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Chapters (15)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. DEDICATION
  3. NO. 1
  4. NO. 2
  5. NO. 3
  6. NO. 4
  7. NO. 5
  8. NO. 6
  9. NO. 7
  10. NO. 8
  11. NO. 9
  12. NO. 10
  13. NO. 11
  14. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  15. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

“There’s no one to take your place.” I nodded, though I already understood. He was recalling the facts for his own benefit, so that he could do what needed to be done. “No other Dolores Mem exists and we’ve been awarded no right to the others.”

I took his hands in mine. “Lyman is our only chance.”

He was composed now, but in his eyes I could see him calculating the risk. As though they could run away with me, somehow reprint me on their own. Or as though they might now decide to keep me for themselves.

“Please, Professor,” I said, before confessing, “I want to go. I want to see Dolores again no matter what happens.”

He stood tall, tugging with both hands at the rim of my hat before patting the top. He seemed to know this already, which was odd, because I’d only realized it now. Regardless the outcome, I wanted to meet my Source.

NO. 8

  NO. 8  

A pale blue sky inspired a symphony of incessant bird calls despite the chill. Standing out in the open—not simply in the more spacious cage of the clinic’s terrace—I looked to both corners of the sky in search of clouds. The weather shifted quickly this time of year, and in the distance, somewhere else on the island, I saw evidence of a light rain. Outside the Vault, Montreal was just as lovely and fickle as I’d left it.

The Professor kept his hand curled around the open window after closing me into the passenger’s side of the Shepherd automobile.

“I’ll send a car this evening?” He tried to smile.

“That’ll be fine, Professor.” Lyman leaned toward the opening and I pulled myself back into my seat.

The Professor took my chin in his hand for a moment and then stepped away, giving the vehicle space to maneuver. After that, Lyman left me alone to enjoy the cityscape until we were out of Centre-Ville, the cluster of tall, ornate buildings replaced first by a view of Mont Royal and then a much flatter, calmer terrain. Though he repeatedly glanced at me while still appearing attentive to the road, I said nothing. Whatever kept him mystified was none of my concern, I’d decided. Whatever real people deigned or did not bother to tell me was their prerogative, and I should learn to feel nothing on the matter.

Finally, he broke with pretense and turned a bit in his seat so that he could see me more readily while he drove.

“Forgive me, I just can’t seem to reconcile this.”