Beating Heart Cadavers Read Online Free Page B

shown up today, of course, because everyone had heard the news.
    “So they're going to kill the Mare-folk, Doctor Mason?”
    The question rang out through the lecture hall a mere second after Mason had inclined his head towards the student with a raised hand. As a collective murmur of agreement went through the rows of students from the floor to the back wall, Mason heaved a sigh and ran his hand over his shaved head, cringing ever so slightly at the term doctor. He had been asking the university to change his nameplate to read 'Professor' for the last decade or so, but his request had been denied. As the title that he had earned from his previous profession ranked higher than that of his new one, by Onerian law he was forced to keep it. Regardless, he always asked his students to call him Professor. He wasn't a doctor anymore.
    “The government is pushing a bill to shut off the charging facilities,” Mason replied in his neutral way, leaning back against the desk in a pseudo-sitting position as he addressed the class. “We don't know if or when it will happen yet, of course.”
    “It'll happen – it's about time.”
    Mason held his gaze on the student while doing his best not to let his expression give him away. The boy couldn't have been older than twenty, though he had clearly been ingrained with Onerian beliefs for the good part of his life. He wasn't even certain that his students knew what the Mare-folk were: there seemed to be more and more fantastical stories about them as the years went on, and Mason simply didn't have the patience to keep up with them anymore.
    “There's no telling what will happen,” Mason said, trying to ensure that his wording was both factually and politically correct. “A new ambassador has only just been appointed. What he does – and what the government allows – will only become apparent in the coming months.”
    He moved to the podium and turned on the projector, but no sooner had he clicked to the first slide of his intended lecture than the student called out another protest.
    “So you're just not going to tell us anything about it, then?”
    “This is a history class, not a current events one.”
    “You always say history's intertwined with the present, though,” said a girl in the first row.
    Mason gave her a look. His students only ever seemed to recall information when he didn't want them to.
    “In that case, I'm simply afraid that there's nothing to discuss,” Mason said, ignoring the muttered protests heard all around him. “Decisions are being made about the Mare-folk. That's all there is to know, I think.”
    Or all that he was supposed to say, rather. He had never been very good at abiding to rules that he didn't agree with, though he had been trying wholeheartedly in recent years, and he certainly wasn't good at keeping his opinions to himself. Perhaps if he had been a bit wiser, he would have become a literature professor years ago when he had been forced to leave his old profession: history was getting him into too much trouble.
    The door at the back of the room reopened and someone slipped inside, catching Mason's eye. She looked disheveled as she made her way to an empty seat, slipping past a few other students on her way, and her dark hair fell in a braid down her spine. Her face was hidden by the person in front of her, and Mason looked away. It was just another student who had overslept, he knew. Like always.
    “So you're not going to tell us anything?”
    As the boy who had made the initial inquiry spoke again, Mason shook himself back to the present. Though he would have rather discussed the Mare-folk than the textbook any day, he wasn't supposed to: that sort of thing would only get him into trouble. But, he considered, his eyes wandering back to where the girl sat hidden from his view, he wasn't supposed to be thinking of ghosts, either, and he always made room for them despite the trouble they caused.
    Breaking from his thoughts, Mason looked back