"How long do we keep her like this?" Helen asked. She didn't know if it was the NoDoz or the novelty of the situation, but she felt more alive now than ever before. She knew some of the other nurses used Desoxyn, a methamphetamine, to stay alert. Some even got addicted. She'd seen it play out and was too terrified to try it—scared she might like it. But they all described a euphoric sense of feeling more alive. Seeing more. Smelling more. Feeling more. And that's what Helen was feeling at the moment. She could see the appeal.

"It's hard to tell," said Dr. Fernandez. "We want to make sure enough of the poison has been neutralized for her to survive the thaw. But the longer we keep her like this, the harder it will be for her to come out of."

"Jesus."

"I guess we're just going to wait until we can't hold out anymore."

This was the doctor Helen had been waiting for. The doctor who relied on instinct and creativity rather than statistics and computer screens. Helen had hope again. Hope for humanity's future. She'd been so close to losing that.

"Page me when that feeling comes. I'm going to do my rounds."

"You should go home. Get some rest."

"I can't miss this. We're making history."

Helen smiled, and Dr. Fernandez smiled back. Helen felt like she was walking on pillows. She ducked her head into Mr. Jones's room to check up on him.

"Hello, Mr. Jones. How are you feeling this evening?"

He was sitting up in his bed, typing furiously on his laptop.

"I've been saying all day that I'm fine. I'm feeling fine now. I'm ready to go. Please, can I be discharged now?"

Helen checked his vital signs. The machines weren't hooked up.

"What's wrong with the machines? Why aren't you hooked up?"

"I don't want any medicine. The doctors say I need to stay for observation, but I don't want to be observed anymore. Can't I go home?"

Helen pulled the stethoscope from her neck. She didn't mind that the computers were disconnected. She liked checking blood pressure the old-fashioned way, anyhow.

"What's the big rush? You've been seriously injured. You need time to recover."

"I can get better at home."

She released the pressure on the cuff slowly and watched the seconds tick by.

"Well, I can't deny that your vitals are strong, and you seem to be recovering well. Given the recent turn of events, it might even make more sense for us to discharge you. I'll talk to the—"

"What turn of events?"

"Nothing. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"No, tell me. What's happened?"

"I am not allowed to say anything. Patient confidentiality."

"So someone is here? Who?"

Helen blushed and threw the stethoscope back around her neck.

"I'll talk to the doctor and get back to you about being discharged. Maybe as soon as tomorrow morning."

"Is it Luna? Is Luna here? Is she okay? What happened to her? You have to tell me. It's incredibly important. I need to talk to her. Take me to her."

"I've said too much. Please, Mr. Jones, relax. I'll speak with the doctor. Stay still, and I'll be right back."

Helen rushed from the room and stood outside the door, breathing heavily. Her heart was racing, and her throat hurt. The veil of fatigue was falling over her again. She was making mistakes. She needed rest. Just one last thing to do before she could call it a night.

She felt clammy. Her eyelids were like rocks. She couldn't catch her breath. Helen walked over to Ms. Moore's room. She just wanted to check in one more time before giving up. At this point, she wouldn't even be able to make it home. She decided she would crash in the equipment room. It wasn't like Grey's Anatomy here; employees weren't allowed to sleep in the hospital. But one of the residents had snuck in a cot. Hopefully, nobody was in it already.

Helen couldn't believe her eyes. She rubbed them together. Hard. It couldn't be. Maybe something had changed. Maybe she was in the wrong room.

"Where's Ms. Moore?" she yelled.

No answer. She walked out of the room and back to the nurses station. She caught Jordan watching something on YouTube. He noticed her, clicking frantically on the screen until it turned into a spreadsheet.

"Hey, where's Ms. Moore?"

"Discharged an hour ago."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No."

"How'd she get home?"

"Yellow cab."

"We don't discharge people at night."

"Dr. Fernandez said we needed the bed."

Helen's breath became shallow and rapid. Her eyes began to flutter.

"Helen? You don't look so good."

She swayed, giving in to the overwhelming darkness.