She understood, suddenly and completely, why Rajan was still here after six years. He had been kept here. Not against his will — he had stayed voluntarily, to find his daughter. But his staying had been useful to the tenants, and his usefulness had protected him from the transition, and the tenants had let him stay because a Stage 5 aware person who was also a long-term fixture in the building was a richer data source than one who transitioned.
He had been protected by the very thing he was afraid of. The thought was so bleak and so precise that she sat with it for a long time before she could move past it.
She went to Rajan. She told him what she had found. She watched his face receive it.
"She didn't come back," he said. Not a question.
"I don't know where she is. But you're different from her — you're Retained. You're still you."
"Because I'm useful to them."
"Yes."
He was quiet. Then: "Is she somewhere? In the database? Is there an entry for people who—" He couldn't finish it.
"I haven't found one," she said. "But the database is large and I haven't seen all of it."
"If there's a record of her," he said. "If she's in there somewhere—"
"I'll look," she said. "I promise I'll look. But Rajan — we need to move. Four of us at high awareness, the building is in an accelerating phase, and Divya's gone. We need to move before the next transition."
"What's the plan?" he said.
"I have an idea," she said. "But I need your help. And it involves going back to floor ten."
He was very still for a moment. Then: "Tell me."
