His father’s arms were around him too and his voice was in Rangan’s ear. “We’re so proud of you, son.”

Bobby was in his mind. Alfonso was in his mind. Tyrone was in his mind. They were all in his mind, all embracing him with their minds. And wrapping their arms around him where they could.

…learning to SAIL…

…and it’s SUNNY…

…coral is like HOUSES for little fish…

…PARENTS are here and we’re NOT GOING BACK WE’RE GOING TO SUE and you’re going to meet…

…we do lots of cool SCIENCE and COMPUTERS and…

…MISSED YOU…

…told them you’re my BIG BROTHER…

“You saved my son,” someone said aloud. “Thank you.”

And it was all Rangan could do to hold on, hold on to the people who embraced him, in body and mind, and laugh and cry, and be grateful he was here.

The woman who called herself Samantha Cataranes climbed out of the cab and walked towards the house on Soi Rama 3, in the suburbs of Bangkok.

February now. February of 2041. A year since she’d stepped out of another taxi, an ocean away, and walked towards a different house.

A year, almost to the day.

Her knee twinged as she took the steps up from the level of the street and towards the higher level of the house. A reminder of wounds she’d suffered.

Her heart ached. A reminder of other wounds. Of people she’d loved. People she’d lost in the year behind her.

A group of monks walked down the path from the monastery next door, their faces serene. They smiled softly at Sam and brought their hands together in the wai. She smiled softly back, bowed her head, and made the wai of respect in turn.

The monks passed.

Sam looked up, ran her eyes over the home, the beauty of it, here in the lush green on the outskirts of the city; the vibrant red and gold of the roof tiles; the ceremonial Buddhas and demons guarding it; the proximity to the Buddhist monastery to which it was associated; the smells of lemongrass and jasmine, of food being cooked; the sounds of voices and laughter.

The sense of minds she knew. Minds she hadn’t felt in so long.

Her heart lifted. The sense of loss fell from her.

Here there was life. Here there was the future.

Sam breathed, smiled, and stepped forward.

The door opened, spilling light and sound and laughter onto the path.

Sarai ran out, and other children with her, and Sam picked them up, one at a time, whirling them around, laughing, singing – each of them looming huge in her mind, in her heart, filling her up with the joy she’d craved. And behind them, standing in the doorway of the house, Ananda was laughing, a deep booming laugh, that spoke of serenity, of a perfect, complete delight with the universe as it was.