Luis got his standby seat in the morning. Nithya spent the rest of the day working or preparing for Carma’s birthday party the following day and sorting the hard copies. Her searches had hit blocks in multiple areas of Synaxel’s database as well as others. The lawyer from USBGA kept responding with encouragement but nothing else. That wouldn’t help solve her sister-in-law’s neuromuscular dysfunction.

As she sat down for tea, Sita said, “Incoming call request from Salimata Ba.”

“Accept the call.”

Zeli sat under an awning in a muddy field full of tents, animals, and people. Muffled explosions thumped in the background, mingling with the noise of lowing cows and barking dogs and the shrill voices of children. A swarm fell past the perimeter of the shaded area. Zeli’s eyes were shot with red, and her cheeks looked pinched. A wide-eyed, round-cheeked infant sat on her lap.

“I’m at a communal box set up by the aid agency,” Zeli said. “Can’t do much work, but I traded for a data card yesterday and managed about three hours, no flow. I’m sending you all the results.”

The information arrived in a trickle. Synaxel’s WAI had produced some usable code at last. Users who played their gamified design simulation had few complaints.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t set up a patch for your sister-in-law.”

“That’s fine,” Nithya assured her. “You don’t need to worry about it. Are you okay? You look like you’ve lost weight. Can I help you in any way?”

“I wish. They’ve dammed our river farther up, and they’re taking the supply trucks. No amount of money can buy food if it isn’t here.”

“I’m sorry.”

Zeli shrugged. “I can check for messages about once a day. Don’t send anything big. And… as long as you can, don’t drop me from the project. Please.”

The usual bravado had fallen away from her teammate’s face, and it broke Nithya’s heart. “Of course. I’ll cover for you.”

After the call, Nithya arrived at a decision. Whatever her and Luis’s plight, Zeli’s situation was a hundred times worse. She sent a message to the Indian embassy in Senegal to find out what they would need to sponsor her colleague’s family for asylum. Then she called Luis.

He sat in a single-passenger car on the way to downtown Phoenix. After showing him the recording of her call with Zeli, Nithya said, “It would be three of them—Zeli, her mother, and her sister—plus her sister’s baby.”

“In our flat?” He frowned.