Lumina stared at the camera a few moments. Then she reached forward, pressing something beyond the camera’s view. A colorful scan of the human brain appeared in a quadrant over her left shoulder.
“The central area in blue is the oldest portion of the brain, Aria. It’s called the limbic system. It controls many of our most basic processes. Our drive to mate. Our comprehension of stress and fear and reaction to it. Our quick decision-making capability. We say a gut reaction, but actually these reflexes come from here. Simply put, this is our animal mind. Over generations in the Realms, the usefulness of this part of our brain has vastly diminished. What do you think, Daughter, happens to something that goes unused for time too long?”
Aria let out a sob, because this was her mother. This was how she’d always taught her, asking her questions. Letting her form her own answers.
“It’s lost,” Aria said.
Lumina nodded as though she’d heard her. “It degenerates. This has catastrophic consequences when we do need to rely on instinct. Pleasure and pain become confused. Fear can become thrilling. Rather than avoid stress, we seek it and even revel in it. The will to give life becomes the need to take it. The result is a collapse of reason and cognition. Put simply, it results in a psychotic break.”
Lumina paused. “I have spent my life studying this disorder, Degenerative Limbic Syndrome. When I began my work two decades ago, incidents of DLS were isolated and minor. No one believed it would amount to a real threat. But in the past three years the Aether storms have intensified at an alarming rate. They damage our Pods and cut off our link to the Realms. Generators fail. Backups fail. . . . We’re left in dire situations that we’re incapable of handling. Entire Pods have fallen to DLS. I think you can imagine, Aria, the anarchy of six thousand trapped people who have come under this syndrome. I see it around me now.”
She looked away from the camera for a moment, hiding her face.
“You will hate me for what I will say next, but I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. And I can’t hold this knowledge from you anymore. My work has led me to research Outsiders in search of genetic solutions. They don’t have the dangerous response we do to stress and fear. In fact, what I’ve seen is the reverse effect. The CGB makes arrangements for us to bring them into our facility. That’s how I met your father. I work with Outsider children now. It’s easier for me after what happened.”
Aria’s heart tightened and tightened, twisting, the pain unbearable.
This couldn’t be happening.
She was not an Outsider.
It couldn’t be true.
Lumina reached up, pressing her fingers to her lips as if she couldn’t believe what she’d said. Then she brought her hands back down. When she spoke again, her voice was hurried and raw with emotion.
“I never viewed you as being inferior in any way. The Outsider half of you is the part I love most. It’s your tenacity. Your curiosity about my research and the Realms. I know your fire comes from that part of you.
“You’ll have a thousand questions, I’m sure. What I haven’t shared is for your own protection.” She paused, giving the camera a teary smile. “And it’s always better, isn’t it, when you discover answers on your own?”
Lumina reached forward, ready to shut off the recording. Her pained expression filled the screen. She hesitated and sat back, her small shoulders shifting nervously, her petite frame rocking, like she couldn’t stop herself. Seeing her that way, tears streamed from Aria’s eyes.
“Do me a favor, Songbird? Sing the aria for me? You know which one. You sing it so beautifully. Wherever I am, I know I’ll hear it. Good-bye, Aria. I love you.”
The screen went dark.
Aria had no limbs.
No heart.
No thoughts.
Perry appeared in front of her, his eyes flashing with rage and hurt. What had just happened? What had Lumina just said? She studied Outsider children?
Like Talon?
Perry picked up the small coffee table, upending the vase of roses. With a guttural cry, he hurled the table at the wallscreen. The vase broke first with a hollow pop at her feet. Then the screen shattered with a terrible explosion of glass.
Long after he’d left, shards still rained on the floor.
She watched her mother’s message three more times in the upstairs common room. Marron stayed with her, patting her knee and making soft comforting sounds.
She looked down at the handkerchief wadded in her hand. Her heart ached, like it was ripping inside of her. The pain only seemed to get worse.
“It happened in Ag 6,” she said to Marron. “This thing. DLS.” Aria remembered Soren’s wide, glazed eyes as he’d stared at the fire. How intent Bane and Echo had been. How even Paisley had been afraid the trees might fall on her. “The only difference is that we shut off on purpose that night.”
Aria pressed her eyes closed, fighting the image of the chaos in Ag 6 on a grand scale. A Pod-wide riot where her mother was. A thousand Sorens starting fires and ripping off Smarteyes. What chance did Lumina have, between the Aether and DLS?
Marron’s eyes were full of compassion. He looked worn from the day, his hair mussed, his shirt wrinkled and damp from when he’d held her and let her cry. “Your mother knew about this condition. She sent you this message. She had to have been prepared for something like this.”
“You’re right. She would have. She’s always prepared.”
“Aria, we can try the Smarteye now. If you’re ready, we can try getting you into the Realms. We might be able to reach her.”