I caught up to her a few blocks away after a series of desperate messages. Her name was Margret Peyer, and I learned that she was a born and raised New Yorker - even studied American history at the city university.

Initially, her reception was cold, and all I could do was apologize again and again for the Department's treatment of her.

"You've got to understand," I said, as we walked the streets. "We get people coming in every day, claiming to know the cause of all this. Anyone with feed access and a little research can concoct their own explanations."

Margret shrugged. "Well, you're speaking to me now, right? That's all that matters." There was a moment of silence. I had expected her to be forthright with her reasoning, but she seemed unwilling.

"Okay, so... let me get this straight. You think that the bio-generator that was built for the Revival Bill was, what? Replicated? And now it's being used again against the city?"

Margaret shook her head. "No. Building something like that would cost billions. And the details of the device have always been kept under wraps. National security and all that."

I nodded. Things made sense so far. "So why bring it up? The theory sounds impossible."

She looked at me. "My focus of research is the late twenty-first century. I've spent hours and hours poring through sources that describe our victory over climate change. And while there's so much about how we've engineered life to adapt and improve conditions, there's just so little on how we've created that life in the first place." I must have looked dubious, so she continued. "I know your focus is on biology - you probably do understand all the little ways we've tweaked the plants and animals around us."

"Sure, but the kinds of things we do today are nothing like the Revival Bill-"

"Exactly! If the generator was so successful, why is it so classified? What happened to it? Why aren't we using one now, just to keep improving things? I've spent the last few weeks digging into the history, and there are some gaps - classified ones."

"So then this is a dead-end, isn't it? If there even is a functioning bio-generator, it would be under lock-and-key in some complex." I tried to take a different tack. "Margret, this thing is like the Holy Grail for biologists. And to your point, there are things that policy created that we don't know how they pulled. So like I said - if there was a chance it still around, we would have found it by now."

Margaret shook her head. "I think that's what you've been told. You want to know what I think? That the government just left it here after the job was done."

"What?"

"You heard me." She laughed a little. "They simply left it underground. Like buried treasure."

I didn't join in. In fact, I could feel my eyes narrow into a squint. "You seem awfully confident about that."

She waved me off. "Those articles I sent you were just the tip of the iceberg! There's so much out there that suggests the generator was buried with the rest of New York - you just have to be willing to look." Margret stopped shirt suddenly, forcing me to follow suit.

"I can't do this on my own. I need someone on the emergency team with the clearance for investigation. And this is a real lead to a possible solution. You can say no, go back to your building, and your colleagues. But it's been weeks, and you people have gotten nothing."

We stood there for a beat or two, saying nothing, staring at each other. This woman was vague and intense, but there were real connections here I couldn't deny.

"Okay. I'll give you my support for the day - since I wasn't planning on working today, anyway. But without results, that's all you're getting."

She nodded, taking off again. "Great. Let's get going."

"Wait! Where are you going?"

She looked back. "For decades, the old New York has been sinking right below our feet. There's only one way to access it all with as much freedom as possible. An entire network of tunnels, in fact."

I looked at her, incredulous. "You can't be serious..."

"Come on." Her voice was impatient now. "I'm not talking about the sewers - those were filled in. We need to head to the old Transit Museum."

"All of these entry points have been blocked off," Margaret said as we stood, watching a city engineer attack steel plating with a plasma torch. "And yet nobody questions it. Nobody even wonders why there's no more underground transportation, running sewage pipes." She had to pitch her voice hard to be heard over the sound of hot, screaming metal. We were back in Brooklyn now, standing in front of a walled off complex. Illuminated signs boasted future plans for the site, but it had been cordoned off for as long as I could remember.

"I get it now." I said, glancing around. "That's why you needed me. So you could get into these places."

She sniffed. "Well, not you, exactly, but the city's given your emergency team executive powers to investigate. There wasn't any other way I could have gotten a permit to get in." I nodded. It had been my official request to the Mayor's office, through Maurice, that had given us permission to break through the ancient wall.

I eyed the barricade cutting us off from what I presumed to be the abandoned museum entrance. "It's odd, though, don't you think? If the area below the city's been blocked off, why was it so easy for me to request access?"

"Because I don't think anyone in the Mayor's office remembers, or cares." She shrugged. "People have always ignored the past. As long as we don't alert anyone higher than that, I'm sure we'll be fine." I frowned. Wouldn't the government show full support towards a potential solution? But then why bury the bio-generator here, abandoned it in the first place?

I glanced up to see that Margret had stepped away; the engineer had finished the job, and there was not a large, smoking hole set into the wall.

"They should have just built a door," I muttered to myself, and moved to follow her inside.