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"I thought we’d be taking the samples the usual way," I say "With swabs, not needles You only need a little tissue"

"This way is better," the Archivist says

"You’re not stealing from us the way the Society does," one of the wo our blood and giving it back" She holds out her arm "I’m ready"

The Archivist hands es sealed away in plastic "Go ahead," he tells ive to you when you finish You don’t need to know any ht I don’t want to try to understand the co And I certainly don’t want to knohat these people have paid to be here Is a trade like this even sanctioned by the other Archivists or is thistransactions on the side? What have I stumbled into? I didn’t realize that black market blood would be the price of the blue tablets

"You’re going to get caught," I say

"No," he says "I won’t"

"Please," the woet holoves and prepare a syringe She keeps her eyes closed the whole tie into the vein near the crook of her elbow She makes a startled sound "Ale back out and hold it up Her blood is dark

"Thank you," she says, and the Archivist hands her a square of cotton that she presses against the inside of her arives me the blue tablets And then he tells the others, "We’ll be here again next week Bring your children Don’t you want to make sure you have samples for them, too?"

"I won’t be here next week," I tell the Archivist

"Why not?" he asks "You’re doing them a service"

"No," I say "I’ people back"

If it did, I thought, I’m sure people would use it Like Patrick and Aida Markha their son back, they’d do it

Back at ho a little scalpel stolen froery I’ll likely ever do, slicing very carefully along the back of the tablets, cutting the paper fro thees over the incinerator to ether

It takes al I wake up to the sound of screa after that, Cassia leaves, too, and thanks to ot blue tablets to take with her

I walk back toto check on the patients "Any adverse reactions to the cure?" I ask

The nurse shakes her head "No," she says "Five of the the patient with the rash, are not Of course, it’s still early" She doesn’t need to articulate e both know: Usually we’ve seen soood

"Has anyone else manifested with the rash?"

"We haven’t checked since they came in," she says "It’s been less than an hour"

"Let’s do it now," I say

We turn one of the patients over carefully Nothing We turn another patient Nothing

But the third patient’s rash circles her entire body Her lesions aren’t yet as red as those belonging to the first patient, but the reaction is certainly atypical "Call the virologist," I tell one of the medics Carefully, we turn the woman back over and I catch my breath Blood seeps from her mouth and nose

"We have a patient with different symptoms," I tell the head physic over the port Before he can answer, another voice coist "Carrow?"

"Yes?"

"I analyzed the viral genome taken from the patient with the circumferential rash," he says "It reveals an additional copy of the neural-insertion envelope protein gene Do you understand what I’?"

I do

We have a mutation on our hands

CHAPTER 15

CASSIA

At dusk the evening light gilds the white of the barricade into gold, and the sky is cool and blue except for the spot where the sun burns down beyond the horizon That’s e gather, more of us each day One person tells two people, and two tell four, and it increases exponentially, and within a feeeks of beginning we have what I think of as an outbreak of our own

I don’t knoho started referring to this place as the Gallery, but the nah to name it I like it best when I hear the whispers of those who are here for the first time, who stand before the ith their hands over their , I think that many of them feel as I do whenever I come here

I am not alone

If I have a little time and can stay for a while, I shohoever wants to learn horite Once they’ve seen me do it, they make their own marks, clumsy at first, then definite, confident

I teach the is easier because of the separate, distinct lines It’s the joining together--the writing without ceasing and the continuous moven to our hands Now and then I do write in cursive so I don’t lose the feeling of connection to what I’ down, andthe stick froround or the pencil from the paper, I’m reminded of Hunter and his people, how they drew the blue lines on their skin and then onto the next person