“Fugue state? Huh.” Abner had never heard that term before—the scientists didn’t have a name for what he did, at least not one they told him about. He wanted to ask more, but Anderson had stopped in front of one of the offices, signaling that the conversation was over. Hopefully he’d get a chance to ask later.

The first thing Abner noticed about Mr. Miller was his unfamiliar uniform. Definitely not Enclave. Maybe not even American, judging by that mess of a first name. Before he could raise any suspicions, though, his eyes landed on the metal hand. At first glance he thought it was a simple prosthetic, and then it moved.

Whatever his superior was saying faded into the background as he stared at it, fascinated. He’d never seen anything like it before. Was it Enclave? There were other branches of the lab he’d never been to, brothers and sisters he’d never met, but the possibility of a working robotic arm had never occurred to him. He was almost jealous.