On the first day of the eruption, the toxic cloud of volcanic waste descended to kill our country further, blocking even a glimpse of Kali’s building through the barrier of glass and bars. Ash fluttered like snowflakes, piling up on my windowsill. Earthquakes and aftershocks shook the compound, but it held firm. On the third day, they started rationing serum. On the fifth day, our weekly Explosives and Incendiaries training went ahead, and I burned that latest aeroplane and its dangerous words without anyone noticing. But those words had already engraved on my brain, and burning the evidence couldn’t erase them.

The longer I went without serum, the less my replies to her made sense.

And on the eighth day of lockdown, my neighbour didn’t come out of his room.

“Where did he go?”

My counsellor, Dr Walker, looked up from her monitor with a creased forehead. I bit my tongue. Normally I sat in silence in her office unless spoken to. But this was important. The day the first aeroplane had arrived, Phoenix had been the one to try and make me stand before a nurse noticed. We’d been neighbours for two years. Someone should ask after him.

“Phoenix—5189. Is he ill? I haven’t seen him all day. You’re his counsellor too.”

Dr Walker set her stylus down and settled back in her hard plastic chair to survey me.

“5189 has been deployed early. He left for the Samoan front late last night.”

I blinked. Dr Walker didn’t.

“But Phoenix was claustrophobic. He said you were still working on it. And we’re in lockdown. There’s no trains.”

“5031, must I remind you of confidentiality clauses? 5189 may have told you of his defect, but I am not at liberty to discuss his treatment with any but his donor family. Besides, we are not here to discuss 5189, we are here to discuss your own defects.” She swiped her screen, dismissing the topic to the past. “Now, have you had any further violent outbursts? I can increase your serum dose if required, we have reserves available for special cases.”

I recalled how last night I had kicked the metal bedframe until my toe bled. It still stung if I pressed my nail against the top of my boot. The serum would muffle the pain.

Had it muffled Phoenix’s screams too, as they tried to fix his claustrophobia and failed and dragged him from his bed in the night to dump in the North Island wastes?

I focused on the whitewashed wall behind Dr Walker, not allowing any emotion to show.

“No. I feel calm.”

Dr Walker tapped her screen, eyes flicking to the clock on her desk. She swiped again, never looking at me.

“Wonderful. That means your next procedure will be brought forward to next week. If all goes well, we can get you deployed before Anzac Day. We will meet again after your recovery.”