“No.” Nithya took a deep breath. “Someone has to accept the responsibility. If we make it anonymous, people will give it a lower rating. They might discount it entirely. If I attach my name to this, my blocked queries will corroborate the results. I did nothing wrong. I shouldn’t have to hide.”

Luis nodded and squeezed her hand. Zeli shot her a look of deep skepticism that almost made Nithya laugh.

“I know it’s a romantic notion, but I have to believe in something, starting with myself.”

“You’re a brave woman,” Zeli said. “More than me, and I have been through a lot.”

“I don’t know if it’s courage or stupidity.”

Zeli snorted. “Usually both.”

“I’m proud of you,” Luis said with a smile.

So, with her stomach in knots, Nithya assembled all the damning evidence and pushed it to every public forum on pill testing that she knew. It might not change anything, but she had done everything she could think of to help Welga and others who were suffering.

WELGA

3. By pitting us against one another, the oligarchies of funders and governors have consolidated their power base while eroding ours. As long as different labor forces are in competition, we will continue to suffer. This situation demands change.

—The Machinehood Manifesto, March 20, 2095

Welga didn’t get scared until they put her in the tank. That was what Clemence called the surgical center behind the glass partition. She had an entire day to study it. They kept her under full-time care so Dr. Kailo and Por Qué could observe and understand her syndrome as much as possible before her transformation. Ao Tara assigned one of their biogeneticists to Welga full-time.

The multi-armed bot inside the tank, introduced as Principal Surgeon Nirodha, woke up shortly before her entrance. All of them—Ao Tara, Kailo, an engineer, two other council members, and Nirodha—watched as Clemence secured Welga to the operating table. Ten surgeries. At least. Two days to recover between each one. So much could happen on Earth in thirty days. She could’t afford to wait until then to act.

“You’re lucky it’s that fast,” Clemence commented. “The first dakini had to wait two weeks, sometimes more, between each stage. And then they had to go back for more rounds later, as the techs improved the designs.”

“Were you an early model?”

Clemence laughed. “I’m the most recent. They keep me here to guard the station, but I sometimes wish I could go to Earth.”

“Even though it could mean your death?”

“That’s not relevant.”

“You do what dharma calls you to, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, sounding surprised.

“I’m learning.”

Clemence inclined her head in acknowledgment, then exited the enclosure. Ao Tara held Welga’s gaze as Principal Surgeon Nirodha inserted needles into her arms and legs. Welga couldn’t parse the expression on the monk’s face. Suspicious? Triumphant? Maybe cautious was the best description.