Partials

Because I’m a Partial. Because I’m a question. Because my entire life, the entire world, is so much bigger than it was a few months ago, and none of it makes sense, and everything in it is dangerous, and somehow I’m at the center of it. Because groups I didn’t even know existed are using me for plans I can’t possibly comprehend. Because I need to know what I am.

And who.

“Now it was her turn to cry, her voice cracking, her eyes growing wet. “I love you, Marcus, I do, and I always have, but I—I can’t tell you this. Not yet.”

“When?”

“Maybe soon. Maybe never. I don’t even know what it is I can’t tell you, I just … just trust me, Marcus, okay?”

He glanced at her bag, packed and ready by the inside of her door. “Are you leaving today?”

“Yes.”

“Now?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said. “There’s nothing keeping me here.”

“You can’t come with me,” said Kira adamantly. “I need you to stay here.” I’m not ready for you to learn the things I want to learn about myself. I’m not ready for you to know what I am.

“Fine, then,” said Marcus. His words were short and clipped, trading sadness for anger and only barely concealing either. He stood slowly, walked to the door, opened it. Waited.

“Thank you,” said Kira. “For everything.”

“Good-bye,” said Marcus.

Kira blinked back a tear. “I love you.”

Marcus turned and walked away. Kira watched the empty doorway long after he was gone.

Nandita had never returned, and the house was cold and empty. Kira assembled her things: her bag of clothes, a bedroll and camping supplies, a new medkit; a rifle over her shoulder, and a semiautomatic at her hip. She looked around her house one final time, straightening the sheets on the bed, and her eye caught the gleam of a reflection on the nightstand. A framed photo. Kira frowned and walked toward it. That’s not mine.

It was a photo of three people, standing in front of a building. It was upside down, and she turned it around slowly.

She gasped.

Standing in the middle was her, as a child, barely four years old. On her right was her father, exactly how he looked in her memory. On her left was Nandita. Behind them, on the high brick wall of the building, was a single word.

ParaGen.

In the corner of the photo someone had written a small message, the letters jagged, the handwriting hurried and desperate:

Find the Trust.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The book you hold in your hands represents the collaborative effort of a great many people, in whose company I count myself lucky to be. First and foremost is my editor, Jordan Brown, who did so much, and with so much passion, that we should really be listing him as a full collaborating creator. Similar credit goes to Ruta Rimas, who contributed so much to the creation of the book and our early, formative ideas for it. She switched publishers halfway through, moving on to new projects, but her psychic fingerprints can still be seen on every page of the book.

Many friends and readers provided their own insight to the manuscript, including such personal luminaries as Steve Diamond, Ben Olsen, Danielle Olsen, Peter Ahlstrom, Karen Ahlstrom, Ethan Skarstedt, Alan Layton, Kaylynn Zobell, Brandon Sanderson, Emily Sanderson, and my brother Rob Wells. I’d further like to thank some of the artists whose work had an influence on this particular book, with special gratitude to Ursula K. Le Guin, Ronald Moore, Kevin Siembieda, and Muse.

This novel was greatly helped by the readers of my website, www.fearfulsymmetry.net, who helped name some of the key groups and concepts in the Partials world. The Hope Act was named by my wife, the Break came from Eric James Stone, and the Voice came from Michele Chiapetta. Thanks to them and to everyone else who gave us such amazing input; it was a fun crowdsource project and we’ll definitely be doing it again.

As always, and perhaps most importantly, I couldn’t have written this book, and certainly couldn’t have done a very good job on it, without the invaluable assistance of the three women who make my life navigable: my agent Sara Crowe, my assistant Janella Willis, and my wonderful wife and the love of my life, Dawn.

As a final note, many thanks to Nick Dianatkhah, who is always on hand to die in whatever surprising and horrifying way a story may require.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR