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They said it all started with a shifting climate. That without the greenhouse effect, humanity could have just stumbled blindly on. Fat, dumb, happy. Sure, they blamed the weather, but the weather doesn't have a nuclear release button. And war is coming. The acrid taste of it hangs in the air like the scorched ozone of an impending storm. Kiera gets lucky, but it doesn't last. Nothing does anymore, especially with Deuteronomist cultists on the prowl. Mù waits for her chance in the Pacific, while Roman gambles everything on Transcaucasia, and Barbara watches in mounting horror from Port Charlotte. At the end, Guy does what he can, but it isn't much. Ever since the Great and Necessary Correction, Omicron'Qu has been expecting them, just as the Deuteronomists foretold. Jæren, a man of conscience, sees what others cannot. Furæ has no such qualms. Måna is the surprise, but then it's hard to truly know a person. Inevitably, fractures appear, sides are taken and what remains of humanity reverts to what it does best. So Jæren, like Saint Joshua before him, must resolve a dilemma as irreconcilable as ever it was to the long dead denizens of old Britain, forcing Alice to act.