Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
“Promise?” she icily retorts.
Markadian carries on, paying them no mind. “Any further spreading of the video has been suppressed as best as my team can manage, all known search engines, social media, the usual sort of damage control and so on. We have submitted diversion content to the bot team that went live at—” He lifts his wrist, drops it right back to the desk. “Forgot my watch. Yesterday evening, seven or so, thereabouts. Questions? Other than you,” he snaps with a look at Cindy, who retracts her hand.
It’s Kyle instead who has the question. “Wait. All of this … All of this is because of that video? It’s that big of a deal?”
“Can we get to the vote already?” asks the boy. “It’s late. I have a cat to feed.”
“Vote?” breathes Kyle, turning to look at the boy, then the bearded man next to him, then the dull-eyed Zara, who squints quizzically back, appearing annoyed. “Vote on what?”
Markadian turns a page in the folder. “Now that the main facts have been stated, let’s get to the counterpoints. Kyle Amos was videoed against his will and initially without his knowledge. The material was uploaded by a third party, a human teenage female by the name of—” He taps a finger to the folder. “Layna Fludd, the lone blood daughter of humans Cadence Fludd and Jamal Fludd, seventeen years old, according to my informant.”
Hearing those names come from his lips raises every hair on the back of Kyle’s neck, insides going cold. “Informant …?”
“Were this situation left alone at this point,” Markadian points out, ignoring Kyle, “then we would not be at our current juncture. But Kyle Amos, a single night after the uploading of the material, attended a meeting with a crowd of—” He checks his notes. “—fifty-seven humans, where he made a confession of his nature, confirming the video as true.”
The boy yawns, says, “Good, fine, I’m ready to vote.”
The one in the pink suit sighs, mumbling, “I read the email, I know all of this already,” under his breath.
The grey-bearded man stops scribbling in his notebook at once, lifts his pen to his chin. “This reminds me of—Drat, the audacity to forget her name, what was it?—Anyway, the one case a few years back, the teenage girl from the New Yorkaeda domain, do you remember? The one who made plans to tell her school at her prom? Another young, foolish individual.”
“Why are we bringing her up at all?” asks Zara. “The New Yorkaeda domain is the east region’s concern, not ours. Unlike this case, the girl didn’t actually expose her nature to her prom like a fool, as she was fast destroyed by Lord Xiang following a unanimous vote. Cindy, are you even paying attention?”
“Yes,” answers Cindy, staring at Kyle and licking her lips.
“Wait,” interjects Kyle. “D-Destroyed??” In the presence of everyone in this room, his voice feels so small. “Hey, I didn’t tell them recklessly or maliciously. I-I was trying to get ahold of the situation. We all came to an understanding. I wasn’t—”
“I see what you mean, Markadian,” says the grey-bearded man as he studies Kyle with disdain. “Like an unchecked brat, a self-important child with no discipline, running his mouth, on and on. Shouldn’t he be bowing his head? Eyes down? Have we become so lax with our enforcing of etiquette?”
Markadian bristles, staring at Kyle as he replies. “This one seems to think he’s special because he was Tristan’s playmate for two and a half decades.”
Eyes shift between the others. Kyle watches them, feeling helpless. Why can’t he read their emotions? Are they not really there? An illusion? Is this their version of a video conference, communicating in some mentally manifested room that feels as real as if they’re sitting at actual desks around him?
“And because of his actions,” Markadian carries on, “our delicate society is now at risk of further exposure by these fifty-seven humans.”
“So what?” blurts Kyle. “Fifty-seven people in a small town in Arizona no one’s heard of. Who cares? They’re good people. Kind people. They want to protect my secret.”
An old lady who hasn’t spoken until now adjusts her glasses and sighs. “Goodness, he still calls them ‘people’.”
“So cute,” sings Cindy.
“But they are people,” states Kyle, looking at each of them. “What the hell do you think you guys once were? We weren’t born like this. You were once a person, too,” he says directly to Cindy, still licking her lips. “And you,” he says to the boy. “And you, and you, all of you.”
“Why’s he still talking?” mumbles the pink-suited one.
Markadian lifts his eyes to the others, ignoring him. “Have we any more questions before a vote is commenced?”
“I have one,” says Cindy, “and no, it’s not a thirsty one, stop giving me that look, Zara, I can see it with my other eyes.” She leans forward. “My question is actually for the informant you sent to observe Kyle Amos.”