Sex with someone who had heard the rumors about his prognosis, however, would be a full-on disaster. It was a good bet everyone in the Fogg tonight knew what was happening to him. The last thing he wanted was a pity fuck.

And when you got right down to it, he wasn’t especially interested in sex these days anyway. He was living under a sword of Damocles, waiting for the last of his night vision to disappear entirely. It didn’t help that he didn’t dare let himself fall into a deep sleep. He was getting by on short naps, setting alarms so that he woke up frequently to make sure the glasses hadn’t fallen off.

There were other reasons why he didn’t want to sleep soundly. Deep sleep brought dreams, and in his dreams he was always on the verge of falling into the absolute darkness of an abyss.

He did not dare remove the glasses for more than a few seconds at a time. He even wore them in the shower. The doctors had warned him that every minute he spent with his eyes unshielded, the greater the risk of getting lost in the ghostly hallucinations.

“About time you got here. Where have you been?”

North turned and saw Jake Martindale. They were both on the same team of cleaners. They were more than colleagues; they were friends. He trusted Jake and he was certain Jake trusted him. Jake didn’t give a damn that North was the grandson of the notorious Griffin Chastain, a man believed to have betrayed his country. Sure, everyone else at the Foundation pretended the past didn’t matter. The sins of the fathers were not supposed to be visited on the sons and grandsons. But North knew the reality was that there were a number of people affiliated with the Foundation who questioned the integrity of Griffin’s descendants.

“Spent a little time at Area Fifty-One first,” North said. “Looks like the party is just getting started.”

“It is. Most of these folks will be here until dawn.” Jake raised his bottle of beer in a toast. “We did good work today, pal.”

“Yes, we did.” North clinked his glass against Jake’s beer. “So why are you drinking alone here at the bar? What’s the matter? Won’t anyone dance with you?”

Jake looked across the room. “I don’t feel like dancing.”

North lounged against the bar and followed Jake’s gaze to a booth that was occupied by a man and a woman. The two sat very close together, sipping cocktails. Grant Wallbrook and Kimberly Tolland were scientists who worked in one of the Foundation labs. Wallbrook was a smart, ambitious researcher with a lot of degrees after his name. North was pretty sure Kimberly was every bit as intelligent as Wallbrook—she had a few degrees herself—but she lacked the charismatic energy of the man sitting beside her. She was an attractive woman with serious glasses and a quiet, studious air. Jake had been secretly lusting after her for months.