Aiden

“Take a seat, Aiden,” he says while motioning to the chair at the other end of the table. I hesitate, catching the glare of every person in the room. But I did not come all this way to hear the opinions of all these other elitists. I cannot waste my time nor energy worrying about them.

“Your Excellency,” a woman with a buzzed head and large gold earrings interjects, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “The matters at hand-”

“Can wait,” he finishes. No one dares interrupt after her attempt is so quickly shut down. So I sit. And I fold my hands before me like I, too, belong here.

“Apologies for my rash behavior. I’m afraid my matters are more urgent than they’ve been treated.”

“No need,” he says, smiling. I don’t understand why he’s looking at me so warmly, like a companion. A friend, even. I thought he would be threatening me with my life, considering the threat I currently pose to his position.

“If I had been made aware of your arrival, you wouldn’t have had to wait at all.”

Perhaps I’m imagining it but the man’s expression darkens when he turns to look at the guards by the door who straighten where they stand. The hairs prick on the back of my arms just from a look. He’s dangerous. Good.

“Clovis Lynch is out of control. She’s gone after her own colonies now and I have reason to believe that she won’t stop destroying until there is nothing left. This war-”

“This conflict is under control, Mr. Brooks,” the woman with gold earrings says sharply, scolding me with a look. “And if you so much as utter a peep about it outside of these walls-”

“Is it? Because the look on all of your faces is telling me otherwise. You’re all aware that there is no Atlas without its people, right? There will be no city if there is nothing left of its inhabitants? So why are you all just sitting here drinking fucking wine and getting fat while people out there are fighting and dying?”

I can’t help the anger boiling inside me. Here they are, dressed in satin robes and gold headpieces looking like kings, living like kings while the people of Nova Carta were fighting for scraps of food. And here they are arguing over politics while the middle colonies are losing their homes, their lives, their cities. 

“Watch your tongue boy,” a man with long brown braids says, leaning forward on his arms. “Our people are protected.”

“No, the rich are protected. Hell, they don’t even know about this goddamn war that’s been going on for longer than I’ve been alive. Do they? What of the people outside those walls?” I ask, jabbing a finger in the direction of the door. “You’re leaving them to die?”

“They are resilient people. Our common workers know how to defend themselves. But our elite, they do not know the first thing of protection.”

“So you are,” I scoff, leaning back in my seat. "I may just be some kid from the South End but I know enough to say that's classist as shit."

“This child thinks he knows how to govern,” someone chirps, laughing darkly. “Perhaps we should give him a seat in the cabinet. Who knows what will come next. Socialism?”

“Enough,” the dictator says. “I will not stand for rudeness, especially toward our guest. Understand?”

Silence. It’s suddenly so quiet that my breathing in my own ears sounds deafening.

“So far we have been doing what we think is the best for Atlas. Even if it may not seem like it. However, clearly it is not doing as much as we had assumed. So, Aiden, tell us how and why you would like our aid. And I will decide if it is worth the resources for the betterment of Atlas. All of Atlas.”

It’s becoming increasingly obvious to me how this man got his power. He has a charming aura about him, and a way with words. A golden tongue can get the right person far.

“If you cut off the head, the snake will die.”

“You’re suggesting that killing Miss Lynch will weaken the Alloy. Unfortunately, I agree. However, the situation is not as simple as it sounds.”

“How so?”

“The Alloy may be only a fraction our size. But it is well guarded territory. They have soldiers, gifted soldiers, who are more like trained mercenaries. And if, by some miracle, we are able to get through those borders, we only have minutes to do the job and get out. There are secret troops that have been notorious for being the deadliest killers around. But that is not even my main concern.”

“Then what is?” I probe impatiently.

“We are not dealing with a snake, but a hydra. Kill one head and two more take its place. At least Clovis has reasoning. The others are far worse.”

“Then we put someone new in charge. Someone who the rest of the council wouldn’t dare fight against, someone who can put an end to this.”

“If it were that easy, we would have done so already,” the man beside me says with a look. “You oversimplify.”

“Maybe it’s ambitious-”

“Maybe?” Another woman sputters. I ignore her.

“But it’s not impossible. We just need a new leader that we can trust and, more importantly, that the Alloy trusts. Someone who is willing to protect while sharing the idea that gifted and nongifted can and should exist in harmony.”

“Someone like you?” A leader says with heavy sarcasm. I shake my head.

“No. Radicals don’t make good leaders.”

“I don’t suppose you know of anyone?”

Alex’s face is the only one that flashes through my mind. Because somewhere in me I know he would make a great leader. But I hate myself for thinking that. I wish I could stop thinking of him entirely.

“No,” I respond. “But I’ll find someone.”

“You’re asking for our aid to kill Lynch on the offchance that she’s in a weakened state and that she won’t have bloodthirsty successors just waiting for her downfall. We need more than a pipe dream before wasting our time and resources.”

“I know her. I have people on the inside. Eyes and ears. I can find out her weaknesses.”

“This is a waste of time,” someone scoffs. “We should have just blown the whole capital to rubble. It would have saved us the headache.”

“That is not who we are,” the dictator says after a succession of sillence. "It is not Atlas behavior to kill before negotiation. You know this. All of you.”

The table is silent. I’m left wondering if this man is the monster I’ve come to believe he is.

“Aiden, do you know what started this war?” He asks. I don’t respond. I’m not sure how. So he answers for me.

“Fear.”

The dictator leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Fear of change. Fear of possibility. You see, once upon a time we all lived in unity. Centuries ago, Elements, gifted, and mortal all drank wine and broke bread together. But man got greedy. And the gifted became targeted. And so this realm was created, an Elysium for the gifted. But the gifted still lived in fear. And the mortal began to forget their roots. Atlas was originally a dream, a small one. It was a hope that we, once again, could live in harmony. 

"But not everyone liked the idea. Because they were afraid of what would happen when we opened the borders to all. So a chunk of our people left, created a land of their own and labeled it as a safehouse for the gifted. And we do not blame them in doing so. But they began targeting the nongifted. And we could not stand for that. So we fought back. See, at the end of the day, Aiden, all we want is peace.”

In theory, I agree with his goals. With Atlas’ virtues. So why do I still get that sinking feeling that I’m missing something important? Almost like I’ve just stepped in quicksand and haven’t quite realized why it’s getting harder to move.

“Then we share a common goal.”

His eyes light up with something like pleasure. 

“Your new living quarters will be here, in the palace. I will see to it that anything you need or desire will be yours.”

“Does this mean you’ll help me?” I ask, promptly ignoring all the many stares targeted my way. The dictator smiles.

“This means I will consider it. In the meantime, it would be beneficial for both of us if you show your face around the city. You will have escorts if you wish to leave the premises, for your own safety. And I have an ask of you, an important one.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a function at the end of the week, a semi annual ball. I would like you to attend. And have fun,” he says with a charming smile, ignoring the incredulous looks of the people around him. I cannot quite figure him out yet. It would be best for me to keep my guard up around him.

“If you insist.”

“I think it’s best we continue this meeting another time. Consider yourselves dismissed.”

I catch a look from Vincent as he rises to his feet with the others. Tread carefully. 

“Aiden,” the dictator says as I, too, stand.

“Yes?”

“Not you. Come, walk with me.”

***