Chapter Twenty-Five
At dawn, dozens of Nikola’s associates helped us finish moving her prototype onto the stage in the center of the roundabout in front of the Hall of Radiance.
Disguised as apprentice Conductors, we wore black and worked to the sound of banners snapping in the wind.
Each massive banner depicted a bold statement about the power of Progress, about the glory of radiance.
They were slogans I’d believed not long ago.
“Pulse of the stars, steady my heart,” I murmured. The House had taught me that blessing, but I was taking it back and making it my own. It had never truly felt fortifying until now.
A Sterling City police officer approached us, and Julian, dressed in the formal uniform of a Senior Conductor, intercepted her.
Nikola had somehow secured him a waistcoat emblazoned with the House’s sigil, as well as over a dozen apprentice scarves for me and the others helping us work.
I’d tied my scarf loosely, but it still seemed to strangle me.
“Forgive me if I’m not as focused on paperwork as I am on ensuring that this demonstration of Progress is ready for the House’s procession,” Julian was telling the officer in an acidic tone.
“I recommend you take it up with the Continental Exposition liaison at the House. I’m sure they’d love to hear why you’re interrupting our efforts.
But, before you leave, please give me your badge number.
As you know, the Elders have a keen interest in Sterling City’s law enforcement standards. ”
The officer cleared her throat, paling. “None of that will be necessary. I’m sure you understand my confusion. This demonstration isn’t listed on the program.”
“Precisely. Because it’s a surprise,” Julian said. “As is this inconvenient delay.”
Ezra leaned close to whisper, “He’s such a spectacular bitch when he wants to be.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Julian in all his glory was certainly a sight to behold.
The officer returned to her efforts to discourage people from congregating on the steps of the Hall of Radiance, and Julian turned his back to her.
I saw him take a shuddering breath and knew the act had taken far more effort than he’d let on.
He glanced at me, and I gave him a small encouraging smile.
Neither of us relished pretending to be loyal to the House.
Despite it being just after sunrise, people were already gathering on the streets.
We’d made our way into the park right before the roads closed to allow only foot traffic.
Families carrying picnic baskets and pushing infants in prams poured onto the grassy lawns, finding places to stay for the day to watch the various parades and outdoor demonstrations.
In the distance, two hot air balloons expanded.
I’d never seen one outside of illustrations.
A small part of me wished we were here under different circumstances, that we could celebrate the spirit of innovation, that we could sprawl on a blanket, imagining how to make the world a better place for all.
Someday, I hoped. Someday we’d return to this place and the House of Industry would be nothing but a cautionary tale—the last dying gasp of Progress that served only to line the pockets of wealthy oligarchs.
“As soon as the House’s procession arrives, we’ll begin,” Nikola told the group of impostor apprentice Conductors surrounding the stage.
Unlike the rest of us, she wasn’t dressed as a Child of Industry.
She wore a green waistcoat embroidered with creeping vines and a handsome velvet top hat.
Her hair fell down her back in a thick braid woven with matching green ribbons.
Shiny boots with a high heel made her as tall as Julian and Ezra.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. I supposed that was the point.
As the crowd on the street thickened, I saw people carrying signs. Some kept them low, as if trying to hide for now, but others marched and shouted about the House of Industry’s oppression. The morning felt charged—not with radiance, but with electricity.
Onstage, Nikola adjusted her hat. It was the first time I’d seen her look anxious. She stood in front of her portable generator machine while Julian fastened the cable that connected the two units. The large sculpture of lightbulbs remained under a silk cloth, waiting for a dramatic reveal.
Ezra put his hand on my back. “Ready, Jo?”
“If readiness means feeling as if I’m about to vomit,” I responded.
“Find a discreet place to do it if you must,” he said with amusement. He kissed the top of my head, his breath warm and fortifying. “I … I’m glad I’m here with you and Julian. Whatever happens today, know that.”
“Nothing will happen today,” I said quickly, although no part of me believed that.
Julian approached us. “Change will happen today,” he said crisply. “That’s all that matters.”
Ezra carefully removed the House sigil from Julian’s waistcoat, letting his fingers linger there. “It’s almost time. Walk onto that stage as a scientist. Be proud of what you’ve achieved.”
Julian froze at the touch, his eyes on Ezra’s face. “Thank you.” He caught Ezra’s hand and looked as if he wanted to say more, but a clanging bell startled all three of us.
It was the procession from the House of Industry.
Murmurs of excitement rose around us. The crowd instantly thickened as onlookers pressed forward to see Conductors and Transistors making their way to the Hall of Radiance for the ceremony that would mark the beginning of the Continental Exposition.
Inside the hall, thousands of lights would surge to life with radiance.
Julian caught my hand as well, and for a moment, we were connected like the cables on the stage, a machine powered not by radiance but by hope. “Be careful,” he said tightly. “If the situation becomes dangerous, run.”
I wanted to tell him that this situation had never been anything but dangerous. Instead, I pushed up on my toes and kissed his cheek. “Break a leg, Senior.”
Ezra lifted Julian’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “You did it. Now get up there and make a colossal mess.”
Julian hesitated a moment more, looking between us, before he nodded firmly and climbed onto the stage to stand beside Nikola. She pulled a vibrant green cravat from her pocket and quickly fastened it around his collar.
“That’s that,” Ezra said, blowing out an unsteady breath. “Get to your place. And Jo—don’t …”
I knew what he would say next, that he’d caution me against resorting to violence. “No promises,” I told him. “Not today.”
“Promise to stay alive,” he said hoarsely.
My breath caught. He wasn’t worried about me killing. He was worried about me dying. Though his demand was nothing more than a child’s wish, I touched my chest and nodded. “I promise.”
As the crowd swelled, we parted and let it swallow us up. Ezra would make his way to the far side of the roundabout, where a handful of tall flowering trees provided shade and potential for him to use his magic to protect himself or others.
I weaved through the crowd toward the oncoming procession.
As I pushed between people, murmuring apologies, I pulled the blue scarf from my neck and let it drop to the ground where it would surely be trampled to nothing.
Perhaps due to my diminutive stature, others readily let me through, and before long I found myself pressed against the rope that partitioned onlookers off to allow the House of Industry’s delegation to pass.
Professors led the way, walking two by two, dressed in the ceremonial robes reserved for special events.
I spotted Professor Dunn in a huge feathered hat that made her look like a tropical bird.
Fighting the urge to call out to her, I trembled where I stood, trying to maintain my balance as people pushed me, craning for a better view.
I didn’t need to call out. Her gaze, casually surveying the crowd, caught mine.
I saw her eyes widen almost imperceptibly.
She quickly looked away, but her chin dipped in a solemn encouraging nod.
I hoped she was proud. I’d learned how to be myself, for better or worse.
Next came a dozen young students, likely given the opportunity to come because they showed promise.
They were flanked by House servants ensuring they stayed in neat rows and didn’t stray too close to the ropes.
High-achieving or not, the young students were exactly who I wanted to reach—who I wanted to save the most.
I made my way to the pamphlets we’d hidden in a waste bin along the route.
Hanging onto the rope, I squeezed through, enduring annoyed jeers and a few forceful pushes.
Trying to move too quickly, I tripped over a man’s feet and crashed to the ground, spilling under the rope and out onto the pathway.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Excuse me.”
Someone lifted the rope for me so I could duck back under it. I looked up to thank them and froze, my entire body going numb with disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” Gertrude and I asked at the same time.
She surveyed me as I took in what she was wearing—not the proud uniform of a Conductor, but the drab robes of a House servant. She looked as horrified as I surely did. Behind her, a gaggle of first years glanced around anxiously. We were holding up the procession.
“Miss Gertrude,” one of them called out in a small voice. “Shouldn’t we keep walking?”
Suddenly, colorful pamphlets rained down around us, fluttering like pennants. One of the other resistors had made it to the stash before me, and they were throwing the folded papers every which way, into the crowd and onto the procession route.
The children crouched and collected papers, curiosity appearing to get the better of them. A few tucked pamphlets into their pockets.