Free The Falling Machine by Andrew P. Mayer Page A

me.”
    “You understand, Sarah, that if I were to tell the others that you were down here it would never be for reasons of malice.”
    Sarah felt a familiar queasiness rising up from her stomach. “I suppose it would be for my own good.…”
    “Yes,” he replied. “That would be the reason.”
    “If you were a young woman in this world, Mr. Wickham,” Sarah said with a slight sharpness in her voice, “I'm afraid that you'd end up hearing that phrase all too often. At some point I began to realize my ‘own good’ is an easy excuse that people use when they're telling you what to do.”
    “I understand. If it makes you feel any better, it's something they say to young men as well, especially when you're the type who dresses up in costumes and gallivants across the city during the night.”
    “I can see how that might frighten the horses,” Sarah replied.
    He tapped a finger against his cheek and grinned. “Sometimes you truly are your father's daughter.”
    “I'll take that as a compliment.”
    The Sleuth pointed at the gate. “If, Miss Stanton, I open this door and show you what lies beyond it, you will become involved —irrevocably and absolutely. I will try to protect you from harm, but since I'm not sure exactly what is going on here, I can't promise you that you won't be entering a world of danger beyond my ability to keep you safe.”
    Her mind flashed back to the brass reliefs on the front door: poor Prometheus tied to his rock as the gods went about the business of war. “The world of the Paragons…” she said slowly to herself. “But I'm the daughter of the Industrialist.”
    “Yes, you are. The fact that you came this far on your own makes it obvious that your father has already allowed you to become involved to a greater degree than he should have. But there is still a great deal you don't know, and that ignorance may give you a modicum of safety. And if not safety, then at least some comfort.” His face was very stern, his forehead now furrowed into ridges very similar to those on his mask. “So I have two questions for you.”
    Sarah nodded.
    “Firstly, are you sure this is what you really want? I'm well acquainted with the satisfaction that comes from discovery. But I want you to understand that there are often unintended consequences and responsibilities that also come with knowledge.” He paused and looked directly into her eyes. “This won't be a game any longer, so I want you to be sure.”
    Sarah pondered for a moment. Even growing up as a child of privilege in New York City, it was impossible to be ignorant of the fact that most people in the world lived much sadder and more desperate lives than she had ever known. And while some might claim that it was destiny that put you into your circumstances, Sarah had always believed that it was mostly luck that had given her the life she'd lived. And yet she had always been determined to not let that hold her back.
    She heard herself saying the words before she had even decided she believed them. “I…I am, Mr. Wickham.”
    He nodded solemnly and then continued. “Secondly, showing you what is behind this door means that I am about to break a number of sacred oaths. So, even as I am keeping your secrets I will now be asking you to keep mine. Can I trust you, Sarah Stanton? Are you someone of honor, integrity, truth, and righteousness?”
    As she heard him speaking the words a jolt of recognition struck her. They were part of the oath that every Paragon took when they became a member. “I swear to fight for honor, integrity, truth, and righteousness,” She had heard her father say them many times over the years as he had inducted new members into the Society.
    “…and that you will use the secrets and powers of the Paragons to protect those who cannot protect themselves,” Wickham continued, completing the oath.
    “I…I will!” she stammered back.
    He took her hands in his. They were surprisingly smooth and cool. “I can't make