would help them in their grand plans and set it in motion in secret laboratories in Arras.”
“And they made themselves immortal,” I say.
“That is not entirely correct.” Albert stops me. “To truly be immortal, you would have to be nearly untouchable. They are still vulnerable to disease and injury.”
“But they have those who can alter and patch them into health.”
“Yes, but their so-called immortality skirts a fine line. It can be taken in an instant.”
“So Cormac can be killed,” I say.
“He can,” Albert confirms. “Do you feel it necessary?”
“How else can we liberate the people? Separate Earth from Arras?” Dante cries, the words a fervent verdict of Cormac’s fate. “The Guild’s time is up.”
Albert holds my gaze. He’s not asking us a practical question, he’s asking me an ethical one. He’s asking me to look inside myself and see how far I’m willing to go.
“If we separated the worlds, Arras would have to learn to depend on its own resources. There would be upheaval. Change,” I say softly.
“The course of evolution would begin again,” Albert replies.
“Does anyone have any clue what we’re talking about?” Erik asks, but Dante tells him to shut up. If the others are having trouble following, they aren’t about to interrupt.
“Where do we begin?” I ask.
“I can guide you,” Albert says, a sad smile peeking from beneath his mustache, “but it will be difficult. Arras is a parasitic universe syphoning Earth’s time and resources, but if the edges of Arras were bound and released, the composition of Earth would achieve critical mass, creating a rift in space-time that Arras could occupy, separate from Earth. It could heal. The looms would be useless then, but Arras would be self-sustaining.”
“And the Whorl can do this?” I ask in a breathless voice, trying to wrap my head around what Albert is telling us. If Arras was separated from Earth, both could survive. I wouldn’t have to choose which world to save, and I could prevent the growing threat of all-out war between them.
“The Whorl can tie the edges of Arras together, separating them from the looms and knitting Arras’s time into an infinite weave.” Albert knits his fingers together into a circle and holds it to his eyes. “Time will flow from beginning to end in a ceaseless circle of life.”
“That’s why we need you. We need the Whorl,” Dante says.
“Ah, dear boy, I do not have the Whorl.”
“Then where is it?” Jost demands. He’s risen from his seat and he grips the mantel. His desperation to get back to Arras and save Sebrina is written in anguished lines over his face.
“The Whorl is not a thing. It is a person,” Albert says.
“You’re the Whorl,” Dante guesses.
“No,” Albert says with a shake of his head. “She is.”
His finger points directly at me.