Brandon Sanderson: Mitosis: A Reckoners Story

I flexed my hand. Prof’s healing powers — gifted to me under the guise of a piece of technology — had mended my wounds. I didn’t remember much about the last few hours. I’d lain in a daze, several city doctors working to keep me alive long enough for Prof to arrive.

I sat back against the headboard, breathing deeply, remembering the final moments with Mitosis.

They came to me clearly, though the time after that was muddy.

"How did she get them all there?" I asked. "The people?"

"The Emergency Message System," Prof said. "Tia sent out a plea to everyone near the river, begging them to go to you and to sing along to the music she sent through their mobiles. They could easily have remained in hiding. Ordinary people have no business fighting Epics."

"I’m an ordinary person."

"Hardly. But it doesn’t matter."

"It does, Prof." I looked at him. "This will never work if they don’t start fighting."

"Last time the people fought," Prof said, "the Epics slaughtered millions and the country collapsed."

"That’s because we didn’t know how to defeat them," I said. "Now we do."

Prof sighed and stood up. "I’ve been told not to antagonize you, to let you rest. We’ll talk about this later. You did well against Mitosis. He…" He hesitated.

"What?" I asked.

"Recently, Mitosis has been staying in Babylon Restored. Manhattan, as it used to be called."

"That’s where you just visited."

Prof nodded. "That he should come here when I went to scout Babiar… it smacks of him coming intentionally while I was gone. That couldn’t have happened, unless…"

"What?"

Prof shook his head. "We’ll talk later. Rest now. I need to think. And son, as well as you did, I want you to do some thinking too. What you did was risky. You can’t just keep rushing in, making snap decisions. You are not the leader of this team."

"Yes sir."

"We have an entire city’s worth of people to worry about now," he said, walking toward the door to the small room, which was warmed by sunlight through an open window. "Sparks. That’s the one thing I never wanted." His face seemed shadowed in that moment. Grim, along with something else. Something… darker.

"Prof," I said, "how do Epics get their weaknesses?"

"It’s random," he said immediately. "Epics’ weaknesses can be anything. They make about as much sense as the powers themselves — which is to say, none." He frowned, looking at me. "You know that better than anyone, son. You’re the one who has studied them."

"Yeah," I said, looking out the window. "Mitosis’s weakness was his own music."

"Coincidence."

"Hell of a coincidence."

"Well, maybe the weakness wasn’t really the music," Prof said. "Maybe it was performance anxiety, or insecurity or the like. The music just reminded him of that."

That was probably right. Still…

"He loathed the music," I said. "His own art. There’s something here, Prof. Something we haven’t noticed yet."

"Perhaps." Prof lingered in the doorway. "Abraham sent me with a message."

"Which is?" I vaguely remembered Abraham pulling me out of the tunnel and carrying me to the hospital.

Prof frowned. "His exact words were ‘Tell him he was right about this city… so I’ll forgive him about the hot dog. Just this once.’ "