EPILOGUE
“Don’t you have better things to do than to sit around here?” Attavio VI asked Cardenia, as she sat in the Memory Room.
“Are you expressing judgment?” Cardenia asked.
“I remember asking you that question once when you were spending time with me as I was dying. It’s assonant to ask you again now. It gives the appearance that I care. Which is a thing you need.”
“You know you ruin it when you put it like that.”
“I apologize. But the question still stands.”
“I do have better things to do,” she said. “But I’m going to sit around here anyway.”
The simulation of Attavio VI nodded and then sat next to her—or at least, the simulation of him gave the appearance of sitting next to her. “I came here too,” he said. “Whenever I was overwhelmed or exhausted or just needed to be away from other people. I would come here and talk to my mother or grandfather or any of the other emperoxs.”
“Did it work?”
“It worked about as well as it’s working for you right now,” he said. “But I decided it was good enough.”
Cardenia smiled at that. “It is good enough,” she agreed.
“You haven’t been in the Memory Room as often recently.”
“Do you miss me when I’m gone?”
“I don’t exist when you’re gone, so, no,” Attavio VI said.
“I’m busy with the end of everything,” Cardenia said. “I had Lord Marce give a presentation to parliament. I’ve ordered the military to create a plan for taking back End. I’ve suspended the operations and monopolies of the House of Nohamapetan and given them to the House of Lagos to administer.”
“I’m sure that went over well.”
“It went well with the House of Lagos, at least.” Cardenia remembered the meeting with the Countess Lagos and her daughter Kiva, both of whom were profanely delighted at the fall of the Nohamapetans, and the rise in their own fortunes. The countess gave Lady Kiva responsibility for the Nohamapetan monopolies, with Cardenia’s permission. “Marce’s presentation was not nearly as successful. He laid it out as simply and in as straightforward a way as it could be done, and the majority of the parliament still thinks it’s nonsense even though we have proof.”
“But you don’t have proof yet,” Attavio said. “It hasn’t been more than two weeks since Lord Claremont arrived. The ships from End could still be delayed by the civil war. The Flow stream to Terhathum is still open.”
“I don’t know that it will matter even then,” Cardenia said. “I’m continually confronted with the human tendency to ignore or deny facts until the last possible instant. And then for several days after that, too.”
Attavio VI nodded. “This is why I never said anything about it.”
“Yes, and I’m getting a ration of shit for that, too, thank you very much, father of mine,” Cardenia said. “I have seventy percent of the parliament angry with me because they don’t believe this collapse is coming, and forty percent angry with me because I didn’t tell them about it sooner.”
“That math on that is bad,” Attavio VI said.
Cardenia shook her head. “No, because some people are both. And then there are the allies to the Nohamapetans who either believe Nadashe has been framed either by me or the House of Lagos, or have decided that a little bit of treason and rebellion isn’t that big of a deal. Which is another thing I get to thank you for—letting that house become as influential as it did.”
“I can’t be blamed for that.”
“Of course you can be blamed for it. I just blamed you. I’m getting blamed and now I’m passing some of that blame on to you. I hope you feel bad about it.”
“I’m dead. I don’t feel bad about anything.”
“Must be nice.”
“It’s not,” Attavio VI said.
Cardenia closed her eyes for a moment and rested back against the wall of the Memory Room. “I didn’t want to be emperox, you know,” she said.
“Yes,” Attavio agreed. “I remember.”
“You didn’t want me to be emperox either.”
“I remember that too. But regardless of what either of us wanted there is the fact of what is. And the fact is, you are emperox. Probably the last emperox of the Interdependency. And the question you might ask yourself is whether you would want anyone else to be that person.”
“No,” Cardenia said. “No, I wouldn’t.”
Attavio VI nodded. “Remember there’s a reason I suggested the name Grayland to you. To remind you what had to be done. And to inspire you to be the person to do it.”
“Do you think it’s working?”
“I don’t have opinions anymore,” Attavio VI said.
“Well, pretend that you do.”
“You’re asking a heuristic computer network for its opinion.”
“Yes I am. Do you think it’s working?”
There was a pause and Cardenia could have sworn she saw the image of Attavio VI flicker for the barest fraction of a second. Then, “Yes. I think it’s working.”
Cardenia smiled. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“In fact, yes, it was.”
Cardenia laughed at this and then grew silent again. “The Interdependency was built on a lie, you know,” she said, to Attavio VI.
“Yes, I know. If not a lie, then perhaps on the least malignant projection of its original intent.”
“It’s a lie,” Cardenia said. “I know it. You know it. Every emperox knows it. All of the major houses, the ones that have been around since the founding of the Interdependency, know it, and the minor ones are pretty sure about it too. We’ve all been agreeing to live with this and continue this lie. For centuries.”
“Yes,” Attavio VI said.
“It feels like the lie is coming due now,” Cardenia said, and then held up a hand. “I want to be clear, it’s just a feeling. There’s no rationality behind it. But the feeling of it is so strong within me. Knowing that we created the Interdependency for our benefit, and pretended it was something that benefitted everyone. It makes this collapse feel like it’s the universe commenting on our choice.”
“It’s not.”
“I know. The Flow has nothing to do with us. It doesn’t care about us. It’s just something that is. But I still can’t shake that feeling.”
“That’s the human brain,” Attavio VI said. “It creates patterns when there aren’t any. Imagines causality when there is none. Imagines a narrative where none exists. It’s in the design of the brain itself. It’s primed to lie.”
“And primed to believe the lie.”
“Yes,” Attavio VI said.
And then Cardenia had an idea.
“Huh,” she said, after the idea had unpacked itself in her head.
“What is it?” Attavio VI asked.
“The Interdependency began with a lie.”
“Yes.”
Cardenia smiled. “I think it needs to end with another one,” she said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As ever, I think it’s tremendously important to note that there is more to a book than simply the words that go into it—it passes through many hands after it leaves mine and before it gets to yours, and all of those hands make it better. Therefore, let me acknowledge the following: Patrick Nielsen Hayden, my editor (who was promoted to associate publisher at Tor while I was writing this—congratulations, Patrick); as well as Miriam Weinberg, who had the thankless task of checking in on me about when the manuscript would be in; Tor art director Irene Gallo and cover artist Sparth for a fantastic cover; copy editor Christina MacDonald for catching my many errors; text designer Heather Saunders; Alexis Saarela and Patty Garcia in Tor publicity; and of course Tom Doherty, who runs Tor.