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man in GenoTec garments came waddling toward him carrying a tray. “Baldy” took a small, metal vial from his henchman and raised his eyebrows. The vial was partially covered by glass on one side, letting everyone see a shimmering orange liquid.
    “ This , ladies and gentleman,” he held up the small tube, “ this is what you have all been waiting for. This ,” he glanced around one last time before he said, “is a cure .”
    The crowd erupted into whispers, gasps, and confused looks.
    What did he just say?
    A huge burst of energy pulsed through me like a fireball and I decided I needed a better view. I didn’t make it far, though. I was dealing with thousands of desperate victims. No one was going to give up their spot.
    Slate motioned for silence. “I know what you’re thinking. I know exactly what is going through your minds.” He looked at the tiny bottle and then returned his gaze. “Would I pull all of you here just to fail you?” His voice cracked a little.
    “This better not be more ‘pods, Slate!” shouted someone from the crowd.
    “Let ‘im talk!”
    “Shut up and let him talk!”
    “Yeah! Those Medpods suck!”
    “So we finally get the same perks as the Sterile’s?” sprayed another member of the now unruly collection.
    Slate raised one eyebrow and unscrewed the vial. He pressed a button on his mask and it released a valve on the left side of his “mouth.” He put the vial up against the valve and it drained into the mask. His Adams apple jolted.
    The crowd fell silent.
    All eyes focused on the CEO. He took a sweeping glance over the crowd, then discarded his coat to the ground. The armor-like plate only covered his chest and abdomen, exposing two rock solid arms. On one of his bowling ball-sized shoulders lived an algae colored, crusty splotch. It consumed most of his deltoid, and trickled down his tricep. He looked at it, smiling underneath the mask, waiting for something to happen.
    After about three minutes, we saw the splotch start to change color. Green turned to faint amber, and then a bluish hue. Ten seconds later, he wiped away some of the brittle growth, and I watched as the flakes sprinkled like snow.
    No way. That’s blood!
    Blood was seeping back into the patch of dead life, and it almost looked . . . normal. Normal. I instinctively felt for one of the scabs on my chest. Is this really happening? The crowd exchanged skeptical looks for half a second.
    Then the tumult broke. People turned into animals: pushing, shoving, and clawing to get to the podium. I found myself hammering my way amongst them, keeping my eyes on Slate. He let the crowd fight toward the stage; he had to be grinning underneath that mask.
    He grew tired of the game and stepped back to the microphone, taking a long, deep breath. He reminded me of an old movie my parents used to love; some guy in a black helmet, breathing similarly.
    He motioned for the crowd to settle down, and we did, like trained pets.
    “This vaccine finds the largest blood deprived area in your body and restores genuine flow to your vessels. This is the first step to complete and total inoculation. And now that you’ve seen its magic, who wants to be the first to try it on themselves?” He stood back as his bodyguard handed him two vials filled with the orange liquid.
    I was too busy groping for a vial; I didn’t realize how cruel these games were.
    The crowd continued to sustain their screams. Some people even tried to climb the stage, but were pushed back by the Volunteers. I could tell the bald man was getting impatient with us. He looked back and shrugged to his assistants, stepped up to the edge of the stage, and lobbed both of the vials into the air.
    Chaos ensued. People were throwing themselves. One after another they fell on their faces, lunging for their survival. I couldn’t blame them though. I mean, a cure ? The word alone was taboo, too holy to be spoken without flickering eyes or turned heads.
    Finally, there was an