Chapter Fifteen In Which Zada and Daphne Learn What the Hell Is Going On
Zada,” Daphne hissed, hurrying over to join her. “What are you doing?” She moved to stand in front of Zada, her shoulders tense. Daphne reached behind her to find Zada’s hand.
“We won’t hurt you,” said Sister Justice, their gaze lingering on Daphne briefly. “For one thing, we’re unarmed.”
“For another thing, we’re nuns,” added Sister Patience.
Zada took a deep breath and focused on the feeling of Daphne’s palm pressed against hers.
“Really?” she made herself say. “Look around you. What is all of this? Kind of strange reading material for a bunch of nuns.”
“Not at all,” said Sister Justice levelly. “We collect and guard knowledge.”
“Is that what you call it?” said Zada, struggling to keep her voice steady. “All those books on New Ionia. The lies. Why would anyone publish books like that? What did we ever do to them?”
“Does everyone outside New Ionia think about us as—” Daphne turned to Zada.
“As sleeping children,” Zada filled in.
Sister Patience and Sister Justice had a short conversation that consisted entirely of moving their eyebrows.
“Most people outside New Ionia don’t think of us at all,” Sister Justice said finally. “They’re too busy living their lives.”
Zada nodded. This much, at least, made sense. Those not lucky enough to be born into the blessings of New Ionia surely had more pressing concerns.
“Now it’s my turn to ask questions. What were you doing in here?” said Sister Patience. “And don’t try to tell me you wandered in by accident. This library is off-limits for a reason.”
“It shouldn’t exist at all!” Zada clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at her outburst. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice.
I’m just—” She stopped herself. No, she wasn’t sorry.
She came here for answers, and she was going to get them, one way or another.
Squaring her shoulders, she said, “You know something about the Heartsong program.”
“Now why would you say a thing like that?” Sister Justice said.
“You have a secret library full of curated books,” Daphne snapped. “If we report you—”
The threat hung in the air.
“Now you’ve done it,” Sister Patience sighed. “Fine. What would you like to know?”
“Is Ohio really a desert?” Daphne asked. “The empty bowl of the nation?”
“Parts of Ohio are pretty used up,” said Sister Patience. “But they’ve made real progress restoring the land in the last five to ten years.”
“Are we really going to do this?” said Zada. “Stand here asking questions as if it’s all perfectly—”
“Nothing wrong with questions,” said Sister Justice. “Otherwise, how do we ever hope to find answers?”
Zada swallowed. “Is something wrong with Heartsong?”
“Yes,” said Sister Patience immediately.
“They’re not really connecting us to our true loves?” Zada pressed.
“Even when program did its best,” said Sister Justice, “honestly, I never saw evidence that people were happier with their supposed matches. And of course, things went by the wayside pretty quickly.”
“How could Heartsong get it so wrong?” Zada made herself say. “The Core is fed directly from the Founders’ wisdom.”
“The Core is the problem,” said Sister Patience. Sister Justice exchanged a look with her. “No, sorry, it is,” Sister Patience continued. “There’s no point sheltering them from it if they’re seeking the truth. Even if you believe all that hogwash about the Founders knowing best—”
Zada felt her eyes go wide. The first word that came to her was an old one, an archaic term for something that no longer existed. Sacrilege.
“—someone has rotted it from the inside out,” finished Sister Patience. “Looking purely at the output, at who benefits from the Core’s judgments, it’s damn clear. At this point, all it’s doing is giving more power to the powerful.”
“How can you even say—” Zada broke off. The thought of standing there stringing together questions as the nuns freely blasphemed suddenly felt sickening, absurd.
Daphne squeezed Zada’s shoulder. “That’s what we found when we went digging through the data, didn’t we?” she said. “The best predictor of a Heartsong match is money and clout. And that was thousands of people.”
“Fascinating,” said Sister Patience. “I don’t suppose we could have a look—”
Zada shook her head, almost convulsively.
“Fair enough,” said Sister Patience into the silence.
“C’mon, Zades,” said Daphne. “Data doesn’t lie.”
“Data lies all the time,” Zada fired back. “It’s like you never took a day of statistics.”
Another shoulder squeeze from Daphne. Zada moved instinctively into it, craving the comfort of their carefree school days.
If only they were still children, she thought.
If only they had no more pressing worries than passing their classes and executing Daphne’s latest shenanigans, and there was no need to be sucked in by the gravity of questions so much larger than themselves.
“What would you say happened to the Core, Zada?” said Daphne softly. “You’re smart. How can you make this make sense in your head?”
“I can’t,” said Zada. “That doesn’t mean they’re right.”
“By all means, search for other answers,” said Sister Patience.
Zada traced her eyes from the wall to the floor. It really did appear to be trash all the way down.
“You know there’s nowhere else we could go,” she said. “Not really. Nobody else would tolerate us raising the issue in the first place.”
“Is that the sign of a healthy society?” said Sister Justice. “What are they afraid of?”
Zada looked away from the splotches of old bottles and the smashed corners of plastic packaging, back toward the shelves groaning under the weight of thousands of illegal books.
“They’re afraid of this,” she said. “Someone feeding the embers of resentment or regret, holding on to what’s been curated away—”
“Why hold on to them at all?” said Daphne. “It’s a terrible risk.”
“Someone needs to remember,” said Sister Justice.
“Someone needs to track what’s been taken from you, so that when the current regime falls, there’s some way to restore at least part of it.
Do you know what a thin slice it is that you’re still allowed to read?
Something like ninety-eight percent of all titles have been curated out of your hands, did you know that? ”
Zada glanced sidelong at Daphne, who looked as rattled as Zada felt.
It couldn’t possibly be true, could it? Zada thought of every respectable book she’d ever opened, at the tidy row of files awaiting download at the library.
If all of the approved volumes were such a tiny percentage of what was out there, how could every single book in such a vast expanse be a clear and present threat to the city?
As if reading Zada’s mind, Sister Justice went on.
“Do you really think all of those books could be that dangerous to you?” Their voice was beginning to shake.
“They’re so powerful, but you’re right, Zada, they are terrified of this.
They’re terrified of you. They’re terrified you could get an idea, any idea they don’t like.
On some level, they know that’s all it would take to bring them toppling down. And they will do anything to stop it.”
“Hey,” said Sister Patience soothingly to Sister Justice. “It’s okay.”
“What in the world is in these books?” said Daphne. She sounded awestruck.
“Stories and research,” said Sister Justice. “People with lives different from theirs, from yours. Sometimes people with lives pretty similar to yours but different thoughts. The seeds to understanding some glimpse of them.”
Zada closed her eyes. The problem was that this didn’t sound so bad. How could reading a book truly change her mind? For one deranged moment, she almost wanted to ask to borrow one, as if this was an ordinary library. She shook her head again.
“How many of the sisters here know about your secret collection?” Zada got out at last.
“Maybe a quarter,” said Sister Patience. “We watch the novices for years before we decide if they can be trusted with all of it. Plenty of them never know.”
If she could be believed, that meant most of the nuns were innocent. Zada was unsure what to do with that.
“What’s missing?” said Daphne suddenly. “What were you looking for earlier?”
“The price of salt,” said Sister Justice.
Zada blinked. “How do you lose—”
Sister Patience’s mouth ticked up at one side, almost a smile. “It’s a book,” she said. “About loving someone even when your entire world is telling you not to.”
Zada felt her face heat. “We should go,” she said.
Sister Patience clapped her hands together. “Right, well, before you do. We need your word that you won’t inform on us.”
“We won’t,” said Daphne.
It was obviously the smart thing to say, alone with the nuns in their basement.
“We’d like to hear it from Zada as well,” said Sister Justice.
Zada felt her teeth seize the inside of her lip, then release it.
“We won’t,” said Daphne again. “I swear to you. I have too many questions, and Zada is too kind to place the blame on that many people, especially when so many of them aren’t even involved.”
Zada thought of the foyer of the community center, the sisters bustling about.
She knew what she ought to say to the authorities, the proof she ought to log, the report she ought to file.
If the majority of the nuns genuinely had no idea what was lurking in their basement—bringing the might of New Ionian security down on their backs did seem almost monstrous.
Still, kind sat uneasily on her shoulders. Was she good-hearted, or simply a coward?
“We won’t tell anyone,” said Zada. “Unless we think you pose a danger to New Ionia.”
“I’ll take it,” said Sister Justice. “Thank you.”
“Now I must insist that you allow me to walk you out. We do have some urgent business to attend to,” Sister Patience said.
“Feel free to come back later with any more questions you might have,” said Sister Justice. “We have a lot of lace, so you’ve got a lot of excuses.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” said Daphne. She held out her arm to Zada. “Shall we?”