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Sparrow let Eszter go and shot forward. Her hand came up and landed on Egret’s chest—not gripping, not pushing, just there. Still and present.
“Don’t,” she said, gently. Only one word, a word that somehow bore the weight of all they were, of all they’d become.
Egret froze.
His chest heaved, his lips still curled tight with fury, but her hand didn’t move. Slowly, like someone letting out pressure from a valve, his shoulders slumped.
“Jesus,” he muttered. Then louder: “We riskedeverythingfor you, and you repaid us with lies.”
He turned and stalked to the far end of the barn, where he paced once, twice, then leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the ground.
Silence bloomed like smoke.
Farkas looked back at me. He was pale. His hands trembled, and his voice came barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know who to trust.”
I swallowed hard. “You trusted us enough to save your daughter. You should’ve trusted us with the rest.”
His gaze dropped.
Sparrow moved back to Eszter, gathering her close.
Thomas, who hadn’t spoken since the confession, exhaled deeply and let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed.
No one spoke for a long time.
The cold crept in again, seeping through the boards, stirring the straw. I watched our breath fog in the silence and wondered how something so small could weigh so much.
Finally, Egret’s voice cut through the quiet, hoarse and still edged in fire. “We take it back.”
He didn’t move from the wall. His arms remained crossed, his face turned toward the dark, but his words were clear.
“We take it to Washington,” he said. “We put it in the hands of the people who can use it. Not the Soviets, not the Brits, not anyone else. Us. Power doesn’t prevent conflict unless you hold more of it than anyone sitting across the table.”
Farkas’s expression shifted—first stunned, then angry. “No. That is exactly how war starts, with one nation lording their strength over others.”
Egret laughed once, bitter and dry. “No, Doctor. That’s how war ends.”
Farkas stepped forward, his fear forgotten. “You want to make it another weapon, just one more tool in your endless arsenal of silence and suspicion; but this machine—this idea—it could be different. It could be shared. It could be published. We could give it to the world. If everyone has it, then no one can lie. No one can scheme in shadows. If everyone listens, we stop needing to guess each other’s moves.”
“And what?” Egret scoffed. “Utopia breaks out before Tuesday?”
Farkas didn’t flinch. “Is it so hard to believe that knowledge—equalknowledge—might build peace?”
“You’ve clearly never worked inside a government,” Egret said. “Especially not ours.”
Sparrow cleared her throat. “There is danger in both directions. If the Americans weaponize it, they will spy on enemies and allies alike. And if it is shared globally—how long before it is twisted? Exploited? Do you really think the Soviets won’t build their own version faster than anyone?”
Farkas looked to her, his voice softening. “But if it belongs to no one, it belongs to everyone.”
“And no one is responsible for what happens next,” she said. “And no one can stop what happens next.”
I let their voices wash over me—passion, principle, fear. They were the same arguments that had shaped the world since before I could remember.
I looked at Thomas. He hadn’t said a word. He sat apart from the rest, not detached, just still.
Listening.
Thinking.