Ah, and now we’re actually on Miracolina! She’s very mad. She also continues to be the source of the only good writing in this book:

Would this please them, she wonders, for her to be captured and forced to live whole? Denied the holy mystery of the divided state?

Doesn’t that sound like something a religion would actually say? And what would have more claim to the phrase than a thing that is like the already mysterious death but even stranger, and done for the most noble of reasons?

We are not meant to be enjoying Miracolina’s spirituality, of course. We’re meant to be feeling superior to the dumb girl:

On that first day, they try to trick her by putting her in a comfortable bedroom in much better condition than most of the mansion.

“Trick”. Not that they’re trying to make her like them with good treatment, which would certainly be worthy of her disdain, but “trick”, as if she’s simply delusional.

She does get to make her own points, of course, because the author also hates adults trying to do things so both can be wrong!

There are videos and books in her room to entertain her, but Miracolina has to laugh, because just as the harvest camp van had only happy, family-friendly movies, the titles she has to choose from here have a clear agenda as well. They’re all about kids being mistreated, but rising above it, or kids empowering themselves in a world that doesn’t understand them.

Like with Lev having to write his memoirs on his own, I’m not sure if we’re also supposed to think this is dumb because the message they want for the tithes is “look at what kids can accomplish without anyone taking a hacksaw to them” and not “here are some kids who people were mean to in a way completely alien to your pampered and loved life”.

There are also drawers filled with clothes in bright colors—all her size, and she shudders to think that they took her measurements and prepared a wardrobe while she was unconscious.

Also going to assume that, as it makes them creepy, they actually did that even though her measurements should be part of her tithing data.

She knows what this is all about. They call it “deprogramming,” which is a polite term for undoing brainwashing with more brainwashing.

This is absolutely true! I mean, not only did we just see it, but that’s the standard system. Your kid is in a fundamentalist cult, so you find a cultist from a religion you approve of more (hardcore Baptist, say) and lock the kid in a room until your cultist converts them. It’s hard to change the fact someone doesn’t want to think for themselves but not that hard to order them to adopt different rules.

She’s politely rude to the psychologist they send her:

“You used to be respected, which means you’re not anymore,” she tells him, “and I don’t have respect for you either.”

Then when she finds the door unlocked decides to see what else is up.

One girl glances at her, singling her out, and approaches. Her name tag says jackie.
“You must be Miracolina,” Jackie says, grabbing her hand to shake, since Miracolina won’t extend it. “I know it’s a tough adjustment, but I think we’re going to be great friends.”
…
“Are you assigned to me?” Miracolina asks.
Jackie shrugs apologetically. “Yeah, kind of.”
“Thanks for being honest, but I don’t like you, and I don’t want to be your friend.”
Jackie, who is not a formerly respected psychiatrist, but just an ordinary thirteen-year-old girl, is clearly hurt by her words, and Miracolina immediately regrets them. She must not allow herself to become callous and jaded. She must rise above this.
“I’m sorry. It’s not you I don’t like, it’s what they’re making you do. If you want to be my friend, try again when I’m not your assignment.”

Kindness and consideration!!! From a character in this series!!!!!!!

She’s also annoyed to see Timothy is already fine with this.

“How could you be so . . . so shallow?” she says to him, when she catches him alone later in the day.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” he says, all smiles, like he’s just been given a new puppy. “But if it’s shallow to want a life, then heck, I’m a wading pool!”
Deprogramming! It’s enough to make her sick. She despises Timothy and wonders how anyone’s lifelong faith could be traded for corned beef and cabbage.

Why does she have to be dumb here? She was smart enough to immediately see Timothy’s lack of surety in the car. This kind of thing should make her wonder if they’re even deprogramming these kids or if most tithes lack faith like she does – which might be an interesting thing for her to consider? Surely our smart and devout Miracolina knows that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven, and we know she’s aware most tithes are from rich families. Clearly, those people never had true faith, so is it any wonder that they failed to give it to their children?

Within a few days, Miracolina has all she can stand of the classes. The mornings begin with a long emotional group therapy where at least one person bursts into tears and is applauded by the others for doing so. Miracolina usually says nothing, because defending tithing is frowned on by the faculty.
“You have a right to your opinion,” they all say if she ever speaks out against their deprogramming. “But we’re hoping you will eventually see otherwise.” Which means she really doesn’t have a right to an opinion.

I get the impression that they really haven’t found any kids that weren’t immediately on board before, which doesn’t work very well given our only two viewpoint tithes, Lev and Miracolina, are utterly devout.

On a very immediate level, having Miracolina set against everyone makes for an easy source of conflict, but making her the exception wrecks her as an actual example of tithing.

Also, WORLDBUILDING.

There’s a class in modern history—something few schools actually teach. It includes the Heartland War, the Unwind Accord, and everything surrounding them, right up to the current day. There are discussions about the splinter groups within many major religions that took upon themselves the act of human tithing, becoming socially sanctioned “tithing cults.”
“These weren’t grassroots movements,” the teacher tells them. “It began with wealthy families— executives and stockholders in major corporations—as a way of setting an example for the masses, because if even the rich approve of unwinding, then everyone should.

Now, this is very, very interesting combined with what we learned about how artificial hearts were shut down and the fact we know most of the medical industry is dead.

The wealthy in our country are not, despite many similarities, the same as your standard aristocracy. Unlike those, they serve no purpose at all. You don’t call on them for the good of the country, they aren’t held to certain standards, and no one really gives a fuck about them under normal circumstances. They’re just more public than most people.

What this is looking like is that the government actually straight up took over companies as a “temporary wartime measure”, then asked who would kill their kids in a giant public spectacle to get a seat on the new board of directors. By making it a carrot rather than stick, there’s more incentive to keep your mouth shut about it. The gutting of the companies that happened at the same time then actually helps – there are now more people who need those jobs than there are jobs, and many of them have experience in industries that no longer exist.

The tithing cults were part of a calculated plan to root unwinding in the national psyche.”
Miracolina can’t keep herself from raising her hand. “Excuse me,” she tells the instructor, “but I’m Catholic and don’t belong to a tithing cult. So how do you account for me?”
She thought the teacher might say, You’re the exception that proves the rule, or something equally insipid, but she doesn’t. Instead she only says, “Hmm, that’s interesting. I bet Lev would love to talk to you about that.”

Oh come on why are you guys so bad at this.

Look, you don’t actually have much real content and are obviously flailing around to fill time. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing a daily group sob and clap. This is a great topic that could fill up AT LEAST one entire lesson block, probably more!

So first, you start off by saying that tithing cults were used to spread the idea, not be the idea itself. You then do a quick poll of the kids – how many were part of a major cult, and how many had social-climbing parents or people who wanted to get in good with God? Then go back to Miracolina and say yes, how do we account for you? Tell us the story of why your parents decided to tithe you.

Oh, because of your brother? It must be rough, knowing your parents wanted him so much they were willing to sacrifice another child if God would save the one they had…

That kind of deal doesn’t sound very godly, though, does it? Doesn’t God love everyone equally? And why you? Why not give your brother to God if it was God that saved his life? You know, historically, people whose lives were saved by God were the ones who felt called to serve him, they didn’t ask their siblings to do it in their stead…

And wasn’t this a standard procedure? Doesn’t seem like it required a miracle for it to work…didn’t your parents know that? Oh, they’d already found your embryo was a match? So then, they knew that it’d work before you were ever born. How weird to still feel like they needed to bet with God…

I mean, that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A bet with God? They didn’t see if it worked, then feel overcome and decide to tithe you, they told God in advance that he could have you only if their current kid was fixed. That’s an odd attitude to have about a miracle, don’t you think…?

…and that’s all without having any clue how this stupid world even works! They should actually know all the relevant statistics. This isn’t hard! Tithed kids seem to universally have siblings and kids are extra sensitive to perceived inequalities between them, so they’re going to be already attuned to this form of argument.

Anyway, being told she’ll have to talk to Literally Satan makes her shut up, but then they make her talk to Literally Satan.

“Are you actually interested in me, clapper, or am I just the bug you can’t squash beneath your iron boot?”
He laughs at that. “Iron boot—that’s a good one.” He lifts his foot to show her the sole of his Nike. “I’ll admit there may be some stomped spiders between the treads, but that’s about it.”

Given “nice socks” I have no idea if this is supposed to seem incredibly witty or if it’s intended to be just as annoying as I find it.

Really, once we don’t have designated heroes I lose all track of what the author’s trying to do.

Anyway, Miracolina, bless her, doesn’t dignify this stupidity with a response and starts chatting about how maybe they could try not giving her food and water next, and Lev’s all “she thinks we’re bad people???? but unpossible?!” God, Lev, you used to only be somewhat crappy. Anyway, that great argument also fails to work.

“I really don’t get you,” he says, a bit of anger in his voice this time. “We saved your life. You could at least be a little grateful.”
“You have robbed me, and everyone here, of their purpose. That’s not salvation, that’s damnation.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Now it’s her turn to get angry. “Yes, you’re sorry I feel that way, everyone’s sorry I feel that way. Are you going to keep this up until I don’t feel that way anymore?”

I love her so much.

“I know what you’re going through,” he says. “I was brainwashed by my family to actually want to be unwound

But also you won’t shut up about how baffled you are by this and you’re getting all bitchy about her not agreeing immediately. So this may literally have been a thing you went through, but you sure don’t know it any more.

Come to think of it, if brain damage means you no longer remember, did it really happen to “you”? Do you qualify as a member of that group, and should you get to speak for them?

The only voice who spoke sense was my brother Marcus, but I was too blind to hear him until the day I got kidnapped.”
“You mean see,” she says, putting a nice speed bump in his way.
“Huh?”
“Too blind to see him, too deaf to hear him. Get your senses straight. Or maybe you can’t, because you’re senseless.”
He smiles. “You’re good.”

At being gloriously pedantic. Yes, Miracolina! He needs to be yelled at over how he’s kidnapped you and ruined your life but also that he’s fucked up his metaphors for justifying that. CORRECT ALL THE THINGS!

Miracolina gets toward an actually very valid point:

“Because being a murderer is better than being a tithe, isn’t that right, clapper?”

While Lev’s fame is as the kid who didn’t quite go through with it, the fact is if you actually think about the whole thing, all anyone knows is his life went tithe interrupted – decided to suicide bomb – didn’t suicide bomb, which is a lot less impressive.

And then, because of Miracolina’s wonderful influence, we actually get Lev giving an answer that sounds like it came from a human being:

“When you live a life without questions, you’re unprepared for the questions when they come,” he says. “You get angry and you totally lack the skills to deal with the anger.

I mean, it’s pretty clunkily worded (Why not “thinking you already have the answers, you’re unprepared…”, maybe?) but at least we’re getting a better idea of why Lev particularly would’ve gone so far.

The problem is this really has no bearing on the tithe/don’t tithe thing. Lev is justifying the other thing he almost did and how it doesn’t make him, personally, a monster.

Also we can’t go further on this line of thought and keep the sense we’re dealing with reasonable people, since if we start to actually discuss if clapping is wrong we run into the issue where it can be used against Super-Hitler’s Children-Only Concentration Camps.

Miracolina is surprised to find Lev feels bad about the clapping thing. No, Miracolina! Hold onto your precious hate!

Lev then trips into the general vicinity of the point I said her teacher should’ve made as she says she’s not part of any religious order that does this and it was because of her brother.

“And doesn’t that make you angry that the only reason you’re here was to help someone else?”

But not actually the right issue. I think this is the author’s inspiration leaking through.

Parents do have kids to try to get parts their current kid needs – and the idea it might not work would actually make sense in a world where you don’t pay another nine women to bring the extra embryos to term and pretty much guarantee that one-in-four chance of a match, as does the idea that you’d need to do it at all because there isn’t a giant pile of child parts you can pick through whenever. I guess, like the euthanasia thing, it just squicked him, which is why he’s included it without adapting it properly at all.

This is a neutral thing. A kid might feel a little weird that their birth happened because of their sibling, but it’s just not a very big deal. You might as well ask if her brother is angry he’s only there because his parents felt like seeing what a kid was like (…or given abortion is banned, that a pregnancy happened and they just had to deal). She wasn’t asked to sacrifice anything to her brother, really – the issue is that she DOES have more than one reason for being there, and it’s to be given to God via the method of being hacked up and stuffed into other people.

And yet, I guess because the author realized he wasn’t actually up for writing someone changing their mind completely, she says that yeah, she did feel angry about it. I’d like to assume that Miracolina has shifted/corrected the topic subconsciously from the absurd misfire that actually came out of Lev’s mouth to the obvious point to make and she’s talking about being tithed when her brother isn’t, but then Lev keeps barreling along on the wrong topic:

“All right, so maybe I do feel angry once in a while, but I understand why they did it. If I were them, I would have done the same thing.”
“Agreed,” he says. “But once your purpose was served, shouldn’t your life be your own?”

So yeah, the author sees having a second kid to get a donor as a terrible thing children should be angered about but understandable as a crime desperate parents would commit.

“Miracles are the property of God,” she answers.
“No,” he says, “miracles are gifts from God. To call them his property insults the spirit in which they are given.”

Lev can’t do pedantic like Miracolina can, so the author just has Miracolina say that yes he’s so right and you can’t argue against that.

“We’ll talk again when you’re over yourself,” he says

Just fuck Lev.

The next day a class is added into her schedule, to keep her from having too idle a mind. It’s called Creative Projection.

I wish we were told what the classes were all in one burst. This one, which opens with “write a story about your future life!!!” is such an obvious fit that I don’t see why it’s just added now. If this kind of fluff only just occurred to them, what have they been filling the time with? Has it just been group sob and history class?

If the author wanted to save this specific lesson for this point in the story, they could’ve been doing art therapy here in the class before now. That sounds like the sort of easy to direct but possibly useful thing they’d be all over.

He wants her dream future? Fine. She’ll give these people something honest, even if it isn’t what they want to hear.
It is years from now, she writes, and my hands belong to a mother who lost her hands in a fire. She has four children. She comforts them, bathes them, brushes their hair, and changes their diapers with those hands. She treasures my hands because she knows how precious they are. She gets manicures weekly for me, even though she doesn’t know who I was.
My legs belong to a girl who was in a plane crash. She had been a track star, but found that my legs simply weren’t built for that. For a while she mourned the loss of her Olympic dream, but then realized that my legs could dance. She learned to tango, and one day she met a prince while dancing in Monaco, and she danced her way into his heart. They married, and now the royal couple have a grand ball every year. The highlight of the ball is her stunning tango with her prince.
With every word she writes, Miracolina is filled with deeper fury at all the possibilities stolen from her. My heart went to a scientist on the verge of discovering a way to harness starlight and solve the world’s energy needs. He was so close—but then suffered a major heart attack. Thanks to me, though, he survived and completed his life’s work, making the world a better place for all of us. He even won the Nobel Prize.
Is it so strange to want to give of yourself totally and completely? If that is what’s in Miracolina’s heart, why should it be denied her?

Because it’s icky, Miracolina. Even if you’ve decided to die rather than live with a horrible and eventually fatal anyway disorder, it’s super ultra gross to let anyone have your organs.

Seriously, this is an interesting question – if one person can save many people, then what? I can see people getting concerned about it, though in our world I feel it’s never really going to be a concern as technology to replace things is improving way faster than our ability to stuff organs into people. And it really isn’t an issue in their world either, since even if we assume those awesome mechanical hearts have had the blueprints burned and everyone working on it was shot in the head so that it could never be again, the magical lepraucauns have technology to use animal organs. Arms and legs are a bit trickier but honestly, only the hands are a real concern, and you could do most of that with monkeys – possibly all of it, whatever magic they have to pump into the cougar hearts to make this a good idea can probably handle rearnaging a few tendons to get a nice gripping thumb. I’d assume that same magic can solve all the problems we face about being able to get quality organs out of dead bodies – failing that, I know limbs can do okay without blood for a bit and those are the only things that are an issue, so hacking them off dead people should work fine.

Much like Miracolina’s previous bit should’ve been welcomed as a ~teachable moment~, this is great! Two points to go down here:

1) The mechanical, animal, and corpse alternatives.
2) Statistics on who actually gets those parts and what happens to them.

We know that the kid cops doing unwinding have visible replacements. And while I doubt the author thought this far, the fact most replacements are invisible suggests they’re actually rocking a whole pile of delicious dead child parts and it’s just that they have so many that the odds of one not looking right is high. One of the kids wanted a model photographer to get his eyes, and guess who’d really want parts? Porn stars. Nothing would traumatize tithes straight than the knowledge their lips would be put to use in GLORY HOLE COCKSUCKERS and their colons were going to be the recurring star of ANAL GANGBANG #44-79. (This one doesn’t even have to be true, there could well be rules about who can’t have tithed parts, but I really doubt any of their parents explained porn just so they could reassure them that their parts would never feature in it.)

We’ve also seen no mention of people reusing the organs. There was some implication back with the admiral’s kid’s lung, but the timeline is generally wonky and the lung itself could’ve been held for some time due to being so crappy, while no one has said anything about secondhand organs in all this time.

The people most likely to need fresh organs are the oldest, so saying that your lung is more likely to go to some random ninety year old man and then die with him a month later would be a good point. And then, most fun – if tithed organs are really pricy, than scientists and loving stay at home moms aren’t going to be able to get any. Nor firemen, who likely really need things like fresh lungs. (In fact, why, it’s often only the rich who do the tithing who can afford parts… So perhaps one day your parts will be back in your family, helping out your other siblings, the ones your parents loved more than you. Sort of like what happened to Miracolina already, haha.)

But this is not what happens. Instead, we get retcon dumbfuckery because the author can’t argue his way out of a paper bag.

“Very interesting, Miracolina, but you’ve left out one thing.”
“What?”
“Your soul,” he says. “Who gets your soul?”
“My soul,” she tells him with confidence, “goes to God.”
“Hmm . . .” He strokes some graying whisker stubble. “So it goes to God, even if every part of your body is still alive?”
Miracolina stands firm against his questioning. “I have a right to believe that, if I want to.”
“True, true. One problem with that, though. You’re Catholic, isn’t that right?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to be unwound voluntarily.”
“So?”
“Well . . . if your soul leaves this world, then voluntary unwinding is no different from assisted suicide—and in the Catholic religion, suicide is a mortal sin. Which means that by your own beliefs, you’d be going to hell.”

Haha no you idiot it’s like you don’t even know what a martyr is, the early church only banned the suicide cults! They were still all over dying for the flimsiest of reasons. (And hi there, explicit connection to euthanasia! Yes, totally the same thing. Much insight. Such clever.)

Anyway, we all know that she meant “eventually” because everyone knows an unwound kid isn’t dead until the last part is (which incidentally appears to be literally true due to “muscle memory”), and just because it was a while back doesn’t change that Miracolina has explicitly said this:

She has always been aware that on her thirteenth birthday she would be tithed and would experience the glorious mystery of having a divided body and a networked soul. Not networked in the computer sense—for the pouring of one’s soul into hardware happens only in the movies, and never to good results. No, this would be a true networking within living flesh. A stretching of her spirit among the dozens of people touched by her divided body.
…
“Oh, you won’t see me, Zach Rasmussen . . . but if any part of me sees you, I will definitely let you know.”
…
and more than anything else in this life, Miracolina Roselli wants to believe that her tithing is a beginning.

So no, they don’t “get” her soul, but it remains there, watching over them, comforting them and helping them and other noble self-sacrificing stuff, until they die and she ascends to heaven.

And again Miracolina is all OMG THEIR BRILLIANT REASONING HAS ME UNDONE because if you can’t deal with the kid’s actual arguments, then you can just retcon in some strawmen to box.