Chapter Thirteen
I see Gina’s brow furrowed in deep thought as she makes her tea, so I don’t interrupt. She pours herself a cup, then offers me one as well, which I decline. After resuming her seat and taking a few cleansing sips, she faces me. “There’s really not much in the way of details that I can tell you,” she says, keeping her voice low. “Most of what you’ll find on the Internet is unsubstantiated garbage. But there is a branch of the government, the National Security Agency to be more specific, who is tasked with the registration and monitoring of Specials.”
“The NSA? For reals?” I ask.
“Yup. I don’t remember what the name of this office is called—I mean, it’s not like they advertise, they don’t even have a website—but most Specials just call it ‘The Agency’.”
My internal paran
