Two years passed.
I stood on the island’s highest cliff, above the place where our camp had been. A complex of glass and white stone now covered the muddy clearing. The former broadcast area held a landing pad, an emergency pharmacy and a weather station. The wind carried salt and antiseptic from the open medical wing.
The main building housed the Sterling Global Chronic Disease Emergency Network. Its long-range rescue helicopters carried refrigerated medication, portable diagnostic equipment and crews trained for chronic-disease emergencies. They could reach patients far beyond ordinary emergency routes and coordinate with hospitals while still in the air.
Wind blew my short hair across my face. I had cut the bob even shorter the day after the verdict. In the control tower glass, I saw
