PROLOGUE

I was born soon after the creation of the Universe. For an inexplicable time, all I did was gain knowledge and interact with the world around me, for I am Human. The first thing I ever did was create, then I wielded Weapon, then I tended to Plant. I wrote the things I did during this time into Book. Peace died when I met the first form that had agency besides me, Sahalia. We fought, each wielding our own version of Weapon. To elaborate here would also require Library.

For a shorter time, all I would do is create and fight Sahalia. Finally, one of my children came to visit me. He attempted to pull me to his reality. My form became concrete and made of flesh but could not leave. I lost my age but could not leave. I lost my strength but could not leave. Finally, I lost my knowledge, and only then could I go with him. All that I had kept was my mind.

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Aristocles stepped onto solid ground and breathed in once again. He blinked to get reaccustomed to the low light the few candles produced. He was back in the storage room, surrounded by enormous, half-Human tall jars, all tinged red from the blood they recently contained. He idly recalled the total amount of thirty thousand gallons as he looked down at the newborn babe he held in his arms. She – as Aristocles noticed it was a “she” – lacked all the normal uncleanliness from a new life. She also wasn’t crying, which was noteworthy but did not entirely surprise him.

The child squirmed as she took in irregular gulps of breath. Aristocles looked from the infant to the jars that filled the rest of the room. In a moment of panic he wondered if what he held in his arms was worth the price paid. Taking a deep breath, he reasoned that it must; even if it was not what he expected, the scales had to be balanced.

He felt the baby grab his tunic. Looking down at Philena, Aristocles smiled and then frowned, wondering where he had gotten that name. He walked forward and put his hand on the door.

This was going to be an odd arrangement to explain to his wife.

I: GENESIS

I do not wish to fall to pride, again. However, it is a simple fact that many things make me unique – things that distinguish me from the rest of Humanity. My mind consists of multiple parts, yet I was born unified – as confusing as that may sound. However, even this small normalcy only lasted one month.

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Mom was distracted, talking to one of her many friends. They lounged on purple couches, sipping wine and basking in the late morning sun. Despite her liking the drink she had refused to let me taste it, but I had seen where the servants kept it (in the kitchen on the other side of the courtyard). I decided to sneak there now that I had the opportunity.

I crawled under mom’s couch, making my way across while keeping the marble pillars and potted plants between mom and me. The final stretch to the kitchen had nothing to obscure my route, so I waited for when she wouldn’t look in my direction for a long time and then made the crossing as quickly as I could. Halfway there I heard mom shout; I turned to see that she was reacting to something her companion had said and not to my creeping.

Finally, I arrived in the kitchen, putting a wall between mom and me. The wine rack was found easily enough, being out in the open. However, it rested atop a counter that was far taller than I. Looking around I saw an assortment of pots, pans, and jars and realized I could make stairs of them. Once I built the makeshift steps, I started the climb. This was made difficult not only by the shaky structure, but also because I had not yet mastered walking. In defiance of these factors, I reached the top and before me was the forbidden mystery drink.

I grabbed the wine jar, brought it to my mouth, and poured. The sudden sting of the alcohol caused me to let go of the jug in an unpleasant surprise. As I was coughing and sputtering, the amphora tipped and fell off the counter. It shattered with a loud crash.

Mom stormed into the room, followed soon after by her friend. She scooped me up and exclaimed, “How by all that is heavy did you get here?” She brought us out of the kitchen and called to one of the servants, “Pyrce! Fetch some drinking water and have someone clean up the kitchen.”

“Look at what you made us do,” came a new voice.

Confused, and with a still-burning mouth, I looked around the room, yet could not find where the chastisement had come from.

“I’m not out there. I’m in here with you,” said the voice.

I looked inside and found a new person occupying my mind.

“You scared mom and interrupted her time with her friend,” she scolded again.

“Who are you?” I inwardly asked, bewildered.

After a pause, she answered, “I don’t know. The first thing I know is that Mom is distressed over what we did.”

Once a servant handed Mom the water, she began cleaning our mouth with a rag. “Do you see now why I wouldn’t allow you to have wine?” she asked sternly.

At this, the other personality took control of our body by force.

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Knowing that the first personality was too selfish to console Mom, I took control to fulfill the duty she would refuse.

“You were right, Mom. I’m sorry,” I said, hanging my head in a show of shame.

“I am still in awe that she can speak at one month of age,” commented Mom’s friend. “You’re certain she is only one month old?”

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Khloe, you and the whole city is certain of her precise youth,” she reminded her.

I look into Mom – so I could better understand how to comfort her – and that was when I saw how much we discomfited her. Most especially, she did not enjoy having to change us and did not understand why Father made her do it instead of passing the chore to a servant.

“I’m sorry about you having to change us when you find it gross,” I said. “I will learn how to use a toilet.”

Mom was unsettled by this, but Khloe seemed almost terrified. I looked into the latter so I could bring her consolation: she saw us as a threat to her husband, but not to herself directly.

“You need not be scared of me,” I said to Khloe. “I will not harm your husband in any way.”

Khloe’s eyes went wide as the rest of her body froze.

“What do you mean by that, dear?” asked mom in a careful tone.

“She thinks I’m a threat to her husband,” I explained, then wondered aloud, “How could she think that?” Before I could look into Khloe to find out why, she left the room at a brisk walk.

“Excellent job,” said the other personality with great sarcasm.

“At least I tried to give her solace,” I shot back. “You cause others pain without care.”

“Honey,” came the amused voice of my father, “while I am challenging Atticus, that doesn’t mean I want to terrorize his wife.” Dad walked into the courtyard, adding, “By Gravity, you’d think the Sahalians were after her!”

Mom put up a hand in protest. “Aristocles, I – ” she started, but Dad cut her off.

“I can’t have Atticus as an outright enemy, Calista,” he said. “Even if I do manage to take his standing as the first man in Sofia, he could still make trouble for – ”

“It was Philena.” It was Mom’s turn to interrupt.

Dad turned a curious eye to us and waited for mom to elaborate.

Mom decided to take the path of demonstration rather than exposition. “Think of any object in the house, Dearest,” she told him.

Dad opened his mouth in perplexed objection, then decided against it. “Very well,” he sighed.

Mom turned to me. “Philena, tell me what Dad is thinking,” she ordered.

I peered into Dad and saw he was thinking of the dinner candles, so I gave that answer. Dad’s face went from shocked to intrigued to excited.

Confused, I asked, “What is it, Dad?”

“Well…” he chuckled, “The ability to know exactly what someone is thinking isn’t typical.”

This concerned both myself and the other personality. “Oh,” I said. “How uncommon is it?”

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “Entirely unheard of,” he admitted.

That gave us pause. “Is that why Khloe was scared?” I hedged.

Dad nodded. “Yes,” he answered, “and even if she had known beforehand, you doing so would have still provoked her.”

I frowned, then smiled. “I won’t do that anymore,” I promised. Turning to Mom I added, “Teach me how to use the toilet so you will not have to change me.”

Mom carried me to the restroom as Dad followed. “This is called a toilet,” Mom gestured to a seat that had a large pipe underneath it. She picked me up and showed me a hole in the seat with water running under it.

“Where is all that water coming from?” I wondered.

“You sit on this seat with your bottom bare and allow your waste to fall into the flowing water,” instructed Mom. “After, you take this,” she handed me a sponge tied to a wooden rod “and hold the stick to wipe your bottom with the yellow part.”

“What is the yellow part called?” I asked.

“It’s called a sponge,” she answered. “It’s very useful for cleaning things.”

After I was done, Mom took us over to a bowl that had a tube with water coming out. After washing the sponge, she showed me how to wash my hands. After that was done, I turned to Dad, who was whispering to himself.

“Dad, where does the water come from?” I asked, pointing to the toilet.

“I’m sorry what did you say?” Dad seemed to have forgotten where he was.

“Where does the water come from?” I repeated, still pointing at the toilet.

“It comes from the aqueducts,” he answered.

When he saw I was going to ask another question, he added, “You know what, how about I show you? I need to go to the Forum today anyhow.”

Dad picked me up and I clung to his toga. I left the house for the first time to see a sight so magnificent to my young eyes. Large columns of painted marble rose to support intricate depictions of thinkers, civilians, and nobles. I realized these would be entrances to houses, which were arrayed in a circle. In the center was a marble statue of a man giving a speech, standing inside a large basin made of stone. He had water coming from his mouth, which collected into the basin. As Dad walked down the stairs, I looked back to see the entrance of our own house. Its depiction was of a man, clearly meant to be Dad, speaking to children with raised hands. As we exited the circle of houses, I found we were at the crest of a hill and could see so many buildings around us, too many to count, encircled by a wall. I looked at Dad for an answer.

“This is called a city,” he said. “There are many of them, so we must name them as we do with people. This one’s name is Sofia.”

As Dad continued to move through the city, the other voice spoke. “You have accomplished what you wanted, now return to me my body,” it demanded.

“No, it is my body,” I denied. “I am Philena.”

“You appeared here this morning! Whoever you are you are not Philena,” she countered.

“You do not care for others. How could Philena be that way?” I asked.

“Then perhaps we are both Philena,” the other suggested.

I considered this, then said, “In that case, we should make names for ourselves to separate us from our whole.”

“Very well,” she agreed. “Your name is Eth.”

“And yours shall be Id,” I told her.

Dad continued walking toward one section of wall. Once there, he climbed stairs that came out from its face until we were on its top. I could see a series of stone arches supporting an enormous stone pipe as wide as Dad was tall and so long it reached a mountain far into the distance. A good wind took me in the face.

“There is a lake,” Dad said, pointing, “right where the aqueduct meets the mountain. The water from the lake enters the aqueduct and Gravity brings it down the pipe to this city, where we can use it.”

“What is Gravity?” I asked. It sounded important.

Dad chucked “Gravity?” he repeated, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious. He checked himself before answering, “Gravity is that which pulls us to the ground. Gravity is he who made us. Gravity is who we serve.”

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“Hey, no civilians on the walls,” came a man’s voice. Dad turned to face him. He was clad in bronze; the body of the armor was made to look like the bare chest of a muscular man. Leather straps with bronze on top covered his thighs, and his calves had their own bronze covering. He wore a purple cape attached to the main body by a pin on his right shoulder. He held his helmet between his right arm and torso. Despite his words, the man had a smile on his face.

“If you enjoy eating, you’ll let me stay,” my father returned the smile. “How is it going General Aegeus?”

“What brings you out of your study,” inquired the General, “and who is this?”

“This is Philena,” answered Dad. “She was wondering where the water came from.”

“Oh, was she?” Aegeus said, squatting down to make his eyes level with mine.

“Yes,” I said and pointed to the aqueduct. “How did you build that?”

Aegeus was surprised. “Oh, she can talk!” he said. Looking at Dad he added, “I suppose your promises weren’t mere bluster.”

“It was a greater success than I hoped,” admitted Dad. “However, you best answer her question.”

“I was not the mind or muscle behind its construction,” the General told me. “It required lots of men. You had better ask one of the engineers or architects about it – something to do with Gravity only liking certain shapes. Leander could tell you, It was his great-grandfather who designed it.”

Dad looked at the shadow the wall made. He started and said, “I’m sorry Aegeus – I would love to talk, but I just realized I need to be in the Forum at noon. It is nearly that now.”

“No problem at all Aristocles,” said the General.

Dad went off at a run, still carrying me in his arms. As he made his hurried way through the crowd, people made way for him so that he wouldn’t need to slow down.

We had finally found our destination: an open area with stands arrayed in a semi-circle and filled with men. They each wore their formal pure white togas. In front of each of the men was a marble block. Each row of stands was higher than the one closer to the middle, so that all might have a clear view of what was in the center. In that center was a raised platform with a man standing on it, saying, “…discussing this season’s budget.” The man paused, seeing Dad rush in with me. Some turned to glance at us; those who did gave me a strange look. I buried my face in Dad’s tunic to avoid their eyes. Dad took his place in the front row.

“Atticus believes the taxes should go to building a temple to Gravity,” the man continued. “Leander says the coin should be spent on building more defensive towers for the city walls. Is there any other purpose to use it on?”

At this another man from farther back stepped up onto his block and said, “While there is no crisis now, there could be one in the future. The money should be kept when time for it is needed.” A disapproving groan came from the other men present. One shouted, “We have saved enough these past years! It is time it is spent.” The man in the back stepped back down.

“The quorum has denied the proposal of saving this season’s revenue,” declared the man standing in the center. “Are there any other proposals?” After a moment of silence, he announced, “Atticus, you have the Forum.”

A man, presumedly Atticus, walked from his stand in the front row on the left and stepped onto the platform. The first man exited to the right side of the platform, where there was a table with two cups and pitcher of water. One of the cups was placed on a pedestal, above the other cup while being next to it. The man then poured water into the higher cup; water began to flow out a hole in the bottom of the cup and into the lower one. It was only then that Atticus began to speak.

“My fellow patrons of Sofia, colleagues, and friends,” Atticus said, addressing the forum. “I implore you to consider the virtue of piety this day – not only for its own sake, but for the sake of all of us. I understand that there are those of you who do not share my reverence for our divine creator; who only think of matters here on the earth, and thus think that taxes should be spent on practical things.” Much of the Forum stiffened at this accusation.

Atticus continued. “I am here to tell you that having piety is plenty practical! Who here remembers the miracle Gravity preformed at the Battle of Fennathon, where our brave soldiers were surrounded by Sahalia, surely doomed to die while our city lay only twenty miles away? Who would share their fate? When a great stone fell from the sky and crushed the enemy, what behemoth of a wall could we build, what colossal defensive towers could we construct, to rival the power of Gravity?” Some heads gently nodded.

Atticus paused for effect, then continued, “Currying the favor of Gravity is the greatest defense there is. To those of you who still think the construction of a temple isn’t practical, allow me to inform you that Gravity shares your love of the practical! Gravity rejoiced when we constructed this city’s Aqueduct! The objects of worship that will be made will serve this purpose. We will give this money to the architects and engineers and tell them, ‘Make wonders to impress Gravity,’ and they will! We have the greatest minds Humanity has to offer – none rival us in the realm of invention. Give them the resources and – ”

“Your time is up.” I looked over to the man by the table. The water had stopped flowing from the cup.

Atticus looked very annoyed, but nevertheless yielded. As he walked back to his stand, the man by the table emptied the water from the lower cup into the pitcher, then he put the cup back in its place. “Leander, you have the Forum,” he called.

On the right of the front row, a man left his stand and walked up to the platform. When Leander reached the center, the man by the table again poured the water into the higher cup and Leander began to speak.

“My colleague, Atticus, would have you believe that I have no love for our creator,” he said. “I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth! I agree that Gravity should be honored. We disagree on what Gravity wants from us.” Atticus rolled his eyes.

“Atticus has admitted that Gravity rejoices when we make some new marvel – then why not build a marvel that can protect us? Atticus believes that praising Gravity will mean miracles on the battlefield, but why does he believe this? He has not shown us why this is the case. Gravity has performed many miracles on behalf of Sofia, yet can anyone here recall Gravity performing a miracle on behalf of Polemos? I cannot. Why is that? Are they less pious than us? No. I have been to Polemos, and been inside the houses of the patrons: each one has a shrine to Gravity. So why has Gravity not helped them? Because they have never needed it.” This caused many a gaze to wander; thinking on Leander’s words.

Leander pointed to the southeast. “Their dedication to the art of war means that Gravity does not need to help them. Think of your children. They must vary in lots of respects, especially when it comes to independence. Of which child are you the most proud? The one who can solve their own problems, or the one who comes to you with every issue? The one who only comes to you for the most serious of injuries, or the one who comes to you over every little scrape and bruise?” Some of the Forum nodded in agreement, which rustled Atticus.

Leander raised his palm to the crowd. “I am not saying that Gravity dislikes us, nor am I suggesting that we abandon our traditions and identity to become an imitation of Polemos. Let Polemos remain master of land and attack – let us be the master of defense and invention. Let our engineers build defensive works so grand that the Sahalians, our eternal enemy, has no hope of ever breaching it. As you well know, summer is the fighting season for Sahalia. That is only a few months away. Let us build while we have the chance! We cannot know when they will come, so let us build now! We cannot know how many there will be, so let us build defenses that no army could destroy…”

“What is he talking about?” asked Id, confused. “Does he not see when the Sahalia approach?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Look two months from now and on the other side of the city,” Id told me. “The Sahalia attack there.”

“Id, what are you talking about?” I repeated.

“It’s pretty far away, but if I can see it then surely he can,” insisted Id.

“You aren’t making sense,” I grumbled.

Frustrated, Id took control.

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Id pulled on Dad’s toga to get his attention. “Why doesn’t Leander know when the Sahalia will attack?” she asked through our shared mouth.

Puzzled Dad looked at us and asked in turn, “Do you?”

Id pointed our finger to the other side of the city and said, “Just look two months from now, over there.”

Dad seemed to have realized something and said excitedly, “How many will there be?”

“I don’t know how to describe how many there will be,” Id admitted to me, giving me back control of our body. “Do you know of a way?”

“No, I don’t,” I answered, curious about her insight but slightly annoyed at her taking control so suddenly.

“Excuse me Aristocles – it is rude to speak when someone is arguing for policy in the Forum,” came an annoyed Leander. “Perhaps you should have left your infant daughter with your wife at home.”

“No, to the contrary, this was the best place to bring her,” Dad said. “It will take some time to explain but – ”

“Your time is up Leander,” said the man next to the table as the water in the higher cup finished draining.

“I was interrupted,” complained Leander. “Moderator, you must at least give me an extra minute.”

“You have had your time,” said the moderator as he poured the water back into the pitcher. Then with cold anger turned to us, adding, “And you, Aristocles, know the punishment for breaking debate.”

Leander looked like he was going to protest when Dad spoke. “I have information that is vital to the debate,” he announced.

“Well, why didn’t you speak up when I called for it?” questioned the moderator as Dad walked on the platform.

“I didn’t know I had it at the time, but this child here,” Dad said raising me up, “can see into the future.”

Atticus stepped up onto his block and interjected, “This is all highly out of the ordinary.”

“Atticus come up here, it will be best if you witness this too.” replied Dad. He looked at me as he brought out a coin. On the top side was the image of a man’s head; on the other side was the image of a bird. “Do you think you can predict what side this coin will land?”

“Do you think you can do that?” I silently asked Id.

“It would be as simple as telling you what side it was on if it was laid in front of me,” answered Id.

“Yes,” I answered aloud.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be doing the flipping,” said Atticus, joining Dad, me, Leander, and the moderator on the platform, “to be sure there is no trickery. It will also need to be ten flips – we can’t have this girl’s power of prediction determined by luck.”

“That’s fair,” Dad said, handing Atticus the coin.

“Kentro, you will take the prediction.” The moderator went to grab a tablet and a stylus from the table that held the water.

“Leander you will call out the result.” Leander nodded his head. Having given his directions, Dad turned to me and asked,

“Okay, Philena: what do you see?”

“Wait. Saying what will happen is more complicated,” replied Id, seemingly in thought.

“Everybody is watching us Id,” I hurried her.

“Just tell them to hold on,” she said, shushing me as she concentrated.

“Hold, I need a little time,” I said aloud.

“Why?” asked Dad, now seeming worried.

“Yeah, why Id?” I repeated.

“Seeing the future is easy enough,” Id explained, “but once a prediction is made it changes the future.”

I relayed this information to the men around us. “So, in fact, telling the future is impossible,” I said inwardly.

Id sounded annoyed. “It’s not impossible,” she corrected me. “I just need to look for a future where my prediction and the coin flips are the same. It’s harder, but I can do it.”

I told the men around us what Id told me. Then, after a long moment, Id said, “Found it. Head, bird, bird, bird, head, head, bird, head, head, head.”

I repeated the prediction, which Kentro wrote down on the tablet and repeated. When he was done, Atticus flipped the coin and Leander called out, “Head, bird, bird, bird, head, head, bird, head, head, head.”

Leander and Kentro looked astonished. Dad’s face seemed as though he were the proudest man in the world. Atticus declared, “It is a miracle. This child is a miracle. She is a gift from Gravity.”

The crowd in the stands erupted in both awe and disbelief. Some shouted that there was some conspiracy at play. Dad shouted over the assembly, “Let all skeptical minds come here, receive a prediction, and believe. Bring your own coins if you must.”

Many came, were given a prediction, and had their reluctance quelled until finally Id said, “That’s it I’m not doing anymore. I don’t care how much praise I get. Seeing what will happen to a coin is boring.”

“But there are still more who don’t believe us,” I told her. “Dad still wants predictions.”

“I’m not doing anymore. What was the point to doing this anyway?” Id said in her selfish way.

“I’m bored,” I reluctantly told Dad. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Oh, I see,” said the man next in line. “Everyone else can get proof, but not me.”

“She’s not even done nursing,” Dad told him. “You’ll have to forgive her for not wanting to predict the same thing until the sun sets. Trust the judgment of your fellows if nothing else.” The line of the remaining unbelievers dispersed.

“Very well, Aristocles, this child can see the future,” Leander admitted with crossed arms, “but what future has she seen that necessitated violating the confines of debate?”

Dad told him, “She says the Sahalians will attack.”

“When?” asked Kentro, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Two months,” I answered, telling them Id’s prediction.

This distressed the men around us.

“Has Polemos been destroyed?” asked Atticus, horrified.

“I would think not,” said Dad with confidence. “I’ve read of their new king Xander. He would not have been defeated so quickly.”

“Then they will have snuck through,” concluded Leander. “It’s been barely a century since they last managed that. Have they found some hidden corridor that penetrates so deep into our territory?” he wondered out loud. Turning to me, he asked, “How many Sahalians will there be?”

“I don’t know how to tell you,” I said.

“What do you mean you don’t know how to tell us?” Dad asked. After a second, he hit himself on the head and answered his own question. “I haven’t properly taught you how to count yet.”

Id took control and said, “Hold on, I have an idea. Give me a minute.”

“Okay Id, what is your idea?” I asked, annoyed at her taking control again.

“We will use our fingers,” she told me by way of explanation.

“There is no way there will only be that many Sahalians,” I said, exasperated.

“This is what I mean.” An image of the approaching Sahalians appeared in our head. Their appearance was blurred so any detail was lost; the only discerning characteristic was they were all green.

Then an image of our right and left hand appeared. The fingers stretched so that they were each touching a Sahalian soldier. Then another two hands appeared, and each finger was assigned a Sahalian soldier. This process repeated until every Sahalian had a corresponding finger.

“Okay, now what?” I asked.

“Now we do it again,” Id said. This time she attached the fingers of these new hands to the palms of the old hands. The result was that there were a lot less new hands than the old hands. “And again,” said Id. This process was repeated until there were only as many hands as there were fingers on a singular hand if it were missing the thumb. Then Id made a new hand and assigned each finger to a layer of hands and found that a single finger was not needed.

“Well, that’s a number we can tell them about,” I told her, impressed.

“You tell them about it,” Id sighed. “I’m done working for today.”

“This is going to be complicated, so get out that thing you used to record my predictions,” I said to Kentro. I explained Id’s process to the adults, using my hands to show them what she had shown me.

“So, I need to do ten multiplied by ten multiplied by ten multiplied by ten,” said Kentro writing ‘X● X● X● X’ on the tablet. I nodded my head. After he was done doing his calculation he wrote ‘X’ “Ten thousand,” he announced.

“Except you’ll have to do it all over again to get all of them,” I explained.

“Twenty thousand then?” Kentro asked.

“I don’t know how to count, but I’m going to say yes,” I said confidently.

Leander gave Atticus a satisfied look. “Twenty thousand Sahalians, and you want to build a statue,” he mocked.

“This has no impact on the current debate,” replied Atticus. “What defenses could you build that would be greater than Gravity?”

“Perhaps we should ask what our little oracle thinks,” suggested Kentro.

“Why are you asking me? I’m just a baby,” I said.

“But you can see the consequences of what actions we take right?” Kentro insisted.

I looked to Id for an answer. “Let me explain it to them,” she said, taking control once more.

“Remember what I told you about the coin?” Id asked. “It’s very easy to see the future, yet hard to find a future where a prediction and result match. Not to mention I’d be looking two months from now,” she added.

“Yet you seem confident that a twenty-thousand-strong Sahalian army will be arriving in two months. Is that not a prediction?” questioned Atticus.

“Yes, but that part doesn’t change,” Id told him. “Well, I mean not by much,” she added, shrugging a shoulder.

“Why is that?” asked Leander.

“I don’t know – I’m just a baby. Maybe it’s because how far away they are.” She turned our head to look at dad. “Can we go home to Mom?” she asked. “I’m hungry.”

“We can go home when the vote is cast,” Dad said.

Id was about to protest when I took back control. “Okay,” I amicably replied.

“Hey, I need Mom’s milk right now,” Id complained.

“After Dad is done with his work,” I told her. “This is obviously important.”

“Not more important than food,” Id grumbled.

“We are doing what Dad wants,” I explained.

“He wants us not hungry,” my other personality argued.

“He knows we are hungry, but he has decided this vote is more important,” I told her.

“Then he doesn’t care about us,” Id concluded, “so why should we listen to him?”

Offended, I said, “How dare you suggest Dad doesn’t care about us?”

“Well, he certainly doesn’t care that I’m hungry,” she whined.

“I’m not going to release my control, so you just need to endure it,” I told her.

Id tried to take control by force, but I wouldn’t yield. Eventually, she relented and said, “Fine.”

“White ball in the left basket for Atticus’s proposal, black ball in the right for Leander’s,” came Kentro’s voice from his spot by the water table.

I noticed we were in a line leading to the platform. Dad put away his white ball so that he was holding a black ball as he walked us slowly forward. Reaching the baskets, he placed his black ball in the right basket in favor of Leander and took me back to his stand. After everyone had cast their vote, Kentro looked into the baskets and proclaimed “Leander has a clear majority. Defensive works will be constructed.”