The House in the Cerulean Sea(115)

“It can’t?” Linus retorted. “I refuse to believe that. We are who we are not because of our birthright, but because of what we choose to do in this life. It cannot be boiled down to black and white. Not when there is so much in between. You cannot say something is moral or immoral without understanding the nuances behind it.”

“He’s immoral,” the bespectacled man said. “Maybe he never asked for it, but it is what he is. His lineage demands it. There is a wickedness in him. That is the very definition of immorality.”

“And who are you to decide that?” Linus asked through gritted teeth. “Who are you? You’ve never met him. Morality is relative. Just because you find something abhorrent, doesn’t mean it actually is.”

The woman frowned. “Many things are widely accepted as abhorrent. What was it you said he dreams of? Death and fire and destruction? If I recall from your last report, his nightmares were capable of manifesting themselves. Someone could have been hurt.”

“They could have,” Linus agreed. “But they weren’t. And it wasn’t because he wanted to hurt anyone. He’s a child who came from darkness. That doesn’t have to be who he becomes. And it won’t be. Not with who he has around him.”

“Would you leave the other children with him?” Jowls asked. “In a locked room with no supervision.”

“Yes,” Linus said immediately. “Without hesitation. I would stay in a locked room with him. Because I trust him. Because I know that no matter where he came from, he is more than a title you’ve given him.”

“And what happens when he grows up?” Charles asked. “What happens when he becomes a man? What if he decides this world isn’t what he wants it to be? You know who his father is.”

“I do,” Linus said. “His father is Arthur Parnassus. And he’s the best damn father Lucy has, and as far as I’m concerned, the only one.”

Extremely Upper Management gasped in unison.

Linus ignored them. He was just getting started. “And what of Arthur? Because I think that’s why I’m really here, isn’t it? Because of what he is. You have classified these children as a level four threat when by all rights they are just like every other child in the world, magical or not. But it was never about them, was it? It was always about Arthur.”

“Careful, Mr. Baker,” Charles warned. “I told you once I don’t like being disappointed, and you are very close to disappointing me.”

“No,” Linus said. “I will not be careful. It may not have been by your hand that he suffered, but it was by your ideals. The ideals of DICOMY. Of a registration. Of the prejudice against them. You allow it to fester, you and all the people before you who sat where you do now. You keep them segregated from everyone else because they’re different than the rest of us. People fear them because they’re taught to. See something, say something. It inspires hatred.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared up at Charles Werner. “You think you can control them. You think you can control him. To use him to get what you want. To keep him hidden away with your other dirty little secrets. But you are wrong. All of you are wrong.”

“That’s quite enough,” the bespectacled man snapped. “You are treading on very thin ice, Mr. Baker, and you don’t seem to hear it cracking beneath your feet.”

“Indeed,” the woman said. “And it certainly doesn’t help that we received a report from a concerned citizen about a confrontation between Arthur Parnassus and—”

Linus ground his teeth together. “Oh, concerned, were they? Tell me. In relaying their concern, did they explain what exactly they were doing at the dock to begin with? What their plans were? Because from what I could see, they were the aggressors. If Arthur Parnassus hadn’t intervened, I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened. Regardless of what he and the children are or what they can do, no one has the right to bring harm upon them. Unless anyone here thinks otherwise?”

He was met with silence.

“That’s what I thought,” Linus said, putting a hand on top of his final report. “My recommendation stands. The orphanage must remain open. For their sakes. And for yours. I promise you that I will do everything within my power to ensure this happens. You can fire me. You can try and have me censured. But I will not stop. Change starts with the voices of the few. I will be one of those few because they taught me how. And I know that I’m not alone.” He paused, sucking in a breath. Then, “Also, speaking of euphemisms, for the love of all that is holy, stop calling them orphanages. That implies something that has never been the case. These are homes. They have always been homes. And some of them haven’t been good, which is why I recommended they be closed. But not this one. Never this one. These children don’t need a home, because they already have one, whether you like it or not.”

“Ah,” Charles said. “There it is. The disappointment. How sharp. How profound.”

Linus shook his head. “You told me once you had a vested interest in what I would find. I believed you, then, though I expect it was out of fear more than anything else. I don’t believe you now, because you only want to hear what you think you want to hear. Anything else is unsatisfactory in your eyes. I cannot help that. The only thing I can do is show you that the path you’ve helped set this world upon has gone off course, and hope that you one day come around to seeing it for what it truly is.” He stared defiantly up at Charles. “Just because it’s not what you expected doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Things have changed, Mr. Werner, and I know it’s for the better. I’ve changed. And it has nothing to do with you. Whatever you hoped to find in the rubble you left behind on that island makes no difference to me. I know what they’ve become. I’ve seen the heart of all of them, and it beats tremendously despite everything they’ve gone through, either by your hand, or others.” He was panting by the time he finished, but his head was clear.