“We could read the writing on the wall. This army was going to be built, and there would be no plan to give these Partials rights equal to humans. There were only two outcomes: either the Partials would be killed with this Failsafe in a genocide on par with the Holocaust, or a violent revolution would break out, which the Partials, superior in every way, would win, destroying humanity as we knew it. Any way you sliced it, one species would be decimated, and the death of one would come at the expense of the soul of the other. All we had left was to try to, somehow, provide for a way in which both species could work together—that they had to work together just to survive. And so when Armin pitched us his plan we . . . well, we didn’t like it, not at first and not ever. But we knew we had a responsibility to see it through. It was the only plan in which both species made it out alive.”

Kira’s breath caught in her throat. “Armin Dhurvasula.”

“You know him, too?”

She quickly shook her head, hoping her face didn’t give her away. “I’ve heard of him.”

“A genius among geniuses,” said Vale. “This entire thing was his plan—he devised the pheromone system, and designed the entire interaction of the Failsafe and the cure and everything else. It was a masterpiece of science. But despite his plan and our best efforts, the worst still came to pass. I promise you that we didn’t mean for it to be this devastating; we don’t even understand how RM turned out as ruthlessly efficient as it did. I suppose it’s small consolation that, when it comes down to it, this was unavoidable. From the moment we created the Partials, from the moment we thought about creating them, there was no other possible outcome. Humanity will destroy itself, body and soul, before it will learn a simple lesson.”

Kira was too stunned to speak. She had expected a plan, she had hoped and prayed that the Trust had a plan, but to learn that it was a plan of mutual annihilation—to force both species to work together or die apart—was too much. When she finally spoke her voice was small and scared, more childlike than she’d sounded in years, and the question she asked was not the one she thought she would. “Have you . . . seen him? Anywhere?” She swallowed, trying to look less nervous. “Do you know where Armin Dhurvasula is now?”

Vale shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since the Break. He said he had to leave ParaGen, but I don’t know where, or what he’s doing. As far as I know, Jerry and I are the only ones left—and Nandita, now, I suppose.”