Clemence shrugged. “Define ‘important.’ Knowing how to feed yourself is vital, not only as a matter of survival, but as a connection with life. One day a week, everyone dresses in handmade clothing. Some sew. Others grow plants. All of us have to clean and learn to maintain basic elements of the station. It teaches us to appreciate each other and what we have.”

“And what about the bots?”

“They have their daily tasks as well. We don’t follow them around like you do on Earth. Here they’re free to complete their tasks on their own and then rest.”

Welga was still getting used to naming every bot, but the strangeness of the practice had faded. If not for the Machinehood, she and Connor could have had a good life on the station. He’d been right about that much. She would love to make time for cooking a required part of each day.

“What if someone doesn’t do their work?” she asked Clemence.

“First they have meetings with someone on the council. If they don’t cooperate after that, they’re placed in isolation with limited food and the opportunity for meditation. If that fails, they’re expelled.”

“Out of an air lock?”

“No, not unless that’s their wish. They usually return to Earth.”

“Won’t they die?”

The dakini shrugged. “It depends how long they’ve been here.”

“That seems harsh.”

“We all understand that our actions have consequences, especially on a space station.”

The embargo had consequences, too. Welga saw the signs in many locations. Odd gaps in the greenhouse’s rows. Items crossed off from the kitchen’s menu with lack of supplies noted. Rooms filled with containers marked REFUSE: RETURN TO EARTH.

“Aren’t people upset about the situation?” Welga asked Clemence on one round.

“They know it’s for the right reasons,” Clemence said, as if that explained everything. “We can meditate through the hunger. Thirst won’t be a problem until the water filters need replacement. Our biggest challenge right now is waste, which we should return to Earth.”

“If you stopped destroying the constellations and turned yourselves in to the US government, you could end the embargo.”

The dakini frowned. “Why would we do that? We’ve done nothing wrong.”

Welga couldn’t help arching her brows in disbelief. “The Machinehood attacks. You’ve killed people, destroyed property, disrupted pill production and distribution… should I go on?”

Clemence shrugged. “These are steps to put humanity on the right path. They’re transient pains, like death and rebirth, or punishment for bad behavior. If we didn’t think our actions were right, we wouldn’t take them, and we wouldn’t suffer the embargo as a consequence. We don’t place our physical comfort above our dharma, our duty to all forms of intelligence and life. Would you?”

“No.”