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“Yeah, careful though, they’re deceptive,” I say, trying to warn her, but she’s already grabbed one that is an inch across on each side. She squats in front of it, heaving and grunting, but she can’t even get it an inch off the ground.

“Don’t burst a blood vessel!” I warn, and she groans and gives up, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand and moving down to the smallest weight.

It’s the size of a pebble. She lifts it with both hands, strains, and gets it over her head. She drops it, jumping back so it won’t land on her foot, and to my surprise, the black cube hovers a foot in the air off the ground.

“What are these things, magnetic?”

“That would make sense,” I say, glancing over at the shadowy robots. “When the training bots break, they get sucked up to the ceiling, and new ones come down. Maybe it’s by magnets.”

“Clever system. Alright, hotshot. You try it. Careful, this thing must be fifty pounds.”

As a joke, I walk forward confidently, my pleasure dress swishing. I puff out my chest, flex a bicep, and lean down as if I am going to lift it with one hand while Kat rolls her eyes.

To my shock, I clench the pebble-sized cube in my fist and haul it off the ground. My muscles strain, and I lift it up halfway when the surprise makes me drop it. It hovers in the air a foot off the ground, and I wince, imagining it crushing my toes.

Kat whistles. “Next weight. Let’s go.”

The next up is the size of dice. It takes me both hands this time, but Kat teaches me form, showing me how to squat down and lift it so I won’t injure myself. I get it up and over my head, and step back, letting it fall until it rests a foot off the ground.

“Alright. Now the one that I could barely make wobble.”

I watched Kat strain and struggle for over a minute with the cube that’s sitting flat on the ground. It’s small, but I’m hesitant, poking it with my bare foot.

“Well come on, don’t just look at it. Show it who’s boss,” Kat encourages me, so I squat in front of it, just like she told me to. It’s hard to grab the weight. They’re so small, they must be meant to be held in a single Aurelian hand. I grip it and pull.

It’s like it’s glued to the ground. I reset and pull again, determined. It lifts, an inch, then a foot. “Stop! Let it drop,” says Kat, as I straighten up my back, standing and straining, my muscles burning.

I drop it, breathing heavy, and Kat claps me on the back. “That thing must weigh over two hundred pounds,” she says in awe.

I turn to face her and wink. “Looks like pleasure dresses win over dirty jeans,” I tease, paying her back for her comments before.

“Yeah yeah.” She checks her smartwatch, and as if by magic, I hear the rumbling from the entrance hall. “Right on cue. It’s time for me to head out.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I say, and walk with her to the entrance hall. At the far end of the tunnel, Ra’al and Orr are speaking heatedly in Aurelian, while Kriz watches me. I give them a wave, and Kriz nods at me.

“Stay safe, Rachel.”

“You too, Kat.” We hug, and she heads out, walking quickly to catch up to the triad, who immediately leave up the stairs. I watch her walking away, and a pang of loss goes through me. For some reason, I think this will be the last time I ever see her.

I let myself feel the tension of their auras, just for a second, before they go out of sight and the tunnel closes up behind them, the huge slabs of stone and metal linking together to block the way. They can’t even spare the time from their duties to come in and speak with me. Not even for a minute.

I can deal.

I wipe a strand of messy hair out of my eyes.

I’m not going to sit around and sulk just because I’m alone. I’m here, and I’m going to make the best of it. I find Nash in the kitchen, cutting up a red vegetable I’ve never seen with a sharp knife while stirring a pot on a stove every few seconds. She’s standing on a wooden box to be up high enough for the Aurelian-sized kitchen.

“Hey, Nash, can you do something for me?”

“Of course.”

“Can you teach me how to make something simple? Maybe a steak or something?”

She purses her lips. “Please, allow me to serve as I can.”

“I will. It’s not that. I want to cook something for the triad with my own hands.”

Nash smiles, warmly. “Ah! Of course. Sure. We’ll start with the basics. Grab one of those wooden boxes for tomatoes, they make a good step stool. Have you ever cooked before?”