Tuesday, November 15, 2022

New York, 1947

The room seemed to close in on me as I stared at my childhood hero, the great Clark L. Johnstone, who now told me to publish lies. 

Johnstone spread his hands. “It is a tiny falsehood, but it’s for the good of the Society, you see. You should only have to change fifteen or so sentences. Some details about the Temporal Arts must be kept from the public.”

“Why? The Society has always said that the Temporal Arts are like the laws of nature—able to be studied and understood.” I frowned. “Why would you try to keep people in the dark and treat it like some stage magician’s trick?”

The men shared a look. 

Lewiston set his spectacles on the table. “Think of how some people might abuse the Temporal Arts if they knew its capability. By withholding some information, at least for the time being, we ensure that people don’t misuse it. Can you imagine how catastrophic the war would have been with average people wielding such power?”

“And what’s more,” Johnstone continued, “what the public doesn’t know we are capable of, they can’t ask us to do. The Society has always striven to remain aloof from politics, but there is immense pressure for us to pick a side. If politicians don’t know our abilities, they can’t blackmail us into changing ballots or laws.”

“Some secrets must be kept for the good of the Society,” Lewiston murmured. 

Johnstone nodded.

I sank against the back of my chair. I’d always envisioned Johnstone as a paragon of academic exploration and a crusader for truth. Yet he believed in lying to people to keep the Society in power. 

I chewed my lip, the waxy taste of lipstick flooding my mouth. Maybe they had a point. Withholding small details like this could prevent the Temporal Arts from being abused. It was like the war posters had stated—sealed lips will save our ships. If I agreed to the changes, there wouldn’t be any fuss. 

Except they weren’t just asking me to omit information, they wanted me to include lies in my hard-won research, put my name on it, and let the whole world see. 

“Well, what do you say?” Johnstone demanded. 

I twisted my fingers together, stomach churning as fast as my thoughts. “I need time to consider.”

Lewiston’s eyebrows rose. “Whatever for? Make your decision now. Do you want to join the Society or not? It’s that simple.”

I lifted my chin. “No, I need time. I won’t make a snap decision about this.”

Johnstone stared hard at me, and I did my best to meet his steely eyes without flinching. 

“Very well. You may consider it overnight. The Society has a meeting tomorrow evening, and you may give your answer then.” 

Sensing my dismissal, I rose and bobbed my head. “Thank you.”

Johnstone frowned. “Good day, Miss Slatterley. I hope you make the right decision.”

Come back tomorrow for the next installment of The Dickinson Society of New York Mages.