The Atlas Six

“Alone, he might have done exceptional magic, but would have fallen shy of the extraordinary. Inevitably he would have succumbed to mundanity, to struggle, to boredom, as all humans eventually did—but now, because of this, he wouldn’t. The pittances of a small existence would count among the many things he would never again risk since he took his seat in this room ten years prior.”

Dalton reflects on what his life might have looked like had he not accepted the Society’s invitation. He points out the invaluable opportunity that being initiated granted him and suggests that he is ready to fight for the life he has gained. This passage sets up the new candidates’ ambition to achieve greatness and the sacrifices they will need to make.

“Dalton looked out at their faces and imagined again the life he might have lived; the lives they all might have lived, had they never been offered such…riches. Eternal glory. Unparalleled wisdom. Here they would unlock the secrets the world had kept from itself for centuries, for millennia. Things that no ordinary eyes would ever see, and that no lesser minds could possibly understand. Here, at the library, their lives would change. Here their former selves would be destroyed, like the library itself, only to be built back up again and hidden in the shadows, never to be seen except by the Caretakers, by the Alexandrians, and by the ghosts of lives uncrossed and paths untaken.”

Dalton is giving the new candidates an orientation speech about the Alexandrian Society and reflects on the opportunities that have been afforded to him since he found himself in their place. His reminiscence creates intrigue and suspense for the reader and foreshadows some of the obstacles the protagonists will face, echoing Tristan’s later moral dilemma: “Perhaps they were being disintegrated on purpose, morality removed so they could be stitched back up with less-human parts” (269).

“THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS THIS: Beware the man who faces you unarmed. If in his eyes you are not the target, then you can be sure you are the weapon.”

In addition to creating an intriguing, ominous atmosphere, this epigraph foreshadows Atlas’s deception. But it eludes direct interpretation at this point in the narrative. It is later echoed by other plot points, like the chapter called “Battle” and the eventual elimination.

“‘Six are chosen. The best in the world. [...] There are nearly ten billion people in the world at present, correct?’ he prompted, and Libby and Nico, both a bit bewildered, nodded warily. ‘Nine and a half billion, to be more specific, of which only a portion are magical. Five million, give or take, who can be classified as witches. Of those, only six percent are identified as medeian-caliber magicians, eligible for training at the university level at institutions sprinkled across the globe. Only ten percent of those will qualify for the best universities, like this one,’ he said, gesturing around to the NYUMA banners. ‘Of those, only a small fraction—one percent or less—are considered by my selection committee; the vast majority are cut without a second glance. That leaves three hundred people. Of those three hundred graduates, another ten percent might have the requisite qualifications; specialties, academic performance, personality traits, et cetera. [Only] thirty people in total are good enough to be considered extraordinary, and of those, only six are rare enough to be invited through the door.’”

Atlas’s comprehensive, scientific breakdown of the selection process infuses it with credibility and a sense of legitimacy that reinforces the magical realism of the story. His argument is entirely rational, hinting at his calculating nature, and highlights the protagonists’ exceptional abilities in contrast to the general population.

“Lust was a color, but fear was a sensation. Clammy hands or a cold sweat were obvious markers, but more often it was some sort of multisensory incongruity. Like seeing sun and smelling smoke, or feeling silk and tasting bile. Sounds that rose out of unseeing darkness. This was like that, only stranger.”

Parisa’s imagistic description of feelings as colors and sensations echoes Callum’s description of emotions as sensory experiences. The poetic oxymorons she uses to describe fear highlight how jarring and memorable her experience of it is.

“‘Because the problem with knowledge, Miss Rhodes, is its inexhaustible craving. The more of it you have, the less you feel you know,’ said Atlas. ‘Thus, men often go mad in search of it.’”

Atlas warns Libby against wanting to access the Society’s entire archives for fear such knowledge may corrupt her. Many of the characters’ fatal flaws, like ambition, arrogance, greed, and desire for power (including Atlas’s own), could lead to their downfall should they be allowed access to the Society’s knowledge. This creates suspense and intrigue, as the reader does not yet know which characters will prove unable to resist the temptation.

“[Callum] was doubtful that Tristan would be capable of understanding that, but the sensation of being liked was extraordinarily dull. It was the closest thing to vanilla that Callum could think of, though nothing was truly comparable. Being feared was a bit like anise, like absinthe. A strange and arousing flavor. Being admired was golden, maple-sweet. Being despised was a woodsy, sulfuric aroma, smoke in his nostrils; something to choke on, when done properly. Being envied was tart, a citrusy tang, like green apple. Being desired was Callum’s favorite. That was smoky, too, in a sense, but more sultry, cloaked and perfumed in precisely what it was. It smelled like tangled bedsheets. It tasted like the flicker of a candle flame. It felt like a sigh, a quiet one; concessionary and pleading. He could always feel it on his skin, sharp as a blade. Piercing, like the groan of a lover in his ear.”

This quote uses intense imagery to describe Callum’s experience of other people’s emotions. By grounding his ability in the reality of sensory experiences, the narration both adds a sense of realism to his type of magic and offers insight into Callum’s deeper motivations.

“Of course, it wasn’t his actual eyes he was using; it was some other form of looking, which he supposed was his magic, though he hadn’t progressed to knowing what to call it yet. Mostly, if he concentrated, he could see little particles of things. Like dust, almost, where if he focused in on one thing, he could watch its trajectory, follow its path. Sometimes he could identify something from it—a mood, which took the form of a color, like an aurora, which was still somehow none of those things, because of course he hadn’t honed the sense required to name it. He wasn’t hearing or smelling reality, and he certainly wasn’t tasting it. It was more like he was dismantling it layer by layer, observing it as a model instead.”

In contrast to the previous quote, this passage also attempts to compare Tristan’s power with sensory experiences but shows that he is unable to connect his developing abilities to any known sensation. Symbolically, this emphasizes his still fledgling understanding and lack of control over his power.

“‘A flaw of humanity,’ said Parisa, shrugging as they walked. ‘The compulsion to be unique, which is at war with the desire to belong to a single identifiable sameness.’”

Parisa’s statement highlights her deep understanding of human thought as well as her belief that all people crave validation both as individuals and as members of a group. This paradox underlies the protagonists’ dynamics: they are all at least partly self-serving, but their ambitions can only be achieved if they work together.

“Now Callum’s mistake was obvious: he had thought to prove himself strong, but nobody wanted strength. Not like his. Strength was for machines and monsters; the others could not relate to faultlessness or perfection. Humans wanted humanity, and that meant he would have to show evidence of weakness.”

This passage highlights one of Callum’s most significant realizations. Although he usually gets what he wants with little regard for consequences, he is starting to understand that the only way he can get through to initiation is by winning the others to his side. He realizes he should feign vulnerability and humanity to portray himself as their equal. This passage also hints at the way the Society works, as medeians can access more power if they act as parts of a larger whole rather than separate entities with conflicting goals.

“The breaks in subject matter were particularly intriguing because there was always a sense of some invisible, underlying fabric. Like they were being directed by currents they couldn’t see until they’d already absorbed the material, swallowed it whole.”

This quote, which is seen from Reina’s point of view, highlights her understanding of the structure of their training, which also gives narrative structure to the novel. In addition to paralleling the narrative structure, however, this “underlying fabric” builds up to the necessity of the elimination, right after the candidates discuss death and intent. This sense of ineluctability both foreshadows the tragic ending, making it seem unavoidable, and hints at Atlas’s meticulous plan.

“Because although magic and nature have different forms, they are not inseverable. Magic has aspects of nature, nature has aspects of magic, and to take one away from either is a corruption to both their forms. It is the disintegration of naturalism itself. A man with a curse will upset the balance of things, warping the universe around him. Luck magic is a corruption as well; for any corruption to hold, the caster must accept, in some way, a fracture—a piece of themselves forever broken, in payment for the imbalance they have caused.”

This quote illustrates the novel’s use of magical realism by presenting magic as a natural part of the world and discussing it as a philosophical concept. It also reinforces the theme of balance, especially regarding nature and magic, or life and death, as a necessary part of the way magic works.

“‘Sacrifice has magic of its own,’ he said. ‘The decision to do something is itself a change, a rupture to the state of the world’s natural order. Would things happen in the caster’s favor regardless of interference? Yes, of course, probability meaning that all outcomes are, conceptually, possible,’ Dalton said, droning on methodically. ‘But to set one’s sights on one particular outcome is to necessitate a shift in some direction, enduring and irreversible. We study the realm of consciousness because we understand that to decide something, to weigh a cost and accept its consequences, is to forcibly alter the world in some tangible way. That is a magic as true and as real as any other.’”

Dalton lectures the candidates about the need to sacrifice something to balance magical powers, thus laying the groundwork for the upcoming elimination. By adding legitimacy to the elimination by portraying it as a natural process, the protagonists’ moral dilemma is framed as tragically unavoidable.

“‘Magic is not a god,’ Dalton agreed, ‘it is a tool. But it does respond discreetly to the distinctions of its user’s intentions, however subtle those may be. It is a matter not unlike general relativity,’ he said. ‘Intent cannot change the foundation of science or magic as a whole, but we know from observation that its outcome can change relative to its use.’”

Dalton explains the role of intent in magic, which informs the reader’s understanding of the characters’ motivations. Although magic is a neutral tool, Dalton suggests that the effects of the medeians’ magic reflect their deeper intentions. In terms of characterization, this passage seems to reinforce Callum’s theory that their respective abilities developed in response to their circumstances.

“‘Does the arrow forge itself?’ Libby again. Dalton turned to her slowly, regarding her for a moment in silence. She seemed to mean one thing—If magic is the arrow and we are the archers, how much control do we have over its flight?—but appeared to have ultimately asked quite another. Is magic the tool, or are we?”

Libby’s ambiguous question directly echoes the theme of the epigraph and the first two chapters, where the six candidates—rather than merely their magical abilities—are compared to weapons. Additionally, this passage potentially foreshadows Libby’s future disapproval of Atlas’s manipulation of the initiates for his own goal.

“Tristan’s stomach hurt, or his chest. He felt nauseated and broken. Was this what Dalton meant about a person being fractured? Perhaps they were being disintegrated on purpose, morality removed so they could be stitched back up with less-human parts. Maybe in the end his former beliefs would be vestigial, like a forgone tail. Some little nub at the base of his philosophical spine.”

Tristan has an existential crisis about whether he will be able to kill one of his fellow candidates to gain the Society’s power and knowledge. Some of the characters also reflect on their willingness to make moral compromises, but Tristan consistently parses the reasons and outcomes of his decisions, illustrating his ability to “see” every detail of a bigger picture not only magically, but also logically.

“‘We are medeians because we will never have enough,’ Callum said hoarsely. ‘We aren’t normal; we are gods born with pain built in. We are incendiary beings and we are flawed, except the weaknesses we pretend to have are not our true weaknesses at all. We are not soft, we do not suffer impairment or frailty—we imitate it. We tell ourselves we have it. But our only real weakness is that we know we are bigger, stronger, as close to omnipotence as we can be, and we are hungry, we are aching for it. Other people can see their limits, Tristan, but we have none. We want to find our impossible edges, to close our fingers around constraints that don’t exist, and that—’ Callum exhaled. ‘That is what will drive us to madness.’”

This passage makes Callum’s ethical stance evident, explaining his beliefs and actions in the story. His hubris and greed, which are often portrayed as his fatal flaws, are made clear here, suggesting that his philosophy will either change or lead to his downfall.

“What else but death could give such life to the knowledge we protect?”

Atlas answers Libby’s inquiries about the elimination process with a rhetorical question. His arguments, Dalton’s preparation of the candidates during his lectures, and their respective moral crises have all led them to the same conclusion: that one of their deaths is necessary and inevitable.

“‘You are only anything because you came from him,’ Callum said. ‘Had you been raised in a loving home, you would not have been forced to see a different reality. Your magic might have accumulated in some other way, taking some other form. But you needed to see through things, because seeing them as they were was far too painful. Because seeing your father for the whole of what he was—a violent, cruel man whose approval you still need more than anything on earth,’ Callum clarified, and Tristan flinched, ‘—that would have killed you.’”

In this quote, Callum explains to Tristan his belief that medeian abilities develop in response to the individual’s environment and personality, thus underlining the connection between each of the characters’ specialties and their personal experience. Their magical powers are therefore characterization devices and reveal their most significant ambitions and desires.

“Death. It was incomplete without an audience. It called to Tristan, beckoning him to observe, to bear witness, to look—but he, stubborn by nature, chose, instead, to stop. He’d had practice with that lately, closing off his senses. Dissociating, disintegrating, twisting the dials that separated his body from the ceaselessness of nature itself. It was a simple forfeiture this time, relinquishing his right to observe anything at all. Falling to his proverbial knees and saying yes, all right then, I yield. It blossomed from his fingertips: surrender. He took the offerings of sense and space and fit between them like a shadow, traversed them like a thought.”

Tristan finally grasps how to use his magical abilities to see through the illusion of Libby’s dead body. This figurative, metaphoric description of the process emphasizes the necessity for Tristan to give up control over his senses, which is counterintuitive to his meticulous, calculating personality. This passage illustrates his character growth and suggests that he, as well as other characters, can overcome their weaknesses to further develop their powers.

“Tristan became conscious of a familiar pulse, an old friend: time. His orientation within it became irrelevant. The dead body of Libby Rhodes, which still possessed waves of energy—no, was waves—no, was energy—became…not an object. Not a fixture. Not reality at all.”

Tristan is becoming familiar with the process of “seeing” magically, and this quote illustrates the culmination of his practice. He can now notice the true nature of things and even easily identify time—which, in a significant symbolic parallel, he learned from Libby.

“When an ecosystem dies, nature makes a new one. Simple rules, simple concept, for which the Society was proof itself. It existed from the ashes of its former selves, atop the bones of things abandoned or destroyed. It was a secret buried inside a labyrinth, hidden within a maze.”

This passage references the origins of the Library of Alexandria and echoes Ezra and Atlas’s plan to destroy the Society to remake it. The theme of destruction and rebirth as a sacrifice to gain something better underlies several plot points, culminating in the initiation following Libby’s death.

“The freedom of endless choices wasn’t meant for human minds.”

This quote is seen from Dalton’s point of view, highlighting the dramatic irony that the reader is aware of Dalton’s mental prison whereas he is not. Although Dalton seems to have willingly chosen to stay at the Society’s house as a researcher, this passage hints at the possibility that he may have been coerced to do so or is being manipulated without his knowledge.