Guardian by Alex London Read Free Book Online Page A

nonoperatives is the only viable solution.”
    “It can’t be,” Syd said. “Do you even know what’s wrong with them? Do any of you even care?”
    “We have done our best to find a cure!” a counselor whose name Syd couldn’t remember blurted out. “And all our researcher found was Machinist propaganda and—”
    “Pardon, Counselor,” the chairwoman interrupted the man with a clap of her hands.
    The offending counselor blushed and hung his head. The chairwoman nodded over her shoulder and two Purifiers stepped forward.
    “You are tired and speak against protocol,” she told him. “Perhaps you should rest.”
    “I . . . I . . .” The counselor turned pale, looking around the semicircle in wide-eyed panic, but before he could say another word, he was lifted from his place and dragged away into the darkness beyond the circle.
    Syd knew he would not be seen again.
    “You may not think we are doing the right thing by eliminating these entities.” The chairwoman turned back to Syd. “But it is not up to you. We make the determinations that are best for society. These determinations are not made by seventeen-year-olds.”
    “So a cure isn’t good for society?” Syd pressed.
    “A cure is not politically viable at this time,” the chairwoman replied. “And our discussion of this is over. Our decision is final.”
    “The Purifiers enjoyed the slaughter,” Syd said.
    “Purifiers take no personal enjoyment in their duties.” Chairwoman Pei recited dogma of the Reconciliation. “Their joy comes from service and it is a joy shared by all. A joy you would be wise to embrace.”
    Syd’s jaw clenched. He looked to the shadowy figures of the Purifiers, couldn’t make out Finch, and felt some relief. If the Council wouldn’t do anything about their policy with the nopes, he could bring at least one person to justice today. He would denounce his old classmate. It wasn’t much, but at least he’d be doing something. “I know of one Purifier who takes personal joy in cruelty.”
    “If so,” the chairwoman said, “then he’ll be brought in for self-criticism.”
    Syd nodded. “His name was Atticus Finch; now he calls himself Furious. I used to know him at school. Before. He was laughing when he slaughtered the Guardians.”
    “Nonoperatives,” one of the counselors corrected.
    “That’s all?” The chairwoman rubbed her hands. “Laughter? Laughter is not a crime.”
    “But you just said—” Syd clenched his fists. It was clear she had no intention of pursuing the matter. Syd glanced at Liam, who tried to shake his head.
    “No,” said Syd. He heard Liam sigh. “Finch—er, Furious, he also attacked me. Threatened to kill me. I think
that
is a crime.”
    A gasp rippled around the room. The eyes of the Council then shifted to Liam.
    “This is a serious accusation,” Baram said. “Treason.”
    Syd’s hands went clammy. The punishment for treason was death. He wanted Finch transferred, humiliated, maybe even hurt a little, but he didn’t want him killed. He’d spoken rashly; he’d gotten mad.
    “Is this true?” the chairwoman asked Liam.
    Liam nodded.
    “And where were you at the time this attack took place?”
    Liam tensed. In the shadowy heights of the catwalk above the factory floor, a lone figure in green leaned casually against the railing and watched. His perfectly bald head caught a gleam of light in the darkness. Liam pictured the sweat on his back turning into razor-sharp icicles.
    “It’s not Liam’s fault,” Syd broke in. “I’m the one who—”
    “Each of us must answer for our own failings and Liam will answer for his,” Chairwoman Pei cut Syd off.
    “I have no excuse,” said Liam, keeping his eyes down.
    “And you do realize, young man, that the life of Yovel is of vital symbolic importance to our efforts, do you not?”
    Liam looked up, but dared not meet her eyes. Instead, he looked at the folds of her neck, the green banded collar of her uniform with eight