“A… Ab… Ad…” he skimmed aloud, “An… Ancelet: one thousand, two hundred votes for me. B… C… D… Da… De… Seventeen thousand for you, Brody. Ah, and here’s your nine hundred eighty-nine million,” he pinched the paper to underline the name he sought, “for Mycroft Canner.” Vivien Ancelet mounted the stairs. “I don’t think any Mason, Brillist, or even Cousin here can claim the Humanists are the only ones who’ve ever wished Mycroft Canner dead. Am I wrong?” He waited, but trembling DeLupa gave no answer. “I might be wrong. I don’t know what this Wish List tells us about the character of Humanists. I’m Earth’s greatest expert on big long lists of information, and I still don’t know. Neither does the Vice President.” He glanced at his Proxy, his face more fatigue than criticism. “Is there really something about the Humanist mind-set that encourages homicide? Or is this list something anyone would sign in jest if they didn’t think it was real? I don’t know. A couple months of study and maybe Felix Faust and I could figure it out, but raw data like this tells me almost nothing, certainly not enough to call for the dissolution of a Hive.” He let the list fall from his hands, its white length stained gray by the rain-wet steps. “We can’t handle a change like that right now. Change is the enemy here, too many changes, too big, too fast. Like Tully Mardi said, we’ve lost O.S., the system that’s maintained peace for however long. We might lose the CFB, the heart of the Cousins. We’ve lost Sniper, that’s irreparable now. We’re going to lose Ganymede, Chief Director Andō, and Casimir Perry.” Still-shy Vivien rocked in place as he spoke, fighting off the instinct to duck behind one of his own guards to escape the swarming cameras. “Now you’ve lost me, too, at least as your Anonymous. Madame D’Arouet—Joyce Faust—has been exposed. We might lose J.E.D.D. Mason, who, all else aside, kept things civil by making Andō and Caesar and Spain and Felix Faust all think of each other as family. If we don’t lose J.E.D.D. Mason, those of you who saw the video of what happened after the shooting know something else very important happened there, something that’s going to have huge consequences, perhaps bigger than all the others put together. The best thing we can all do over the next days is take it slow.”

Vivien paused here, catching in the corner of his eye Bryar Kosala, who stepped out of the Senate doors behind to watch her husband and lover finally—in the public eye—reveal themselves as one. Those who warn of the dangers of mixing love with politics are right, about cases like this couple at least. Bryar Kosala’s face as she stepped out here had the power to make or break her Vivien’s speech, which would itself make or break the Humanists. All power here was hers. She might chill him to silence with the cold glare of the Cousin Chair for the Anonymous who undermined her CFB. She might comfort him with the tearful smile of a lover ready to soothe her lifemate’s pain. She might stab him with the disinterested stare of a spouse betrayed by the awkward public partnership they had forced on themselves despite Madame’s repeated warnings not to let marriage ruin their beautiful affair. Vivien felt the threat she posed to him, the Humanists, the world, his syllables stumbling even as he began to look at her. Whatever her inner thoughts, Bryar Kosala was merciful enough in that moment to wear on the outside the subtle, understated mask of a sympathetic friend. That let him carry on.