Bryar: “Are you calling about Warsaw, Singapore, Manila, Bangkok, Koome Island, the car blasts, or some other crisis?”
(I looked these up fast, since most were new since bedtime: Warsaw had a water contamination crisis; Fiji’s celebrated Indus-Kreeney fireworks artists had managed to confuse a car’s sensors with light blasts so it landed safely, inspiring less skilled copycats to set off accidental car explosions over Bhopal, Aberdeen, Lisbon, and Prince Edward Island; the Koome Island Strategic Mosquito Preserve had a power outage approaching crisis length; while Singapore, Manila, and Bangkok were like Sydney, large mixed metropolises in East Asia lashing out against their Mitsubishi landlords as the fleets loomed close.)
Su-Hyeon: “None of the above. I want to discuss an Order the Triumvirate wants to issue today. We want all factions to start wearing uniforms.”
Bryar: “Uniforms?”
Su-Hyeon: “There needs be a clear difference between civilian and soldier. There keep being what people are calling ‘riots’ but some are really spontaneous and some are trained groups attacking preselected targets. Right now people can’t tell, cops can’t tell, laws can’t tell.”
Bryar: “I’ve seen the problem.”
Su-Hyeon: “We’re going to require that Hives that want to take military action have to have fixed and public military law codes, and their soldiers must be registered and recognizable. Europeans and Mitsubishi are already doing it, and benefitting from it. Put a cluster of Masons in a street and everyone panics since MASON says the whole Hive is at war, but we know Europeans in uniform are soldiers and the rest are not, and people are sixty-two percent less likely to panic or attack congregating Europeans.”
“It’s up to sixty-two percent?” I asked.
“You saw the growth curve, I’m entitled to round up after midnight.”
Bryar caught me checking the time, and smirked. “I like the idea.”
“I know,” Su-Hyeon replied. “You’re doing it yourself with Red Crystal. We just need to extend it. Singapore, Bangkok, Manila, everywhere like that will ease if a scared Humanist or Mitsubishi can glance up a street and tell which Masons are friendly bystanders. And if you all do simple things like Red Crystal’s armbands, then this could start saving lives in hours.” Again I winced as Su-Hyeon flashed up my awful uniform designs. “But only if someone else pushes for speed. We don’t have any enforcement mechanism with the cars down. A Triumviral Order is just an invitation to dithering, unless you and other respected voices encourage speed.”
“I’m going to endorse it as Anonymous,” I added, “and stress the immediate lifesaving effect.”
“And the Inspector General’s office will create a public database with images and details about what each uniform means.”
Bryar nodded. “So you want me to endorse it, too? Or did you want my help persuading Vivien?”
“Boneithther!” I turned in surprise as my “both” merged with Su-Hyeon’s “neither.”
Su-Hyeon shook their head. “We want more than that. We want you to implement it.”
“Implement it?” Bryar frowned. “You want the Cousins to make everybody’s uniforms?”
“No. Make your own.”
“You said the Red Crystal armbands were working well.”
“Red Crystal isn’t the same as Cousin forces.”
Bryar frowned. “We don’t have forces, we’re neutral.”
Su-Hyeon sighed. “Jin said you’d be the stubborn sell.”
Bryar still looked puzzled. “Just because we let other Hives and Hiveless join Red Crystal—”
“Su-Hyeon’s right!” I cried, wincing at the clatter as my enthusiasm sent DNA kits cascading down the stairs. “I see it now! You do have forces. You have guards! You have armed security defending hospitals, and warehouses, and your Weapon Exchange Centers, and you! With you, Bryar, right now, you have guards.”
Bryar glanced off-screen, confirming that the corners of the bright-draped room held more than just their ba’sibs’ watercolors. “Guards aren’t an army.”
“No, but they are forces, and they’re not the same thing as ordinary Cousins, and— Oh, Su-Hyeon, you’re so right!” My passion won a smile as I realized what must have been in Su-Hyeon’s mind since before they woke me. “You have to do it, Bryar! You’re most important of all! If the Cousins make a uniform, you’ll guilt-trip every other power into being unable to refuse doing it too, because your forces are the sweetest, most benign, helpful, trustworthy, cuddly forces that have ever existed, who carry nothing scarier than stun guns, and whose sole purpose is to just defend the people who want to give everybody soup and band-aids. If you make those forces wear a uniform, not MASON, not Sniper, not Tully Mardi, not nobody can refuse!”
Bryar took some frowning moments to digest, and I feared my choice of playful language might have offended instead of cheering them. “Perhaps . . .”
“You’re worried about the Nurturists?” Su-Hyeon guessed, and as soon as I heard the word, I saw it too. Senator Cook’s Nurturists. There had already been a near-coup in Casablanca, a power showdown between fervent Cookie and faithful Heloïse, one fought with words alone. The next coup might use ‘forces.’
Bryar would not rush their answer. “This . . . no, this could help with the Nurturists, actually. Your public list, the one you’re going to publish with the images, will you also require each Hive and faction to publish a description of the purpose, scope, and limits of its activities? What kinds of actions forces are allowed to take, and with what kind of weaponry? If everyone is required to define their scope strictly and publicly, I can define the Cousin forces as defensive-only and make clear they aren’t empowered to intervene with set-sets and so on, that those acts are illegal, and will be prosecuted. It could help.”
“Then you’ll do it?” Su-Hyeon pressed.
Another careful pause. “If you require public definitions of the scope of each force’s activities, then yes.”
“Great! Thanks!”
Su-Hyeon hung up.
I called back. “Hi, Bryar. Sorry about that.”
They smiled. “Not your fault. It was good seeing you both.”
“You too. Su-Hyeon, are you going to say goodbye to Bryar?”
Su-Hyeon didn’t turn. “What? Oh. Hi. Bye. Sorry. Math.”
I gave a little wince to thank Bryar for laughing off this too-familiar tic. “I’m glad you’re safe in Mumbai,” I added. “I was worried when I heard you were all the way up in Delhi.”
Bryar beamed reassurance. “I’m on the coast now. It shouldn’t be hard to get a boat to Casablanca, once we’ve negotiated passage with the Mitsubishi fleet. I’m just glad you’re safe with Su-Hyeon. I was worried when I heard about . . .”
It’s hard to believe how fast sobs came. “Yeah.”
Bryar sat there frowning in my lenses, sadness, sympathy, but suddenly it all felt insincere. I waited. Weren’t they going to say anything? Condolences? Tell me they know what Mycroft meant to me? That it’s not my fault? If Bryar’s lips had quivered, I would’ve thought they were fighting tears too, but there was just that tense, forced sympathy. It still chills me remembering how much it chilled me. Mycroft always said they thought Bryar had wanted them ‘put down.’ It had never felt plausible before.