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The terminal heard every word the dhobi said and reduced it to a line: Refer to Sector Utilities, Tier 2. Chhaya missed six seconds of it, and she wants them back. In her second drawer is a pad of paper slips kept since 2071.

Chhaya Deshmukh has not typed a word at work in nine years. Her job is to be looked at while a machine listens. Twenty-two grievance categories, four sentiment values, and no field for an old man’s father.

In 2058 a routing pilot ran sixteen futures for one evening’s grain and sent a convoy down the wrong lane. Aisha’s mother was three doors from home. Aisha has defended the machine ever since.

Devakkant Sharma runs the only government the world has left. Every morning he wakes eleven minutes before his own house expects him, makes his tea by hand, and feeds a dog he has never registered.