As much as Fift supported Dobroc’s political project, as inured to it ze was in theory, it was still jarring—Shria in white, passing spoons. The vertigo of missing a step on a ladder. A sense of being invaded, of something private being stolen. But also, a longing: a certain yes, yes, come be with us . . .

“How’s the visit back home?” Shria said.

“It’s okay,” Fift said. Zir throat was dry. Ze tried to clear it. “Lumlu’s amazing; it’s only been a week and ve’s fighting spiders triplebodied.” Ve was chasing them now, golden-furred bodies and white spider legs galloping with abandon.

“Huh,” Shria said.

“That’s it!” Mulis cried, flinging up vir hand. “Lumlu, sweetie, you can do it!”

“Oh Fift,” Egathelie said, turning to zir. “I don’t know if you’re checking your queue, but your Father Thurm is coming in. We’ve hardly seen vem here the last few months—”

“Last few months?” Mulis said, still following Lumlu with vir eyes. “We’ve hardly seen vem since Chalia entered Second Childhood!”

“—but ve said if you were going to be here—”

Grobbard and Ellix were asking Thrimon about some impenetrable point of family meeting protocol, a proposed adjustment to the Far Theoretical engine overseeing agent-driven evaluative feedback to the cohort’s consensus modeling framework. They hadn’t forgotten Fift was there—but perhaps they didn’t know what else to say to zir. Or they were just giving zir time to adjust, to sink back into the flow.

“Shria,” Fift said, opening zir eyes and forcing zirself to look at vem, “what are you doing here?”

Shria looked down and stroked the couch-floor’s fabric. “Uh . . . I guess you’re looking for something other than ‘I’m here to train with Dobroc’ and ‘I miss you.’”

“Yes,” Fift said. “Yes I am.”

Shria took a deep breath and let it out, as if ve were preparing to say . . . something. And then a look of annoyance crossed vir face. “You know what, that kind of wounds me, Fift. Why aren’t those enough? You’re my friend. I miss you. I’m in the neighborhood. Why—”

“Because it hurts to see you, Shria. Because my heart is tied to yours.” 124 beats per minute. “And to see you, and then to have you vanish again, to not be able to hold you close . . .”

Shria’s face tightened. Ve looked away. Then ve turned back, reached vir hand out to zir face. “Fift—”

Ze caught vir hand by the wrist and held it away from zir. “Shria,” ze said, “what did you come to say?”

Shria yanked vir hand away, vir face turning a deeper gold. “Fuck you.”

“What,” ze said, calm despite zir galloping heart, “did you come to—”

“That I’ll stay,” ve said, and Fift’s heart stopped.