Return Once More by Trisha Leigh Read Free Book Online Page B

substantial about my True deposited a feeling of disloyalty under my skin that wouldn’t dislodge. Ancient Egypt had never called to me as a specialization, and the Academy required only a passing knowledge of major influential events. Now I wanted to know more.
    Like, everything.
    Something in the way Oz looked at me after hearing the name of my True made me wonder if there was
something
to know, but I doubted anyone had ever chosen Caesarion for a complete documentation. Even seventy years of regulated time travel hadn’t allowed us to catalog everything. The first Historians began with the most impactful moments. The people whose influence was easily visible in the events that shaped our collective destiny—for better or for worse—we started with those. For posterity.
    Reflection completed our triangle of duty. It required
studying
to stitch together the quilt of history to understand where exactly we went right or wrong—mostly wrong—and to ensure that in another two thousand years, we wouldn’t have to abandon a broken Genesis the same way.
    Mistakes could not be repeated.
    Once a consensus was reached that an event or decision had led directly to the downfall of society, it went into a document known as the Hope Chest. Nothing could be deleted from that file. As we observed and recorded more specific memories and traced their influence forward, the Historians came closer and closer to ensuring a future free from the shackles of the past. It sounded cheesy, but I believed in it. We all did. Genesis was good, it was working. The last thing we needed was to start screwing it up.
    According to my fuzzy recollection of Caesarion, he had been erased before being allowed to have any impact on the world, good or bad. Dying young
was
his contribution, in a way, but a small one. Not something to intrigue a Historian. Unless she happened to be his True.
    I sat down in one of the smaller alcoves, one tucked away from the main entrance. The glass polymer benches, tables, and fluid screens made these spaces cold, and I tugged a heavy brown sweater tighter around my shoulders. It was one of the few items that belonged to me—a gift from my brother, a treasure from Palenque, the planet set up for agriculture and food production. It bore no Historian symbol, and wrapped inside it, I felt like simple Kaia Vespasian. It was nice. Historian apprentice Kaia felt pressure to uphold the image of her grandfather, not to mention of this Academy, one of the most respected in the System. Daughter Kaia felt as though putting one toe out of line would break her parents’ hearts all over again. But no one expected anything of plain Kaia. She could spend the afternoon getting to know the boy who, in a different world, might have loved her.
    I slid a finger across the screen embedded in the tabletop, pressing the tattoo on my wrist flat against the chilly surface to gain access to the holo-files. It meant my movements could be tracked, but wanting to know about my True wasn’t so weird. Sure, I should have been in Research, but the Elders largely trusted us. They didn’t check our movements unless they had a reason, and the Guide made everyone aware of the consequences of committing infractions, big and small.
    A stern talking-to or even a week of menial duties seemed a small enough price for learning more about Caesarion.
    Using the tip of my index finger, I tapped
The West
and scrolled over thousands of years of human history. Back through the wars, disease, and devastating overpopulation at the end of our time on Earth Before. Past the massive advances in science and technology, the intolerance, the hatred, more wars. Steps forward in human rights, leaps backward. Through the revolution that nearly destroyed France, and the one that birthed the United States. I swept past the Crusades and through the Middle Ages—my least favorite time to visit—and finally landed in ancient Rome, where the