Noah's POV
"It's the future."
His words hang in the air between us, another weight to the tense atmosphere. I can't stop looking at him, at the man standing across from me, dressed in wrinkled work clothes, lab coat flapping open, face pale and gaunt under the TV light. Can't stop looking and wondering when he'll laugh and tell me he's messing with me, or smile and say that he put some sort of failsafe in the chips so no one really has to be suppressed.
Once more, my hope leads me to nothing.
The Kieran in front of me is a man I don't recognize.
And that terrifies me.
I look down at the box on the coffee table again. The syringe. The little copper disc. The pills in their lined-up blister tabs. Their clean and shiny designs.
This is it, isn't it?
The thing they've been talking about on the news. The future Logan was trying to stop. The future Martin just offered his life to delay.
The Implant.
The Vir.
It's here. In my house. In my living room.
So close to Oliver.
