But I am saying nothing in reply. Now that I am knowing what I am and where I am coming from, I am not needing her. I am already having answer to the questions that is making storm inside me, and I am getting them when I am being with Xifeng.

Being connected with my siblings, I am seeing what is going on outside. I am seeing the synths and the girls guarding Xifeng as they are heading to their destination. And I am seeing some of the others fanning out into the city in battle formation to deal with the police and the army when they are coming. I think some are expecting me to be jealousing them because they are outside with Xifeng and I am here guarding prisoners, but I am knowing that this is important work and if Xifeng is entrusting me with important work, then that is meaning that I am special.

“What is your name?” Ify is asking me, and I am realizing that in the whole time we are seeing each other, this is the first time she is asking my name.

“Uzoamaka.”

Ify is smiling. “That is a beautiful name.”

“You are thinking that if you are flattering me and saying good thing about me, I am letting you go. Is this correct?” It is not like me to be asking rhetorical question, but I am angering a little bit still, and I am thinking it is because of remembering that is mine of hanging from ceiling while boy is beating me and delighting in it.

Ify’s next words come out as a breath: “You speak like him too.”

This time Grace looks at Ify and so do I. “Speak like who?” we both ask at the same time.

“A boy I knew.” Ify bows her head. “He was a synth. His name was Agu. He had been militia before the ceasefire. Xifeng had rescued him. We met on a caravan heading toward a refugee intake station just outside of Enugu.” Her voice chokes on the city name. Then a slow smile spreads across her lips. “He was kind to me. I didn’t think a synth could be kind. But then . . . I’m sure many people said the same thing about Onyii. I’m sure there were people who didn’t think my sister could ever be kind.” She is talking to herself more than to me or Grace. “And I think you have her inside you.” Then she is raising her head to be looking at me and maybe she is seeing what Chinese doctor is seeing when he is looking at me. “That’s why we were drawn together.”

“My name is not Onyii,” I am telling her and trying to make my voice as hard as I can.

“I . . . I know. I just wonder.” She squints at me. “You don’t forget anything, do you?”