He does not go far. Two steps. The no-man’s-land between Julius’s haggard body and the rim of the closest pool. Livia follows as he must have known she would, until she stands as close as she did before. It’s a choreography of sorts: some birds, her mother once told her, dance before they mate. Thomas is calmer away from Charlie, sadder.

“We don’t know a thing about it, Livia. How long will it last? A few weeks, a month, your mother said, but how can she know? Not rape, she promised, not murder. Everyday sins. A fever of passion. All urges laid bare, all secrets shared.” He grimaces, winces when she takes his hand. “Even if your mother is right — if her dark fuse burns itself out in the lighting of a gentler fire; if the world does not choke on its store of anger; if we all bare our souls to one another and are not appalled by what we find. . imagine it, Livia. A whole world letting go of reason. Chaos; confusion. Nobody working the fields.”

“It’s winter, Thomas. The fields don’t need working.”

“Still. A volatile world. Don’t underestimate its darkness. Every argument that draws a knife, every man beaten, every woman forced: it’ll all be our fault.”

“Yes. And if we don’t: every child sewn into some apparatus; every prisoner made to roll cigarettes; every lie told from dawn till dusk; every year that passes without change or hope. That too will be our fault.

“But it’s more than that,” Livia continues. “She loves me, you see. Mother. She watched me trying to become holy, all the while afraid I would go mad like Father.” She smiles, crooked, tender; a hint of flirtation in her words. “I’m angry with her. But it’s hard to resist love. Don’t you think?”

Thomas winces, makes fists.

“Charlie is right,” he says at last. “I am afraid.” He studies her, fiercely, like an enemy. “What if I get lost in all the Smoke? What if I go mad and turn into a beast?”

She returns his gaze, at a loss how to answer.

Then Charlie is there. He is smoking; repeats her mother’s gesture, cups Thomas’s face.

“Then we will drink you and go mad together.”

“Will you?” Thomas asks, more out of despair than doubt. “What ever happened to compromise, Charlie?”

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