“Ms. O'Hara,” the doctor spoke sternly, “I would have believed that you of all people would recognize the importance of tactical confidentiality.”
    “You mean you all meant to hide this from me!” Kit interjected.
    “This is not the time, Kit.”
    “It is the time because I say so! This is my blood we're talking about! You don't schedule that!”
    “I am the senior agent in this office, Mr. Xxxx.” Helena reminded him.
    “I don't give a damn if your God himself! How long were you planning to hide this from me?”
    “There were certain considerations that had to be addressed before--”
    “Indefinitely.” Susan looked at Kit with dead eyes. “You were to be killed before the issue were to arise.”
    “Wrong! Damnit, Susan, just don't talk for a minute!” Helena took a deep breathe. Kit didn't seem to be breathing at all. “Look, Mr.... Kit. Kit, we recognize that there was a risk factor associated with your lineage, but we have never planned for a situation to arise where it would necessary to... placate you.”
    “Kill me.”
    “No... yes, that's what I meant, but that was not in the plan, despite what Ms. O'Hara,” a stern glance, “may see fit to tell you.”
    “It seems to me that she's the only one who saw fit to tell me anything at all.”
    “It was for your own good, Kit. We had no idea how you might react.”
    “Don't you think that's my choice? I have a right to know! I might be the son of the most dangerous man on Earth!”
    “There's no 'might' about it.”
    “Ms. O'Hara, I have heard quite enough. Please leave this office right now. You may wait outside.”
    Sulking, Susan obediently left, slamming the door behind her.
    “In all my years as the head of this office, I have yet to see her ever behave in this manner. I apologize, Kit, I don't know what has come over her.”
    Kit sighed and slid into a chair behind him without invitation. “Is it true?” he asked meekly.
    “I'm afraid so, Kit.” The docotor sat in the chair behind her desk. “Before we stored his body, we drew some blood from Yorren. Using some blood drawn for the sake of a test done to you at the prison, we managed to establish an 89 percent likelihood that you are indeed Alan Yorren's son.”
    “That's... not really a certainty, is it?”
    “These things are rarely wrong, Kit. Science has come a long way in this field. I know you wish to hold on to some hope, but allow me to dispell that so you eventually move on: you are Alan Yorren's son.”
    “So, what does... wow, that's so messed up. But, I mean... where does that leave me?”
    “I won't lie to you anymore, Kit. You've shown some incredible ability. As you've seen, you are not the only singer in DED, but you are the only one with your kind of growth. Susan spent years to obtain her divining abilities, and your own strength nearly matches hers. I would not be surprised if, in a few years, you could see the future for years ahead... and even alter it.
    “That may come with a  cost, I'm a fraid. It's not 100%... nothing ever seems to be.... but we have established a pattern with the male children of Yorrenites... they typically become Yorrenites themselves. There have been exceptions, but... well, you are his son, after all.”
    “I just don't understand. This is so much to take in. Didn't you say that you were not counting on me to not .. snap?”
    Helena smiled kindly at Kit. “Kit, you are not the only one allowed to cling to hope. In fact, you might say that hope is what we represent. Different DED offices offer different philosophies, but here, we offer hope. There was once a world without these needless deaths. There will be again. It is out hope, our duty, to usher that world in.
    “You can be part of that, Kit. You have the potential to be the strongest singer the world has ever known, and I think, if there is any force behind the Yorrenites, they are probably quaking in their boots right now at the thought of you. You represent the end of all of this. You represent hope.”
    “Or I might just represent the end of everything else. What if Susan is right and I do snap? That ... man in the graveyard. He could sing just like I do. He could use that against others. If I'm as strong as you think, don't I pose a threat?”
    “Kit, where do you think a Yorrenite comes from?”
    “Wha... a Yorrenite is just a normal person under... not so normal circumstances. You taught me that.”
    “Yes but what do you think causes those circumstances? There are lots of theories. Some believe it's a disease. We even have a joke name for it: Yorrenitus. When someone calls into the office for a day off, we almost always hear 'Sorry, can't make it. I have a bad case of Yorrenitus today.'” Kit just stared blankly. “It doesn't work out, though. For one, a disease typically has a path. If you mark Yorren as the first victim of this supposed disease, then why is the second recorded Disasterstrike murder in India? We're not perfect, Kit, but no disease spreads that fast without at least a hint of a trail. We would have seen it. Besides that, we've been following this for over three years, and have yet to establish any pattern of transmission. No, if there is such a thing as Yorrenitus, it is beyond the scope of any disease recorded to date.
    “Perhaps it is genetic. The fact that many children of Yorrenites have turned out to be Yorrenites themselves certainly lends credence to this theory. But there have been enough exceptions to destroy that theory as well.
    “There are many more theories. Not a single one has become established. A lack of good testing certainly plays into it. The situation is just much too volatile for the kind of control we need. In the future, we hope to establish that control, but for now we must press on in the face of so much loss. And there is no doubt, this has been a great loss. Not only the deaths of the victims, but of those who become Yorrenite themselves. Those men were fathers and sons. They had families, hobbies, and jobs. They had lives. To be certain, their death is as meaningless as the deaths of those they have killed.
    “But I'm losing focus here. Would you like to hear my theory, Kit?” No response. “Very well. I don't believe that Disasterstrike is caused by a disease, or even by genetics. To be sure, family plays a huge role in it, though. No, Disasterstrike must be the result of one thing. It is a condition of the human soul.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Oh, I understand. This must all sound so abstract to you, and I understand your desire for certainty. Please consider what I am saying.
    “DED makes a point to investigate the lives of each Yorrenite we apprehend. Even as we speak, Mr. Warren, whom you met in the graveyard, is being run through a very thorough study. Not only his body or his records, but his life. His family is being interviewed. His employers, as well, all the way back to when he bagged groceries for a local supermarket as a teenager. We want to know everything. Did he enjoy his job? Did he love his family? Did his family love him? What kind of pets did he own? How did they pass away?
    “I've personally reviewed each case file. If you ask any other DED agent, they will tell you there is no common factor amongst any of the Yorrenites. I am telling you now that this is absolutely not true.
    “Inner strife, Kit. So very difficult to define. That seems to be the one theme of this whole case. Difficult definitions.
    “So where do I put inner strife? In the heart. It lies solely in the heart. There are people whose entire lives have been nothing but the result of loss, pain, and hardship. And yet these people can push on, face the most difficult situations that bear no hope, and come through with a good heart. Contrarily, a man can achieve easy wealth, own the nicest things, have the most beautiful wife. He will still not be happy. He may believe he is happy, but that does not always necessitate actual happiness.
    “In every case file that has sit on this desk, there is a complete life history. The only way it could be more thorough is if I were the person in question. And always, there is a hint of a bad heart. Always, there is desperation in their lives. Men who would sell their mothers for a dime. Men who beat their children. Men who beat their children because they were beat by their fathers. The list goes on. Sometimes there is only a hint, sometimes it's so obvious that even my boss could see it.”
    “This is a bit much. It all seems so vague.”
    “I don't blame you for thinking that way, Kit, and you stand with the majority by doing so.”
    “So, what would it take to create certainty?”
    “If you were to become a Yorrenite, Kit, I would know that my theory is wrong.”