The next morning, Figgel conversed with Mekkar and the lab experts across from me while Mazamu kept Uzmed busy in the Southie corridor. I could only pick at my breakfast omelet, stomach churning and brain hurtling.

Rekkan planned to search less easily-explained locations in the lab until 8:15 and then move to more realistic Fluffy-searching places. The rhombus clock in the middle of the cafeteria announced the time in neon green.

8:05.

For ten more minutes, Rekkan was in danger.

What if Rekkan returned with a false smile and new ideas about freedom? The thought of Rekkan losing everything that made him Rekkan terrified me more than an Overcooked toddler with gaping eye sockets.

Fennikk slid into the seat beside me and flashed a smile. Chocolate from a muffin smeared her lips. "Hi, Mister Zafaru!"

I fought a flicker of irritation; the urge to tell her to go away. Your positivity is interrupting my stressing. But it was good to remember some people retained their spirits. Some were worth saving.

"Hi, Fennikk."

"Where's Mister Rekkan?"

All three lab experts and Mekkar paused their conversations to peek at me.

"He's looking for Fluffy," I said. "She escaped her jar."

Mekkar widened his eyes and tucked his legs up off the ground.

Fennikk's mouth formed a circle. "Oh, no! I hope he finds her. It's a good thing your baby is tough. You two are pretty good daddies, but not as good as my mommy."

"I'm sure that's true," I obliged.

"She's actually a Supermom. One time, she drove a bulldozer through a horde of Implanted, and then she hurled a flamethrower at them!"

Mekkar's eyes flitted across the room to Serigg, and his prepared bite of food floated down until his fork clinked his plate. "Your mother must be very brave, Fennikk."

She jerked her shoulders in a no-big-deal shrug. "It's because she loves me too much. That's what she told me. When you love someone too much, you have no other choice."

On cue, Nikkla appeared at Fennikk's side and clucked her tongue. "Fennikk, I asked you to stay right with me until we figure out what's going on here."

"Fennikk was just telling us about how you drove a bulldozer through a horde of Implanted and then hit them with a flamethrower," I said.

Nikkla's lips twitched, but her eyebrows remained drawn. "There were only two Implanted, I drove a tractor, and I threw a stick lit on fire. Now come, Fennikk."

Fennikk rolled her eyes as she hopped up from the chair. "Whatever, Supermom."

As the pair retreated to their usual table on the Northerner side, Mekkar picked up his fork and straightened his shoulders once more. "Well, too bad Rekkan's not here. Particularly good breakfast today, don't you think?"

I forced a smile and stabbed another bite. "Yes. Perfectly cooked."

Would you cook your own nephew, Mekkar?

"Speaking of people not here," said Mekkar, "Did you hear about Ivogg? We found him in the miniature paradise this morning acting strangely." He nodded at the lab experts seated beside us. "These three lovely ladies brought him to Doctor Vizan in the infirmary."

I choked on a slimy bit of egg. "And how is Ivogg now?"

His heavy eyebrows scrunched like inchworms. "Well, something is definitely amiss. Hair loss, purple spots... and too happy."

I studied Mekkar's face. His concern appeared genuine, but did that prove his innocence? Or was he only frustrated his experiment was not going according to plan?

One of the lab experts twirled a blonde braid. "I'm not sure what you mean, Doctor Mekkar. How can someone be too happy?"

Mekkar sighed. "Fair, I suppose. I just hope we can figure out what's going on before Integration tonight. That will be stressful enough without added strangeness. And our infirmary is already full."

Another lab expert tipped her head, chestnut braids flopping over her shoulders. "Well, if we see any more shenanigans, we can always —"

She cut off with a gulp, and all three lab experts exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Then their eyes locked on the far wall, as if boring through to the room beyond. The lab.

Chestnut-braids addressed the other two. "Time to work, I think. Shall we?"

Copper-braids nodded. "Let's."

My heart leapt into my throat and muscles clamped tight. Breathe, Zaf. By now, it had to be easily past 8:15, and Rekkan was probably all done in the lab. I darted another glance at the clock.

8:08.

Seriously? What the fuck?

When the three rose from their seats, my heart caught in my throat.

"It's not time for Contribution yet." I internally winced at the squawk of my voice. "And you haven't finished your omelets."

Figgel nodded in agreement and shook a knobby finger. "You know what they say — when you waste food, you're rejecting Ether."

Smiles pinched their faces. "I hope Ether will understand, given we are on a mission for world peace."

Figgel blew a raspberry. "You have to leave because 'world peace?' What kind of an excuse is that? At least say you have to piss, or something."

Mekkar sighed. "Figgel, just let them do their jobs."

The could-have-been triplets turned toward the door.

Figgel snapped to her feet. "You want world peace? Watch this." Then she wailed so loudly that Mekkar ducked and covered his ears: "Hey, Mazamu! Get your bony ass over here!"

Mazamu's ferocious green gaze fixed on Figgel. "Sit down, you old bat, or I'll make you!"

Figgel barked a laugh. "I'd like to see you try."

The lab experts froze, eyes flicking between Figgel and Mazamu.

Mazamu popped up, supporting her weight with the shoulders and then head of the surprised Southie man beside her. She sauntered toward our table, clutching unsuspecting strangers for balance. Meanwhile, Figgel unclipped her bangles, tucked them neatly into her dress pocket, and rolled up her frilly sleeves.

By the time Mazamu reached us, hushed murmurs bounced around the cafeteria, and all eyes fixed on the pair of elderly women.

With a ferocious growl, they flung themselves toward each other.

They attacked like wild cats. Claws flew, screeches pierced the air, and teeth flashed. Skirts tangled, and fabric ripped. Around the cafeteria, cheers and jeers punctuated a crescendoing hum of murmurs.

Mekkar shot up and stumbled back a few steps. He pointed to the lab experts and swung his other arm toward the spectacle. "Well, what are you waiting for? Do something!"

The lab experts cut toward the scuffle. But just before they reached, Mazamu ducked past a jab and pressed her lips to Figgel's.

In a flurry of torn fabric, the pair hit the ground, Mazamu on top of Figgel. Kissing lips, kissing necks, kissing... oh Ether, that was something I never wanted to see.

Mazamu pulled back to address the gaping crowd. "What's the matter? You've never seen two old ladies get it on? Fucking ageists."

Three sets of braided pigtails swung left and right as the lab experts shook their heads. "But... you were fighting a moment ago."

"Ever heard of foreplay?" said Figgel.

"In the cafeteria? In front of everyone?"

"I was demonstrating a point." Figgel scrubbed the back of her hand over the lipstick on her chin, spreading it further. "This, my friends, is how you make world peace."

Stunned silence dissolved into laughter. Hands clapped shoulders, fists smacked tables, and tear-filled eyes connected on both sides of the room. Only the lab experts stood motionless, still staring at the promiscuous pair.

My eyes caught on the clock once more. 8:16. Alright, maybe evil grandma and crazy Figgel were not so bad.

Unfortunately, the cult of pigtails soon remembered their mission. In unison, they turned on their heels and paced out of the cafeteria. Fortunately, a pen slipped out of the blonde's pocket and clattered to the floor behind them. A pen, or as I saw it, an excuse.

I scooped it up and hurried after them.

As I passed through the doorway, I clutched the pen to my chest, my prepared excuse dangling from my lips. However, they trudged toward the lab without a glance in my direction. The copper-haired one flipped a plain gray card over the blinking red light, changing it to green. Just as she reached for the handle, the door swung open.

She blinked. "Rekkan? What were you doing in the lab during breakfast?"

"Looking for my pet. But don't worry — I found her." He lifted cupped hands and opened them just far enough for the nearest lab expert to peek inside.

She paled. "Oh, dear. Well, I'm glad you found it."

"Her."

"Right. Apologies." Then her eyes flitted to me. "Zafaru? Did you follow us?"

I extended the pen. "Yeah, you dropped your —" My eyes caught on the object in my own hand. Not a pen. It was a stick of concealer.

The copper-haired woman strode toward me, snatched the stick from my hand, and pocketed it. "Thank you very much."

I eyed the blonde who had dropped the concealer. She smiled back.

Rekkan nodded at me. "Alright, let's get Fluffy to her jar."

"Yes, let's," I said, voice weak.

On our walk down the Northerner corridor, the tromp of heavy feet at my side reassured me. Rekkan was still Rekkan. Whatever bizarre nightmare we faced, at least we faced it together.

Inside the room, Rekkan locked the door behind us, slid Fluffy back into her jar, and dropped in a moldy bit of cheese. Then he heaved an exhale and sank onto the bed.

I perched beside him with one knee drawn onto the bed to face him. "Well?"

He pursed his lips, and his hand slipped down to curl fingers over mine. "It's not good, Zaf. Things are worse than we thought."

"How so? What did you find?"

"Well, I spent the first ten minutes searching behind Door A. I found music recordings, books, movies... all on the topic of freedom and harmony. And there was a diary. Didn't get a chance to read much of it, but I got the gist. Said the Noble Forces were fooled into accepting the proposal because they thought it would help them conquer the South."

"Meaning whoever created the Implant did not share that goal?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. But according to the diary, the Noble Forces let the experiment get contaminated. Too many cooks in the kitchen, I guess. The author said for the next experiment, everything needed to be self-contained, with every contributor on the same page."

"And who was the diary's author?"

"No author listed, but the writing was the same as your mother's editor."

I drew a sharp breath. "So if we believe Mazamu, one of the lab experts wrote it?"

He hesitated. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Zaf, everything in the lab is in that same handwriting. And there's one other thing I found in that room. A supply box."

"What kind of supplies?"

"Mostly wigs... with braided pigtails."

Cold horror flooded my gut. "And the lab experts carry concealer. That means..."

He nodded. "There's only one cook in the kitchen now. Everyone else is his creation."