The chimes woke him. Jacob could hear them from outside, muffled and distant. He stretched and opened his eyes.
He saw nothing.
He bolted up in bed, gasping, gripping the blankets and pulling them up around him. He waved a hand before his face, but there was no change to the blackness around him. I’m blind, he thought. It’s all gone.
Leaning toward the edge of the bed, he reached out with a fumbling hand. His fingers brushed against a wood surface. He ran his hand up its side, reached a corner, and was struck by a sudden familiarity. Lowering his head, he inhaled deeply. Yes. It was the same old smell, the same earthy dampness. He reached a little farther along the top of the bureau until his hand closed on the textured metal cube. He didn’t need to open the music box to know what song it would play, to know he was back in his old room in the underground house.
He swung his legs around and got out of bed, made his way to the door, and headed down the hall, just as he had done countless times.
What am I doing here? I shouldn’t be here. The words echoed in his head over and over as he made his way down the hall. Suddenly, he stopped. But where am I supposed to be? He couldn’t remember.
He went to the front door and threw it open. The brightness of morning hurt his eyes, but a wave of relief washed over him in spite of the pain. He could see. Squinting, he gazed out into the yard and smiled. The flowers were blooming, busy with hummingbirds and insects, and the grass was green and lush. Neighbors drifted by, engaged in conversation. It was like any other morning in Harmony. He closed his eyes and drank in the sounds and smells of home.
This is real. This is my life. He had never left. He had never revealed his secret to anyone. He had considered telling his best friend, Egan, but thought better of it. Why spoil a good thing?
As for last night, it was just a dream, one long dream he couldn’t remember and didn’t want to. He lingered in the doorway, feeling the heat of the sun on his face, sensing its brightness through the red glow of his closed lids.
A pain flashed along his temples. The glow faded, and as he opened his eyes, his smile faded too.
The bright sky had darkened. There were no clouds. Instead, a uniform gray coated the sky. He watched in dismay as the flowers in the dooryard drained of all their color, drooped, then withered into ash. Looking up, he saw the grass shriveling as well. The chimes hanging beside the door began to ring as a breeze picked up, a wind that carried the ashes of petals in a dusty cloud down the street, leaving a stubble of stalks.
Suddenly, it all came back to him—Xander, Delaney, Melville, everything that had happened since escaping Harmony, he could remember it all. He knew where he was supposed to be. But how did he get here? And how would he get back?
He left the house and ran down his street, the echo of chimes fading into the distance. Rushing into the North Tier square, he made his way toward the fountain at its center. He felt scorched, desiccated. He needed to cleanse himself in the water, cool his body, and drink.
He had nearly reached the fountain when an odor of smoke froze him. It wasn’t the smoke of a zephyr tree. It smelled more like the scent that had lingered over the toys he’d found in the basement of Xander’s house. He raised his head and sniffed the breeze, trying to make sense of where the smell was coming from.
A flash in the sky caught his attention. He looked up to see a streak of red light hurtle toward earth, slanting in an arc toward the west. A moment later, there was an even brighter flash on the horizon, followed by silence. The breeze died.
The quiet was short-lived. A distant boom rolled over the colony. Jacob could feel it in his chest, a wave of pressure to match the sound. Looking up into the western sky, which was approaching the color of night, he saw another streak of light and then another. It was as if stars were raining from the sky.
We must be under attack, he thought. But from whom?
Another thought struck him as he followed the tracers of light down to the horizon. That’s where Delaney and Xander are. How would they ever survive this? Suddenly, he was glad he was in Harmony—at least he’d have a chance.
He raced up to the fountain, noticing as he approached that its usual array of sprinklers and streams had ceased. The power must have died again, he thought. It had happened many times before. Gazing in, he saw the surface of the water. Usually an impenetrable ripple of spray, it was now placid and clear.
Jacob reached down to scoop some water, when an image flashed across its surface, staying his hand. He saw Xander and Delaney huddling alone in the house with the bombs falling all around them. He could see his reflection, the shadow of his face, superimposed over their figures.
I should be there, he thought. I belong with them. It didn’t matter if they all died. He wanted to share a final moment of life with them. How could he have been glad to be in Harmony? He was selfish. He was a Seer.
Jacob reached down and broke the surface with his hand to scatter the image. It shattered like glass, shards falling down into the basin, revealing an empty fountain. He wondered if it had always been that way.
Lifting his head, he noticed the smell of smoke was stronger now. He looked around. The air had grown hazy as the sky continued to blacken. He ran to the nearest row of hillhouses, scrambled up the steep side to the top, and gasped.
A wall of flame stretched all the way across the horizon, sending thick, black smoke into the air. And it wasn’t staying still. It was closing in, eating up the plain, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it would engulf Harmony, swallow everyone whole.
His heart began pounding. He felt his legs weaken. You’ve got to do something, he told himself. You’ve got to warn them. Taking a deep breath, he stumbled down off the hill and ran toward the central square.
As he ran, he kept a lookout for someone, for anyone, who could help him get the word out. But the streets were empty. They’ve all left, he thought. Maybe they found out. But somehow he didn’t think so.
Gasping for air, he hurtled down the last street toward the center of the colony. Already the acrid smoke hanging in the air had set his throat aflame. Through the haze he could make out the shapes of people as he neared the entrance. He dashed through the opening and into the square, pulling back in surprise.
A thousand faces greeted him, blank and indifferent. He had stumbled onto a Gathering. It seemed as if everyone in Harmony had collected in the square and now stood mute, waiting.
He scanned the stage. It was empty. The high councilor was nowhere in sight. He dashed over to the steps and ran up onto the platform. Recalling the last time he’d stood on this spot, he struggled to find his voice.
“Everybody,” he called out, “you have to leave! There’s a fire out there. It’s coming straight for Harmony!”
No one replied. The crowd remained still. It was as if they hadn’t even heard him.
“You have to believe me!” he shouted, his voice cracking. He could feel the frustration mounting within. “You’re all in terrible danger!”
“Blindness is purity. Blindness is unity. Blindness is freedom,” the crowd chanted in reply.
“No!” Jacob shouted back. “You’re not listening. You have to get out!”
Still no one moved. Jacob looked around, desperate for something that could make them understand.
“Where’s the high councilor?” he asked the crowd. “Shouldn’t he be here?” No one replied. The sky grew even darker now as the breeze continued to blow smoke closer. Jacob coughed. He had to find Delaney’s father. As much as he feared and despised the man, he at least would know what to do, know how to get the people to move.
He left the stage and raced toward the high councilor’s house, an aboveground concrete bunker not far away. He bounded up the steps and began banging on the door, not stopping until it finally opened and Martin Corrow stood before him.
“Fire’s coming,” Jacob gasped. “Got to get everyone out.”
“Jacob?” the high councilor replied. “What are you doing here? I told you when you left that you could never return.”
“Who cares about that now?” Jacob cried. “Didn’t you hear me? You’ve got to do something. Everything’s going to burn!”
“I don’t detect any fire.” Delaney’s father sniffed the air. “This is just another lie of a Seer.”
“What? You can smell the smoke, can’t you?” Jacob shouted. He turned and looked west. The wall of fire was closer now, casting a glow under the black sky. “And you can see it,” he said, turning back. “Don’t lie to me. You can see it! I know you can.”
The councilor’s face darkened. At last, he nodded. “You’re right, Jacob. There is a fire. But it’s not coming for us. It’s coming for you. You’re the one in danger. You came here to hide, but it found you.”
“How can that be?” Jacob replied. He was so confused. It didn’t make any sense, but somehow he felt that the man was right. He glanced back at the flames. “So what do I do?” he asked.
“We’ll ask the ghostbox,” Martin Corrow intoned. “It knows everything. It will tell us what you need to do.”
He strode past Jacob down the steps. Jacob followed. They hurried through the streets toward the bunker that housed the ghostbox. Before long, they’d reached the edge of the colony. From here, a stone path stretched toward the squat structure, a dark island amid the grass. Delaney’s father started down the path and the two of them made their way toward the building, with Jacob stealing glances back from time to time. The fire had grown very close—it had to have reached the edge of Harmony by now. The fields must be burned, the harvest lost, and now what would the people eat? Still, looking ahead, Jacob was equally frightened. He remembered the last time he’d journeyed to the ghostbox and had faced that cold machine. Yet here he was, going back, led by the very man who’d brought him before to the room of threats and revelations.
Reaching the bunker, Jacob paused beneath the door as the high councilor waited on the other side of the threshold. Even before he looked up, he knew that he would see it. Sure enough, there the cat lay, stretched across the ledge.
“You’re always around,” Jacob whispered. “Why don’t you ever help me?”
I’m just a watcher, it replied. You know what that’s like, don’t you?
“I’m not just a watcher anymore,” Jacob said.
That’s true. You’re changing. And you’re about to change even more. Just go inside.
“I’m afraid.”
Of course you are, it said. You should be.
“How do I know I’ll come out?”
You may not. Nothing’s been decided yet. It all depends.
“On what?”
On how strong you are.
“I don’t know if I can fight.”
You shouldn’t. That’s not how you’ll get through this.
“What do you mean?”
You’ll find out.
With that the cat rolled over on its back and went to sleep. Jacob started as if waking from a trance and looked around. The door before him was open. The high councilor was gone. Glancing up, he noticed the cat was gone too—he was alone. He turned back for a moment, squinting at the flames’ brilliance. The fire had made its way through Harmony. He could feel its heat from here, could hear its roar as the flames twisted up into the sky, spewing pillars of smoke. Obscuring the entire colony now, it lingered at the end of the path, as if waiting for him to make the next move. He grappled with the urge to run, to tear off into the plains. But deep down he knew it would do no good. The wall of fire would follow, and he wouldn’t be able to run forever. His best chance was to hole up inside and hope to make it through.
He ducked into the bunker. The doors hissed shut behind him, cutting off the roar of the fire. The room was dark except for the ambient glow of computer screens and the constellation of lights shining against the walls. In the center, rising monolithic from the floor, was the ghostbox, just as he had last seen it. The yellow monocle centered near the top of the obelisk glowed brighter than the other lights, seeming to shine down on him like a spotlight, intensifying as he approached, so that he nearly had to look away.
“Ghostbox,” he said, hesitating. He wasn’t sure what to say to it. He wasn’t even sure it heard him or would answer.
“Speak,” a voice said, androgynous in its reverberations.
Jacob gasped. “There is a fire coming,” he said at last. “The high councilor said it was coming for me.”
“He is correct.”
Jacob’s heart sank. Through the walls of the bunker he could hear the roar of the fire—it had reached him at last. The room was now growing warmer. He wondered how hot it would get. He gazed up at the eye.
“What can I do?” he asked.
“You can do nothing. You can only give in to it and wait. Let it do its work.”
Jacob nodded. Hearing the words, he felt oddly at peace. His eyes remained fixed on the ghostbox’s monocle. He couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He wanted only to stare into the yellow light and forget all else as the walls grew hotter and the heat crept closer, licking against his skin, which now began to drip as sweat trickled down his body.
The roar now faded to a distant echo, and the eye hovering in space began to stretch out and morph. It became Delaney’s eye, then his mother’s. Now it was the slitted eye of the cat, now the high councilor’s eye, winking its knowing wink before changing back once again to the eye of the all-knowing mainframe.
The eye was fading now as the heat reached an unbearable level. As it winked out, plunging the bunker into total darkness, Jacob knew what he had to do. He turned and walked up to the door, feeling the heat radiating from its steel. Sensing his presence, the portal slid open to reveal a world on fire, the flames now at Jacob’s feet. The warmth was so intense Jacob could almost feel his body wither and burn. But he didn’t wince. Instead he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and walked into the light. Opening his eyes for a moment, he could see the flames dance all around, flicker across his arms and legs, could see himself on fire. In spite of the heat, he felt no pain. He smiled and surrendered to the flames, to the fire that would somehow make him new.
* * *
Jacob!
He heard the voice. It was calling from far away, a stranger’s voice, rousing him.
It was dark, just like when he’d awoken before. But this time there was no smell of earth, no sheets around him, no mattress underneath. He was floating in a void.
Jacob, look behind you, the voice called again. Like the voice of the ghostbox, it was difficult to pin down. It was a male voice, but was it young or old?
He glanced over his shoulder to see a distant pinpoint of light growing larger by the second. He had nothing to push off from, but somehow he willed himself around, hovering in place as the glowing sphere approached. Soon it loomed before him, and he basked in its light. It drew him in, enveloped him in its warmth. There was a flash as he breached the surface of the sphere and discovered ground beneath his feet. He was standing once more.
This new place was as white as the previous void had been black, with nothing around to give him any sense of perspective. He could be in a small room; he could be surrounded by infinite space. It was impossible to tell. All it was was bright.
He sensed a presence behind him and turned to see a boy standing not five feet away. He was around Jacob’s age, perhaps a bit older, with a simple robe like the ones worn in Harmony only made of a rich purple cloth with gold embroidery running down the center. He smiled at Jacob and reached out a hand in greeting. Jacob tried to take it, but his own hand passed through it. He looked closer and realized the figure was shifting in and out, fading slightly then darkening, like the blades of prairie grass tossing in the wind.
“You’re not really here,” Jacob said.
“No,” the boy replied. It was the same voice as before, modulating in pitch, giving the boy an unearthly quality. “Then again,” he said, “neither are you. This place isn’t real.”
“Then where am I?”
“The same place I am—inside of you, inside your mind.”
“Are you a part of my mind?” Jacob asked.
“Oh, no,” the boy replied. “I’m merely visiting. We just found you. We sensed you were out there, but we didn’t know for sure until now. And so they sent me to greet you. And to congratulate you.”
“For what?”
“For surviving. You were very sick. That fever almost got you.”
“The fire,” Jacob said, nodding.
“Yes, the fire. You let it burn you. You stopped fighting it. And so it didn’t kill you. Though it did change you.”
“I don’t feel any different,” Jacob replied. “But it’s hard to tell. There have been so many changes lately.”
“Yes. But they are all tied together. The change I’m referring to started weeks ago, the fever merely accelerated it. In fact, it started the moment you began to see.”
“How did you know I was blind?” Jacob asked, startled. He felt powerless. This person seemed to know all about him, but he knew nothing in return.
“Because I was too. All of us were Blinders. We are all children of the Foundation. And like you, we too began to see.”
“Then I’m not alone,” Jacob murmured, more to himself than to the boy.
“You’ve never been alone, Jacob. Even now you’ve got people who love you, who are taking care of you. I can sense them.”
“I know,” Jacob agreed, thinking about Xander and Delaney. “But I guess I meant alone in the sense of what’s happened to me.” He paused, gazing more intently at the boy. It seemed as if the stranger’s image had blurred ever so slightly. “Did I know you back home?” he asked.
“No. I’m from a different colony. But there are a few from Harmony.”
Jacob strained to hear the boy’s voice, which was beginning to modulate more severely. His form began to flicker, lose its definition.
“I don’t have much time left,” the boy said. “I’m talking to you from very far away. From another world.”
“There’s so much I want to ask you,” Jacob whispered.
“There’s so much to tell. Gaining your vision, Jacob, was just the first step, the first change of many. Your sense of sight goes beyond what your eyes can tell you of the moment. You’ve had glimpses of the future already.”
“The vivid dreams I’ve been having since I left Harmony,” Jacob said. “Parts of them have come true.”
“Yes,” the boy said, his face now a blur. “Your first taste of what’s to come. Primitive steps, but steps nonetheless.”
“What comes next?” Jacob asked, the hairs rising on the back of his neck.
“It depends. It’s different for all of us. But I can tell you that you’ll find your powers wonderful. And terrible. And strange.”
Jacob could barely hear him now. “How will I recognize them?” he shouted at the flickering shadow.
“You’ll know,” the voice said amid the static. The modulation had grown so severe, the voice no longer seemed human. “But . . . need to learn to . . . them. . . . Want you to come to us. . . . Can show you.”
“Where? Tell me where to go!” he demanded, reaching out toward what remained of the visitor.
There was a muffled ripple of sound, but Jacob could no longer make out the words as the last particles of color and shadow dissipated. He looked all around him, bewildered, hoping for a sight of the boy, but the figure was gone for good.
His disappointment was short-lived as the floor beneath him vanished. Once more he was falling, leaving the sphere of light behind, falling back into the black, suddenly too shocked and tired to care where he’d end up.