Page 131 of White Lights
“Do you want your mother to feel conflicted on her deathbed?” Rafe asks. “Would you have wished that on your brother?”
“Of course not,” Dez says. “But sooner or later, any filmmaker who cares about their subjects is going to go looking for the truth of what you’re hiding down there.”
“When you choose what to put in your films,” Dr. Ezekiel says, “what to leave out, aren’tyoucutting important scenes? Aren’tyoucensoring your subjects’ lives?”
“But those are my decisions,” Dez says, “as the filmmaker assigned to them.”
“Dez,” Rafe says, “your curiosity about how all this works, your sympathy for your kind—it’s understandable. Hell, you’re still one of them.”
“But it’s time for you to own your privileged position,” Moriah says.
“You’re at Acheron!” Zarlengo says. “Act like it. When you went down there tonight, you weren’t even looking for a scene belonging to one of your subjects, were you?”
“I—” Dez breaks off, caught.
There’s a pause in the room. The administration looks at each other, as if waiting to see which one will take the lead.
“Dr. Zarlengo,” Moriah says. “Would you please read us Ms. Rae’s statistics?”
“To date,” Zarlengo reads from a tablet, “you have completed two hundred and twelve films since your arrival.”
“Most first-years area thousand filmsahead of you,” Moriah says.
“The reason I’m behind,” Dez argues, “the reason the films take me so long, is that I always sense that something’s missing. That there’s more to a subject’s life than I have access to. And tonight, I learned my suspicion is true.”
Dez thinks again of Asher’s point of view in the scene. How she’d shined in his eyes. “Why are those scenes being censored?”
“Perhaps,” Moriah says with a flourish of her hand, “you are familiar with the ancient adage attributed to Enoch:There is no dream without the worthless things. It is our job to keep the worthless things out so that the soul can enter the White Lights unimpeded.”
“What I found down therewasn’tworthless,” Dez says.
Moriah smiles. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere.” She pets Hanachesh, who swivels in Dez’s direction, locking black eyes on hers. “Dr. Ezekiel, shall we take a look?”
Dr. Ezekiel closes his eyes and starts humming, a deep, melodious sound. Dez feels a rumbling beneath her feet, and then, a moment later, something bursts into the room, shattering the wood panel to the left of Moriah’s desk. Zarlengo ducks just in time to avoid the flying golden object that shoots into the center of the office and hovers, spinning, in front of Dez.
A halo.
“You couldn’t have used the open door?” Moriah shakes her head.
Oblivious to the destruction, Dr. Ezekiel ceases humming with a sharp final note. Dez stares as the halo stops spinning—and she recognizes the scene within it.
It’s Asher’s halo. She can see the scene of the day they met.
“Who is this man?” Moriah demands.
Dez glances at Rafe, who’s staring into the halo like he’s about to pummel it.
“He’s …” Dez starts to say. “He’s the subject of the film I madebefore I came to Acheron.” The words feel so insufficient that they sound like a lie. “It was the film that got me accepted here.”
Moriah and Zarlengo exchange a mystified look.
“Why did you go looking for it?” Moriah asks.
“Because it was missing from his Lifeline,” Dez says.
“Are you in love with him?” Moriah demands.
“What?” Dez whispers, taken aback.
