Spellhacke- M. K. England Page 0,82
crew that did this? Was he just collateral damage? Did he know what was going on? I don’t remember what exactly he did for MMC, I was too young, but I know he wasn’t a scientist or engineer or anything. Something that made him come home smelling of sweat and dirt and machine oil.
Until he didn’t come home at all.
The professor talks on and drives the knife deeper, oblivious to my private crisis. “Everyone who witnessed it was killed instantly, obviously—”
Obviously.
“—so it was only too easy to spread the idea that the first big earthquake caused the plague, and make no mention of the earthquake being caused by their drilling.”
Ania waved a hand to get our attention. “Okay, so you said two things. What was the second thing they did?”
The professor’s expression darkens. “They’ve been actively making it worse ever since, making the breach wider and deeper every year, training the planet to make more maz-15 and totally ignoring the effects. It’s disgusting. They didn’t manage to kill us all when they released maz-15, but they just might finish the job with all these hurricanes and such. They used the tech we developed to separate maz-15 from the other strains to expand their reach. They built satellite stations all over the world, one in every city, and used that technology to collect more and more maz-15. And why do you think they bothered to do that?”
I finally find my voice again, clearing my throat to speak past the acid-scraped rawness. “There’s only ever one answer to that question.”
The professor scowls. “Too right you are. Here’s where the money comes in. They couldn’t sell it directly without revealing their secret, but they could use it to power all of their buildings cheaply and develop new products, protected by their internal patents. All that legalese kept maz-15 tied up beyond reach. Even our lab teams were forbidden from doing anything with it or about it without MMC’s permission. Immediately after the plague, all ten research and development labs were focused on the spellplague problem. But slowly, after we isolated maz-15, the labs were diverted to work on developing new profitable uses for it. Over the next few years, the MMC executive board turned into a dragon perched atop a truly enormous mountain of treasure, and there was no way they were ever going to give that up.”
So that’s what we’re really up against. All this time, I had thought Kyrkarta was just a struggling city trying to bounce back after a disaster, doing its best to adapt and salvage its reputation, held aloft by the goodwill of the few who could afford it. Apparently, though, it’s a criminal empire built on ten years of lies and death, bound by one company, controlled by a handful of people exploiting its citizens for bottomless profits.
Maybe we should just burn it down.
The professor spreads his hands and shrugs, helpless. “And that’s where we are today. MMC has their money, their power, and their secrecy. At this point, even if someone does tell the truth, who would believe them? Their reputation is ironclad, and they’ve got law enforcement and governments all over the world eating out of their hands.”
Jaesin shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “We really don’t stand a chance, do we?”
“No. None,” the professor says, sounding defeated for the first time.
Ouch. Don’t pull your punches, old man.
A thump, then a loud crash sounds from above our heads. Professor Silva’s head whips up, eyes wide.
“I’m fine!” John’s muffled voice calls through the floorboards, followed by another clang. The professor sighs and shakes his head.
“Put some damn pasta in the pot and get out of the kitchen, you menace,” he yells up.
A beat of silence.
“Where do we keep the pasta?”
The professor drops his face into his hands.
“Oh, for the love of—you’re a bloody genius, John, I’m sure you can figure it out by process of elimination.”
The whole thing is so hilarious, so sickeningly heartwarming, that it manages to crack through some of the heavy awful despair hanging thick around us. Remi finally meets my gaze for the first time since the train, their hand over their mouth to stifle a laugh, their eyes crinkled. I smile back, a helpless tug in my chest. I wish there was a cure for this, too.
Ania grins, but her smile fades when another crash sounds overhead, louder this time. The professor throws his arms up and stalks back toward the staircase.
“Damn it, John, just put everything