Margaret turned over the plastic cup, and poured the syrup into the dirt. Counting down from ten, she stabbed the foil circle out of the top of a juice box, held the carton high over her head and squeezed with all her might. Her eyes remained focused on the tiny hole in the earth beneath her feet as hundreds of six-legged colonists streamed out and merged toward the syrup. She moved slowly from her feet to her back, her sugary skin picking up dirt and dried grass. Taking a deep breath, she forgot her past and let them carry her away.