Brandon Sanderson: Perfect State

“Yeah,” Shale said, “if you want to turn every kid with a broken leg into a supersoldier.” He rubbed his chin. “Actually, that might not be a bad—”

“The spice requires many applications before those abilities manifest, Shale,” Besk said.

“So you’re saying I’m going to have to break a lot of legs, eh?”

I mostly ignored their banter, though I was pleased to see it. Shale had been timid around Besk lately. Instead, I turned my attention to the leaders of the natives, three women holding spears, their faces painted white and red. I entered Lancesight and drew on the Aurora. The energy was sluggish, the waves of heat less warm than normal, but my magic still worked. I set a small invisible bubble around our chariot as we swung down to hover before the leaders. It would reflect all attacks, and would alter sounds passing through it so that . . .

“Greetings,” said one of the women. I understood the words in my own tongue, the Lanced shield acting as a translator.

“You will address him as Your Majesty,” Shale said.

“He is not our lord,” the woman said. “His show of force is grand, yes, but if he thinks to seize this valley by strength of arm, he will see just how weak his reach can be.”

“Surely,” Besk said, “you can see the advantages of an alliance with us! Your warriors, though proud, cannot help but look in awe upon our flying machines. Rest assured that Emperor Kairominas could conquer you if he wished. But why force his hand? Certainly we can come to an accommodation.”

As they spoke, I realized I knew what the leaders were going to say. Not because I could read their minds, but because something about this situation seemed obvious. The hidden valley, with roads to different States, whispered the purpose of this place to me.

“You should know that—” the chief began.

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

“The other Liveborn,” I said. “You were going to tell us you have met another like me. Is he still here?”

Shale and Besk looked at me as if I were mad, but the native woman was not surprised by my request.

“The Wode,” I said to my companions. “They let us discover this place. They created it to border multiple States and contain a precious resource we would all desire. Victory here will not come from persuading these people, but from defeating the other Liveborn.” I looked to the woman. “That’s what you were going to propose, wasn’t it? You’ve seen our glories, and you know you cannot avoid being conquered. All you can do is decide which Liveborn to serve.”

“We will choose,” the woman said, sounding dissatisfied. “Prove yourself against the others and gain our allegiance. We will call you our king then, outsider, and not before.”

It was her Concept, obviously. The hardy yet pragmatic chief. She had seen the truth of these invasions. Undoubtedly, if I won her loyalty, she would prove a lasting and powerful ally. In order to accomplish that, I would have to do something I’d never done before. Defeat another Liveborn.

I found myself thrilled by the notion. At this point, my realm had known peace for twenty years. I was hungry for something new, a challenge my State couldn’t present.

Another Liveborn. Another emperor, like myself. This would be a foe unlike any I had ever crossed.

“I repeat my question,” I told the woman. “Is he still here?”

“Yes.”

I grew excited. “Where?”

“In our village. You will have to come in our company if you wish to meet the emissary.”

“That’s not—” Shale began.

“We’ll do it,” I said, already climbing down from the chariot.

Shale was not pleased—and neither was Besk, whom I required to stay behind with the armies to take command if something went wrong. I was not worried. So long as I had the Aurora at my back, I was worth an army unto myself.

The chief, who said her name was Let-mere, led us past a wooden palisade into a village of huts and stone hovels. The people there had skin a much fainter shade of violet; presumably the spice of warriors was mostly reserved for the upper class. I knew without asking that they’d spent generations fighting against other tribes in this State, mastering the arts of war, believing their valley was the sum of all existence.

I joined the honor guard of natives and walked directly into their village, where the creature I would come to know as Melhi waited.

I stopped at the top of the stairwell.

“And?” Sophie asked, climbing the last few steps behind me.

We’d reached a door I hoped led to the rooftop, but it was locked by a chain. I entered Lancesight and drew upon the Aurora to—

No I didn’t. Damn it. Two centuries of having the power of creation at my fingertips was going to be difficult to reprogram.

“Here,” Sophie said, pulling something from her handbag as I left Lancesight. A very small handgun. “Plug your ears, emperor man.”

“That won’t do anything,” I said, but plugged my ears, remembering how loud the weapons had been earlier in the night. “Handguns are rewritten to fire only paint—”

A near-deafening blast from the handgun interrupted me. Since I hadn’t taken direct command of them this time, my mental boosts kicked in at the sudden explosion. I got to watch in slowed speed as the chain shattered. Sophie’s handgun was definitely not shooting out balls of paint.

“Those things aren’t supposed to work here,” I said, uncovering my ears as she put the handgun away.

“I’m good at doing things I’m not supposed to,” she said, then kicked the door open.

There’s no way she kicked that so solidly with those heels, I thought to Besk. She’s got a hack; either she has a force multiplier on her legs, or those shoes are an illusion.

No reply.

Besk?

The mental link was silent. When was the last time I’d heard him?

That seemed ominous. Should I run?

Don’t be foolish, I thought to myself. I’d survived for centuries without Besk looking over my shoulder. That said, I was a little more wary as I stepped onto the rooftop.

It was raining, but just a fine mist. “So,” Sophie said, walking across the roof. “Where you come from, is climbing steps considered a romantic date?”

“The roof is someplace we’re not supposed to be,” I said, joining her at the side of the rooftop, where a ledge prevented us from accidentally falling off. “I figured you’d like that.”

“We can’t go places we’re not supposed to be,” she said. “Each State, every digital inch of them, was made for us.” She hesitated. “But I doubt the Wode expected this of us, so I’m satisfied. Even if that hike up here was annoying.”

“You’re not winded,” I said. “You have physical boosts.”

She just smiled.

I took a deep breath of the wet air. How long had it been since I’d been outside in the rain? I always had force bubbles around me to protect from the weather.

“Maybe they shouldn’t tell us,” I said. “About our realities being simulations.”

“Don’t be dense. Ignorance wouldn’t be better.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“You should be angry about the lies, the falsehoods.”

“Why?” I asked. “They tell us the truth when we come of age, and everything they do is to make our lives better.”

“We’re like rats in cages,” she snapped, leaning down on the rail and looking out over the dark city, full of twinkling lights in the misting rain. “It’s a beautiful cage, but still a cage .”

“Perhaps,” I said, leaning down beside her. “But I can’t find it in me to be angry at the Wode. Without this system, you and I probably wouldn’t exist. Earth couldn’t possibly support such a high population otherwise. We live good lives. Every man is a hero, every woman a leader. It just . . .”