Arun had pulled up a chair and sat five feet away from us, palms clasped. His leg jittered. I didn’t think he was even aware of it. If the nanobots’ programming went haywire, Arun had explained, if they began to self-replicate by themselves or infiltrated an organ—the brain, the heart, the lungs—if the nanobots went rogue, the girls could be dead within hours. The damage to their internal systems would be quick, painful, and irreversible.

I remembered the monkeys’ convulsing bodies in those clear cages, blood dribbling from their noses and mouths, and had to force myself not to shudder.

Behind me, I could hear Victor pacing, back and forth, back and forth, with restrained grief and fury. I had been designated the main caretaker, since I had already had this flu. I wiped the girls’ faces and upper chests with a cold, damp cloth, trying to cool their fevers. Three hours in, Arun gave me a large iced sugarcane juice to drink, along with two hot steamed pork buns. “You need to give yourself some fuel too,” he said. And although I had no appetite, I washed my hands and ate and drank everything.

Arun’s brown complexion had an underlying pallor I’d seen after his mom died. He hovered over me, then walked circles around the sitting area, flicking his eyes toward the girls nonstop.

“Is it my imagination or are they looking more flushed?” Victor asked.

I touched Lingyi’s forehead. “She’s burning up.” I scrambled to Iris and touched her cheek—she felt just as hot. I took their temperatures, and both had fevers over 103˚F. My heart raced, feeling helpless.

“This can’t be good,” I said, barely choking the words out. “They’re getting worse.”

Arun gave me another bucket of iced water. He wrung out a cloth and passed it to me. “All we can do is to try and keep them cool for now. Their bodies are fighting the virus. They might get worse before they get better.”

But Arun looked like I felt—like we were ready to cry at any moment.

I ran the cold cloth under Lingyi’s chin, across her shoulder blades and her upper chest. She was dressed in a light blue tank top—her favorite article of clothing, in a rainbow of bright colors, no matter what the weather. I then did the same for Iris. Her arms were slack, weighted. It was hard to believe it was these same arms that had taken down three guards with lightning speed just a few nights ago, the same arms that could climb and strike with such strength.