He ignored his friends’ alarmed looks and merely focused on coughing over and over with as much force as he could muster. A dark cloud formed around him, faint and wispy at first, though the entire room soon came to be cast in a dark gloom. It felt strangely satisfying to expel so much dust out of his body, although the amount that was filling the air around him was beginning to get a bit worrying.

  Brian looked like he was about to say something, but Leah elbowed him with a dark look in her eyes, and so they just stood silently and watched Noah cough and hack like he was trying to throw up last week’s lunch.

  After nearly a minute Noah finally snapped his mouth closed with a final wheeze and smiled.

  “Sorry about that. That’s just one of our symptoms, I’m sure you understand.” He exhaled through his nose and dark smoke trickled out his nostrils.

  He could barely make out Robert’s shocked expression through the glass. Dust had drifted through the cracks around the edge of the partition and begun to fill his side of the office.

  “If you’re wondering if inhaling the smoke has gotten you infected with whatever we have, don’t worry! We’re wondering the same thing, since we have no idea what it is.”

  Without another word Robert stumbled to his feet and fled the room, leaving his chair slowly swiveling in a circle.

  Noah’s expression went flat as the receptionist disappeared from view, and he stepped back to slump into one of the lobby’s comfortable plush chairs.

  None of them said anything for a minute. At some point some poor student tried to enter the room through the main entrance, but they took one look at the ominous wall of smoke inside and backpedaled, retreating quickly out of view.

  “That was an interesting tactic,” Leah said eventually.

  “Let’s see if it works,” Noah said shortly. It would be unfortunate if the receptionist ended up getting sick, but it was better than them wandering around cluelessly and infecting everyone they came across for two days. Even if they restricted themselves to their dorms, they would still have to leave occasionally, and it would be difficult to convince Paul to exercise the same level of caution.

  Brian dropped into a chair next to Noah and dust visibly puffed into the air as the cushion compressed.

  “They’re gonna have to deep clean this whole room,” his friend said.

  Noah sighed. “Yeah, probably.”

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  May looked around. “I can't be alone in thinking it's a little scary how much dust is floating around. All of this was recently inside of Noah. We’re probably all carrying around this much dust inside of us. You’d think we’d be able to feel it somehow, but somehow I don’t feel sick at all.”

  Noah smirked. “Oh, and I could have kept going, too. I just thought this was enough to make my point.”

  “That we have some kind of horrifying disease?” Brian asked.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “How much longer do you think we should wait around in here?” he asked. “It would be kind of rude to just leave the room like this, don’t you think?”

  “Let’s give them ten minutes. They were kind enough to give us entertainment, after all,” Noah said, picking up one of the brochures off the table. He scanned the title, ‘Rhinopathica Pendula: What You Need to Know’, and laughed shortly. “Hey, take a look at this ancient thing. It must have come out in the first few weeks after the Wager appeared; it uses the old name.”

  Brian grabbed another identical brochure off the table and raised his eyebrows. “Well, would you look at that.”

  “I’m not surprised the name changed. ‘Rhinopathica Pendula’ hardly rolls off the tongue. Everyone probably forgot about the original name as soon as the catchy nicknames started popping up,” Leah said.

  Noah opened the pamphlet out of curiosity and, steeling himself, read a few lines aloud.

  “‘Rhinopathica Pendula (RP) is a newly identified disease that has prompted the medical community to reassess established paradigms of human pathology. The etiology and mode of transmission of RP remain unclear, with no evidence of predisposition across specific demographics. During the prodromal phase, the disease primarily affects the upper respiratory tract, with symptoms emerging shortly after exposure. Rhinorrhea is the sole confirmed symptom at this stage.

  “Within 72 hours of onset, all affected individuals advance to the critical phase. Approximately 50% of cases resolve spontaneously, with full restoration of respiratory function and no lasting complications. In the remaining 50%, the disease progresses rapidly, impacting vital organs such as the lungs, heart, or brain. This progression, referred to as the Fatal Outcome, is variable in presentation but universally results in death within one minute of onset. To date, no cases of survival following the Fatal Outcome phase have been documented.’”

  Noah looked up with a blank expression. “Well, they’ve got it all correct. Seems like no one’s made much progress since this was published.”

  “You would know better than us,” Brian said delicately.

  The door to the back office suddenly opened, prompting everyone to look over at it hopefully.

  A relatively young brunette woman stood framed by the doorway, waving her arm to clear the air as dust rushed around her to fill the sudden vacuum. She wore a white jacket that was a mix of a lab coat and dress shirt, and had a surgical mask strapped to her face.

  She let the dust settle in the air around her, still standing in the doorway, her eyes roaming around the dark haze the room had been draped in. At long last she made eye contact with the four friends sitting in the corner.

  “So, you’re the ones who’ve been causing Robert so much trouble.”

  “We need your help,” Noah said quickly before she could say anything else.

  “I can see that,” she said dryly. She turned and started walking away from them. “Follow me to my office.”