1 Work in Impostors Series - Scott Westerfeld
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I dream. And in my dreams, the final seconds of my father’s regime stretch like centuries.
Rafi is before us. My father is in his chair right in front of me. Col and Zora are around me. X is right behind. Pieces of chess, all in position to favor the check. The game is not won just yet. The King can still blow up all the pieces.
A heartbeat. My father makes his demand. Rafi looks at me and I nod. Yes. Yes, yes, quick. I don’t mind, I can’t mind. That’s what I was raised for, to take bullets, to draw out fire. But she minds. I can see it in her eyes. Her eyes move to Col for a second. A word: “heart”.
I snap my fingers. The sound is so bizarre in that solemn moment that she looks at me.
My free hand taps my left arm.
In my dreams, three paths fork off here. All awful, all possible within the same moment, the world never the same after this, no matter what happens.
On the first one, Father presses the switch. We are vaporized.
On the second path, Rafi doesn’t hit me. She hits someone else in the same direction.
And then, there’s a third one.
On the third path, we forge our own destiny.