She tried to reach Luis and Welga, but personal calls were blocked between the two countries. From what she could glean, India was doing better than the US. They walked their children to each other’s homes to play. Surprise visitors—such a common occurrence in her great-grandparents’ days—became acceptable again. The men in their hive took shifts to guard the entry using whatever crude, weapon-like objects they could find.

Other than that, it felt like a holiday: no work, no school. Nithya spent half her day cooking, cleaning, and laundering static clothes. People had lived like this all the time. Some still did, in the poorest or most rural areas. How did they stand the tedium?

Carma helped her the first few times and then got bored. Nithya’s aunt was a godsend, knowing tricks to getting food stains out of fabric and which spices to add to what dishes. Still, nothing tasted quite right except for the rice.

A shout came through the open balcony door. Everyone had left their doors and windows open since the climate control didn’t function, and nobody was using swarms. Nithya stepped onto the balcony and peered down four stories.

One of their “guards” looked up at her.

“Someone has come for you,” he called.

A dark-skinned young woman with a cut on the side of her face stepped out from the entrance overhang and into view. A baby sat on her hip and gazed at Nithya with wide eyes.

Nithya’s heart skipped a beat. “Zeli?”

The girl raised a hand. “We’re here!”

In all the chaos of the stellas falling, she’d assumed that Zeli wouldn’t be able to get on a flight. Nithya whirled and ran out, bare feet slapping against the cement stairs. She stopped short in front of Zeli, an older woman, a slightly younger woman, and the baby. She guessed those must be Zeli’s younger sister and niece.

“Come, come,” she said with half a breath. “You must be exhausted.”

A faded blue nylon bag, about half a meter long, lay at their feet. Nothing else. Nithya picked it up and led them to the flat.

She stopped outside the door and indicated the low shelf. “If you would please leave your shoes here.”

They did. Zeli removed a pair of worn booties from the baby and placed them with the others.

Nithya ventured a smile. “I’m so sorry I didn’t meet you at the airport or outside. With the blackout, I had no idea if you would get here.”

“We had to wait at the airport in Dakar,” Zeli said as they entered, “but they let us on a flight yesterday. The asylum status helped. Thank you for that.”

Carma stood from the kitchen table and took Nithya’s hand. She stared at the newcomers. Zeli’s mother and sister wore plain black hijabs, which they pulled down. With Luis gone, they could uncover their heads.