He showed her the enormity of the situation, which calmed Carma’s anger, and fortunately he already had a gift for her—a pass to watch his rocket club’s launch that afternoon. The minimum age required to be on the viewing platform was eight, and Carma had wanted to go since she was half that age. She danced with excitement through lunch, barely eating half of it, and was all smiles when they left for the launch.

An afternoon free of her husband and child should’ve meant super productivity for Nithya, but between her physical discomfort and Zeli’s predicament, she couldn’t focus. Two doses of flow and all she could do was worry. The oppressive heat didn’t help. The solar glass for the balcony needed repair, and they couldn’t afford to buy power for more air-conditioning or to repair the glass. Clouds had arrived to block the sunlight, but they held on to their moisture and added to her torpor.

Nithya stared at the text in her visual. Her eyes insisted on moving to her last message exchange with Zeli. The girl said she’d be safe in a day or two. Where was she? Was she still alive? Nithya slapped a flush patch on her neck with more force than it needed. Flow was worse than useless if the mind wanted to focus on the wrong thing. Maybe a walk would clear her head. She considered changing into cooler clothing but decided to save the energy.

Her salwar and kameez stuck to her body within seconds of stepping outside the flat. She slipped on a pair of chappals and chose a direction at random on the street. Arriving at a large thoroughfare, Nithya turned toward the colorful, tiered gopuram that towered over the surrounding buildings. A bot moved along the side of the road ahead of her and shooed the stray dogs from the path of traffic. Lorries trundled by with near-silent electric motors, their horns singing every few minutes in warning. A gray-bearded, shirtless man pedaled past her, his bicycle laden with a precarious stack of multicolored blox.

The scent of tea and boiled milk lured Nithya to a stall. Men in unbuckled mech-suits sipped their drinks and chatted about the latest cricket match against Australia. A young woman wearing frayed static jeans and a sleeveless top passed orders to the kitchen WAI and handed food to her customers. A bot could’ve done the job as well as she, but the employment kept her off the streets and cost less than an education.