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far we've had ten outbreaks in the last five hours," said Jankowski. "And that's just in Down Below."

"What kind of outbreaks?" Zack asked.

"Fights, mainly," Jankowski replied. "We've found some people locked in their rooms, just... screaming. Same in the

Zocalo, Green Sector, the casino...We've given the worst cases to Medlab, to see what they can do with 'em. The rest we've got in lockup, but we're going to run out of room real soon, unless this stops."

Zack scratched his chin thoughtfully. He could already feel morning stubble starting to grow. "And all this started after IPX people lit up the artifact?"

Jankowski said, "Definitely," thinking that Zack was asking merely to establish a time frame. But even as he said it, the light began to dawn. "You think there's a connection?"

"I don't know," admitted Zack. And at this point, there was no sense in dwelling on it. He had to deal with one crisis at a time. "Okay, I want write-ups on every incident that happens over the next ten hours. Anything they say, I want it taken down for analysis. Maybe there's a connection, and maybe there's just a whole lot of full moons out there somewhere all lined up beaming bozo rays into everybody's brains ... but either way I want answers." When they continued to stand there, he clapped his hands briskly and said, "That's all. Good work, guys. Get some sleep."

They headed out of his office. Zack yawned once, but that seemed almost out of a sense of obligation, to acknowledge the hour more than anything else. He settled back, looked at the monitors, and drummed his fingers on the table.

He considered for a moment going to Sheridan, but he couldn't figure out what to tell him. Pointless speculation? How could some big, ancient hunk of artifact be affecting the behavior
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