“Don’t even bother,” Georgie grumbles. “Better to just ignore them.”

“If you say so,” I respond begrudgingly. “So Botticelli was a Maker, I’m assuming?”

“No, he wasn’t. And he was vocal in denouncing them. He even burned some of his own work depicting heretical Maker innovations during the Bonfire of the Vanities.”

I have a vague recollection of learning about the Bonfire of the Vanities, which took place in Florence, and I make a mental note to find out how it fits in with the Inquisition responsible for the Makers’ exile.

“But he had Valkyrie family members who often acted as his muses before they all went into hiding during the Exodus.”

“Wait,” I say as her words sink in. “Maker innovations. So you’re saying the Makers…?”

“Made the Valkyries. Yup. They’re an example of the kind of science the Makers were exiled for—attempting to improve upon the original creation of the world.”

Kor had said unicorns were Maker experiments too, and now that I have evidence there are literally winged humans, it feels safe to ask, “Are unicorns real?”

Georgie laughs. “You should see the look on your face. They are real. But they’re extinct. I think the last unicorn died, like, eighty years ago.”

Why do I feel sad for the loss of something I didn’t even know existed until now?

“But the wind horses are still around. You have to ask Master Botticelli to introduce you to Peggy.”

“So if the Makers can do all”—I motion to the winged people above us— “that, can they, like, cure cancer too?”

“I assume at least some kinds.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that they haven’t… shared that with the regular world?”

She’s thoughtful for a minute before she says, “Years before I knew the Makers existed, my grandmother had a very treatable form of cancer. The cost of her treatment was so high that she burned through her entire life’s savings in a year.

“She didn’t tell my parents, but we found out after she died that when her money ran out, she’d started reducing and rationing her medications, and she’d even entirely stopped using the ones needed to manage her severe side effects. There were pharmacies full of the medicine that could have reduced her suffering and saved her life, but she couldn’t afford it, and so she died in her fifties of something perfectly treatable.”

“I’m so sorry.” I know what it’s like to have a sick grandparent. The whole story is so tragic, and it’s definitely not the first time I’ve heard of a situation like it. Why is our world so cruel?

Georgie continues. “So I guess my point is that my experience with provincial health care was that a lot of cures existed that were only accessible for some. And at least here they treat anyone who needs it.”