Plans required belief. You had to believe that you could lay out steps toward an outcome of your choosing. My mother knew better than that. The pronouncement of intent, the hubris of self-determination—these did not fit her notion of the universe. On the few occasions when she had been forced to plan something more consequential than dinner, she had set a limited horizon. Get from Vesvere to Safar, but plan no further. Get from Safar to Paraiso, and leave it at that. She hadn’t even planned our move to Island City; she’d merely accepted the opportunity to apply to the Repopulation Program when
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