The Collapsing Empire (The Interdependency #1)(95)

Cardenia closed her eyes for a moment and rested back against the wall of the Memory Room. “I didn’t want to be emperox, you know,” she said.

“Yes,” Attavio agreed. “I remember.”

“You didn’t want me to be emperox either.”

“I remember that too. But regardless of what either of us wanted there is the fact of what is. And the fact is, you are emperox. Probably the last emperox of the Interdependency. And the question you might ask yourself is whether you would want anyone else to be that person.”

“No,” Cardenia said. “No, I wouldn’t.”

Attavio VI nodded. “Remember there’s a reason I suggested the name Grayland to you. To remind you what had to be done. And to inspire you to be the person to do it.”

“Do you think it’s working?”

“I don’t have opinions anymore,” Attavio VI said.

“Well, pretend that you do.”

“You’re asking a heuristic computer network for its opinion.”

“Yes I am. Do you think it’s working?”

There was a pause and Cardenia could have sworn she saw the image of Attavio VI flicker for the barest fraction of a second. Then, “Yes. I think it’s working.”

Cardenia smiled. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“In fact, yes, it was.”

Cardenia laughed at this and then grew silent again. “The Interdependency was built on a lie, you know,” she said, to Attavio VI.

“Yes, I know. If not a lie, then perhaps on the least malignant projection of its original intent.”

“It’s a lie,” Cardenia said. “I know it. You know it. Every emperox knows it. All of the major houses, the ones that have been around since the founding of the Interdependency, know it, and the minor ones are pretty sure about it too. We’ve all been agreeing to live with this and continue this lie. For centuries.”

“Yes,” Attavio VI said.

“It feels like the lie is coming due now,” Cardenia said, and then held up a hand. “I want to be clear, it’s just a feeling. There’s no rationality behind it. But the feeling of it is so strong within me. Knowing that we created the Interdependency for our benefit, and pretended it was something that benefitted everyone. It makes this collapse feel like it’s the universe commenting on our choice.”

“It’s not.”

“I know. The Flow has nothing to do with us. It doesn’t care about us. It’s just something that is. But I still can’t shake that feeling.”

“That’s the human brain,” Attavio VI said. “It creates patterns when there aren’t any. Imagines causality when there is none. Imagines a narrative where none exists. It’s in the design of the brain itself. It’s primed to lie.”

“And primed to believe the lie.”

“Yes,” Attavio VI said.

And then Cardenia had an idea.

“Huh,” she said, after the idea had unpacked itself in her head.

“What is it?” Attavio VI asked.

“The Interdependency began with a lie.”

“Yes.”

Cardenia smiled. “I think it needs to end with another one,” she said.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As ever, I think it’s tremendously important to note that there is more to a book than simply the words that go into it—it passes through many hands after it leaves mine and before it gets to yours, and all of those hands make it better. Therefore, let me acknowledge the following: Patrick Nielsen Hayden, my editor (who was promoted to associate publisher at Tor while I was writing this—congratulations, Patrick); as well as Miriam Weinberg, who had the thankless task of checking in on me about when the manuscript would be in; Tor art director Irene Gallo and cover artist Sparth for a fantastic cover; copy editor Christina MacDonald for catching my many errors; text designer Heather Saunders; Alexis Saarela and Patty Garcia in Tor publicity; and of course Tom Doherty, who runs Tor.

I am especially grateful to them because I turned in this book rather later than I intended to—the second book in a row I have done that for—and no doubt tried their patience in having done so. To each of them I can only say that I am heartily sorry to have been a pain in the ass for a second time in a row. I did have plans to get this in early. Also, if I turn in a third book late, I think it would be fair if everyone involved in the production of the book gets to punch me hard in the arm.

(As a side note, and this is not an excuse, but holy buckets, did the 2016 presidential election make it hard to focus on writing a novel, because I felt like I needed to check in every five minutes to make sure we didn’t find a way to blow ourselves the hell up. I’m writing these acknowledgments in October of 2016, so the outcome of the election is still in doubt, and I’m still worried about everything ending in fire. But at least now I don’t have to try to write a novel around the worry, too.)

(As a second side note, I will also note that the title of this book—The Collapsing Empire—was not intended as a commentary on the current state of the United States, the UK, or of Western Civilization in general. I thought it up years ago. It just happened to look like commentary because, let’s face it, 2016 was a historically fucked-up year, and I can only hope 2017 is going to be better. Because if it’s not, it really is time to head to the bunkers with our barrels of beans and rice.)