Free Unison (The Spheral) by Eleni Papanou Page A

the cure.”
    He left me alone. The isolation of my faith and opinion forced me to question whether my devotion was misplaced, but I didn’t carry the thought long enough to commit to an answer.

    I examined the picture of Torrin with the young woman.
    “That’s me—when I first arrived here over twenty years ago. My orange sleeve never met up with me at the city border, so I left without him.”
    “A foolish decision,” I said. “You gave up your honored life as master to live like an Outsider.”
    “Left more for myself. Uncertainty is liberating.”
    “Being scared and curious is a hell of a lot more fun,” Wade smiled at me.
    Old Woman glanced up at the picture of Torrin. “Sounds like something Torrin would’ve said. At first I thought he had the scourge.” She twirled her pointer finger next to her ear and smiled. “I was surprised to find him here because they told us he died. He was a Chosen.”
    “Why did he leave?” Wade asked.
    “He never talked about it and requested I never ask, so I didn’t. Torrin believed in and taught the ways of the Ancients. This cabin was his classroom, and I was his willing student. Through the years, other Unitians and local Outsiders came to hear about his travels.”
    “Where is the master of the Outsiders now?” I asked.
    “He left me a little over a year ago…during our last trek to New Athenia.” She looked up at the picture. “He died in the old tunnel.”
    “Don’t you get lonely?” Wade asked.
    “I tried returning, but all my years on the outside made me too independent to restrict my existence to a small dome. The collective folly of Unitian dogma felt suffocating, so I came back here.”
    “Your loneliness has obviously affected your judgment,” I said. “Wade is a curate. I’m sure he can help you.”
    “How are you so sure your judgment is better than mine? All your understanding comes from Unity. That hardly sounds objective to me.”
    “Your selfishness clearly demonstrates why ‘mine,’ and other words related to the false nature of self, should be stricken from our language. Only with Unity can we rid the world of the destructive influence we’ve inherited from the Ancients.”
    Old Woman applauded. “They programmed you well. Keep that up, and you’ll make a fine purple sleeve.” She turned towards Wade. “How about you? Are you alive, or is your head plugged into that Unitian insane asylum as well?”
    “As a curate, I help Unitians through reintegration, but it seems more like I’m harming them.”
    “How can you harm them by helping them?” I asked.
    “Unity’s idea of help is no different from the violence of the past,” Old Woman said.
    “You’re nearing a visit from Unity Forces, Old Woman.”
    “I’ve known they were coming since I opened my door to you. I knew when I stared into your eyes still filled with sleep.”
    I glanced at my holologue, and Wade pushed down my arm.
    “Damon, let her speak.”
    “This is what leads to violence. We can’t allow this Outsider a platform from which to spew her vile delusions.”
    “I’m sure you’d like to throw her—along with that woman who interrupted your induction—into reintegration for daring to disagree with you. If you shut your slocking mouth long enough to listen, you’d realize other viewpoints exist besides your own.”
    This intense anger rose from within me, followed by another blast of pain to my head. A part of me wanted my vision to come true. A part of me wanted Wade to die because he was a threat, although not in the way I’d imagined. He forced to the surface things I didn’t want to face: my own doubts over the Unitian Oath that began when Kai claimed credit for my work.
    Wade looked at Old Woman. “I lost someone close to me. She was sent for reintegration, and they told us she died of the scourge.”
    “But you don’t believe that,” Old Woman said.
    “Nasia viewed the world as I did and wasn’t afraid to question common knowledge.