Marie paced the main room, the walk slow but steady. Sophie had been sketching something at the long table, but kept glancing at Marie every so often. There was no doubt Sophie saw Marie flex her fingers.

There was a part of Marie that knew Sophie was just drawing for spite. Sophie had to realize she wasn’t good at it. Sophie was just too stubborn to realize Marie was right. It wasn’t long before Sophie gathered her notebook and pencil and headed for their shared bedroom. Clearly Sophie didn’t want to be in the same room either.

The door above them clicked open and Marie glanced up. Charles and Alice were talking in hushed whispers before Charles climbed all the way down the ladder. Alice climbed about half way before she grabbed some things and began passing them down to Charles.

“What’s this?” Marie’s dad asked, appearing at Marie’s side.

“We smuggled some medical instruments from the S.E.A. to help Marie. Just in case,” Charles said as Alice handed down what looked like an IV stand.

“Is that safe? Wouldn’t they realize this stuff is gone?” her dad asked.

“No,” Charles said, a slight edge to his voice. “The hospitals at the S.E.A. hardly use this stuff. They have ten rooms set up for trauma response, and they’ve used it maybe twice in the past five years. They just trust us medical professionals to look nice. Not to actually help them. They go to other hospitals for actual help. No one will miss this stuff.”

“We don’t know what to expect with Marie, so we want to be prepared for anything,” Alice said as they finished bringing down the supplies. Charles helped Alice down, making sure she was steady on her feet before letting go. Marie followed Alice into the shared room. As soon as Sophie saw them enter, she left without a word to go back to draw on the table in the main area.

Alice went through the physical, checking her blood pressure, heart rate, and breathing. Marie admitted that the mornings were always harder, and Alice made a note. Alice checked her reflexes. She did a few tests on the muscles and joints in her fingers and toes before asking about her menstrual cycle. Marie opened her mouth to answer before she paused.

“I should be getting it in a couple days. If… if the omnitocsil doesn’t mess that up,” Marie said.

The pencil in Alice’s hand scribbled away on the paper. “There’s a very good chance it might. If it hasn’t arrived by our meeting next week, I want to know. Though, if it does, I’d like to know that too. Any chance you're pregnant?”

A loud, obnoxious laugh escaped Marie before she could stop herself. “Sorry, I know you have to ask, but no. Definitely not.”

Alice gave her a smile and a nod before jotting it down in her notes. “Tell me more about the mornings.”

As best she could, Marie explained about how it took a bit longer for her fingers and toes to obey her brain. How her joints seemed to click and creak before getting back to a somewhat normal range of motion.

“Do you feel any of this after sitting for a while?”

Marie hadn’t considered it, but realized there was a hint of it. “Not as bad as the mornings.”

Alice finished writing her notes and placed her pencil down. “I’m not liking what I’m seeing. At all. I’ve never seen a case of prolonged omnitocsil exposure in the human body, because it’s usually instantaneous. I’d like to do another physical on you next week to see how quickly it’s progressing, but we have a start.”

Marie swallowed. “I know my dad’s trying to find the cure, but is there anything I can do right now to slow it down?”

Alice rubbed her chin, lost in thought for a moment. “If you say the mornings are harder, then I’m under the impression that the omnitocsil does it’s worst work while you’re resting. Again, this is a completely new study, so I’m making logical guesses from the notes. As much as you can, stay active. Take notes on what’s going on in the morning. After you exercise, take notes on how you feel. If you feel better, keep exercising. If you feel worse, don’t exercise, and take notes.” Alice ran a hand through her hair, looking down at the papers in front of her. Marie nodded, trying to think of how she would stay active in a cramped basement, but she knew she had to try.

“I’d like your permission to share my notes with Charles. I think having two pairs of eyes on this would be beneficial.”

“Yeah, of course,” Marie said.

Alice nodded and stood up, then offered her hand to Marie, who took it. “And I’d like to tell your dad what’s going on too.”

“Yeah. You’d do a better job than me.”

Marie and Alice left the bedroom to see Charles, Marie’s dad, Tom, and Sophie chatting. It was so weird, Marie didn’t know what to think of it. Sophie didn’t often chat with the people in the basement. Her sketchbook was on the table, a horribly drawn plant and vase on one of the pages. Sophie was holding a photograph, squinting.

“I’m trying to remember, but… ugh, I’m trying to remember a lot of things and it’s just…”

“What’s going on?” Marie couldn’t help but ask.

“Charles managed to run my picture through the aging tech from the S.E.A.,” Tom said as he slid the picture over to Alice and Marie. “Sophie thinks she can remember him.”

Alice picked up the picture and studied it. “Can you tell the difference? Do you remember him before your memories were wiped? Or was it after.”

Sophie gave a soft groan. “I… I don’t…”

Marie glanced over Alice’s shoulders. She saw the picture of the older man and frowned. “Wait,” Marie couldn’t help but say.

All the attention turned to Marie. “Do you recognize him too?” Tom asked, startled.

The frown deepened on Marie’s face. There was something off about this picture. “I… think so.”

“Where? Was it recent?” Tom asked.

“I… give me a second,” Marie said, holding the picture back. She wouldn’t see the exact replica of this man, therefore some things were off. But she still couldn’t shake the feeling she’d seen him before. Or a version of him. Marie glanced up at her dad. “You didn’t recognize him?”

He shook his head. Sophie came around to Marie’s side. “Did we see him together?”

“We must have,” Marie said.

“Was it before my memories were wiped?” Sophie asked.

“No, I want to say it was recent,” Marie said.

“Then if it was recent, it had to be when we were hobos,” Sophie said.

“Hobos,” Marie said at the same time.

Marie let out a gasp. “He’s that hobo we saw!” She remembered bits and pieces of the conversation they had. They were eating lunch when they saw him.

Sophie’s eyes brightened with realization. “The one rifling through the trash! The one grabbing that clock!”

“I just thought his time as a hobo aged him, but he must actually be that old,” Marie said.

Tom frowned. “Impossible. President Arnold is looking for him. He wouldn’t be a hobo.”

“Maybe he’s hiding among the hobos without actually being a hobo,” Marie said.

Marie’s dad gave a slow nod. “Hiding in plain sight.”

Charles took the photo back and frowned. “S.E.A. medical professionals are encouraged to volunteer to help the hobos.” He glanced up with a smile. “Meaning I can get in there without causing any suspicion. I can see if he’s hiding among them, then offer to hide him here.”

“Better than hiding among the hobos. I have a bad feeling President Arnold will be onto him soon,” Tom said.

“What’s his name?” Charles asked.

“Nik. Nikola Tesla.”

Charles studied the picture once more before folding it up and putting it in his pocket.

***

Abe took a walk by himself in the dying light of day. The clearing felt different than anything he’d experienced before. There was no loud hustle and bustle of the city dwellers here. There were small shops and things like that to sell groceries, but no towering buildings. They worked hard for what they needed, and it was a very tight-knit community. So tight-knit that it didn’t take Abe long to realize he did not fit in.

Abe offered his services with farming, because they always needed weeders. The conversations people had, talking so openly about math and science, felt foreign to him. He didn’t understand many of the concepts and it made it even worse to blend in. His same story of needing to leave Musical Land because he knew there was something better in the clearings always tugged at the patriotic heart strings of his listeners, but it always sounded fake leaving his mouth. The clearing wasn’t better than Musical Land. He found himself aching for the comfort of the city, with it’s songs and art. He could never keep a conversation long, because he simply ran out of things to say to people who were passionate about different things than him.

His thoughts briefly turned toward Marie. Is this how she felt in Musical Land? Desperate to fit in, but unable to alter one’s soul? Frustrated at the lack of skill needed to feel like one could contribute to society?

Terrified one’s passions would be discovered and be placed in terrible danger?

Abe looked up at the dying sky. It had been a hard day, but he managed it. He had done some good things. Weeding may not have a huge cultural impact on the clearing, but it was important.

“Good evening.” The unmistakable voice of Josef broke through Abe’s thoughts. Abe opened his eyes, fighting every impulse inside him to run.

“Good evening,” Abe said.

Josef turned his face toward the last of the light. “Beautiful sunset, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.” Abe used the excuse to not look at Josef and instead toward the reds and golds turning into purples and blues.

“One of the supervisors came to me today,” Josef said as the sun completely dipped from view.

“Oh?”

“Told me you were telling stories at the farm today?”

With the sun gone, the warm summer breeze somehow didn’t feel so warm or inviting. “Yes. I tell stories sometimes to keep kids entertained. It’s hard, working in the sun all day.”

Josef turned toward Abe, the distrust so evident in his face Abe’s instincts practically screamed at him to run.

“We don’t tell stories in this clearing,” Josef said.

Abe frowned, and despite the warnings from Marie of the psychopath Josef was, he couldn’t help but wonder. “Why not?”

Josef folded his arms. “Because telling stories is something they do in Musical Land, and we want nothing to do with them.”

Abe’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as he tried to recall the story he told the kids who were complaining about the heat. “It wasn’t a made up one. It was a real story about an experience I had growing up. See, my dad’s a farmer and he-”

“We don’t tell stories in this clearing.” The warning was clear in Josef’s voice.

Abe swallowed. He forced his mind to calm down. “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

Josef gave the barest of nods. “Best go back to your house, Abe. With you coming out on walks every night, one might think you’re actually going against the clearings back.”

Was Josef toying with him? Abe forced his hands into fist to keep them from shaking. How did Josef know he went on walks every night? Abe was far too frightened to ask him about it.

Josef unfolded his arms and reached out to pat Abe on the back. “Come. I’ll walk you home.”

Abe’s mouth went dry. “I’d like that.”