Her parents would have been foolish to give up a chance at all that. How useless it would have been for Alysha to hope for her position at the Department; they would have risked everything in the end.

The door opened; her mother came inside. Amy sat up. Her small bed took up most of the room; there was no other place to sit, and Alysha clearly wanted to talk.

Her mother seated herself, then draped an arm over Amy’s shoulders. “I know how you feel,” she said.

Amy shook her head. “No, you don’t.”

Her mother hugged her more tightly. “I felt that way myself once, but couldn’t see that I’d be any better off not trying at all. You should learn what you can, Amy, and not just so that you’ll be able to help your own children with their schoolwork. Learning will give you pleasure later, something you’ll carry inside yourself that no one can take from you. Things may change, and then-”

“They’ll never change. I wish-Things were better in the old days. “

“No, they weren’t,” her mother responded. “They were better for a few people and very bad for a lot of others. I may affect a few Medievalisms, but I also know how people fought and starved and suffered long ago, and the Cities are better than that. No one starves, and we can, generally speaking, go about our business without fearing violence, but that requires cooperation-we couldn’t live, crowded together as we are, any other way. We have to get along, and that often means giving up what we might want so that everyone at least has something. Still-”

“I get the point,” Amy said bitterly. “Civism is good. The Cities are the height of human civilization.” She imitated the pompous manner of her history teacher as she spoke. “ And if I can’t get along and be grateful for what I’ve got, I’m just a pathological antisocial individualist. “