Page 54 of The Art of Exiley

Not an option, drives people to madness

Blood Science involves experimentation that’s controversial and risky. Genesis replaced the entire guild with Bioscience, but Avant still practices it.

Blood Science

Not an option, illegal at Genesis, morally problematic

I sit back and look over my list, just as confused as before.

There’s a knock at our apartment door, and I know it’s Michael.

He’s here to help me with my song—the one I’m supposed to be practicing. I’d taken a scribble that had started out as a poem and added a melody, but something’s not quite right. My plan had been to ask Kor for help, but every time we spoke, he seemed too busy, and he kept reminding me to focus on my mission instead of being distracted by projects. So earlier today, I’d asked Michael for help instead.

Except now that he’s on the other side of my door, I question that decision. Is this going to be awkward? He hasn’t been anything but professional with me lately, so what am I worried about?

I fold my guild list and put it in my pocket. Then I get up to open the door for Michael.

He’s not awkward at all as he lets himself into our common room, his long legs taking him straight to the guitar on the couch. It’s actually his guitar. Most apprentices make their own instruments, but I haven’t had the time to learn that process yet, so Michael lent me one of his older ones that he’d made when he was an apprentice.

“Just wait a sec while I get my music,” I say, heading into my room.

I rifle through the numerous piles on my desk until I find my sheet music and then turn to leave, but my stomach sinks when I see Michael waiting for me in the doorway.

I hadn’t meant for Michael to follow me to my room. In fact, that is the very last thing I wanted, for the very reason that is reflected on his face right now.

Abject horror.

Okay, it might be more like mild shock, but I know what must lurk beneath his polite mask.

I have failed my oath to keep my bedroom neat, and it’s in its usual state of colorful chaos. Explosions of clothing, accessories, and art supplies are all over the floor and bed and pouring out of the drawers.

“How do you find anything?” Michael asks.

I burn with shame while at the same time trying to shove a bright pink bra under the bed with my toe.Please let him not have seen it. And please let there not be any dirty underpants lying around.I’m too scared to look.

“Well, you know me, extraordinarily talented,” I say, cheeks aflame.

He smiles tightly, and I feel like such a… child. I try to use sheer force of will to erase the blush from my face as I shoo him out of the room.

I sit down and grab the guitar, ready to move on from my embarrassment. Michael sits on the opposite couch, and I start to play him what I have so far. I’m stilted and nervous and all too aware that it’s not very good.

“It’s really good,” he says when I finish.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it really is. It needs some work, but the bones are solid.”

He suggests minor changes to the lyrics and melody, but his biggest input comes in ways to improve my playing.

“No, not like that.” He comes to sit next to me to adjust my finger placement. As his confident fingers rearrange mine on the frets, my breathing becomes uneven.

He’s good at this, and his changes coax something deeper from the song. Make it something I can imagine letting others actually hear.

When I play through the finished version for the first time without any mistakes, I feel a thrill in my blood.

“Honor a Maker!” Michael says, and the thrill spreads warmly through me. That exclamation is what Makers say to offer congratulations for significant creative accomplishments. No one’s ever had reason to say it to me before.

Michael takes the guitar and begins absently plucking at the strings. All his frenetic energy vanishes as he plays with sure, steady hands. He starts to tell me about the first song he ever wrote, which he claims was “total chaff”—and it probably was considering it was called “Angel in the Sunrise”—but soon our conversation falls away as we both get pulled into the music.

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