The computer boots. Lauren touches the keypad, activating her secured access code. ‘Go ahead, Professor.’

‘Last night I received data back from the three Trimble 5000Ssi receivers we deployed at our new GPS control stations.’

‘So? How bad’s the subsidence?’

‘According to the USGS, everything appears stable, but as my grandfather used to say, “Something ain’t kosher.” The readings we received look identical to data I collected three years ago. Between me and thee, I don’t trust the new USGS director.’

‘Alyssa Popov? I thought you liked her?’

‘Grinding her and trusting her are two different things, and I don’t have time for one of your feminist lectures. Things are happening behind the scenes here in Yellowstone. There are factors at play that we can’t see, covert deals being made between the White House and other factions outside the government. Late last night, Professor Danielak and I decided to take our own vertical motion readings, along with temperature readings of the hot springs at the preselected areas within the Yellowstone caldera.’

Lauren hears Sam enter her apartment. ‘What do you need me to do?’

‘I want you to analyze the results. We’ll upload everything directly to your computer in the lab.’

‘But—’

‘Don’t worry, we’re encoding it and rerouting through a dozen other servers. Once you start receiving data, I want you to run a full analysis of variance, comparing subsidence with the results we took in the fall of 2030.’

‘Hey, Lauren, where are you?’ Sam bursts into the bedroom.

She cuts her fiancé off with a harsh glare. ‘You’d better hurry with that data. Hurricane Kenneth was officially upgraded to a class-five storm two hours ago. Winds are expected to reach super-cane proportions by Tuesday evening. If the weather net doesn’t slow it down, we may have to evacuate the city as early as next weekend.’

‘Where’s the eye?’

Lauren presses CONTROL-6 on her keyboard. The screen splits, the right side showing a live satellite feed over the Atlantic Ocean. Using the mouse, she focuses on a swirling white vortex, the eye of the strengthening storm clearly defined.

‘Kenneth’s 361 miles due east of Antigua.’

‘Still pretty far out. Where’s the weather net?’

She types in another command. A series of crimson dots appears off Cuba. ‘En route to Havana’s port to refuel from the last cell.’

‘Which means they won’t be in place until Wednesday. You’re right, that’s calling it close.’

Sam lies by Lauren’s feet. Playfully, he reaches his hand beneath her towel.

She pushes him away with a calloused foot.

‘Any other cells developing in the Atlantic?’

She scans the screen. ‘Nothing.’

‘Analyze that data. I’ll be in touch when I can. And Lauren, mention this to no one.’

‘Understood.’

‘Gabeheart out.’

‘Wait—what about my grant? The committee meeting’s on Monday.’