“I think the sparring sessions are benefiting your mother,” William said.
“You do?”
“Yes,” he told Kate. “She’s rediscovering her strength. And that is something we all need to see right now.”
Kate did not respond. She knew he was right. The last thing the Alexander family needed in a time of pending war was a weak leader.
“Will you continue to spar with her?”
“I will,” she said. “I would do almost anything for the family.”
“You aren’t doing it for her?”
“No. It’s not my job to rebuild my mother’s ego,” Kate told him. “I was betrayed, too. And I’m not cowering behind it.” With that, she opened the door and stepped inside the library’s vestibule.
Lucas was waiting inside.
“Thank you for joining us,” William said, as approached. He shook his hand.
“Of course, William,” he said. “What can I do to assist you?”
“Your final paper was on The Machinists,” Kate said.
“Maria was right about their reappearance wasn’t she?” he asked.
“We believe she was,” William told him. “We’d like to ask you about their history, see if we can figure out their next move.”
“Of course, sir.”
“This way,” Kate said, motioning to the doors to the library.
The three headed inside, and down several staircases into the lower levels where the ancient paper books were held.
Each era had its own room. Kate was taking them to one of her favorite rooms; a place she knew had no listening devices or cameras, the 19th century reading room.
Book shelves made of a deep, brown mahogany lined every wall of the round room that stretched three floors to the ceiling. The center was open with a small, spiral staircase that crawled up one corner and connected to a thin catwalk on each level.
An old leather chair with a foot stool sat in the corner of the first level, opposite the staircase. A small mahogany table was next to it, and a soft blanket was laid over one of the armrests.
Two smaller, leather chairs were opposite of it. They crowded the room, and looked out of place.
“We can have privacy here,” Kate said. “I brought extra chairs in so we could be comfortable.”
The three sat down, and settled in. For the next several hours, they discussed The Machinists original appearance in the late twenty-second century, more than a hundred years after the Alexanders were first given the box
The group, however, wasn’t really noticed for another hundred and fifty years.
The first Alexander, Paul, received the box in the early twenty-first century. Paul and his wife understood the purpose of the box and the reason it was given to them, a secret that was lost to history a long time ago.
They felt they had to let the world know of its existence. So they made a spectacle of it on a live demonstration broadcast around the world. The Alexanders were famous soon thereafter, and for several decades, they were worshipped. But eventually the allure wore off because the box had its limitations. Only simple questions could be asked, and humanity had to develop the technology they learned about on their own.
It was not a magic box that could cure cancer or create a source of limitless energy out of thin air. It was only a library.
And many people started to believe that anyone could use the box. They felt the Alexanders lied about how the box worked. The family was depicted as a symbol of deceit and greed. This is the era the Machinists were born out of.
The group eventually developed into a political party with global power. Their voice was heard around the world, and many governments took them seriously. They used this influence to take members of the Alexander family. They kidnapped Io’s parents en route to a technology conference.
It was an accident, or so The Machinists said. But, either way, Io’s parents were killed. Her mother and her father were murdered and the leader of The Machinists was the only one to blame.
He was killed and everyone moved on, but no one forgot. Most members of the group left or went into hiding. No one wanted to be associated with the murder of Io’s parents. And for several decades, everyone thought the group disbanded and would never be heard from again.
That was no longer the case. Io had gotten a letter.
“Omari sent me a copy of letter,” William told the others. He pulled out a small device and showed them the image of the letter.
“It wasn’t our fault …,” it began.
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