"A handful?"
"Yes. Probably."
Asira looked toward the dirt path, where the next race was starting. "I wish we could save them before they are fed to the machine. Before they lose hope."
Sullha looked at the racing children, at their flushed faces, flapping shirts, and flailing arms. Some of them were older, eight, nine, ten. They didn't have much time left to be children.
She thought of Tomek and how hopeful she felt now for his future.
"Yes," she said. "I wish that too."
29
AREZOO
The first thing Arezoo became aware of was a soft, regular beeping somewhere to her left.
The second thing was that the beeping was annoying.
The third thing was that she was not in her bed at home, because her mattress at home didn't rustle.
Why was it rustling every time she moved?
She tried to open her eyes, but they refused to obey at first, as if they had forgotten how to do it. Perhaps she was dreaming about being awake and wanting to open her eyes, but she wasn't really awake, and that was why she couldn't actually do that. It had happened before when she dreamt about needing to pee, and in the dream she'd gone to the bathroom, but the pressure hadn't eased, and she still needed to go and couldn't understand why.
But it wasn't the same. She didn't feel any pressure in her bladder, and her eyes just felt overly heavy. Perhaps if she concentrated and tried really hard, she would manage to open them.
There.
They opened a fraction and then closed again, because the light in the room was too bright. Still, the small glimpse was enough to confirm that this wasn't her bedroom.
The ceiling in her home was painted off-white, but this one was a different shade. A little creamier, like it was trying too hard to be soothing.
She had to find out where she was. She tried again, with more determination this time, and her eyes cooperated.
This was unmistakably a patient room, and the realization produced a powerful surge of panic, but then other details registered, and the panic subsided. The room had a familiar smell, and it was clean, like sparkling clean, and the piece of equipment on a wheeled stand to her left was brand new. A bag of clear fluid on a tall metal pole was on her right with a thin tube that ran down to her arm. There was also a small table with a glass of water on it, and a chair beside the bed, and in the chair was her mother.
Soraya was hunched forward with her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands.
"Maman?"
Arezoo's voice came out thin and rusty.
Soraya's head snapped up.
"Joonam!"
Jumping to her feet, her mother patted her face, her forehead, then her cheeks again, and she was kissing her all over, on hercheeks, on her temple, on her hairline, the rapid scattershot kind of kissing that Soraya had not done since Arezoo was a little girl.
She'd forgotten that her mother had ever kissed her like this, and the small wet pressure of each kiss was both startling and familiar.
Hot droplets landed on her face, and she realized that her mother was crying.
"Maman, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Everything is good now. You are awake. You are awake. Thank the merciful Fates, you are awake." The frenzied kisses and the tears resumed.
"Maman, stop! You're making me all wet!"
