The man at the center of the five committee members has the face of a stately middle-aged white man. He could pass for a legislator. Remove a few of the wrinkles from around his mouth and he could be any billionaire whose name is stamped on the side of a small Colony. This is the hospital director, Dr. Jacob Towne. Perhaps the only administrator who has ever looked favorably on Ify’s career. Ify replays her interactions with him in her head, him noticing her high marks early on, as well as her aptitude for science and technology, noting the fact that she spent her extracurricular time away from those kids who played around or got in trouble neglecting their studies and instead worked on ways to make computers smaller and smaller while maintaining their processing power and then integrating them into larger systems of computing, something that could revolutionize the medical industry. Then, armed with Towne’s letters of recommendation, there were the internships, the formal mentorship, then her choosing the medical track in school with his guidance.

But, looking at him now, he has the demeanor of neither a mentor nor a father figure. He has the look of a judge willing to hand down a life sentence for what one would call a crime but others would call a mistake.

One of the judges to the left of Towne, a man the lower half of whose face is swallowed by a gray beard, leans forward. His information pops up on Ify’s retinal display. Dr. Mar, head of neurology. “So. Internist Diallo. I’m sure you have read through the reports.” He makes a face like he is scrolling through them himself. And scrolling. And scrolling. “All of them.”

“Yes, Dr. Mar.”

“Any initial conclusions you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” The slight joking in his voice grates on Ify.

She pulls up the report she prepared for this hearing. “We began our treatment by tracking down the earliest case of a patient displaying these symptoms.” She transmits a video file to the committee members, all of whom are cyberized. “Six years ago, a patient with these symptoms was deported to the island nation of Vanuatu.” At the raised eyebrows of several members in the committee, Ify continues. “At the time of that patient’s deportation, there was no island to go back to.”

“So, what then? What happened?” Dr. Mar asks. “Did we just drop the patient in the ocean?”

“There is no record of the patient after they left Alabastrine jurisdiction. Their whereabouts are unknown.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Mar strokes his chin.