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Elwina-61 occasionally acknowledges her collisional family, but most of the time she’s above them: their gravity cannot catch her, can’t break her perfect spin.

“You have to eat something besides rock candy,” says her father, who doesn’t understand crystalline foods.

“Elwina!” whines her little brother. “You stepped on my toys!” She ignores him and flirts with Neptune, pretending to gather ice.

“Sweetie, do you know who tracked blood everywhere?” But her mother’s voice is silent in the ink.

“Awake already?” asks the doctor. “So can you tell us how you wound up with gangrene?”

Elwina’s rocket legs are better anyway.