PART TWO: THE ALTERED REVOLUTION
I have fought too many battles to remember. Killed so many men I can't picture their faces anymore. I could tell you what I had for breakfast last week, or the week before. It's the only meal we get these days.
-American soldier, January 3rd, 2068 CE
LISHA HURRIED CADE through the hospital's double doors. Two old men sat in the corner of the lobby, one with his arm in a sling. A tired-looking mother played games on a datapad with her son, who sported a shiny, bald head. Cade coughed at Lisha's side, attempting to hide his face behind her long blond hair. She wrapped her arm around the boy, steering him towards the front desk, where a nurse eyed them suspiciously.
"Hi," Lisha said. "My brother is sick. I don't know what's wrong."
She gestured at Cade, his already-fair skin paler than normal. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and his hands trembled at his sides.