“He’s sweating. The fever broke.”

Something damp touches my forehead. Something cold presses against my chest, sliding under my shirt.

“His vitals are good. Your trick worked.” The voice sounds familiar. “He’s way better than he should be. Can you do that with any disease?”

My eyelids feel so heavy.

“Only certain virus types now,” the voice says, “but I think the principle could extend to any of them. You know, I wasn’t even supposed to know any of this stuff. I was supposed to be a water and power expert. But when Father died, someone had to figure out the implant, and it turned out I had some aptitude.”

I finally get my eyes to open. Two girls who I’m sure I know are sitting by my bed. I should remember their names, but for some reason I can’t.

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“That’s an understatement,” one says to the other. “You ever think of doing medical school?” I try to say something, but it just comes out as a groan. The two of them turn my way.

“Good, you’re awake,” the one that was just talking says. “Are you up for trying to drink something, Noah?”

“Water. Please,” I croak. The words actually come out right-ish this time.

“Coming right up.”

I sit up, which is painful. Less bad than when I woke up in the night, but everything still hurts. She hands me a bottle. It’s cool. It feels good going down.

“I want you to stay in bed today,” she says in a tone that demands obedience. “Even if you think you can get up, don’t. Bathroom and back if you need it, but you get me to help you with that. Other than that, you’re on strict bed rest.”

She puts what looks like a garage door opener next to the bed.

“Push the button if you need anything and I’m not here. Even if you just want someone to sit with you.”

I nod weakly. I didn’t want to get up anyway. Everything still hurts. My eyelids still feel heavy. I let them close.