‘How do you mean?’
Sidra looked at the kit’s hands, and paused for two seconds more. ‘Pepper doesn’t like it when I want to do things more in line with my intended capabilities when we’re not at home. The Linkings, for example. I’m capable of processing dozens of lines of thought at once. I often feel bored, or stuck inside my own mind. In a ship, I’d have Linking access at all times. I don’t in here. Pepper says it’d be dangerous to install a wireless receiver in the kit.’
‘She’s probably right, but there must be a way to deal with that.’
‘She doesn’t want me to do things that make it clear I have different abilities. She’s afraid someone will notice.’
‘Are you afraid of that?’
Sidra processed. ‘No. I could hide it. I would be careful. I’m frustrated with what I am now. I’m capable of so much more.’
Tak reclined into the grass, folding her hands over her flat chest. ‘I know it’s your turn to ask a question, but . . . let’s stick with this a bit. Maybe we can think of a solution Pepper hasn’t hit on.’
‘Like what?’
Tak shrugged. ‘I have no idea. But if we can go to space and invent implants and learn how to talk to other species, surely there’s a way to help you. I get that you have to be careful. But you’re . . . you’re not like the rest of us. No offence.’
‘None taken. It’s true.’
‘I mean, we’re all sapients, right? Me, you, those goofballs over there.’ She gestured vaguely toward the youths, who were staring at each other with lovestruck eyes. ‘But say . . . say I moved to Hagarem. Say, by some stroke of luck, I was the only Aeluon in a whole city of Harmagians. Would I respect their ways? Yes. Would I adopt their customs? Yes. Would I ever, ever stop being Aeluon? Hell no.’ She drummed one set of fingers against the other. ‘I get that it’s a different thing for you, but that doesn’t mean you have to abandon what makes you unique. You’re supposed to own that, not smother it.’ She rocked her head, cheeks brown and determined. ‘Where do you feel most comfortable? What kinds of places do you like?’
‘I have a different answer for each of those questions.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’m most comfortable at home. It’s safe, and I can use the Linkings, and Pepper and Blue are there with me.’ The kit’s mouth scrunched up. ‘But I like parties best.’
Tak raised her chin. ‘Really?’
‘Really. I love parties. I love lots of crazy things happening within a set of walls. I love trying new drinks. I love watching people dance. I love all the colour and light and noise.’
Tak grinned. ‘When was the last time you went to a party?’
‘Six days before the . . . the thing that happened at your shop. A birthday party for one of Blue’s artist friends.’
Tak thought for a moment. ‘That’s thirty-eight days since your last party.’ She gave a sharp nod. ‘That’s the first thing we’ll fix.’
JANE, AGE 14
Nobody was coming for her.
This should have been an obvious thing. There was nobody else there. There had never been anyone to help her, not when she hurt her hands or fought off dogs or anything. But now, shivering in the dark at the bottom of a hole, she really got what having no one meant. Nobody was out looking for her. Nobody would miss her if she died. No one would notice. No one would care.
The mother dog paced up above. One of her pups was snoring. Jane shivered. She leaned back against the dirt wall, pulling her arms and her good leg in, trying to keep warm. The night was biting cold, and her clothes weren’t meant for it. Her butt was numb from sitting, but there were only so many ways she could sit without her leg shrieking back at her.
This was her fault. If only she’d stepped different. If only she’d not tried to get to the stupid ship. If only she’d gone left instead of right. Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Bad girl. Bad behaviour.
‘Stop,’ she whispered to herself, holding her ears. ‘Don’t do this. Don’t do this. Stop.’
But familiar thoughts were creeping in now, and there were no projects or lessons or sims to shut them up. She had been bad. If she hadn’t climbed the wall, this wouldn’t have happened. If she hadn’t gone left. If she had just thought for a second, instead of being so clumsy and bad and off-task—
‘Stop, stop, stop,’ she said, rocking back and forth. ‘Stop.’
She’d been bad. And bad girls got punished.