I have no idea what a prion is, but Manny nods, saying, “It’s definitely an engineered bug, tiny machines swimming through our blood, undetectable by us. I think the closest human technology equivalent would be nanobots, but again, I’m not really a science guy. Anyway, the aliens who contacted us were a splinter group, philosophically divided from the majority on how galactic life should be treated. They argued for granting us sentient status—which would have made our world off-limits for harvesting—but when their government refused, they went rogue and decided to warn us on the down low.”

“Why couldn’t it be stopped?” Tanq said. “You had seven years to come up with a way to stop it!”

“Because the only material known to neutralize the virus is something not found on Earth or even in our solar system. You see, the cure itself is extraterrestrial.”

“Holy shit,” says Tanq.

“So, why didn’t this splinter group bring the cure?” I ask.

“They did,” Manny says. “As much as they possibly could without being detected. It’s rare, even where they come from, and processing it into a human-compatible vaccine was almost beyond our capability.”

“That’s why we’re alive,” Trey says, his voice almost accusing. “Somehow, we got the cure.”

“Yes,” Manny says.

“That’s what your ‘list’ is about,” Tanq says. “It’s people who got the vaccine.”

“Exactly,” Manny confirms.

“How?” says Trey. “How was it administered?”

“Flu shots,” Manny says. “You and Tanq might not remember, but you attended the same flu shot clinic on the same day—you, Trey, did it as part of an Ohio State football team initiative—remember all those cameras?—and Tanq, you received it as part of a community welfare program for low-income families.”

“I remember,” Tanq whispers.

“When our selected candidates came in, they got a special shot. A little extra.”

“I got a flu shot too,” I say. “But I definitely did not get your vaccine.”

“You must have,” Manny says. “Or you would be dead. I suspect you accidentally got a vaccine meant for someone else. Which worked out fine; I think you are a stellar candidate.”

“Wait,” says Trey. “Candidate? You’re saying you chose who lived and died?”

Uncomfortable silence settles heavy over the table.

“There was no other way,” Wyatt says softly. “Each vaccine cost . . . tell them, Manny.”

“Wyatt is correct. We had limited time and resources. Each vaccine cost hundreds of millions of US dollars. Well, first we had to create a secret facility to manufacture them, which alone cost 3.2 billion. Then we made as many as we could, every single year, until our informants in the splinter group told us it was time to deploy.”