Adler's clean dull apartment resembled an operation room, and Benny was like a frog waiting to be dissected.
The Quartermaster was so impressed with Benny's work that he had almost literally nailed the drawing to the wall. In his hand, the bright lamp was making the whole thing shine. He was pacing with a tablet in hand and looking way too pumped for his own good, even by his usual standard.
"This is dead obvious that it's a deliberate act!" Adler was pointing at the drawing with his finger. "The Heartforge is a gaping stomach. The threads represent some sort of metaphysical food. This isn't just some random doodle. It's like a peek at the ritual's future! He has a talent that allowed him to see the coming of the ritual!"
Benny was sitting by himself on the couch, drawing his knees to his chest. He tried to hide the drawing as soon as the word 'SOON' appeared, but Adler was caught and his eyes were as if he had found treasures in the rubbish.
"Look here," Adler indicated a round of light. "That's what's left when it's all done. And here," he pointed to the figures getting smaller and eaten, "that's people losing their identities. It is quite rough, but it is truthful!"
The door was open. Captain Rhodes entered the room, still in her usual clothes, and looking mad. She looked at the man who seemed to have lost it, then at her son who was cold and shaking on the couch. "Adler. What's the matter with you? You said he had a moment."
"It's a great thing!" Adler was so excited he could hardly contain himself he rushed over to her. "Captain, your son is able to see the divine! This drawing—it's the one the Cardinal uses to explain the future! The boy has the power to see the big changes!"
Slowly Joan came over to the drawing. She recognized the nightmare her son had conjured up. The hungry forge. The world crumbling. Fear was in every line. This was not some way of predicting the future; it was a kid screaming. And Adler acted as if it was a gospel.
"He is terrified," Joan said, softly.
"Fear is only what happens when you receive too much information!"
Adler said, "However, the information is stunning! The Cardinal would be the first to see this. It could make the ritual safer, assure that it doesn't… hurt too many people."
Hurt too many people. He meant folks like Benny who would "break." Joan recalled the plant thing in her head and felt its warmth. The Heretic's words: change it on purpose, or it falls apart.
"The boy will come with me," Joan said.
"No, he won't!" Adler tried (which was ridiculous) to block her. "He is soooooo important. We need to keep an eye on him to..."
"He is my son," Joan said, as if she fired a gun. "And he's not doing well. Your 'watching' is done."
She went to Benny and lifted him up. He was clutching her tightly, burying his face in her shirt.
Adler was at a loss for words. "I have to inform someone! The Cardinal..."
"Inform whomever you like," Joan said, with Benny on her side. "But, don't come near him again. Or, I will have you moved to the most unpleasant job. Understand?"
As the captain of the Taste-Guard, it was a genuine threat. Adler turned pale, his lips moving but no words coming out. He was a paper pushing; she was the muscle. He retreated.
Joan took Benny with her and they left the apartment. After closing the door, she heard Adler grabbing his radio and sounding panicked as he tried to call the Cardinal.
She couldn't care less. She had chosen her side.
On their way down in the elevator, Benny spoke in a low voice, "Mom, he was right."
"About what?"
"About what I drew. It's going to happen. The... final digestion. I can sense it getting closer. Like the volume of a song getting louder. It's in nine... no, eight days now. It's counting down."
Eight days. That was very precise. "How do you know?"
"The silent voice. The one that isn't screaming. It told me. It's... scared."
He looked at her with his eyes full of sorrow. "The Heretics. They are not lying. They can also hear it. Can we... can we come to them?"
Joan Rhodes, the one who keeps order, who stops the bad ideas, looked at her son—the pain of the world incarnate. The system she was a part of was going to be set on fire in eight days, and her son would be the first one.
She put her hand in her pocket and felt the weight of the plant thing.
"Yes," she said, with a tremble in her voice. "We're going to find them."