Dru Pagliassotti - Clockwork Heart

"Not precisely." Forlore smiled. "I imagine you saw that play down in Secundus last year, didn't you? The one about the analytical engine that goes insane and orders the city's lictors to kill anyone that challenges its calculations?"

Embarrassed, she nodded.

"You needn't turn so red! I was among the exalteds who went to see it, myself. I found it very imaginative, but its playwright didn't have any idea how analytical engines really work. What we call a human-behavior simulation program doesn't give an engine any capacity for independent thought. What happens is that programmers like my team collect a great deal of data about how one person behaves, or about how many people behave, under certain circumstances. They boil the data down and develop a behavioral model, code it onto cards, create a program, run it, and the Great Engine uses the program's parameters to calculate the most statistically likely behaviors a hypothetical person sharing the same traits might adopt in a given situation or over a finite period of time."

Taya gave him a dubious look. He smiled.

"You've taken loyalty tests, of course."

She nodded. Icarii took a loyalty test each year, on the anniversary of their Great Examination.

"Your answers to each test are fed into the Engine, and it compares your new responses to your old responses, notes any changes that have occurred over the years, compares them to established risk factors, and predicts whether or not you're a threat to the city or the Council. If there's a reasonably high probability that you're becoming a security risk, you'll be summoned before a Board of Inquiry that determines the truth of the matter."

"Isn't the Engine always right?"

"Many people make that assumption, but it isn't true. If the Engine has a well-tested, reliable program and enough data, its predictions can be have a high level of validity. But it's impossible to collect enough data to cover all the potential variables. That's why humans make the final analyses." He smiled. "If the Great Engine were infallible, Ondinium wouldn't need a Council."

Taya thought of Pyke. "I know someone who always criticizes the Council, but he's never been called up to a Board of Inquiry."

"Criticizing the Council doesn't automatically make a person a security risk." Forlore paused, taking a sip of his wine. "In fact, Council members criticize each other all the time. A group that doesn't question itself usually makes bad decisions. Your friend may not be happy with Ondinium's government, but apparently he hasn't shown any inclination to sabotage it."

"He wouldn't do that," Taya hastened to assure the decatur. She didn't want to get Pyke into any trouble. Forlore looked amused, as if reading her mind. "Do decaturs take loyalty tests, too?"

"Yes, but…. "the exalted paused, glancing at her. "As I said, the Engine isn't infallible. If it were, it would have caught Decatur Neuillan."

His moment of hesitation was enough to remind Taya that she wasn't chatting with a friend; she was talking to an exalted. Why was she dawdling here, anyway, when her sister was getting married tonight? She stood.

"I'm sorry, exalted. I've been taking up too much of your time."

"Not at all." He reached out for her glass. She faltered, then handed it to him. Exalteds weren't supposed to take dirty dishes. "I've enjoyed talking to you, Taya."

"Thank you. And thank you for the wine."

"My pleasure. I look forward to seeing you again."

"I'm sure you will, exalted." She began strapping on her armature again.

"Yes. I'm sure I will, too."

She glanced up. He was watching her with a thoughtful look, the lamplight glittering off the gold clasps in his dark hair and burnishing the smooth copper of his skin. But even without the ornaments, it would be obvious that he had been born exalted — his Ondinium coloration and features were flawless.

Taya smoothed her short auburn hair, the all-too-apparent sign of her mixed heritage. To her chagrin, she took after her Mareaux-descended father more than she did her Ondinium mother. Then she blushed and looked down to check her harness once more.

Lady, there's a reason exalteds wear concealing masks and robes!

She had no right to notice Decatur Forlore's face. The only features that mattered between them were her wings and his castemarks.

Think of this as a diplomatic test

, she advised herself.

Act like you would if you were already in the corps.

"Is that everything, exalted?" She took a deep breath and looked up, smoothing her expression into one of calm professional interest.

"For the moment." He held her gaze. "Fly safely, icarus."

"I will. Thank you." She bowed once more, her palm against her forehead, and made her way out as quickly as she could. She felt his eyes on her and had to struggle to resist the urge to glance back.

As soon as she reached the hall, she rubbed her hands against her cheeks, trying to convince herself they weren't burning and he hadn't seen her blush.

Lady and spirits. I'm going to have to rush to get to the wedding on time.

Taya's father ran an iron smelting factory in Tertius, and her sister was marrying one of his chief engineers. Most of the factory workers had come for the festivities, along with the family's friends and neighbors.

Taya held a cup of weak punch and watched Katerin dance, a flash of white moving through the dark suits and dresses of the other guests.

"That'll be you down there, soon enough," her father said, at her elbow. Taya started, then smiled.

"I'm not in a hurry, Papa," she said.

"Too busy working, are you? Heard from the exam board yet?"

"No. It's still too soon. Even if I do well on the exam, they'll be running background checks and talking to my employers and friends."

"You've not a thing to worry about." He kissed her on the forehead. "I've faith you'll pass your test, and nobody will speak poorly of you, not under the wires nor up in the air. Now, doff those wings and join the dancing. You've done your duty today, haven't you, and then some."

"I wasn't planning on staying much longer." Taya glanced up at the wings that curved over her head. The two primaries were still bent. She'd returned to the eyrie too late to ask the smith to repair them, and she'd needed her armature for the wedding. Icarii were considered good luck, especially at weddings, so she'd promised her sister she'd wear her wings to the ceremony.

"Tired?"

"It's been a long day."

"I suppose it has, and the longer for spending time with us instead of your own caste."

Taya glanced at him, worried, but her father was smiling, one hand on her arm while his eyes followed his youngest daughter with contented pride.

Filled with affection, Taya leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. His red hair, which she'd inherited, was streaked with grey now, and dirt from his job had ingrained itself into his skin like another tattoo, revealing his caste as clearly as the black circle on his forehead. Taya knew some icarii who were embarrassed to come from the famulate caste, but she'd always been proud of her father.

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world," she said. "Tomas seems like a good man."

"He is that." Her father smiled. "We're glad you came down. Katie's told anyone who'll listen that her sister the icarus was going to be at her wedding, hasn't she?"

"She's not jealous of me leaving the caste, is she?"

"Of you, sweetness?" Her father's eyebrows rose. "Lady, no. She thinks you've a dismal enough life, full of long days and risky work and not a decent man in all those crowded eyries of yours."

"There are too decent icarii!" Taya protested, shooting her oblivious sister an annoyed look.

Her father chuckled and moved away to talk to his guests.