Again and again, I sent my voice into the black space that surrounded her. I said my name, chanted hers, and whispered comforting nonsense words until, finally, she went limp. I held her even closer, letting her feel my heart. She began to sob.

I looked down at her face again.

Tears swelled in steady waves, but the darkness had diminished.

I sighed. “That’s it, Robin. Cry—cry it out.”

“Arika?”

“Yes, Robin. Arika.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come. The rules say—”

“Shh.” I needed no reminder of the rules. The Kongo birthing control laws specifically dissolved blood relations among us. My presence in the kitchen tonight was exactly why friendships with workers were discouraged. I took a deep breath. “I came. I’m here,” I said. “Now, tell me what is wrong.”

“Oh, Arika. I want to die. Please help me. I can’t do it.” She offered me the knife.

Appalled, I whispered harshly, “Robin, don’t talk like that. I could never do that. Never!”

She closed her eyes. The darkness descended again and I searched for something to ward it off. I said the first thing that came to mind. “Do you remember the day we met, Robin? Do you remember? It was a beautiful day in the Kongo.”

We’d met thirteen months before her first Rebirth, which meant the encounter was one of her safest memories. A faulty pill could erase it but, so far, Robin had been lucky. Her alterations had progressed as intended. For a decade, at the end of each year, her memories were scrambled in preparation for the coming year.

“Arika?” She sounded like a lost child.

I bent closer, placing my cheek against hers. “I’m here. Robin, do you remember that day—the day we met?”

Her trembling stilled. “I remember,” she said. “I was seven.”

“That’s right, we were both seven,” I said. “Do you remember what happened?”

She swallowed. “I’d dropped Mistress Covington’s reader in wash water.”

“You ruined it,” I added. “And then you came to my room, crying.”

“I couldn’t help it,” Robin said, her voice gaining strength. “I was bound for the field, I just knew it. But then—” She took a deep breath and let it out on a long sigh. “But then you saved me,” she finished.

“I gave you my reader as a replacement,” I said, shrugging. “It was identical to Covington’s. I figured she’d never know the difference.”

“I was so scared,” Robin said.