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is typically done in one medical facility, before too much of the tracer
can decay. And yes, FDG crosses the blood-brain barrier.
Hmm. Brent tipped his head, pondering. Miracle of miracles, he
removed his VR specs to meet Kim s gaze. This is a bit overwhelming.
Can you and I go somewhere for coffee? I could sure use a friendly sec-
ond opinion.
Hours, cups of coffee, and finally a dinner later, Brent had not com-
mitted himself. Maybe he d undergo a scan. Maybe he wouldn t. They
went their separate ways for the evening.
Brushing her teeth, staring into the bathroom mirror, her mind chew-
ing on the events of the day, Kim froze. Why had Brent sat through a tu-
torial on PET scans? Specs on, he could have looked it up in an instant.
He looked up everything that way. Why hadn t he this time?
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That touch of humanity wasn t the day s only oddity. There was
also the theatricality of Brent s appearance in Tyra s office. The debate
about notifying the FDA had not been settled against Kim. It had not
been settled at all and she had been the one to change the subject.
It made Kim ill to see that Brent had manipulated her.
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thursday morning, january 12, 2017
Tires slipping, Kim fishtailed up the steep and treacherous driveway to-
ward Garner Nanotech. Two pickups, their plow blades noisily scrap-
ing, their rooftop flashers flashing, were clearing the overnight snowfall
from the main lot. Ghosts of blizzards past lurked between the aisles
and all around the periphery of the lot, in dirty mounds taller than her
car. Each time she crossed an aisle was an adventure. She turned toward
an empty side lot, with the usual moment of panic when the car went
into a skid. In Virginia you didn t learn to drive in snow.
Oh, to be back on the beach in Cancún! It had been less than a
week, but already it seemed a lifetime ago.
She parked in an already-plowed area near the back of the building,
on the factory side. Two seconds leaning into the wind, the sleet pelt-
ing her face, her teeth chattering, and she reversed course to go behind
the building. The loading dock was closer than any of the regular en-
trances.
Wind whooshed under Kim s coat as she scurried up the loading
dock s salted-and-sanded stairs. A freight truck was backed up to the
dock to unload. The security guard, bundled against the cold, held open
the door for Kim. He wore mirrored glasses that might have been sun-
glasses and might have been VR specs.
She pointed at the tarp-covered, vaguely torpedo-shaped things that
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sat on two-wheeled trailers just beside the dock. I m curious. What
are those?
Snowmobiles, ma am. No matter how much snow there is or how
foul the weather, in an emergency we can pick up from a pharmacy or
get someone to a hospital.
Emergency preparedness, huh? More likely, an excuse for the com-
pany to buy toys. Once you owned snowmobiles for emergencies,
you had to keep them in running condition and right behind the fac-
tory a switchgrass field beckoned. Beyond the biofuel farm, a state
park stretched for miles. Friends in Accounting had told Kim it had be-
come a challenge to justify taking all the money VCs wanted to invest
here. The waste wasn t Kim s problem, though. She hurried inside.
Have a good day, ma am, the guard called after her.
Kim cut across the factory toward the R & D wing, leaving a sloppy
trail of boot prints, shivering for reasons unrelated to the cold. It
wasn t just Charles and Tyra: more than a dozen people at Garner had
adopted the VR specs. Many were in Security, and it was hard to see
how hands-free Internet access benefited their work performance.
Circling one of the automatic carts creeping along the factory floor,
Kim changed course. Aaron was another early bird and she needed a
sympathetic ear. She found two sniffling colleagues waiting ahead of
her. She went to her office and left Aaron a voice mail: Got a minute?
I need to talk.
It was well after eleven when Aaron returned her call. Sorry, Kim.
It s just been one of those days. High flu season and an icy sidewalk
mishap. If you re still looking for an ear, come on over. Pause. I keep
a jar of them.
Be right over. Shall we talk over lunch?
Sure.
Kim locked the most recent iteration of her department s new bud-
get in a desk drawer and grabbed her coat. In the time it took her to
walk to the infirmary, Aaron was again behind closed doors. High flu
season? She waited in the hall, loath to touch the waiting-room chairs.
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EDWARD M. LERNER
The door from the tiny treatment room opened, and a woman
came out with an Ace bandage wound around her wrist. Following the
patient out, Aaron noticed where Kim stood waiting. He grinned
broadly. It s hard to catch a sprain.
She remained in the hall while he retrieved his coat. Aaron, would
you mind driving? I m parked way out back.
No problem. They headed for the main entrance. So, you need
to talk? I hate to ask.
A bug-eyed guard sat behind the reception desk; Kim said nothing
until they were tromping across the lot, snow and cinders crunching
beneath their feet. And I hate to say it aloud. But why else had she
sought out Aaron? You know my fear, that Brent has been infested
with nanobots. This is going to sound nuts she laughed without
humor okay, more nuts, but I can t get the idea out of my head.
More and more people are changing like Brent did. I have to wonder,
Aaron. Are they all, somehow, also infested with bots?
They? All?
Kim grimaced. Yeah, I know how that sounds. Charles and Tyra,
certainly. Mercedes Ramirez. The Security folks what s with so many
of them going around in VR specs? And Felipe Lopez, I noticed just
yesterday.
Who s Mercedes Ramirez? Aaron asked.
One of the sysadmins on-call to back up the help desk. Latina with
attitude. You d recognize her.
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