“Good question,” Hosea said. “That’s the most confounding part. I haven’t had time to research the origin and spread. All I know is it has something to do with smoking hash.”

I thought of Jetson and the others, who smoked hash regularly. “Hash! But that’s impossible. So many more would be sick.”

Hosea nodded, his brow wrinkled in thought. “I’ve considered that. My guess is that only a few shipments of hash were contaminated. Or, perhaps the hash merely makes workers vulnerable to catching the fever, but doesn’t cause the fever directly.”

“Well, have you petitioned the Assembly? They could set aside funds to conduct research.”

Hosea snorted. “Cobane, the Assembly doesn’t care. Remember, for the English and Clayskin Senators, the purpose of the Kongo is to fulfill the food quota.”

“Well, then, the Record Keepers, or the Kongo Senators can—”

Hosea cut me off. “The Kongo Senators are just as worried about saving themselves as the Overseers. They’re not going to admit there’s a problem, and risk getting ousted, unless they absolutely have to. Besides, the current political fighting over the New Seed is overshadowing every other concern in the Assembly. No one cares about a few hundred Kongo individuals. What matters under the Niagara Compromise is the quota. We all only exist—”

“For the greater good,” I finished. He was right. The Compromise valued efficiency and abhorred waste. If the remaining Vine workers were able to meet the quota, then, according to the Compromise, the felled workers had been superfluous to begin with, useless mouths to feed. “Population control is essential to the perpetuity of the human remnant on Earth,” I quoted, thinking of the birthing control laws. “The old world was woefully overgrown. The Earth couldn’t keep up.”

“Exactly,” Hosea agreed. “Some even theorize that the hacker who planted the catastrophic computer virus was an environmentalist who worked for the old World Health Organization.”

I nodded. “I read something about that during my Silver Award research. So, what happened next, at Point Landing?” I asked.

“Well, we were achieving good results treating the young and otherwise healthy, but the older, more feeble patients invariably died. Eventually, news of the fever spread south.”

I shivered. “Don’t tell me. The news reached Voltaire’s Army?” I guessed.

He nodded. “As soon as they heard of the fever at Point Landing, they came to recruit. I guess they thought the fever would breed discontent with the current class system.”

Suddenly, I was angry. “Voltaire is despicable. Capitalizing on death? Using illness to further selfish aims? I wish the Kongo Guard could find the Army’s headquarters and blow it up, all at once. Then we could be done with it.”

“I’m sure they would,” Hosea said, “if Voltaire’s Army had a headquarters.”

My mouth gaped. “They don’t?”