An Academy for Liars

Chapter 23

In the days that followed, Lennon received no word from Benedict. She had half expected to hear from him during her convalescence, to receive something by way of an excuse or perhaps an apology for the cruel way he’d conducted himself. But there had been nothing except a brief notification from the school, slipped under her door in the middle of the night, informing her that all future lessons with Benedict had been canceled. Lennon became certain, then, that she was about to be expelled but heard nothing to that end. She attended classes as usual, and there was no talk of hearings or Eileen or anything else of concern…except for Dante’s sudden absence.

Lennon had not seen or heard from him since the night he’d bandaged her up at Logos. He had canceled a week’s worth of persuasion classes, and when Lennon asked around about his whereabouts she heard a number of conflicting stories: he was away on business, he had been called to New York as a witness to testify as part of a DOJ litigation, he’d been sent to quell (or cause) a coup somewhere in Eastern Europe, he’d taken a sabbatical—no, he was actually in Budapest as part of his research. But none of these stories explained why he’d left so abruptly, without even checking to make sure his advisee was okay.

Lennon couldn’t help but feel she’d been abandoned.

So it came as something of a surprise when—more than a week after her cruel encounter with Benedict, on the first day of November—Dante reappeared. He didn’t apologize or account for his absence. In fact, he resumed lecturing exactly where they’d left off, as though he’d never been gone at all. That evening, they focused the bulk of their attention on planting memories within the minds of their rat subjects, a painstaking skill that involved lulling the subject into a state of catatonia, so that the mind and memories could be accessed without interference. Devising wholly new memories was a skill beyond their current capabilities, so Dante had them focus on removing specific memories of events that had occurred and then placing them back within the minds of their respective rats.

The fruits of their collective efforts were abysmal. That evening, many rats forgot how to walk or eat. Several of the rats forgot the stimulus to certain sounds they always responded to—like, for example, the sound of someone shaking their bag of treats. A few rats even forgot life-sustaining actions—like breathing or swallowing—and it was only Dante’s skill that kept them from dying on the spot. The class was easily one of the worst of the semester, and Lennon was surprised she was able to spare Gregory from any lasting psychic damage as she carefully extracted the memory of his favorite toy—a red wooden wheel that he liked to gnaw on—and then planted it within his mind again.

“Good work,” said Dante, stopping behind her desk to watch her. It was one of the few times Lennon had received his praise, and the significance of the moment wasn’t lost on her.

After their daily exercises were done, and all of the rats had been returned to their shared transport cage, Dante resumed his place at the head of the classroom. He leaned slightly on the lectern, studying his class. There was no one that his gaze missed, and Lennon could see the way her peers shrank down in their desks when it was their turn to be examined.

“What’s persuasion, in the simplest sense?” he inquired, a question he’d posed several times over the course of this semester. But Lennon had learned that when Dante posed a question like this, it was always because he was genuinely interested in the answer. While other professors seemed intent to herd their students toward a specific conclusion, Dante’s approach was more relaxed. He seemed interested in provoking conversation, if not debate, facilitating an exchange of opinions rather than fishing for the one he deemed most right.

Nadine’s hand shot up, and she stuttered on a near-unintelligible response about the human will.

Dante turned to the rest of the class. “Anyone else?”

Everyone began to talk over one another, the class dissolving into the recitation of textbook excerpts and reworded snippets of past lectures. The din waned and died completely. Dante frowned and looked down at his shoes. “There’s a saying on campus: Good lies are rewarded with belief. Great lies are rewarded with conviction. In my experience, persuasion is a great lie, well told.”

Lennon sensed, then, that he was talking to her. But a glance around the room at her other classmates told her she wasn’t the only one who felt Dante was speaking to them directly. Everyone looked enraptured, held by him, waiting for what he’d say next.

But Dante cut them loose. “That’s time.”

The classroom drained of students, Lennon lingering beside her desk as they passed her by. Ian was the last to leave, and Lennon saw that his left hand was encased in a thick cast. Lennon realized they hadn’t spoken once since he’d failed to get into Logos. She had intended to reach out to him, but with everything going on with Benedict she just hadn’t had the time, and clearly he hadn’t made time for her either. She waved at him, but he just glared and turned his back on her.

“Watch that one,” said Dante as he gathered his things.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Watch him.” Dante nodded toward her bandaged hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. It hurts sometimes, but the burns are healing up quick.”

“And your knees?”

She shrugged. “The scabs were gross the first two days, and it hurt to bend them. But they got better. Like I said, I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I suppose you’ve heard your classes with Benedict have been canceled?”

She nodded. “He could’ve delivered that news himself.”

“He’s been under the weather.”

Here, Lennon faltered. “So, what, I’m just not going to learn how to use my elevators anymore?”

“I didn’t say that.” Dante turned then and rounded his desk. There was an overnight bag in his chair, and he lifted it, slung the strap over his shoulder. “You’ll be coming with me.”

“Coming with you where?”

“A brief outing. A work trip. I’ll be taking over your studies until Benedict is in a better place. This trip is part of those studies. We’ll be gone overnight, so pack a bag of essentials and meet me in Irvine Hall. You have twenty minutes.”