Chapter Twenty-Eight #3
In the hush, a person with a long silver braid dropped their sign and made their way hesitantly up the steps, wary of the Transistors flanking the group.
To my relief, the Transistors allowed them to approach, stepping back so they could get closer.
They opened their arms, showing that they meant no harm, and then embraced the youngest girl in the group of Generators.
More people followed, touching the Generators’ hands and heads, offering them comfort they had likely never experienced.
One of the oldest Generators sat down on the steps and began to weep, shivering despite the late-afternoon heat.
A professor—one of the ones who taught the Transistors—sat beside the distraught Generator and put his arm around his shoulder, drawing him close in a sheltering hold.
Applause rang out, and the cries of protest became cries of celebration.
The fire brigade finally made it through and began to unfurl a long hose from their wagon, but even the firefighters moved without urgency, spending more time offering water to the Generators than they did making their way into the burning House.
Gathered in a large group at the base of the steps, the youngest children from the House cried, looking back and forth from the fire to the onlookers as if both frightened them equally.
Servants and older students alike tried to comfort them, and others joined in, children of the city slipping out of the crowd to greet the young Children of Industry with shy smiles.
The edge of the crowd blurred with the gathered House refugees as the students and servants and professors were drawn into the welcoming throng.
They wouldn’t be prisoners anymore.
I couldn’t recall sinking to sit on the steps or leaning into Julian.
He had his head ducked and his eyes closed, and I took his hand.
Blood pooled around my leg, dark on the white marble.
“It’ll be okay now,” I murmured, struggling to catch my breath to say the words. “No one is returning to the House.”
Dozens of ribbons lay discarded across the polished steps.
No. Not ribbons. Scarves. Blue and red scarves.
Once, I’d let mine drift away in a beautiful river.
But this—this was far more symbolic. Recalling that I still wore the scarf I’d put on to pretend I was an apprentice Conductor, I reached with a shaking hand and untied it.
I opened my fingers and let it flutter to the ground in front of the burning House.
They’d never have me by the throat again.
The pamphlets had worked. I hoped Nikola would be proud of herself.
As Ezra tried to fuss with my bleeding thigh, I watched a group of young students and professors corral the remaining Elders.
Gertrude was with them. With a walking stick raised menacingly, she let Harriet and Isla paw at the Elders to feel their lack of radiance.
“Make a move and I’ll brain you,” she told the frantic Elders with a snarl.
“You were faking!” Harriet yelled, using a broom handle to smack one on the top of the head, knocking his wig off.
The Elders clutched one another, reduced to nothing but sniveling cowards for all Sterling City to see. If they survived this day, they’d pay for their deception and greed. They’d pay dearly.
A small laugh burst out of me.
And then I realized I was bleeding to death. I wanted to survive. I wanted to see what the people would build atop the rubble of the House of Industry and all that it had stood for.
Someone pulled me away from Julian. I whined, reaching for him weakly.
“Josephine. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, you foolish girl,” Professor Dunn said. I’d missed her sharp tone. I would miss everything about her.
I tried to tell her that, but for a moment, I lost my ability to speak. The sky was now above me, and I was on my back on the stupid steps I didn’t want to die on.
“Don’t cry. Everyone is safe,” Professor Dunn was saying, her small hand stroking my hair over and over. “You saved them.”
Ezra was pressing his hands very hard against my thigh, and it hurt a lot. “Stop that,” I slurred. “Ow.”
I heard another familiar voice and craned my neck to see. Nikola. Nikola had arrived, and she was cradling Julian on the steps, petting the back of his head as she told him everything would be all right. “We did it,” she said, rocking him. “You did it.”
She looked so sad. I was sad, too, watching Julian try to hide himself.
Julian, who had stood so proudly at dawn, who had shared his vision for the future with absolute conviction.
I didn’t think he was listening. But if anyone could help him, I wanted to tell her, it was Ezra.
Ezra was a patient healer. He’d keep trying for as long as it took.
Beyond Nikola and Julian, I could see that the Transistors, no longer marked by their red scarves, continued to tend to the Generators on the steps. They held the youngest children and soothed the older ones. Relief washed over me like a balm, lessening the pain in my leg.
The sun felt nice.
Professor Dunn wiped my tears away and kissed my forehead. “They’re clearing a path for the Healer’s Guild to approach. For you, Josephine. For you.”
“I want to go home,” I whispered, recalling the peace I’d felt for one short night. I hoped Ezra would know what I meant.
He lifted his head, stricken, and nodded to me. I smiled back and let the roaring wave of oblivion wash me away.