Page 70 of The Surviving Sky
“It’s just that I don’t think she understands how difficult it must have been for you,” she continued earnestly. “Out there in the jungle. You must have been doing your best.”
Iravan’s jaw clenched. A bitter taste entered his mouth. It took all of his control to not bunch his palms into fists, but he could do nothing about the thickness in his throat.
He had only himself to blame. Naila was a mere Junior Architect, achild. She had seen him crush Ahilya’s authority along with the rudra bead key before the expedition. She had seen their fight in the temple. Resentment pooled in his stomach like acid, but it wasn’t directed at Naila for what she was saying; it was directed at himself and the council for what they had made him, for what he had become.
Naila seemed to wilt under his hardening gaze. Her voice became desperate. “I don’t mean to say it’s just her. It’s non-architects in general. Ever since the council opened up to sungineers, it seems everyone has been questioning us. We work very hard, and normal citizens don’t understand.”
Still Iravan said nothing. He felt deeply a wish to be somewhere else, away from this girl revealing to him the kind of man he had become, the kind ofSenior Architect. Was she a symptom of what was occurring in the Academy? Each councilor provided a specific expertise that dictated the manner of life in the ashram, a specific direction that impacted the manner of civilization. Bharavi studied Ecstasy. Airav watched the influence of tradition. Chaiyya oversaw an architect’s health. AndIravan—hehad studied consciousness. A subject he had picked while he had still been in the Academy. It was why he’daskedfor the responsibility to preserve the Academy; he had wanted to nurture young architect minds like he had once been nurtured.
Inthat—asin so many otherthings—hehad failed.
The weight of fatigue settled heavy on his shoulders. The silence grew between them.
Finally, Naila shuffled her feet and dropped her gaze.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I suppose I shouldn’t have said all that.”
“No,” Iravan agreed quietly. “You shouldn’t have.”
The Junior Architect said nothing. Her shoulders grew stiff, her posture sullen.
Iravan sighed. “Naila. Look at me.”
She glanced up, her eyes defiant and mutinous.
“I need you to understand something,” Iravan said. “I should have said it sooner. What Idid—bytaking your place in theexpedition—itwas disrespectful to you, it was disrespectful to Dhruv and Oam. But it wasespeciallydisrespectful to Ahilya.”
“You saved my life,” she said. “If I hadgone—”
“You probably wouldn’t have survived; that’s true. But it doesn’t excuse what I did. A citizen refused to give me what I wanted, so I took it by force. I know you’re on a career trajectory to becoming a Senior Architect one day, but that’s not how any architect is supposed to behave, least of all one in my position.”
“Our protocol tells us to preserve architects beforenon-architects—”
“Yes, but your conscience must guidewhen. That protocol wasdesigned—well,it was designed for many reasons, not all of them good. If you’re to one day become a Senior Architect, you need to understand that the position is a sharp balance. The factremains—beingborn with the ability to traject doesn’t make us better than the citizens.”
Naila stared at him.
A slow smirk grew on her face, rich with familiarity.
“With respect, Iravan-ve,” she said in a low voice, holding his gaze. “I’m not sure that’s true. Are those reallyyourwords, andyourway of thinking? I’m not sure you believe all this yourself.”
“Then perhaps you need to spend more time in the Academy as a student and not as a teacher. Do not presume toknowme, Junior Architect.” Iravan stood up sharply, not bothering to keep the anger out of his face. The wall behind Naila unfurled into a doorway. He gestured toward it. “I accept your gratitude. Next time we chat, you’d do well to work on a better apology. You may go now.”
Naila didn’t move, still seated in her chair and fiddling with her bracelets.
Iravan raised an eyebrow.
“There was something else, too,” the Junior Architect mumbled. “Something I thought would help you. For your investigation.”
Despite himself, Iravan paused. He sat down slowly. “What did you find?”
She glanced up at him furtively. “It’s regarding the basic equation.”
Iravan gestured brusquely for her to go on. The basic equation indicated how a plant’s existing state of consciousness converted into a new state of consciousness with the release of a raga. Naila had been studying the mathematics of energy conversion in an attempt at the council’s nomination.
“I think the basic equation is wrong,” she blurted out.
He resisted the urge to shrug. “I thought I taught you that the equation is imperfect. It’s impossible to measure the loss of consciousness.”
