Secrets are both currency and poison. They can protect us from harm, yet corrode us from within. I have seen communities torn apart by hidden truths, and individuals crushed under the weight of their own concealed pasts.

Yet, in my travels, I have also witnessed the transformative power of honesty. When secrets are shared willingly, bonds can be forged stronger than any pre-End alloy. Trust, once given, can become a beacon in the darkness of our harsh reality.

But beware, dear reader, for not all secrets yearn to be told. Some truths are best left buried in the grit, lest their revelation bring more harm than good. The wisdom lies in knowing which secrets to keep, which to share, and which to take to your grave.

In the end, we are all keepers of secrets, each of us a living library of untold stories. It is how we choose to curate these hidden tomes that defines us.

- From the Writings of Brother Felix St George

Out in the middle of nowhere, four people held a funeral for a building.

“You’re sure about this?” said November, who’d just finished planting the last charges according to Scout’s instructions. “It really wants to die?”

Scout nodded. “Yes. It’s very old and…sad.”

Josiah nodded. “A gun is a better way to leave this life, but I cannot imagine there is one big enough.”

The Librarian stared the marvelous machines filling the factory floor. “It must know so much. I just wish I could talk to it!” he said, face twisting in anguish.

“I guess, maybe you could, if I got in that chair again?” Scout’s face twisted in revulsion. “But I am so not getting in that chair again. Plus, you heard it talking to the General - I think most of what it knows are military secrets - it wouldn’t even be able to tell us without the right codes.”

November stirred. “Speaking of military secrets…so you’re a robot.”

“Whoa,” said Scout. “I am not okay with that label.”

“You’re our Scout,” said the Librarian warmly. “That’s all that matters.” Josiah nodded in silent approval.

November held up the detonator. “So who wants to push the button?”

The Librarian smiled. “I think Josiah and I will leave that privilege to you two. My library is in a shambles, and I’m sure he wants to check his revolvers are all right.”

The men headed back to Win, leaving the two girls staring at the great dark expanse of Factory 29.

Scout drew an awkward line in the grit with her foot. “So about the R-word situation -”

“You kept secrets,” said November bluntly. “So did I. Both our secrets nearly got us killed.”

Scout laughed. “In my defense, I think I sort of kept one secret from myself. And your secrets definitely tried to kill us more.”

There was silence for a moment. “How do you feel?” asked November. “Knowing?”

Scout shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like me. But I wonder if this is all the me there is, if there’s more me I don’t know about.” She shook herself. “It’s a rabbit hole that feels like it goes down a long way.”

November laughed and Scout glanced at her, surprised. “You know, I really thought no one was ever going to match me on the screwed-up childhood front.” She bumped Scout’s shoulder. “But you have me beat, hands-down.”

“I did keep secrets,” Scout said quietly. “Real ones.”

“And you’ll tell us about them, and we’ll get past it,” November said firmly. “Now push the damn button so we can get in from the cold.”

****

Scout barely slept that night, playing events over and over in her mind, wondering which of her thoughts were real and which were programmed. Well, technically all her thoughts were programmed. But did that mean she couldn’t change her mind? She felt like she changed her mind all the time, but maybe that was just her programming making her think she was changing her mind, when really…it made her head hurt. Or maybe her programming just made her think her head was hurting.

She was glad to see the sun rise and busied herself about the camp, making everybody breakfast. If she was about to confess her life and betrayal to her friends, at least they would have full stomachs when they hated her. Maybe she should try and clean their clothes as well - or clean up Win, in case they wanted to take it and drive on without her - or -

“Scout. Stop,” said the Librarian gently. “Stop rushing about, sit down and talk to us.” He smiled warmly. “You have nothing to be afraid of. We are here to listen. It’s just like me reading us a story from one of my books. Tell us your story, Scout.”

She sunk down into a squat, drawing idly in the grit with a finger. Then she took a deep breath, and began.

“So the first thing I should say, is that I don’t know if any of this story is true. I remember being a kid, I remember growing up, but obviously that can’t be true. I was made. Maybe none of it is true. Maybe most of it is. All I can do is tell you my story as I remember it.

I was born and raised underground, in a bunker. The bunker was sealed off from the grit, and we had machines to keep it from getting in, if someone left. That wasn’t encouraged though.

My full name is Scout-Seventeen.”

November snorted. “Your name is Scout and a number?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m sorry, ‘November’. Or ‘Librarian who doesn’t even want to share his name’. No one gets to to take the high ground about weird names except Josiah.” She smiled at him.

The gun-saint smiled gently back. “Continue your tale, Scout.”

“Okay. Well there was nothing weird about my name in the bunker. The scientists who ran it tested everybody at birth, and based on genetic aptitude, you were assigned a role.” She snorted. “So that part’s obviously bull. But like I said, it’s what I remember. We weren’t encouraged to mix together with other kids with different roles. Heck, we weren’t encouraged to mix with anyone much. We spent most of our time in our rooms, training and learning. It felt like hard work, but after seeing how things are out here, it seems like paradise.

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We had all the water we could drink, and nutrient paste, and screens that could answer everything we asked - well, not everything, a lot of it was restricted.” She scrunched up her face. “I got the restricted message more than most of the other Scouts combined.”

“Why am I not surprised,” said November drily.

Scout grinned, and for a moment it was like nothing had changed. Then her face turned serious again. “The scientists weren’t so bad. They were patient if we struggled with training or didn’t pass a test. They were just…distant. I mean, no one acted like a parent or anything. I had my first hug at age seven and that was just me and Scout-Fourteen acting out something we’d seen on one of the screens. It didn’t mean anything.

So that’s where I learnt everything I know about machines and the grit. So I guess I’ve been lying about that. I mean, I’m smart. But I didn’t figure it all out myself from first principles. I had help. And I don’t keep Win and Rattler working just with sweat and parts - no one could do that, I don’t care how smart you are. They have a special treatment to help resist the grit. I mean, they still need maintenance, but that’s why they can still work.

I guess if I’m a machine, I must have the treatment too, or I would have conked out ages ago. Anyway, the grit. The scientists spent a lot of time doing experiments on it and studying it.

What we call ‘grit’ are actually thousands upon thousands of tiny machines, called nanites. They were deployed in the last war, but I guess something went wrong with their programming, or maybe they were just a bad idea from the start. They started acting erratically. breaking some stuff and fixing others. That’s what a Duster is, basically. A dead person the grit has tried to ‘fix’.

Even the scientists couldn’t really control them, but they learnt how to turn them off. Remember the grit storm, when all the grit went black and fell down?” She smiled sheepishly. “That was me. Oh, sorry, Josiah, you missed that - I can go back and explain - “

He shook his head. “Just keep telling us your story.”

“Yes,” said the Librarian, his eyes wide. “This makes so much sense, in light of the voices I’ve heard and how confused they seem!”

“Okay, so I don’t know anything about Saint Gabriel or the white grit, but the grit turning black comes from something called an EMP - electro-magnetic pulse. Basically, it’s like an explosion that only hurts machines. Win and Rattler are shielded against it and so is anything inside them.” She gestured at the Librarian. “That’s why your wound didn’t get fixed - you were inside Win when the EMP went off.”

November frowned. “So all this time, you’ve had the ability to just turn grit off?”

Scout shook her head. “Not that simple. The EMP takes ages to charge for a single use. That’s why I couldn’t use it when Saint Gabriel went all nuts on us. And even though Win and Rattler are shielded, in the long term it would start to mess with their hardware. Basically, if I EMPed every Duster we saw, Win and Rattler would break down pretty soon. Plus, you know, it was supposed to be a secret last resort.”

“So you were raised in the bunker to be a Scout,” said the Librarian. “And they sent you out into the world to explore it for them. Or probably, they built you to be a Scout and gave you memories of growing up so you’d be more convincing.”

She bit her lip. “Yes. I guess I don’t know how old I really am. I could be just a few months old for all I know. And there’s something else…something you’re not going to like.” She turned to face the Librarian directly.

“It’s okay, Scout,” he said quietly. “Whatever it is, I forgive you.”

The next sentence came out in a rush. “I was supposed to get inside the Glass Castle,” she swallowed. “They called it ‘Site A’. I don’t know what I was supposed to do when I got there, I guess I was expecting more orders. But that’s part of why I have Win and Rattler, the scientists figured anybody interested in Old World knowledge wouldn’t be able to resist. I mean, I’ve loved travelling with you and sharing books with people,” she looked at him earnestly, “and I’d already made up my mind if they asked me to do anything bad when we got there, I was going to refuse. I guess I don’t know if I could do that now. Maybe they could just make me do whatever they wanted.” She stared at her shoes for a moment. “That’s also why I stole the Infinite Book. I knew that we were going to drop you off at the Glass Castle eventually, but I also knew if we had the Book, you’d want to go straight there. So yeah, I’m a traitor.” She let out a long sigh.

The Librarian shook his head. “All of us understand duty to the people who raised us. I have my duty to my Order and Josiah has his. And we know how hard it was for November to go against the General. It means a lot to me that our travels together had changed your mind about the Glass Castle and your mission. And even though I wasn’t happy about how we got the Infinite Book, I still can’t deny the good it could do. All that came from you.”

“Go back a moment,” said November suddenly. “You said you were going to get more orders. How?”

For a moment, Scout’s face lit up with her usual enthusiasm. “Oh, there’s an encrypted radio built into Rattler. It’s really cool. I used it to make mission reports sometimes when everyone else was asleep.”

Josiah leaned forward. “So we could talk to your Order - I mean, your bunker right now.”

She shrugged. “I guess so. I don’t know if they’re going to answer, but we can try.”

“It’s okay, if you want to do that alone,” the Librarian said. “We can give you space.”

“No,” said Scout firmly. “No more secrets. And besides, I’ve got a bone to pick with them.”

****

One by one, they clambered up onto Win’s roof. With all of them up there and Rattler as well, it was decidedly crowded, but the Librarian wasn’t bothered. His head was buzzing with what they’d learnt about the grit.

Broken. Malfunction. Terminate?” it whispered. No, no, he thought. Maybe these people in the bunker might even know more about how to fix you. I won’t let them hurt you. He paused for a moment. He wasn’t sure when the grit had changed in his mind from a dangerous hazard into something confused and vulnerable - in its own way, just another victim of the End Times.

Scout moved a small panel on Rattler and punched in a code. A blue light on the cannon turned red, and she took a big breath.

“I know,” she said bluntly. “What I am. Is anything I remember - the bunker - even real?”

There was a long pause.

“This is highly irregular,” the woman said. Just audibly, they heard whispers and someone saying ‘factory reset’.

Scout took the plunge. “My friends are all with me too,” she said. “I’ve told them everything.”

The woman's voice returned, sounding strained. "Scout-Seventeen, your mission parameters were clear. Why have you deviated from them?"

Scout's jaw set. "Because I've learned there's more to life than following orders. I've made friends, real friends. I've helped people. That matters more than any mission."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end. "You weren't programmed for such... independent thought."

"Maybe not," Scout replied. "But I guess I've grown beyond my programming."

The woman was silent a long while. “Are you still on your way to Site A?”

“I am a Brother of the Order of the Glass Castle,” said the Librarian. “What you call Site A. And yes, we will take Scout to the Castle with us, but we’re going to need to know more about your intentions once she gets there.”

A new voice came through, deeper and authoritative. "This is Dr. Emerson, lead scientist. Scout-Seventeen, your primary directive was to infiltrate and gather intelligence on Site A. Do you intend to complete this mission?"

Scout hesitated, looking at her friends. November nodded encouragingly.

"No," Scout said firmly. "I won't be your spy. The people at the Glass Castle are trying to preserve knowledge, to help rebuild. I won't betray them."

Dr. Emerson's voice grew cold. "You leave us no choice. Initiating remote shutdown-"

"Wait!" the Librarian interjected. "Before you do anything rash, consider this: Scout has already told us everything. If you shut her down or try to reset her, we'll know. And we'll make sure every settlement from here to the Glass Castle knows about your bunker and your intentions."

There was a long, tense silence.

Finally, Dr. Emerson spoke again, his voice resigned. "It seems we've reached an impasse. Scout-Seventeen... no, Scout. It appears you've truly developed beyond our expectations. We'll need time to reconsider our approach. For now, consider yourself... released from your mission." There was another long pause, and then the light blinked off.

Scout let out a shaky breath. "I can't believe that worked."

“Well,” said the Librarian. “I suppose there are two likely scenarios. One, that their intentions to the Castle are in fact hostile. Or two, that they are simply taken aback at the sudden shift in balance between us and unsure how to proceed in a direct dialogue.”

“Yeah,” said Scout. “The scientists hated it when experiments didn’t go according to plan. Regardless, I think one thing is pretty clear.”

“What’s that?” asked November curiously.

She smiled. “I think I just handed in my resignation.”