The scientist leads me down the tunnel to the lab and gives me another shamed smile as we entered the tiled room. Discarded test tubes and broken colanders littered the floor along with wrappers and other food scraps. "I apologize for the conditions," he says lamely. "But I assure you the messiness you see has not tainted our research. I assume you're honoring us with your presence because of our recent breakthrough?"

He stares through me with his frog eyes and I grow uncomfortable, wondering again why I came. He eyes the unopened bottle of scotch on the table. He chuckles and twists off the top, pouring liberally into two tumblers; he is sure to take the glass smudged with fingerprints. I knock the drink back in one fluid motion and he doesn't hesitate to refill my glass, but he sets his own back on the table. Agitated by his nervous silence, I start speaking. "Tell me again why you wished to see me?"

"I apologize that the vice president did not inform you about our project but as you can appreciate, scientists such as ourselves have no say in matters of national security," he said, motioning to the around us "Besides. We have little means of making ourselves heard."

I clear my throat. "We? I don't believe I caught your name doctor...?"

"Miller," he barks and grabs my hand, giving it two sharp pumps. "Michael Miller. I apologize, my partner seems to have stepped out for a moment. He should be back presently. Tell me, have you been briefed on our project?"

I stroke my chin, guarded about revealing my ignorance. "Reports on your project have been...spotty. I wanted to hear it straight from the source."

Miller grins from cheek to cheek. He sweeps away a thousand lab notes from the table and offers me a seat. After an eternity of bumbling he finally finds what he wanted: a map of the continent. He spreads it before us and he leans forward, giddy.

"We're here," he breathes, tracing the eastern seaboard with his finger. "And as you know after our initial victory at Antithrombin, we lost a score of troops at Guadalcanal," he says, circling the large island south of the country. I grunt, noncommittal. In truth, I hadn't realized losses had been that bad.

"Let me cut to the chase. We have tens of thousands of troops waiting for deployment to China, troops your top advisors say we need here to break the Confederacy's back. But we're near completion of what could be considered the most terrible weapon in human history. With it, we could destroy whole cities." From his lab coat he removes a red pencil and, with practiced precision, he draws a broad circle with Beijing at its center, but with its edges extending as far as Tokyo and Hanoi.

I stare, at it speechless, then shake my head. "Madness," I say. I look up at him. "Madness, isn't it? Surely you're dreaming?"

"No sir," he says in a measured tone. "We're quite close."

A sudden stream of questions, both tactical and practical, snap to mind. Is it a biological weapon? Of a type, he explains, spreading a virus at an unprecendented speed given the close quarters of combat troops. Civilians? I ask. Regrettably, the cost of doing business he says. Containment? He gives a nervous laugh. "That's the final pieze to the puzzle. How to put the lid back on Dora's Box after we've opened it."

We debate the ethics and morals of using such a catastrophic weapon, allude to Prometheus and Faustus and the wise words of Gamble before mutually concluding it likely must be done. We have no other option. Twice during the conversation I lose train of thought and our talk seems like inane babble, but each time he offers another brace of scotch and I rediscover the thread in no time.

After what seems like days of discussion, I wipe my face and beg off. While I have not yet committed to using the bomb, we both recognize the dye has been cast. He offers me his bed, assuring me he'd just changed the linens that morning. I disrobe and he comments on the fine physique I hide beneath my business suit. "Though you have your critics," he says, "I think it's wonderful that one so young has been elected our leader."

Without opening my eyes, I say, "Perhaps, yes. Perhaps."