The Peregrines

Chapter 16

"If such a wonderful thing really exists, why haven't you heard about it before now?" Myron guessed and smiled confidently.

"That's it," she said and returned to sit next to Jake.

"You never heard about it—no one did—because of the unfortunate trouble with my brother." Myron's expression darkened. "The machine was born with his help, but ultimately he was its downfall as well. Ultimately, the Panloopticon was never used as a tool to unite our people, as it was intended, but for quite the opposite purpose. The trouble began when we realized that the task of visiting every loop in the world so that we might re-create their entrances here was laughable at best—so far beyond our abilities that it bordered on delusional. We needed help and a great deal of it. Luckily, my brother was such a charismatic and convincing fellow that recruiting all the help we needed proved easy. Before long we had a small army of young, idealistic peculiars willing to risk life and limb to help us achieve our dream. What I didn't realize at the time was that my brother had a different dream than I did—a hidden agenda."

With some effort, Myron stood up. "There is a legend," he said. "You might know it, Miss Bloom." Using his cane for support, he made his way to the shelves and took down a small book.

"It's the tale of a lost loop. A kind of afterworld where our peculiar souls are stored after we die." he looked at me then at Emma.

"Abaton" Emma said.

"What??" What word just flabbergasted out from her mouth??

"Sure, I've heard of it. But it's just a legend." Emma shrugged.

"Perhaps you can tell the tale," he said, "For the benefit of our neophyte friends." Myron limped over to the couch and gave Jake the book.

"I've read this! Part of it, at least," said Jake.

"This edition is nearly six hundred years old," said Myron. "It was the last to contain the story Miss Bloom is about to recount because it was regarded as dangerous. For a time it was a criminal act simply to tell it, and thus the book you hold is the only volume in the history of peculiardom ever to have been banned." He opened the book.

"It's been a long time since I heard it," Emma said tentatively.

"I'll help you along," Myron said, lowering himself gently onto the couch. "Go on," he said.

"Well," Emma began, "The legend goes that back in the old days—the really, really, thousands-of-years-ago old days—there was a special loop peculiars went to when they died-"

"Peculiar Heaven?" Jake said.

"Not quite. We didn't stay there for all eternity or anything. It was more like a . . . library." She seemed uncertain of her word choice and looked at Myron. "Right?" she said.

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"It was thought that peculiar souls were a precious thing in limited supply, and it would be a waste to take them with us to the grave. Instead, at the end of our lives, we were to make a pilgrimage to the library, where our souls would be deposited for future use by others. Even in spiritual matters, we peculiars have always been frugal-minded." Emma continued on reading.

"The first law of thermodynamics is matter can neither be created nor destroyed. Or souls, in this case." Jake said.

Myron looked at him blankly. "The principle is similar, I suppose," said Myron. "The ancients believed that only a certain number of peculiar souls were available to humanity and that when a peculiar was born, he or she checked one out, as you or I might borrow a book from a library." He gestured at the stacks around us. "But when your life—your borrowing term—was over, the soul had to be returned." Myron gestured to Emma. "Please go on," he said.