The Golden Specific by S. E. Grove Read Free Book Online

the A.D. 82 indexes on one of the mahogany tables so that Sophia could return to her work without interruption. As she began, she found that the volumes had been moved.
A.D. 82
:
v. 1
through
A.D. 82
:
v. 5
, which she had read already, were still neatly placed to the left of her work space. But instead of
A.D. 82: v. 6
, which she had left out to work on next, Sophia found
A.D. 82: v. 27
in front of her. She returned the volume to the cart, where it belonged, and withdrew
A.D. 82: v. 6
.
    She began working her way through the volumes as quickly as possible, scanning each line and moving on to the next. Every once in a while, as her eye moved over the index entries, she heard the echo of that unforgettable voice, urging her onward:
Find us while we still draw breath.
    I’m trying,
she replied silently.
I am trying.
    Remorse worked steadily nearby, dusting bookshelves and reorganizing volumes. At one point, when Whether had left the room, she wandered up to the table and set down her duster. “How goes the reading?” she asked expressionlessly.
    â€œIt goes,” Sophia replied. She turned back to the index. A moment later, she realized that Remorse was still standing there. She looked up, disconcerted. “How goes your work?”
    â€œIt goes as well.” Remorse sat down abruptly. “I won’t be here many more days. I’ve accepted a Nihilismian mission.”
    Sophia blinked. “Where are you going?”
    â€œThe Papal States.” Remorse paused. Then she asked, “What do you think about the missions?”
    Sophia frowned. “I am not sure,” she said truthfully.
    Remorse nodded. “Some Niles think it is the most devout work in the world, going to other Ages to keep them on the right path. Last year, I heard, the mission to the Papal States prevented a disaster that would have resulted in the early death of Christopher Columbus.”
    Remorse’s voice was neutral, but Sophia replied carefully. “That does seem important. Though surely Columbus’s voyages cannot happen now the way they did in our own past.”
    Remorse cocked her head. “That is what Whether says. He says that the missions are pointless because we live in an apocryphal Age, so why should what happens in it matter? This is not a real world, anyway.”
    Sophia hesitated. Clearly Remorse did not believe this, or she would not be undertaking a mission. “I think both explanations make sense.”
    â€œIf this is not a real world,” Remorse continued, as if Sophia had not spoken, “then why do we feel sad and angry and happy in it? We should feel nothing if this is all not real.”
    Sophia had learned enough about Nihilismians to know why they behaved as they did. They were attempting to demonstrate that they felt nothing: that they felt no sadness or happiness, because there was no reason for emotions in a false world. But she had never considered that Nihilismians might genuinely struggle to conceal what they felt. More—that theystruggled
not
to feel. She felt a twinge of unexpected pity. “That is difficult to answer,” she said slowly. “I don’t know.”
    â€œNor do I,” Remorse replied. She looked down at the table.
    â€œCan you say more about what your mission will be?”
    Remorse rose from her seat as abruptly as she’d taken it. “No. But I am leaving soon.” She tucked the duster under her arm. “It is not always most productive to read the volumes in order,” she said, changing the subject.
    â€œIt is easiest to keep track of what I’ve done this way.”
    Remorse looked at her a moment longer. “Very well.” She turned away and resumed her work.
    Sophia regarded the Nihilismian, wondering about her comment. She considered that Remorse had been the one to suggest the 1881 index. Was she offering something more than general advice? Sophia looked for some flickering sign, some further