Maddy gulped her coffee, and relished its scalding sting. “It’s still a boys’ club.” But, of course, Erica was right. Even in spite of the boys’ club fraternity she did have quite a lot of options available to her. But rumors of an informational black hole in Hesperia, Michigan, had piqued her curiosity. Mystery was Maddy’s nemesis, and she had be­come obsessed with knowing what they were hiding, or building, or dismantling in that dead power plant. Rumors had abounded in the halls of West Point—rumors that the Hesperia plant was housing some new Manhattan Project. After all, with the state of the world disinte­grating at such an exponential rate over the past year, there was no telling where the next threat would come from. Some even believed the plant was the entryway into a series of subterranean tunnels built for an elite few to survive whatever dark age they were all spiraling towards.

Maddy went up to the counter for a second cup, but was brusquely reminded that, among a thousand other things in the crumbling world economy, there was a shortage on coffee, and even Starbucks was rationing. She settled for some hot water with lemon, then, disgusted, dumped the whole thing into the trash before returning to her sister, who was craning her neck to catch sight of the departure boards, look­ing for a flight that might or might not actually happen. Her sister was headed to New York to some ex-boyfriend, who had decided that pigs had, indeed, flown and he was deeply ready for commitment.

“All those freaks on street corners proclaiming the end of the world finally got to him,” Erica had told her. “He probably just wants to get laid before it happens.”

Maddy’s flight was just a short hop to Grand Rapids, where she would finally be briefed on her assignment at the Hesperia facility.

“Maybe you get to babysit little green men,” Erica suggested.

“More likely gray,” Maddy informed her. “Haven’t the Roswell lunatics taught you anything?”