I hesitated. It boiled down to a single clause: Care shall be taken to ensure the Second Brother develops a nature conducive to the life he is fated to live. As the legislative notes explain: When a child is nurtured as an individual, he values himself. When he’s nurtured as part of a class, he values the group. Rooted collectively, the Second Brother grows to accept their place in life, for the greater good.

I stroked Robin’s hair and recited the prescribed answer. “The nursery helps produce honorable workers. It’s all done for the good, Robin. You’ll see, eventually.”

I held her as she cried and cried. After a long while, she stopped. She was no better, but her tears dried up like an old well. She gazed at me. “You are my secret friend, Arika.”

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “I am your secret friend.”

She looked down and up again. “And you’re sure? Are you sure the law is good?”

I hesitated. There was more to say, but education is known to engender discontent.

“Arika?” she prodded.

“I’m here, Robin, and I’m sure. I’m sure this is all for the good.”

Grimly, she took my hand and we sat for a long time, in silence.

“I want to remember her song,” Robin said, finally.

I hesitated only a moment. Then I took a deep breath and lied. “You will remember her song,” I said. “You’ll remember it, right here.” I touched her chest, where her heart beat like a hummingbird. “You’ll remember because the Rebirth has no power over the soul.”

She swallowed. “But children forget their mothers and fathers.”

“That’s because a child’s soul is undeveloped,” I lied, again.

“People forget they are housemates.”

“As they should. The lust that a man suffers for his housemate is not pure. It is not real love, and so it cannot last,” I said. “Not like love of country.”

She thought for a moment. “I believe in romantic love,” she said.

I sighed. We’d been through this before. Having refused to choose a sire for her child, Robin had been bred with a near stranger. She told me, secretly, she had been waiting for love. “Did you love the man who you mated with?”

“He wasn’t—rough.”

“But did you love him?” I pressed.

“No.”

“Do you see? You joined with him over and over for weeks and you don’t have a single tender feeling for him? I tell you, romantic love is not real.”

“Then why does the medicine man condone it? He performs the fastening ceremony between couples every day.”

I scoffed. “He ties their feet together and sprinkles water on their heads. Does that sound everlasting?”