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for the best.”
    Dr. Zielinski didn’t think I’d leave this Detention Center alive.  I barely kept my tears from leaking down my cheeks.  I’d always wondered about the expression ‘a lump in your throat’ and what it might mean.  I found I couldn’t swallow without crying.  A lump in my throat.
    I choked out another question.  “What am I supposed to do about juice?”
    Dr. Zielinski looked away for an instant. 
    “Juice,” I insisted.  “Transforms need juice, right?  Where do I get it?  I don’t see any Focus around here.  Where do Arms get juice?”
    “Mrs. Hancock,” Dr. Zielinski said, gently.  Now I looked away, abashed. 
    Reader’s Digest had written about Keaton and Arms once.  They were demons who grabbed people like storybook vampires, but they drained juice instead of blood as they killed their victims.  I had a vision of myself with giant canine teeth and red droplets hanging from their tips.  A lust of a new sort ran through me and I found myself looking at Dr. Zielinski almost in hunger.
    “You said Armenigar sucked juice from Transforms like a vampire,” I said.  “The Transforms died?”
    Dr. Zielinski sighed and scooted his chair backwards a couple of feet.  “That isn’t the best way of looking at it.  The people you need are Transforms who are already dying because they can’t find a Focus.  You’ll make their deaths a lot less unpleasant than they might be otherwise.  You don’t suck their blood; you’re not a vampire.  You’ll take their juice, a painless process when done by an Arm.  Taking their juice prevents them from going into withdrawal or becoming a Monster.  As you said, they won’t live through it.”
    “I’m not sure that’s something I can do,” I said.
    “Your choices are limited, Mrs. Hancock,” Dr. Zielinski said.  I heard rattling and squeaking coming down the hall, and smelled food.  A kitchen lady wheeled in a metal cart with the breakfasts on it.  Doris, her nametag said.  She gave me a friendly smile and started transferring the food to my bed table.  “It’s a hard decision you face, I know.  Yet, if you don’t take juice, you’ll die in withdrawal too.” He took my hand in his and I could feel his strength.  “Would it help if I told you that the other Arms have had to deal with the same issue?”
    “How did they deal with it?” I asked.  I took my hand from his and helped the kitchen lady arrange my bed table.  I dug in. 
    “It’s hard for all of them.  Mostly, though, they realize eventually there’s nothing to be gained by refusing to take juice.  Transforms without hope of a Focus are brought to Detention Centers like this all the time.  They’ll die here with or without you.  If you take the juice from them you continue your own life.”  He paused and gazed deep into my eyes, as if he was looking for something in my mind.  “One other thing: I’m a Doctor and Tommy Bates is an FBI Agent, but we’re also researchers.  Any Major Transform case, whether a Sport or a known type like a Focus or an Arm, is so rare as to be a potentially valuable research subject.  If you cooperate, you allow us to continue our research efforts on Major Transforms.  What we learn about Major Transforms is important, because without them, none of the other Transforms would live.  What we learn from you could conceivably save thousands of lives, Mrs. Hancock.”
    “Carol,” I said.  Dr. Zielinski blinked a couple times and nodded.  He made an impressive case, down to earth and inspiring.
    “Carol,” he said.  “Good to have you on board.”
     
    ---
     
    Dr. Zielinski was right about the food.  After an absurd six thousand calories I was still ravenously hungry and still over-stressed.  I spent the day in the lab.  Blood samples, urine samples, x-rays, weight, blood pressure, heart rate, monitors, eyesight.  Those I could understand.  Tests of strength, reaction time, and flexibility I didn’t