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its soul, in its mind, in its spirit – and Phoenix walked through it determined to be untouched by it, keeping his head down, refusing to even look at the signs it wore – red lit signs, signs that might have been Satan’s calling cards designed to inspire desire and hunger.  Another gust, cold for March, whistled through the city, whipping the dust and garbage from the curb, sending it straight into his face. 
    He rubbed his eyes and then put his hands in his pockets.  His hand felt the crinkling of paper.  It was a note.  He’d found it there thirty minutes earlier, just after putting Albin, or what was left of Albin, down.  How it got there he didn’t know, but it said:  YOUR WIFE IS MISSING.
    Phoenix swung into action the moment he’d found the note, leaving Detective Alaia Jenkins to deal with the mess in the NPD lab, and he called the healthcare facility.  One of the nurses had assured him on the phone that, yes, Mrs. Tracy Malone was still in room 304 and that she hadn’t been moved.  But, the nurse had also said, a few complications had been discovered that morning.  She advised him to come in as soon as possible. 
    Phoenix hesitated when he reached the front door of the healthcare facility.  He stood, motionless, on the old marble steps, assailed by his conscience for his recent marital indiscretions.  He stared at the tall mahogany doors, remembering that a week had passed since he’d last visited Tracy.  He’d told her he’d visit her every day – back when she was still alert and coherent – and he’d kept his word to her faithfully over the last few months. 
    Still on the tail end of an Oblivium ride, but just barely, Phoenix thought he could still cope.  Intellectually, he knew he’d done her wrong.  Emotionally, he made it a point to not care; but his efforts at being indifferent only reinforced his depression.  He opened the door and stepped into the foyer with every intention of rushing straight to Tracy’s room.  But Dr. Elkins was standing in his way with a computer tablet in his hand.
    “Glad to see you, Mr. Malone,” Dr. Elkins said in a calm, steady voice.  He motioned towards the bank of elevators off to the right and motioned for Phoenix to follow.  “It seems that, though Tracy’s body is very much alive, which is – wow, we don’t know why – she’s showing no brain activity at all.  It’s all a complete reversal of what she has been doing this last month.”
    Phoenix’s countenance darkened, and the lines in his face, showing early for someone his age, seemed to increase.  The dim, overhead lights cast long shadows in the lobby and even blacker ones in his mind.  A seizure of despair seemed to squeeze him, and he felt his heart, or what was left of it, beating in every square inch of his body, from his temple to his feet.  And he felt the pain of Dr. Elkins’ news stab him like somebody using a hammer to drive a thirty-eight bullet casing into his skull right between his eyes.  “What do you mean when you say her body is … is very much alive but that – what did you say? – that she’s now brain dead?  How could that---?”
    The elevator chimed, the doors opened, and Dr. Elkins put his hand on Phoenix’s shoulder and led him into the elevator.  “We’ve got some people coming to look at Tracy, and I’ve already done some preliminary tests.  It’s all very, very exciting.”  Dr. Elkins reached into the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a peppermint candy, the striped kind.  “Would you like one?”
    Phoenix shook his head, temporarily disconnected from the unreality of having heard the doctor say “exciting” and having had a piece of candy offered to him.
    “Now, what you’re about to see is – well, let me say that I am completely amazed,” Dr. Elkins said, clutching his tablet tightly against his chest.  “Tracy is starting to move in her bed.  Small jerky movements.”
    Phoenix looked away from Dr. Elkins and