My mind wandered after Siobhan’s speech. She introduced me to more family all the while and I drifted from monster to monster. I should have been taking mental notes. Some of their gifts were obvious, which probably meant their weaknesses were too. But I was too preoccupied with their other gifts, the ones that had nothing to do with genetic power. They were all industry leaders in their respective wing of the Werner’s immense influence over the world economy. Their gift seemed to be nothing more than a figurehead, a status symbol, as if to say, ‘Behold my bloodline.’ Their real power was money. Out there in the real world anyway. Here on the homestead, the only currency was the family’s favor.

“I don’t think I can do it after all,” I said to Lyssa when I got back to the dorms.

“Why?” She asked.

“It feels wrong. I’m defying them. I’m fighting against the people who fed us and clothed us. But I also know that what they did to us is worse.”

We were bugs in a terrarium. We thrived contained inside impenetrable bottles.

“It is.”

“But if they hadn’t, then where would we be? Would we have simply died?”

“Without infrastructure, people devolve,” Lyssa said. “There were cities that were struck by Rachminau that weren’t saved by Werner or government. Those that stayed formed tribal ecosystems of their own. We learn this at school. If the Werner’s hadn’t oppressed you, you would have oppressed yourselves.”

“I don’t believe that.” The ‘steadhands were capable of kindness. I had seen it. We deserved more.

“Then you have your answer,” Lyssa said.

I felt a rush of confidence. Yes, that was right. There was always hope. Just because the Werner’s saved us doesn’t mean they had the right to use us like cattle.

“Thanks Lyssa,” I said.

I went to see Farnoush. He was resting in the dorms after helping the others. They had accepted him back quickly. Was it pity or the extra hands on deck? Probably both.

“I’ll take the list now,” I said.

He handed it over like it was a hot potato.

“Honestly, I doubt it would help the way you think it will,” he said. “We don’t have the ability to do anything with this information.”

“Then why are you so nervous?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, and simply returned to bed. While everyone slept, I stayed by candlelight and read. Farnoush had added a lot more detail to the list. There were even descriptions to some of the gifts.

How did they work? Lyssa would probably know. I’d have to ask her when morning came. Many of them were elemental. It seemed simple enough, with some counter-intuitive mechanisms. Fire needed air. Water needed moisture. Strength required leverage. Speed needed awareness. But the more abstract gifts like the ability to induce current or see a thousand miles in infrared—those would take a bit of thought. I read through the booklet carefully. When I reached the last page I turned it back and read it again. I set it down and sighed; the one I was most interested in wasn’t on the list. Siobhan was an unknown. Farnoush had omitted even the obvious about her. I knew she was a teleporter, but that was all. She could have something else up her sleeves. As if it wasn’t complicated enough, people could have multiple gifts. I wondered if they were all a bit weird too.

I’d need tools. Not the ones we had aplenty here. Specific, precise tools that could fly under the radar. Most importantly of all I needed people. That might have proved to be the hardest to acquire. I had just started being the lead hand. They were looking for stability, not change—especially not after seeing the previous lead hand be reduced to a scared animal. Which meant I needed to unearth something stronger than fear.

That night I joined the campfire at close of day. Conjoined circles of people huddled around a scattering of fire pits like bubbles. They talked like they usually did.

“Remember the Smiths? Oh, the best ice cream I ever had.”

“Every weekend after work and after church. The only real cure to a hot summer’s day.”

“And they only had three flavors!”

“Only need the three.”

One of countless conversations that went on at the same time. I must have heard this one at least a dozen times. By now it wasn’t the story, it was the recitation—a memory turned mantra.

“What were the flavors?” I asked.

They looked surprised at first.

“The only three,” one of them said. “Vanilla, strawberry, chocolate.”

“It was a family-run shop,” said the other. “Been doing the same thing for generations.”

“I’d love to have some one day,” I said. “It would be a shame to let traditions go to waste like that.”

“…Yeah.” They agreed.

I moved onto another conversation.

“-it was red as apple crumble. The bearing retainer was rattling in place!” The man slapped his knee. “And then- And then he said, ‘I just need a tire change. Ignore everything else.’”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Holy shit!”

Laughter. Cheers. I couldn’t believe people still found this story funny. I could even see tears.

“Oh, Cassidy,” he said. “Didn’t see you there. How’s the new job?”

“Tiring,” I said. “And tedious. Nothing interesting really happens here, does it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Not like being a… a…”

“I was an automotive mechanic,” he said. “I mostly did trucks.”

“Was each job different?” I asked.

“Most were pretty standard. But once in a handful you get one you can’t do right quick. Every vehicle tells a journey.”

“Sounds fun.” I leaned forward. I was a kid with widened eyes, yearning, listening, like the son he was supposed to pass these sorts of things down to. A lot of workers here had families. “Is there any way you can teach me?”

“Well, uh, I…” He looked around.

But the only vehicles we had here in the homestead were farming equipment. If they needed major repairs, Sebastian had them sent off; we didn’t have the resources to do rebuilds. None of the work we did here was worth talking about. The homestead was where journeys ended.

“Oh right,” I said. I laughed it off. It was a stupid question, but it got him thinking. I could tell he wasn’t enjoying what was going through his head.

I did this a few more times, travelling from dream to dream, trying to bring the dreamers out of sleep. I felt guilty all the while. These fires were their only safe space. I intended to take that away from them. It was for their own good.

--

Sunday.

I was invited to a family meeting. No fancy clothes this time. I was given a clean shirt and a pair of jeans that I was supposed to keep, and led towards a tea room somewhere deep in the house.

“How are you acclimating?” The majordomo asked me.

“Could be doing worse,” I said. I must have answered this question a hundred different ways.

“Good. Good.”

“How are uh- how well do they think I’m doing?” I asked.

“That’s up to them to evince and you to glean,” he said.

“Right, sir.”

“Kenneth,” he said. “We’re basically on equal grounds now.”

“Right, s- Kenneth.”

I had never been allowed this deep in the house before. I didn’t much like it at all. My footsteps left no sound on the carpet. We walked past many entrances. Single doors and double doors and even triple doors, some ten feet tall. Art was hung intermittently on the walls and on stands. Every fixture was meticulously clean. Everything had history. I wondered if the Werner’s took pride in that sort of thing. If they did, why were they so gleeful about what they were doing to other people? There was plenty of time to go around.

We stopped in front of a nondescript rectangle of alabaster colored wood. Kenneth touched something at waist level and turned. The section opened. I took the cue and entered.

Familiar faces sat around a tea table. A confectionary tower stood tall at the center within everyone’s reach. There was one empty place for me.

“Well, well, how he has grown,” said Abe Werner. He was dressed in his usual crisp suit, made of ceramic material that could withstand his body heat.

“I could not guess as to what Siobhan sees in him,” Nathan Werner said. “But I suppose it is right for you to apologize.”

“For what, exactly?” Abe retorted.

“For making him play fetch for you outside of normal work hours.”

“He was a servant then. Now he isn’t. So I’ve stopped. What’s the issue?”

I didn’t pay much attention to their sibling bickering; I couldn’t stop staring at the third Werner in the room. He was the man who had decapitated Dixie. I saw through the pea coat and tie at the man underneath instantly. Cold sweat beaded on my temple. I saw impossibly thin blades spring from his forearms and draw a crescent arc through my neck. I saw my world tilt up, my eyes looking at the ceiling, then behind me, then the carpet.

I quickly blinked the imagery away.

“Don’t worry.” He spoke. It was a whisper, but I heard it loud and clear. “If I wanted to, you wouldn’t feel it.”

“Mateo, he’s to be one of us now,” Abe said. “We’re supposed to treat him as a cousin.”

“I don’t mind,” Mateo said. He sipped his tea. “Please, primo, sit with us.”

I pulled out the empty seat and joined the semicircle of lions.

“I came as soon as I was called,” I said.

“Punctual,” Abe said. “But you always were.”

“And you rewarded him well, master Abraham,” Nathan said.

They exchanged chuckles. Mateo did not join them. He seemed more interested in nibbling on a scone. I was still very much afraid of those two Werner’s. But after that family gathering with Siobhan, I realized that the family’s real power was out there. Why were these two here? Something stronger than fear overtook me.

“If you’ve called me here for ridicule,” I said, pushing my seat back and standing up. “Work begins again tomorrow at six.”

I started to leave.

“Sit, Cassidy,” Mateo said. He reached for the pot. Thin fingers pinched the handle and deposited hot, orange tea into delicate china. He set it in front of my seat.

I returned to it. The two muscle-headed Werner’s didn’t seem amused anymore.

“We’re trying to be more communicative with our workers,” Mateo said. “To listen to their needs, and to the best of our ability, accommodate them. This is a standard we will be applying to all our homesteads.”

“What was stopping you before?” I asked.

“You’ve some nerve, asking questions,” Abe said.

It was beginning to smell like a furnace in this cramped room. Mateo set a hand on Abe’s shoulder. The heat abated.

“We cultivated our power by digging our roots deep,” Mateo said, “While leaning our branches in the wind. The world’s operating standards of business have changed.”

Nothing, was the answer. They could have been treating us better the whole time. Or better yet, they could have just let us go. If by some miracle they did, where would we go?

“So I’m here to pick out gifts,” I said.

“Within reason,” he said. “That’s why we’ve arranged this little party and dressed like men. So we can talk.” He glanced at his cousins. “Like men.”

Nathan crossed his arms. Abe didn’t visibly react, but when he raised his cup to his lips, I could see the vapor trails thicken.

There must have been a catch. When they asked what I’d like, their price was my answer and the deal was paid the moment I spoke. They may have taken out the fine china and rolled out the carpet for a servant like me, but I was still being tested. And I couldn’t back out. I had to answer.

I put on airs and pretended to think about what I’d want, when I already knew what I really wanted.

“Time’s ticking, Cass,” Abe said. He set his cup down. There was a crack in the handle. Mateo made a face, silently saying, what a waste.

Epiphany. I almost let it show as a sharp inhale, a cheer even. What they thought I wanted and what I really wanted—there was a way I could get both.

“A machine shop,” I said.

“A what-for?” Nathan said. He sounded genuinely confused, not by my request but by what it even was.

“Yes,” Mateo agreed, bemused. “What for?”

“There are machinists and mechanics in our homestead,” I said. “Some of them have been talking about missing their old life. I think we can put that energy to use. Have them fix our equipment without sending them out.”

Mateo looked for the approval of his family. A show of counsel; I knew perfectly well they were not the brains of the family.

“A machine shop it is,” Mateo said. “Anything else?”

“Let’s see how that serves us first before I get…”

“Cocky,” Abe said.

“Yes, this position has given a very young boy a lot of voice,” Nathan said.

“He has not overstepped,” Mateo said softly. “You may go after finishing your tea, Cassidy.”

I drained the cup, performed a curt bow, and exited the room. Kenneth escorted me the way back to the dorm grounds. While in the house I resisted a smirk. By the time I had entered the bunks I was beaming ear to ear. We didn’t have long left.