Resonance by Erica O'Rourke

Author:Erica O'Rourke [O'Rourke, Erica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Social Issues, Dating & Sex, Science Fiction, Performing Arts, Music, General
ISBN: 9781442460294
Google: cX6BAwAAQBAJ
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2015-07-21T02:04:31.740000+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MY PARENTS WERE WAITING FOR me when I arrived home, wearing the expectant look that typically signaled I’d screwed up.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing,” my dad said, too quickly. “We haven’t gotten much time with you lately.”

I wondered if Addie had prompted this sudden desire for quality time. But I’d promised I would try to talk to my parents, and considering how much time they were spending at work, this might be my only chance.

“Are you hungry?” my mom asked. “I can fix you some leftovers.”

“What’s going on?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d eaten.” She bristled. “Forgive me for wanting to make sure you had at least one healthy meal.”

My dad laid a hand on her arm. “Winnie.”

She took a deep breath. “Councilman Lattimer paid me a visit today.”

“Oh?” Somehow I managed to go hot and cold at the same time.

She busied herself assembling a plate of spaghetti and meatballs. “He wants you to visit your grandfather tomorrow.”

I pushed away from the island. “Tomorrow? That’s too soon!”

“I know you’re not looking forward to it, but the Consort needs to act quickly. We’re less than two weeks away from the Tacet.”

“We shouldn’t even be having a Tacet,” I said, seizing the opening. “Most of those Echoes aren’t hurting anything.”

“Statistically, any branch of the size we’re cleaving is likely to contain several unstable Echoes,” my dad said. “They’ll only destabilize over time.”

“So the answer is to kill them because they might pose a threat?”

“Nobody’s killing anything.” My mom set the plate down with a clatter. “Monty put this into your head, didn’t he?”

“I can think for myself. And I think Echoes are as real as we are.”

“They aren’t, kiddo,” my dad said. “You don’t kill a shadow when you turn off the light. The object is still there.”

“They’re people, not objects!”

“They’re not born, and they don’t truly die. So they can’t be alive.” He was so patient, so certain.

“How do you know? Who gets to make that call?”

My mom stalked across the room as if she was leaving the discussion entirely. My father motioned for me to stay where I was. She went up on tiptoe and pulled down a massive leather-­bound book.

“Here,” she said, carrying it in both hands. “This is the scripture that tells how the world began.”

She set the book on the table and opened it, turning the tissuelike paper as carefully as my father handled the threads. She read in her crisp alto.

“‘In the beginning was the dark, and the Lord spoke and chose the light, and the world cleaved, and the song of the new world was pleasing to His ears. Worlds begat worlds like the branches of a tree, and each favored branch was touched with His song. He anointed the ears and hands of His most favored children, and granted them freedom to Walk among the branches so they might preserve and magnify His song.’”

She passed me the open book. “See for yourself.”

“I haven’t read this in years,” I said, turning over the pages. It looked like an illuminated manuscript, drawings crowded around the sides of the verses.

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