Calix gave him the third shot of anesthetic, and after a few minutes called in a more experienced nurse to help with the long process of finding the right gland and extracting the pheromonal cure for RM. Samm couldn’t talk during the extraction and spent the next forty minutes cataloguing his day, planning out the jobs he had to do and the order in which he could do them most efficiently. Phan called him a walking day planner, but it never struck Samm as an odd behavior: He had a lot to do, and a limited amount of time to do it. What was wrong with a little planning? His first order of business would be the maternity ward, saying hello to the new mothers and hearing a report on the children. He had no specific responsibility there, but he liked to do it anyway. He liked to see what these sessions in the lab had wrought.

When the nurses finished the extraction, the older one took the vial to be processed, and Calix helped Samm sit up. The anesthetic always made him a little woozy, and he munched on a piece of flatbread while he waited for his head to realign. Calix watched him, more pensive than usual, and after a moment asked a question.

“Do you like it here, Samm?”

“It’s wonderful,” said Samm automatically. “You have food and water, you have electricity, and people aren’t killing each other. It’s great.”

“And yet you’re not happy.”

Samm chewed slowly, thinking. “I’m helping people,” he said at last. “The pheromone we just extracted saves lives, and we’re helping the other Partials get back on their feet. I’m happy to be a part of that.”

“You’re proud of it,” said Calix, “but you’re not happy.”

“The total amount of happiness in the Preserve is greater with me in it than out,” said Samm.

“That’s the saddest definition of happiness I’ve ever heard.”

“What other choice do I have?” asked Samm. “It’s not like I can leave.”

“It’s exactly like you can leave,” said Calix, “and nobody could stop you. We might try, but let’s be realistic. Especially if Heron’s helping you—that chick makes the monster under my bed have nightmares.”

Samm smiled. “She feels bad about shooting you.”

“She’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“She would,” said Samm, nodding. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”

Calix laughed and swatted his arm. “Now let me be clear about this: We are incredibly grateful that you’ve stayed. You’re giving us a future. But you don’t have to . . .” She trailed off, and Samm looked up, finishing her sentence for her.