“It’s his fault. Just like it was Dik’s. You heard the Voice. Yosh was going to stop us.” Felix stared down at the man’s body, at the gaping bloody wounds in his forearms and hands where he’d tried to ward off the ax blows. In the end, Yosh had been crying, tears running down his face as he’d held up bleeding hands and demanded, “Felix? Why are you doing this?” And, “It’s me! Yosh! Don’t you remember?”

Felix did. He remembered perfectly. Yosh had always been there. Like all those times the man had held him on his lap back in Crew Deck. And the stories Yosh told. The jokes, the clever puns. Too bad that Yosh couldn’t have been a child, too. There was room to grow as a child. They still had time. Not like Toni and the infants who could grow a lot, but Felix and the older girls would still be worthwhile. Grownups just didn’t have any future in the Pod.

Yosh had been like another father after Kim. All the men had been like other fathers.

Back in that world.

Before coming here. Before the Voice and the Song had taken over Felix’s mind. And Sheena’s. And all of the other children.

Down inside, some part of him was sad, even frightened, at the sight of Yosh’s slashed corpse. Felix could feel it, but that old part of him was so remote. Sort of like knowing he had a right foot. But he didn’t constantly have to think about his right foot. He could choose to ignore his foot any time he wanted. So, if he wanted, he could let himself hurt, be scared. But why would he want to do that?

“You wouldn’t,” Sheena told him. “Grownups don’t matter anymore. They don’t have a purpose. Given what’s coming, killing them is a kindness.”

“Guess so.”

He gave the gaping cuts in Yosh’s still-bleeding body one last look. Yosh had always been nice, had always had that laugh, that special twinkle in the eyes. Felix would miss that. “We should get back to the Director. Figure out a way to get that door open.”

“Can’t leave her loose.” Sheena agreed, her large and darkening eyes fixed on Yosh. “He told good stories.”

“He did.”

Felix turned, hefting the ax. When he tensed his arm, he was still amazed at the knotting muscle that bulged there. Some distant part of him wondered about the green splotches on his skin. Weird. The tops of his arms were darker green than the bottoms, which had been turning from flesh-colored to a solid white.