Ammonium carbonate.

I sputter and gasp and realize my eyes are open.

I’m looking at a young man in military garb, who withdraws the vial of smelling salts.

“He’s up,” says the soldier. “Sir!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, that’s not …” I manage.

“Sir, are you all right?”

I lift my head. I’m halfway inside an Army Aggressor— another one? Outside is a depressing-looking stretch of elevated road. A bridge, I’m on a bridge. A couple other soldiers stand around, looking tired.

“Sir, do you have a medical condition we might need to be aware of?”

I look at the boy. Earnest and black.

He’s me, before the Devil stole my soul.

“I … take medication.”

“Sir, you lost consciousness. Do you have a specific medical condition that you can relate to me so we can better help you? What is the medication for?”

“It keeps my heart from exploding.”

The kid looks at me quizzically. “Sir, are you saying you have a heart condition?”

“No, I ran out of med—”

“Washington,” says another soldier from the front of the vehicle. “Wanted on the ’com.”

“Sir, just relax and remain where you are. Okay?”

I nod. The soldier ducks his head and climbs into the front of the vehicle, puts on a wireless headset. “Washington.”

I glance at the roof of the truck. Metal crossbars forming … crosses.

“Yes sir, we have him here.”

Pause. I hear a helicopter, it’s far off. Or I imagine I hear a helicopter. Always, always with the helicopters.

“He mentioned medication.”

Pause.

“Administer what now, sir?”

Pause. I check for my key, it’s there. A constant.

“For a heart condition?”

Long pause. I fumble around … There’s the briefcase, thank God.

“Okay … Right … I see … Okay … Yes sir … That’s right … Not a problem, sir … Yes, just a moment.” Washington climbs back to my area, says to me, “Sir, as it happens, we have some of your medication on hand, right here, so you can relax and I’ll prepare that for you.”

He extends the headset. I have to admit the flood of relief I feel in my stomach is enough to perk me up a bit. They’ve got my stuff. Everything’s going to be fine. I put on the headset.

“Hello.”

“Decimal, you goddamn freak,” says the DA. “I hope you have. Some kinda fuckin overarching plan. That is obvious only to you. Cause you’re so fuckin brilliant.”

“If you’ll let me explain—”

“And Decimal. What. The fuck. Are you doing. In the fuck-ass borough of Brooklyn?”

I close my eyes. “I’ve been asking myself that very question, sir.”