Monday morning brought a data center’s worth of distraction: the Machinehood had delivered a second ultimatum—this time to stop the use of bots and WAIs—and published a lengthy manifesto. Nithya didn’t waste time reading it and skimmed the expert analyses. According to the protest groups who’d spent years arguing for machine rights, the Machinehood’s manifesto spoke truth. Panic had raged through other parts of the world while she slept. New acts of vandalism and attacks on high-level funders peppered the global news feeds. Protesters claimed responsibility for much of the violence. They would support the Machinehood’s cause, liberate all bots and WAIs. Their attacks, thankfully, hadn’t resulted in deaths—except for their own. Protesters being killed… what is the world coming to? We’ve lost decades of progress in one week!

Just before lunch, Synaxel froze her project along with millions of others due to the Machinehood threat. Nithya sat back in her chair, appalled at their capitulation. As contractors, they wouldn’t get paid unless they worked. How long would this go on? She and Luis had set aside some savings, enough to last them through a few lean months, but many could not afford even that much. Zeli remained incommunicado. In one bright spot of news, the embassy in India had approved temporary asylum for Zeli and her family, until the border between Senegal and the empire could be secured. Nithya passed the information to Zeli’s address along with an offer to transfer money for travel. If Zeli accepted it, she’d have no savings left, but they could go a month without paying bills, two if they must. Surely Synaxel would resume her project before then?

After lunch, Nithya worked on the dirty dishes from the birthday party. Her time was her own now. Wash by hand in the bathroom sink or spend the energy to put in them in the kitchen’s cleaner? With the project funds frozen, she opted for the former. Their dirty clothes, on the other hand, couldn’t go through water. After her bath, she chose a hand-me-down static salwar kameez and wished she had something in Carma’s size. Her daughter’s clothes went into the cleaner. Thankfully, Bhairavi Chitthi didn’t wear dynamic cloth—because it irritated her skin, she said—and she handwashed her own.

With the chores done, Nithya sat in her alcove to work on Welga’s condition. Before the simulation results finished loading into her visual, Carma called out, “No more school today.”

Aiyo! Now what?

“I’ll see about it,” Nithya responded.