They were not sisters by blood, but by orbit. Keisha kept time with her camera, catching stark slices of the world other people overlooked. Mina rigged circuits from scavenged parts; a soft laugh would follow each new device that blinked into life. Aya spoke in lists and maps, a strategist who saw possibilities as routes waiting to be walked. Lila carried a satchel of books and the quiet ferocity of someone who had learned the cruelty of neat answers. Together they formed an argument against being ignored.