“Go ahead, Dr. Lokanok,” I smiled, “by all means.”

“So,” Ani clenched her fists. Her hands trembled with enthusiasm. “As I was changing my PPE, I couldn’t get Dr. Marteneiss’ words out of my head.”

Heggy smiled. “Good wisdom is sticky wisdom, after all.”

Ani shook her head. “No, it was when you compared the neoplasms to cancer. That got me thinking: what if we’re going about this the wrong way?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“While we were walking over, I dialed up Dr. Skorbinka here—he being the fungus expert. Anyhow, like Dr. Horosha said, infectious organisms in humans cause damage by secreting hazardous, sometimes even carcinogenic substances, or,” she paused for effect, “by infiltrating tissues directly, just like metastatic cancer. The thing is, this ‘cancer’ isn’t responding to chemotherapy—”

“—So, why not try surgical intervention?” Heggy said, her eyes widening as she finished Dr. Lokanok’s thought.

“Exactly!” Grinning, Ani pumped her fist. “Dr. Skorbinka tells me it’s gonna take some time for the labs to figure out how to culture the fungus and do chemical assays to determine its poisons of choice. Obviously, that information is going to be really important for optimizing our treatment plans, but… until then, and maybe even after, I think it might be worth our while to see if we can’t just pull the fungi gunk out of people, debride away necrotic tissue, and suction out the inky goop.”

Heggy glanced at Dr. Arbond. “What do you think of that, Cassius?”

Cassius looked up at her. “What do I think of what? The autopsy?”

Heggy rolled her eyes. “No, exploratory surgery to see if surgical debridement and removal of infected tissue and fungal growths might provide us with a viable treatment option.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Cassius said. “Genneth already asked me about that very thing yesterday morning. Right now, I’ve got my hands full with top-priority VIP surgery requests, but I’ll be able to fit in an exploratory surgery tomorrow.”

Dr. Arbond grabbed his console and started typing away. In a moment, everyone else’s consoles pinged.

“There,” he said, “I’ve sent everyone the location and time. I hope to see you all there.” Then, with a nod, the veteran surgeon returned to watching the footage of the autopsy.

Sighing, Jonan slouched, sinking into his chair. “I’m glad Ani’s optimism seems to be as contagious as NFP-20, but, I have to ask. Does anyone have any practical ideas? The kind we can use en masse?”

“Hmm…” Dr. Skorbinka’s eyes narrowed. “What of phage treatment?” He nodded slowly, mulling over his own suggestion. “I believe it will be of interest to observe effect of phage treatment.”

It had been a while since I’d last seen Dr. Marteneiss look flummoxed. She still did a horrible job of it.

“Phage treatment?” she asked, with the tone of voice she usually reserved for responding to people who spoke ill of Trenton’s armed forces.

He glanced up at the rest of us. “Sorry. Sorry. My bad.”

“Bacteriophages,” Nowston continued, “you know, the ones that look like little robots?”

Once again, the changes playing out in my mind showed themselves. I tried to visualize what Brand was talking about, when—suddenly—not only did the image blaze across my thoughts, it became real.

Out of thin air, a bacteriophage the size of a cat appeared atop the table, like a piece of computer animation made real. Its dark, icosahedral viral capsid glistened with moisture beneath the lights. The capsid sat atop a tall, slender stack of molecular rings, the bottommost of which bore five jointed, evenly spaced “legs” which flexed as the thing bobbed in place. It skittered across the tabletop like a haunted hand and then jumped off the edge of the table.

Right at me.

Yelping, I pushed away from the table, rolling back in my seat, and at the exact same time, Cassius was startled by the autopsy footage and bellowed.

“Motherfucker!”

The bacteriophage phased through my leg and crawled away, dissolving into a breath of particles as it disappeared into the wall.

Heggy and Ani leapt up from their seats, shouting in alarm.

“Genneth!”

“What’s wrong!?”

It seemed I was the only one who’d seen it.

“I, uh…” The wheels in my head turned so loudly, I feared they’d give me away. I shook my head. “I made the mistake of watching the autopsy footage along with Cassius. I and the curse word booming right next to my ears set me on edge,” I said, scooting my chair back to the table, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t scare me like that, Dr. Howle,” Ani said. “You’ll give me a heart attack.” She laughed nervously.

As the two women sat back down, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I guess everyone had been too focused on Dr. Skorbinka’s hologram, to have seen enough to see through my fib.

First it was seeing a vision of my transformed self. Then it was seeing Mr. Isafobe’s organs falling onto the floor of the changing room. Now, an impossible living hallucination of a nanoscale bacteriophage had appeared in front of me. Each of these visions had happened because I’d been dwelling on or attempting to visualize the thing in question right before it actually appeared.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Lass it tight!

It seemed I now had the ability to make myself hallucinate at will. My daydreams were coming to life.

Great. Just… great.

I groaned softly.

Glancing down at my chest, I realized I’d been in such a rush this morning that I’d forgotten to follow up with my plan of wearing my lucky bowtie on the outside of my PPE gown. Maybe that was the reason I seemed to have been cursed with a “superpower” that was almost tailor-made to trigger one of my panic attacks. Was it ludicrous? Of course! But it made just as much sense as everything else that was happening as of late!

So, another worry on my plate.

I cleared my throat nervously. Ordinarily, I’d have completely lost the thread of the conversation, but the strengthened memory abilities that seemed to come with turning into a wyrm enabled me to pick up the conversation thread without missing a beat.

“Again, my apologies.” I bowed my head in guilt, and then turned to face Dr. Skorbinka’s hologram. “You were saying something about bacteriophages. Those are viruses that infect bacteria, right?”

Brand spoke up before the mycologist could respond. “Yes. Because of that, bacteriophages have been the basis for several cutting edge treatments for drug-resistant bacterial infections such as tuberculosis or Staphylococcus, but…” the pathologist shook his head, “I can’t see how bacteriophages will help us with—”

“—No, Nowston Brand,” Dr. Skorbinka said, interrupting his interrupter, “do not jump ahead. Not bacteriophages. Mycophages.”

Brand tilted his head in confusion. “Mycophages?”

Apparently, there were things that even Brand didn’t know.

“Yes. They are to fungi what bacteriophages are to bacteria. Though,” Dr. Skorbinka chuckled slightly, “I fear they do not have look of little robots. Mycophages are quite mysterious. Most seem to have minimal apparent impact upon fungal host. Other species are known to augment mycological pathogenicity, though some cause traditional viral damage, resulting in slowing of rate of growth, or inhibit of sporulation, or kill outright. As with bacteriophages, there is theory of therapeutic applications of mycophages for use against fungal infections. Since NFP-20 make evil borscht of guts and brain, those theories seem very much worth testing.”

“Yes, but how?” I asked.

Mistelann crossed his arms. “I have comrades at Stovolsk Mycological Institute. Have been developing mycophage strains having viable therapeutic and mass-productive potentials. Whether or not strains exhibit activity against NFP-20 remains to be seen; strains have yet to undergo testing. Nevertheless, it is certain that Stovolsk comrades would be happy to lend helping hand.”

“That is very… beneficent of them,” Jonan said. “But if they have this stuff already, why hasn’t it been tested in Odensk?”

Mistelann Skorbinka’s expression darkened. “They may have, or they may have not, we cannot be knowing for certain. Trials may have already been conducted, and maybe results were not so good, or perhaps mycophage is enemy; mutant or novel strain infects fungus, create horrible nightmare.” He cocked his head to the side. “Well… worse nightmare. Mmm.” He pursed his lips. “It is important to understand that political situation in Odensk of late has been… how you say? Mmm… very fakakta. War is expected to outbreak soon, and strict border patrols have made evacuation of regime opponents and dissidents very difficult.”

“If that is the case,” Dr. Horosha said, “then why are you suggesting this, Dr. Skorbinka?”

“Green Death will likely cause significant disruption in Odenskaya government and military. Pending provisions of DAISHU support, delivery of therapeutic substances provides excellent cover for evacuations for my comrades. Moreover, successful use of mycophage here in Trenton would ensure emergency approval of DAISHU, allowing for production and use of mycophage treatment across the world, with great profits for all.”

“So, maybe antivirals would… turn the fungus back to normal?” Ani asked.

“Precisely,” Dr. Skorbinka answered. “Could very well prove to be boon in treatment of disease.”

“I think both ideas are worth a shot,” Brand said.

Even if it had the aftertaste of a deal with the devil, Brand had a point.

“It will take… some time… to acquire and prepare mycophage samples for therapeutic use,” Dr. Skorbinka said.

“In that regard,” Dr. Horosha said, “I may be of use. I have friends in high places in DAISHU, and though it has been some time since I last spoke with them, I would like to believe they would be amenable to your suggestion, Dr. Skorbinka, particularly given the extensive profit margins that can be expected if this mycophage treatment proves itself worthwhile.”

“Better late than never,” Heggy said.

Jonan stood up, turned to the holograms, and clapped his hands.

“Well, that was definitely as stimulating of a meeting as I’ve ever been to before,” he said. “Let’s do it again soon. Thank you for your time, Drs. Nowston and Skorbinka. Now, if you don’t mind, the rest of us have got some logistical details about managing Ward E that we, as its Crisis Management Team, need to discuss. I’m sure you two have got as full of a plate of things to research as you’ve ever known before. So, if you don’t mind, I think it’ll be in everyone’s best interest if you get to work on that ASAP.”

To anyone who’d spent even the slightest bit of time carefully observing people, Jonan might as well have been wearing a sign that had the words “I have ulterior motives, and I’m asking you to leave so that I can act on them” rendered in blazing neon lettering.

Dr. Skorbinka noticed it too, as the half-inch of space between his leveled left eyebrow and raised right eyebrow made clear.

Brand, though—bless his heart—just nodded and said, “You’re absolutely right. Thanks for the kind words, Dr. Derric—and good luck to you all.”

Dr. Skorbinka’s hologram turned to his colleague, as if to say “What in the world are you doing?” but Brand ended the call, and the twitching blue holograms vanished before Mistelann could get a word out.

I knew that feeling all too well.

“Hey, where’d the two hologuys go?” Cassius asked.

“Are you here to stay, Cassius?” Heggy asked.

“As long as I don’t shit my britches, yeah. Damn, Dr. Marteneiss, you folks had one eventful morning.”

“You can say that again,” I said.

Tensing her shoulders, Heggy rose from her seat, planting her hands on the table to prop herself up. She shot a burning glare at Jonan. Dr. Marteneiss went so far as to stab her finger in his direction, holding it out with her thumb erect, as if aiming a gun. “Dr. Derric whatever you call whatever it was that you just did, I hope you’re aware it isn’t how normal people behave,” she said.

And she was right. Normal people didn’t behave that way. But sociopaths certainly did.

Jonan bit his lip. He stood up and bowed in deference to his elder. “My apologies, Dr. Marteneiss. I just…” he sighed, “I just couldn’t hold it anymore.” Jonan turned to Ani. “I know you’re trying, Ani, and I love you for that, but…” he shook his head, “there’s something you need to know.” One by one, Jonan turned to lock eyes with everyone else in the room, ending with me. “There’s something all of you need to know,” he said. “I’m not saying the hopey-changey spirit doesn’t have a place on this CMT—although, personally, that’s exactly what I think,” he took a deep breath, “but… next to a miracle cure for NFP-20, right now, what we need most is a sobering dose of the… true depths of what we’re up against. Today’s autopsy made that clearer to me than ever before.”

“Why did you need to get Brand and Dr. Skorbinka out of the conversation?” I asked.

“While Dr. Nowston is technically a member of this CMT, his Odensky colleague is most certainly not.” Jonan spoke as if he was in charge of the whole operation. “And that matters, ‘cause what I’ve got to share with you all might as well redefine the meaning of sensitive content.”

“And what would that be?” Dr. Horosha asked.