“Why did your android claim not to believe me?” I ask.
“That was for the jury’s benefit.” Seeing Mathias’s confusion, Hysan explains: “A jury of at least a dozen Advisors and City Senators must be present for every meeting with our Guardian, to protect him from making rash decisions.”
He bends over the robot and gently tips its nose back in place. “I knew they wouldn’t give their consent, so I reprogrammed Neith to begin shielding my people from Psy attacks. He’s going to activate our House’s veils so they’ll protect our cities from the Psy whenever our sensors pick up high traces of Psynergy.”
“So that’s why you insisted on coming to Libra first,” says Mathias.
“Of course. My people are my priority. I never joke about that.” Hysan crosses the room and opens a hidden door. “Rho, let me show you something.”
Mathias moves between us, but I dodge him to look inside the secret room. What I see makes me stagger.
The space is hexagonal, and all six walls are covered in artificial glass eyes of varying shapes and sizes, each with quartz irises like Neith’s. The intense way they rake back and forth makes them seem alive. They’re all staring at a large holographic Ephemeris that slowly rotates at the center of the room. “Shut if off!” I shout, shrinking back.
Hysan whispers a code, and the Ephemeris instantly vanishes. “It’s not connected,” he explains.
All the eyes turn toward me. It’s one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen. Mathias materializes at my side, looking as shocked as I feel.
“This is my reading room,” says Hysan. “My talent for reading the stars isn’t the same as yours, Rho. I rely on technology’s help.”
Despite all the eyes watching me, Hysan’s green gaze has never felt so intense. “I’ll do anything to defend my House.”
Having finally met the true Hysan, I don’t doubt him for a moment. I step inside the hexagonal room, and the large glassy irises follow me. “This is pretty bizarre,” I admit. “How does it work?”
He flashes his crooked smile, then stoops to make a tender adjustment to one of the eyes. “Each of these oculi is a cyber-brain. They collect and analyze data from the stars, then relay information to each of our cities. They’re also linked to the brains of Neith and ’Nox.” He gestures to the whole room. “Thirty-six hundred brains, working around the clock. Massive parallel processing. Their findings are far more objective and extensive than a subjective human mind.”
From the animation in his voice, I think technology must be his natural element. He seems as much a Scorp as a Libran.
Then again, as a kid I always felt the dividing lines between us were blurry. For example, Librans value justice, and they pursue it through education, which is essentially the dissemination of knowledge. Knowledge is a Capricorn value, and yet Librans have made knowledge necessary for obtaining justice. Hysan’s just taking things a step further by using technology to amass knowledge.
“An artificial astrologer,” I say, thinking how cool it is. “Did you invent this yourself?”
He shrugs, for the first time not leaping for a compliment. “I came up with the general concept when I was nine and presented it at the annual Pursuit of Justice Symposium. It’s when all Libran citizens, of any age, are allowed to submit a new idea—system, invention, procedure—that furthers or improves our pursuit of justice. It’s why Lord Vaz chose me.”
He flashes another quick, dimpled smirk. “That and, of course, my consummate Libran nature.”
“Did this contraption predict the tragedy in our House?” asks Mathias. “Did it foresee the attack on your ship?”
Hysan’s sunniness fades. “No . . . it didn’t. I’m not sure why.”
“Not so accurate after all.” Mathias scowls and strides out of the hexagonal room.
“Maybe it can’t see through Dark Matter,” I suggest.
Hysan stares into the eyeballs, as if deep in thought. His body grows so still and his expression so intense, I can almost feel his clever mind sorting through hypotheses and calculations. I move toward him. “Hysan, you have to tell us about your Psy shield. Can you protect the other Houses?”
“Come.” He leads me back to his workroom, where he lifts a beaker containing a bluish liquid. With a pair of tongs, he scrapes some chunks of grainy sediment from the bottom and drops them into a shallow dish. “I’m making you a present, Rho. Sorry it’s not finished yet.”
He shows me the contents of the dish, about half a dozen tiny, round beads. As he tips the dish, they sparkle with rainbow light. “Cristobalite beads. They’re still growing.”
“What are they?” I ask.
“Nothing yet . . . but soon, maybe a bracelet, or whatever you like.”
“You’re serious?” I frown. “How about a time machine?”