Andrea sat across from her E, who had been slumped over asleep for the last two weeks. The black hair drew her interest most of all. She remembered the terrified blond boy she had met as a child.

Now, finally, she could remember.

She remembered seeing the boy in pain for days and not being able to stand it anymore when he started to grow and change. She remembered the boy, tied down to the table, turning into a grown man, similar in features to the E before her now. She remembered how she'd stroked the sleeping man's brow and wished he'd go back to wherever he came from, somewhere safe. She couldn't remember anything else after that.

Try as she might, she couldn't.

Suffering for art is the only true beauty in the Colony. If that was true, then she knew that E had been the most beautiful creature ever made. Suffering didn't begin to describe it.

Flashes came and went, but she only remembered coming to after that wish and finding a different person in the room. Grandfather had searched high and low for that E, for that bound man, but it was to no avail. Her grandfather had then helped Andrea up.

Grandfather.

The perfect person, who had always let Andrea get away with murder, who had allowed her to do whatever she wanted, to say whatever she wanted, and who had expected her to do nothing else in return because she was special. Every time she had been denied something, she'd gone crying to Grandfather.

Then people started taking retribution by being mean to Andrea, unjustifiably mean, and she hadn't understood why. She hadn't understood why everyone couldn't treat her as well as her grandfather did.

Now, as she sat looking at Tanner—a man who had never done her any harm, a man she knew she almost killed, and she wouldn't even be punished for it as she should—now when she looked at the E she'd longed for and finally gotten on a silver platter, she realized something horrible about her life. It was all impshit.

She waited till her hour was up, down to the very second, and stood and walked out. After she exited the jail, she kept on walking. For the first time in a year, she just wanted to walk. By the time she decided to go home, she had reached the border to Impland. That territory was the Dead Zone, named for the fact that the System did not function in the areas inhabited by imps.

Imps. Isn't that what I deserve? To be viciously ripped to shreds by imps? I should let the image fall and just run in there and end it. I'm dead anyway when the Colony exiles me to the surface. She stared into the darkness before her and thought about going in.

"Tanner, it's my fault all of that happened to you. I let you run into danger while I stood by eating."

The nothingness that lay before her didn't compare to the void within. She thought of Tanner again and felt ill.

"I got a second chance at having you. You even forgave me, and I wasn't careful with you this time, either."

She owed the man an apology at least. That was the reason she leaned back against the wall instead of running in there naked to be gored and eaten.

She was in a daze. That was the excuse she gave herself for saying the command for her former home. The System obliged. The wall adjacent to the courtyard regurgitated her, and the silence brought her back to her youth. Back to before Tanner had come, back to when Andrea had been a nobody who'd cry to her father in a small room, begging not to visit the monster man who always yelled at her.

And like a house with no prestige and power, a house disgraced, there were no servants in attendance. None would want to be associated with a fallen household. The silence brought her back to a time when this place was dying and a hapless E's presence had dragged her family back from the abyss. If what she had read from the audit was real, then she concluded that this family should have been deep in the abyss long ago.

She found her mother sitting at the dining room table by herself. There didn't appear to be anyone there except Gulliver, who seemed happy yet sad to see Andrea. Gulliver had taken on some weight. Marian didn't seem to mind one bit. She didn't even comment on it; going so far as to pat the man's belly. After the servant put the plate of food down and bowed, he glanced at Andrea and then walked out.

Marian didn't look up from the table. Her posture was perfect as she ate. Andrea didn't sit. She just looked at her former seat, using her fingers to trace the wood of the chair, and waited. As she anticipated, when Marian finished eating, the woman sat up to address her.

"You've gained the weight back, I see. Now you're bigger than ever."

The image had weakened, but Andrea didn't care about that. Instead she focused on her chair. "You told me the names of all the Andreas. But I remember now, you never told me what Dom's name was."

"Why'd you come back here?" Marian asked. "From what I hear, you're living comfortably with your sugar daddies or whatever. What do you need from me?"

"I need peace," Andrea said. "I'm the fourth Johann Andreas, and when I got told the audit uncovered something awful, I figured it was the late Johann Andreas the Third." The very thought made her shudder. "I dreamed that his body'd be under the courtyard. Hell, I even wondered for a minute if you had dug that grave with your bare hands, cement be damned. When Met said all Johanns were accounted for, I couldn't think about it—I was afraid to. Now I get it. Grandfather was Johann Andreas the First, you are Johann Andreas the Second, Lars was Johann Andreas the Third, and I'm fourth in line. Dom is the fifth."

The cold expression Marian wore made it seem as though she'd spit. "You thought I killed someone?" she asked. "My own child? If I hadn't killed something as useless as you, I'd never kill anyone. Trust me."

Her words made Andrea feel queasy. "I need peace, and I need to know how you and I can be on speaking terms one day."

"That day will never come," Marian said. "You're not worth it."

"You loved me." Andrea looked to her for agreement. "For even an instant, you did love me, right?"

"Of course." Marian tried to laugh, but instead she made a soft sound. "You were my favorite. You were so sweet and curious and bright. And you didn't think it, but you were a fighter."

Andrea traced the top of her usual chair. "Then why is it that you hate me so much?"

"How could you not know? You are a selfish bastard."

"No," Andrea said, her eyes following the path Gulliver once took. "I'm no bastard. I have a father." Marian paused so long that Andrea thought the woman stopped breathing. "And now that Lars is gone, I have to look for my real father again."

From Marian's mute response and the scowl on her face, Andrea knew the woman was eager for her to leave.

"How did he die?" she asked. But her mother didn't reply. "You didn't even send word to me that Lars was dead. You let me find out nearly a year later via the archive." Andrea asked, finally, "Did he kill himself?"

"It's your fault," Marian said.

Andrea couldn't look at her, and she hoped her mother didn't take it as a sign of weakness.

"You brought that young E here. It gave you a wish, it gave you blond hair, and it gave that bastard Abraham fifty years back."

Remembering Tanner's words, Andrea stared at her, bemused. "The E said he only lost thirty years."

"Maybe it was thirty years for the E, but not for Abraham. He reversed over fifty years. At least when he was old and weak, he could only complain now and then, but when he was suddenly young again, he was heavy-handed and cruel, cruel beyond words. Abraham was a hundred times worse young than old, and you left us to endure that. And what did you get? A handful of gaw-ro cookies. That's all my life was worth to you." Her voice cracked. "It was worth a cookie."

Andrea found herself watching the chair again and said nothing; Marian wasn't finished.

"Did I love you?" Marian asked. "I adored you. But then you just turned on me; you forgot who used to take care of you. You chose him over me. And that's something I've never forgiven you for. And I never will."

Andrea listened. This was the first time in her life she could remember herself wanting to hear what her mother had to say.

"You didn't see it—you couldn't see it—but I did. He made you dependent to anchor you to this place," she said.

Eyes closed, Andrea rubbed the back of her neck. "Somehow I don't think that's it entirely. I don't think that's the real reason you hated me beyond belief."

"He chose you, Andrea. Nothing I did was ever good enough. And he'd find awful uses for the ones who weren't good enough."

Andrea repeated the words in her head, desperate to figure out their meaning.

"When I turned fifteen," she continued, "he sent me to a breeder, and I had Lars, my replacement. Abraham forced me to relinquish my title to a baby. And all I'd hear was that Lars wasn't artistic or beautiful, that he was a waste. So I was forced to make you. You were faster and stronger. You had an ear for music. The same way he trapped me with my children, he trapped you. Only you were too stupid to see it. So when you ask me if I loved you even once, know that I did. But that love died the day you took food in return for your freedom. What's left is a walking sack of impshit, and I hate it more than I hated Abraham."

"You wanted the title—"

"I wanted to keep you safe. As long as you didn't activate your title, you'd never see our records. You'd never know every name, every birth, none of it."

Andrea took short breaths, pacing herself. "So why did you become Marian instead of Mario?"

The weary matriarch's body shook as she said, "That's also thanks to you. I had no legitimate husband. Me and the breeder didn't take."

The venom in her words made Andrea's eyebrows rise. A part of her calmed in knowing Gulliver held this much meaning.

"Father didn't care for women—we have little use. Women holding titles weakened the house at the time. I'd worn my hair short and carried myself in the fashion he'd always asked. I was determined to run my house—even if I'd have to look like a man to do it. With his age reversed, he and I looked too much alike. He told me to change back to this, and I didn't even bat an eye. I just did it. He wasn't a person we said no to."

"And when did you decide Lars would make a better husband than a son?" Andrea flinched when the plate sailed past, missing her by inches, but she was unafraid. "Or do you mean that was Abraham's decision, too? And the audit uncovered that, and Lars hanged himself. Or am I missing something?" She had never seen her mother look so powerless.

"Do you think that was for anything other than saving face? What do you take me for?" Marian waited a long while for an answer, and she snarled. "What is it you take me for, Johann Andreas the Fourth? What is it you think of me? Do you think you know me? Know anything about me?"

"I know enough—"

"I am beyond you. I'm beyond anything your little mind can conjure up. I've survived hell, and pure evil, and I'll survive the likes of you as well."

Andrea had no emotion left to offer. "Are you looking for sympathy from me? For understanding? For pity?"

"I'd sooner cut my own throat than ask for even a glass of water from you, you subhuman filth."

"I'm filth?" Andrea stood to her full height. "You sat around watching everything burn and you said nothing—"

"The last time I said something, the man I love lost his tongue and far more than you could ever imagine." The look on her face was the very definition of disgust, but Andrea was sure it was only a slight reflection of the level of hate she had. "Dom was a mistake. I was only allowed two children. Because Dom came when no breeder was commissioned, Father called for a DNA test on all three of you. After that it was all over. He saw who I cared for and that I'd defied him...three times. I knew then I'd never get away—and I didn't. He always punished indirectly. It's the same way he beat that E when you wouldn't fall in line. He'd beat that poor child until you were bawling like an infant for him to stop. You even passed out once from the crying."

"And you blame me for that, too?"

"I blame you for being absolutely useless now. For letting people make you useless. Look at you. Just a parasite. You give absolutely nothing in return for your life." Marian cast her eyes downward to focus on the table. "You couldn't even leave. If you had left, we would have been free of the fake world you live in, the one we all tried to keep up. You're simple, and dumb, and naïve, and there's no point in bringing you into the real world. Lars bought poster after poster, just to taunt you. You drove him to that. You broke him."

Andrea felt empty inside when their eyes met. "No. I'm tired of hearing your impshit. I didn't have any say in any of this. All my life, I've let you tear me down, and all this time, you...you are far worse off than me."

Marian's teeth chattered, but she managed to grit them. "No. You are no longer a child. You are nothing. You are a waste of space, Andrea, and you will die alone. Alone and unhappy. And I can take some comfort in that."

"Better alone than twisted like you. You should all rot in hell, and I hope you all do."

She turned to walk away, intent on not slowing in her retreat, but Marian called after her, "Don't think you weren't going to be next, Andrea. Whatever plan Abraham had for you, by twenty-one you would have found out." Marian croaked, "Nothing I said to you or did to you was any less than what he did to me. That's how I was treated, but I was kinder to you. I never did anything as awful as he did to us. I tried to get you out of here. I tried to help you! Time and time again, I tried to help you!"

Andrea paused at the threshold. "I know. In your sick way, I know you did. I know you tried." When she looked back at Marian, the woman looked as weary as Andrea felt. "But if you wanted to help me, Mother, you would have killed me before letting me find any of this out."

***

Andrea had secured a small job after she had left Tanner's home the year prior. It wasn't anything big or interesting; it was just to keep her busy and give her an excuse to leave the house. Most of the time she had slept in quite comfortably with no expectations put upon her. Now that job seemed meaningless, and she didn't bother showing up.

She took a good look around her bedroom. Though she was sharing the house and the bed of the man there, she'd gotten her own bed and slept there most nights. The room was as big as the one she grew up in. It would have been quite spacious if not for the various gadgets all around. She told herself she should have been proud—they were all expensive, so she should have been proud—but as she surveyed them and thought of the things she had to do to get them, they made her stomach turn because they were just cookies. They were all gaw-ro cookies.

A short time later, after she doused the room with fuel and lit a match, she stood by the doorway, knowing the door wouldn't close with her standing there. It would only burn for a little while, though, because the Colony had no qualms about squashing one woman in her own home if there was a risk that a fire might spread.

When Andrea was satisfied, she stepped back and the door closed. She was prompted by the System that all oxygen in the room would be shut off.

Several other rooms went up much in the same way. The shower was the last to go. Eventually, she found herself back in her kitchen, sitting there staring at the table. Unlike Gara's table which was round, Andrea's was square. She hated all things round; they reminded her too much of herself.

It took a while, but she heard the fast falling footsteps and was greeted with a flushed face and angry brown eyes.

"Have you lost your gaw-ro mind? What the hell did you do to my house?" Reed demanded.

Andrea couldn't focus on anything but the table. "Have I lost my mind? Well, let's see. I just found out that the man I thought of as a god among men tortured a little boy and stole his youth thirteen years ago. And I'm to blame. Not to mention that my mom mascaraed as my dad. My mother's mute servant is actually my dad. The guy who I thought was my dad is actually my brother, and now I'm sitting here wondering if tomorrow the other shoe will drop and my little brother will turn out to be my clone sent back from the future to kill me.

"And I'm pretty sure that somehow I was used to orchestrate something bigger, but I don't know what, and I'm not sure I want to find out. So when you ask me if I've lost my mind," said Andrea, raising her hand so that a large cleaver flickered in the light, "what the hell do you think?" The blade came down hard on the table, punctuating her words.

No further complaint came after that; she was left in peace. An hour later when she heard the soft groan of a voice she'd come to hate over the past couple years, she groaned in return.

Gara picked up the pan on the table with two dainty fingers and examined it. "Is this pie?" she counted the stacks of pie tins and grumbled, "Oh dear. Five of them. In one go?"

Andrea caught a glimpse of her own reflection in a pie tin held up to her, and she froze. Her face was pale and ghostly, and she settled her eyes on Gara, asking the woman for help.

"What did my grandfather do? What was I for?"

The question caused the smaller woman's dark eyes to widen in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't lie to me. Everyone always lies to me. Just tell me. What did I do? What was I for? Because he never asked anything of me. Period. And everyone talked about how he was awful, but I can't remember him being awful to me—"

"He wasn't awful to you, though." Gara shrugged. "You gave him validity. And you gave him a school. In the beginning, when you'd perform, he'd show you as an example, proof that anyone could be trained well. All they had to do was make sure to send their children to his school."

Andrea closed her eyes and then exhaled when it dawned on her. All those private lessons. "Send their young children?"

Gara didn't answer at first, but eventually she said, "Yes."

When their eyes met, Andrea felt empty and hollow. "Was that what happened to you?"

"Your...your mother is a very talented teacher. She made the effort to keep us as safe as she could. That's what I try to remember. The fact that I had some training, it helped my value when I was looking to get married. As for the rest of it...I've made peace with that. I've put it behind me a long time ago."

"So that's my legacy? Grandfather, the person I idealized...was a pedophile?" Despite knowing the answer, Andrea waited for something, anything to fill the silence. In the end she finally gave up, anguish making her voice crack. "And you knew?"

Gara sighed. "Andrea, I'm nearly seven years older than you; of course I knew. A lot of people knew. I saw it unfold, but you did what you always do when you've got money and a reputation to protect; you keep your head down, you keep quiet, and you handle matters privately in the bottom of a bottle, be it liquor or tablets. You get by. The same way Reed's getting by now by calling me instead of the guards. You really scared him."

Andrea watched the table. "What happens to me now? I can't go back there, I can't stay here, and I can't go to Tanner. So what happens?"

"Maybe, just this once...." Gara waited for their eyes to meet before she managed a slight shrug. "You shouldn't go to anyone. Just be you. Be alone for a while. I tried it, and you know, it wasn't all as bad as everyone said."