Ron went to meetings to be informed about a plethora of things, but the main reason he attended was to make sure John didn’t start snoring. It was down to an art. When John’s mouth began to drop open, Ron would gently press his pen into John’s arm to jolt him awake. The timing was crucial, because if he waited until John’s head dropped to his chest, he would make a snorting sound when Ron woke up, which would definitely bring attention to them. Ron almost missed John’s mouth dropping open, his head just beginning to nod, because Mr. Germain was going over important information about the underground. Ron jabbed John maybe a little too hard with his pen, and thankfully John opened his eyes and leaned forward, pretending he had paid attention the entire time. Ron stifled a grin with his notes.

“In a week from now, you will be meeting with your high school interns. My husband and I have files of the individuals you are being matched with. We will give you the rest of the time to research more about them,” Mrs. Germain said.

The Germain’s began passing out folders. Ron tapped his pen against his notes as he glanced at John.

“Nodding off more than usual. Everything all right?” Ron asked.

“Fine, fine,” John said as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. “I hate Mondays in the office. I'm a Junior Official to security. I’d much rather be out there in the field. Taking notes in a stuffy cubicle just isn’t me.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Ron said.

John drained his coffee then shook his head. “Maybe not for you. I’d rather be out there trying to stop the underground than sitting here talking about it.”

Mr. Germain walked over to them as he sorted through the files in his arm. “Mr. Reagan, Mr. Wayne, you two have a special assignment with your interns.” Mr. Germain placed the files in their hands. “These two boys do have the brilliance to be here, but the S.E.A. is also becoming suspicious of them. We think they might have ties to the underground.”

Ron frowned before opening his file to see a school picture paper clipped onto a thick file. The name underneath read Einstein, Albert.

“If they have ties to the underground, why are we allowing them to work at the S.E.A.?” John asked. “And why, of all departments, are you giving one of these kids to security?”

“Because the departments you are under will have the most grunt work in the coming days,” Mr. Germain said. “Keep them busy, keep them worn out. Two more Junior Officials have this assignment as well.” Mr. Germain stepped in a little closer. “I also have full confidence in your ability to become friends with these boys. Give them a non-threatening environment. If we can get them to confess their involvement with the underground, President Arnold would be in your debt.”

Mr. Germain moved on to another cluster of Junior Officials. John frowned, then opened his file. “Macbeth.” John turned his file around for Ron to see a picture of a goth kid. “Of all the kids to intern for security of the S.E.A., they invite an actual security threat? This kid looks like he could blow up the place and not care.”

Ron squinted, and saw Poe, Edgar underneath the picture. He couldn’t help but smile at his friend. “Oh, come now. This may be just the excitement you need on a boring Monday morning.”

John mumbled something about how the kid cultivated his own threatening environment. Ron checked his watch. “Well, I better head out. I’ve got another meeting in a few minutes with Mr. McCarthy.”

John chuckled. “I don’t know how you can handle it. I can barely handle one meeting a day, and you have three or four.”

Ron shrugged as he tucked the file into his arm. “It’s what I expected when I signed up for the Singing Enforcement Agency.”

***

As Marie’s vision came into focus after a fitful night’s sleep, she saw her hand on the pillow in front of her. Her fingers were slightly curled. She frowned before she tried to curl them the rest of the way. For a second, her fingers refused to listen to her brain. One by one, they creaked and groaned into compliance, and Marie kept wiggling her fingers until there was less resistance. It was as though she were an old woman of sixty instead of a fifteen year old. Marie’s frown deepened as she went through the same process with her other hand. There could only be one reason for this.

She got up and wiggled her toes. She tried her other joints. They seemed fine. It was just her fingers and toes. For now. Sleep must have brought an added amount of stiffness to them. She had been working up the courage to tell her dad for a few days now. Today was the day. He would never forgive her if she told him too late.

She kept wiggling her fingers and toes as she got dressed. Her fingers ran through her frizzy brown hair. The small rooms under the art museum had become their new home, and she tried not to give into the stir craziness of never being allowed to leave. They were still alive. Something she had to remember and be grateful for. No small feat, considering how bad of a grudge President Arnold had on them.

She left the small bedroom she and Sophie shared. The main room had a long table taking up most of the space, with a small kitchenette at the front of the room. There was barely enough room for a microwave, a tiny fridge, and a sink. Most of the supplies smuggled in were microwave dinners and lunches, so it all worked out.

Her dad sat at the table closer to the small kitchen area with an ignored bowl of cereal and half a dozen papers in front of him. The notes were about her, or more specifically, about the omnitocsil she injected into herself to keep her memories intact. She sat down across from her dad who looked up long enough to give her a smile before looking back at his notes. “Good morning, Marie. How’d you sleep?” She drummed the table with her fingers, still feeling the slight creaks as she did so. When she didn’t answer his question, he set down his notes, his brown eyes flooded with concern. “Marie?”

Marie sighed, rubbing her temples. “I didn’t sleep too well, Dad. I need to tell you something.”

Her dad dropped his notes on the table, turning his full attention to her. “Yes?”

“I’m starting to feel stiff, specifically in my fingers and toes. I’m not sure if it has anything to do with omnitocsil, but it might, and you said you wanted to be kept up to date on-”

Marie didn’t bother finishing. Her father picked up his bowl of cereal and shoveled into his mouth, then motioned her to follow him. Marie did so without hesitancy.

“How long have you felt this way?” her dad asked as he finished swallowing his breakfast.

“A few days. I didn’t bring it up because I thought it was just stiffness from the time spent in the S.E.A. basement, but it’s getting worse.” Injecting herself with omnitocsil was still a tender spot for her and her dad. If he didn’t find a cure for the incurable, Marie was going to die. And with these new symptoms, Marie had a frightening feeling about how soon that might be.

They entered the bedroom her dad shared with Marie’s former high school teacher, Tom Edison. Tom was in his bed, healing from a broken leg and other various injuries he got from his stay at the S.E.A. when they tried to convince him to work on President Arnold’s top secret project. He looked better than when Marie first saw him in that basement cell, but he still had a while before he was completely back to normal.

Her dad ran a hand through his brown hair, concern still evident in his face before he put on some plastic gloves. “I’m going to prick your finger and look at your blood.”

Tom glanced up from his book before shutting it and getting himself out of bed and grabbing his crutches. “I’ll go get some breakfast.”

“Should you be walking?” Marie asked as her dad picked up a needle.

“Alice is hounding me to walk more. She went on and on about muscle atrophy and the like. Despite our cramped surroundings, I should try and do my best.” He hobbled his way out of the room on his crutches, obviously to give Marie and her dad the privacy they needed.

Marie held out her finger. She felt the tiny prick, then watched as her dad squeezed some blood onto a small glass dish. In no time at all, he had it under a microscope and was adjusting the dials to get a clear look. Her dad’s face fell before he struggled to keep it neutral as he moved his head away from the eye of the microscope.

“Dad?” Marie asked.

He chewed on his bottom lip, still not looking at her. Marie could understand his struggle. They had been working on their father daughter relationship, which meant being honest with each other. Her dad had a habit of trying to protect her like she was a small girl, and Marie had kept things from him because she didn’t want him to treat her like that.

“It’s worse from the sample I got a few days ago,” her dad said quietly. “Not at a dangerous level, but worse.”

Marie wasn’t sure how to react, mainly because she was too nervous to show too much emotion, but she had to hold up her end of the relationship too. “So, what do we do from here?”

“Keep me updated on everything you feel. I don’t care how small it is, I want to know about it. And if… if there’s something going on with your body that you’re too embarrassed to tell me, you can tell Charles. He’s a medical professional.”

Marie, despite everything, felt her cheeks flush. “Dad, if I’m too embarrassed to tell you, there’s no way I’m going to tell Charles.” Just thinking about Charles brought the image of his way too good-looking self into focus. Being a medical professional for the S.E.A. meant only the best. But really it meant the best looking. Her dad gave her a curious look, then it seemed to dawn on him.

“Oh, right. Well, Alice. Talk to Alice about it,” her dad said.

Marie nodded, already feeling a little better. Alice wasn’t here nearly as much as Charles, but Marie figured she would still tell her dad what was going on, no matter how embarrassing. Not only was it her life on the line, but if the worst case scenario happened, her dad might never recover.