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would keep others from catching his diseases, but he soon modified it to augment his crippled legs. He worked on it every day, and he’d given it night vision, the ability to go under water, and a belt full of tools. It does more than protect others from your condition, Tommy remembered Kojo saying, it gives you the power of a god.
    They walked out of their room into the hallway. A Samaritan was rubbing down the floors with bleach; the chemicals quashed the smell of smoke from Elysia. That was common in Lepros; there would be an odd smell, an odd noise, an odd feeling, but it would only last for a moment. It would be the smell of someone’s burst pustules or the groan of a dying man, but there would always be cleanliness and quiet soon thereafter. You all have value, Tommy remembered High Priest Elazar telling the Leprosians. Though society has forsaken you, each and every one of you has value. And in order to realize your value, we must have calm, quiet, cleanliness and consistency.
    Tommy snapped the facemask in place to hermetically seal himself into his suit, and he and Kojo ambled out into the hallway. Even with the added inches of his suit, Tommy seemed to be half the height of Kojo. But he was getting used to its features and was almost as able-bodied as Kojo. We’ll improve the suit , Elazar would say, and soon you’ll be faster, stronger, quicker. You’ll have value. Perhaps you may one day re-enter society.
    Tommy walked alongside Kojo like a pet, and traveled down the hallway to the outdoors. He passed the wing for violent patients and noticed the thick doors barring escape. That wing had filled up recently due to the new strain of syphilis that was spreading throughout the world. Antibiotic-resistant, develops quietly, and doesn’t kill you for twenty years , Kojo would say. It’s the perfect disease. Patients with the new syphilis became violent, yet retained much of their faculties. They could act normally, reason, and even hold elected office if left unnoticed. But they were dangerous.
    “ If those doors would open,” said Kojo, “we’d be burning like Elysia within the hour.”
    “I understand,” said Tommy, “but we must have compassion.”
    “True,” said Kojo. “Above all else, we must have compassion.”
    They walked down to the main courtyard and stood in front of High Priest Elazar and all Lepros’s able inhabitants. One thousand patients, the contagious of the contagious, the sickest of the sick, thought Tommy, and ten healthy Samaritan priests to tend them all.
    There were twenty new faces at the front of the crowd. Most were dressed in black cloaks; Tommy listened to the soft, sibilant tones they spoke amongst themselves, and guessed they were from the Mesopotamian quarter. High Priest Elazar confirmed it when he spoke to them.
    “Where is your Gilgamesh now? Your Djinn ?” he asked, half-rhetorically.
    Not one of the new arrivals spoke. Low Priest Aaron began to translate, but still, not one of them took the bait. One boy was shirtless and was scratching a pulsating boil under his arm. A cloaked woman on the other side of the group came to him and made him stop scratching it, but the boy continued and then started to cry.
    Elazar was a kind, rotund older man with a soft face and a graying mustache. Tommy had heard him give this “tough love” speech before, and he knew that Elazar didn’t enjoy giving it. Though it was necessary to rid the new denizens of their previous prejudices, Elazar didn’t relish giving immigrants the cold, hard truth: that the gods to whom they had prayed every night of their lives didn’t care for them.
    “Your heroes and genies are not here,” said Elazar, pointing towards the mainland. “They are over there . They’re busy running around, working for their worshippers’ personal interests, but you ? They have abandoned you. I’ve lived here all my life, and never have I seen a god take one of his people back from Lepros.”
    The boy stopped