Free Idols by Margaret Stohl

suddenly, I see it all as clearly as if he’d just said it out loud.
    They don’t trust me.
    “Are you her? The girl from the Hole? The one who ‘died’?” The Bishop is looking at me. “Is it true? What they say? That a bunch of near children brought an entire Icon down? That you’re so immune you can walk right up and get close enough to kill them?” He doesn’t sound convinced.
    I don’t say a word.
    “And what’s this about powers? Reading minds? Doing what the Icons can do—manipulating people without touching them?” The Bishop shakes his head, incredulous.
    I just look at him.
    “Like you’re some kind of human Icon?”
    It’s not a compliment.
    “It’s true. Just like in the stories.” I look him in the eye. I want him to know I am not afraid. Which isn’t true , I think.
    Not really.
    “Icon Children.” The Bishop shakes his head, wonderingly. “Tell me,” he says, staring at me. “Tell me everything. I mean, if you’re really her. You should have quite a story.”
    The accusation is laced with something else, something rare.
    Curiosity, maybe? Disbelief?
    Hope? Is that it?
    Either way, the words hang in the air like the snow.
    I just look at him. I’m too tired and too cold to speak anymore.
    The Bishop tries again. “Look at it from where I stand. I have to be able to trust that you are who you say you are. You must understand. We can’t let anyone into the mountain who isn’t with us, a hundred percent. That’s the one danger of a sealed underground base. Once your perimeter is breached, you’re too vulnerable to recover. When someone’s inside, they’re inside. So I need a little convincing. Help me trust you.”
    I stop listening. I look past him to the one gun that remains fixed on me. I can’t say a word. I can’t tell anyone everything. Not anymore.
    Not even myself.
    I can’t think of anything to say that will convince the Bishop, so out of desperation I close my eyes and feel my way through him, as if every new detail I pocket is another step closer to safety.
    I push past my own resistance. My own fear. I move into his mind, because I have to, and because I can.
    You can.
    Do it, Doloria.
    Don’t let everyone down now.
    Two boys. Two boys playing in a field. Wrestling in the mud. Ripping each other’s clothes. “Flaco, Flaco, eat another taco,” chants the skinnier one. The fatter one flings mud into his eyes.
    I open mine.
    “I’m her. The girl from the stories.”
    “How do I know that?” The Bishop still isn’t buying it.
    “You don’t have to know me. I know you.” I study his face. “You’ve lost someone too,” I say. “You’re still mourning.”
    The Bishop looks at me like I’m an idiot. I realize how it sounds. There aren’t many humans alive on this planet who haven’t lost half the people they once knew.
    I try again.
    “Flaco, I mean. Your best friend.”
    His face goes white in the cold. “So it’s true, what they say.”
    I shrug. He shakes his head in disbelief, swallowing an incredulous laugh.
    I don’t see him give the signal. He barely flinches.
    I only notice when the gun is no longer pointed at my heart.
    This Bishop is a powerful man.

GENERAL EMBASSY DISPATCH: EASTASIA SUBSTATION
    MARKED URGENT
    MARKED EYES ONLY
    Internal Investigative Subcommittee IIS211B
    RE: The Incident at SEA Colonies
    Note: Contact Jasmine3k, Virt. Hybrid Human 39261.SEA, Laboratory Assistant to Dr. E. Yang, for future commentary, as necessary.
    HAL2040 ==> FORTIS
    2/24/2043
    PERSES Scans/Data
    //comlog begin;
    FORTIS: HAL, our new friend draws ever nearer. Please tell me you have something.;
    HAL: Covert system scan and analysis have revealed much but have also shown heavily protected sectors.;
    FORTIS: And…;
    HAL: The core systems used by NULL are abstracted, or, as you would say, black-boxed. To wit: they are wrapped in encryption unbreakable by any known method. Brute force is not an option, at least not within the time remaining. As such,