The guards quickly patted down Betsy before opening the double doors to the sitting room. Betsy stepped tentatively inside. The guard nudged her forward so he could close the doors behind her. She stood, fidgeting, her eyes sweeping the room. Two lamps on opposite walls lit the room in a soft orange glow, leaving the room's corners thick with shadows on this gloomy morning.

Paintings cluttered the walls and piles of ornamental knickknacks buried every horizontal surface. Cases of bottled water were stacked next to crates of Bordeaux wine. Ten cartons of cigarettes rested on the mantel. While the small sub-lab she had grown up had been well-provisioned, this one room practically rivaled both in volume and variety of goods. A thin silhouette stood at the bay window, watching dark thunderclouds rolling over the blackness of the lake. "Take a chair," her dusty voice said.

Betsy saw only one armchair not covered with stacks of papers and files. She gathered her lab coat around her and sat. The woman at the window turned and, in her floor-length black dress, seemed to glide toward Betsy. She crossed her arms and drummed her skeletal fingers. Her artfully applied makeup did little to hide her age.

"They didn't tell me you were black," the matriarch of the Reichman family said.

"Well," Betsy answered with a patronizing smile, "I assumed you were white."

"Touche'," Frederika said without humor. She plucked a small silver bell from a pile of clutter and jingled it. A servant materialized from a hidden door behind a hutch, carrying a platter with a tea kettle and two cups. She set the platter down on an end table and cleared a spot on the sofa for Frederika.

"We've gotten off on the wrong foot," Frederika said as she eased herself onto the cushions. "Shall we share some tea before business?"

Betsy inclined her head, knowing she had little option. The MPD had infiltrated her lab, seized her equipment, her research, and her companions, then whisked them to a holding suite at a place called Summerland to join a dozen other scientists who shared similar stories. They told what they knew of the MPD, the Four Families, and world at large--information Betsy greedily drank in without letting on how clueless she really was. It had taken over a year in captivity but she had finally been summoned to a meeting with the most powerful person in Rivertown. Now she didn't know whether to be flattered or frightened.

Betsy heard something chirping, like a bird call. Frederika's expression soured as she dipped her hand into her dress pocket and withdrew a palm-sized black device. She squinted at it and muttered, "Goddamned Carlo Reyes. Excuse me." She struggled to her feet as she held the device to her cheek and said, "Yes, what is it?"

While Betsy had coached herself to play it cool no matter what, she found herself gawking. Phones? They had operating, wireless phones here? She had read about such things of course, but phones required towers and wireless relays and operators... Had they been keeping her in some sort of work prison?

Betsy sat up and sipped the piping hot green tea, watching Frederika pace. Betsy began to relax, her curiosity incredibly piqued. In her sub-lab they had been developing formulas to combat new strains of the superflu, carrying on the noble work her parents intended, but their finite resources and series of technical glitches derailed the entire project. With more resources and capable co-workers, Betsy imagined she could do much more—perhaps even find a cure? Reestablish communication networks? Perhaps she could be at the forefront of rebuilding the world after all. She sipped, sat, and thought as the warmth of the tea drove away her chill.

Frederika apologized as she took her seat and regarded Betsy. The harshness in her face had disappeared and her features had softened, a smile playing at her lips. "Enjoying the tea?" she asked, visibly pleased when Betsy nodded. Her voice had become smoother, almost musical.

"Do you feel that pleasant sense of calmness flowing through you," Frederika said as she got comfortable on the sofa, "That's the tea. Or rather what's in the tea"

A spark of warning flashed in Betsy's mind but she tamped it down, waiting for Frederika to continue.

Frederika spoke at length then, uninterrupted, saying how her advisors had praised Betsy's intelligence as evidenced in the lab notes seized from her sub-lab. She explained that an MPD patrol had discovered a rare street drug a few months back, one that produced a powerful euphoric effect for the user. A teams of scientists had experimented on small batches of the drug, discovering that diluting the drug with water diminished the effect, producing a calming effect and pleasant day dreams. A single squirt from the stopper she kept on the stand would addle the mind completely, but in a drink it could be quite pleasant.

"However we are already running low on supply and we've been unable to reproduce the drug. We need your expertise, dear. We want you to join the team," Frederika said.

Betsy contemplated this for a long moment before conceding that the idea seemed sound. "I'm listening," she said as she happily drained her cup.