He hands her an MRI of a patient no one can diagnose.

Maya looks at the classmate. Her vision blurs. A flicker—an image of the girl's lower right abdomen:

Maya: "It's not the brain. It's the heart. But not the muscle. The memory. He has a splinter from an old surgery. A fragment of metal. It's moving."

He types an email: Subject: Subject 4 acquired. Begin prep. Maya at home. She looks at her own reflection. She presses her hand to her chest. Her heart rate spikes. She sees something in herself she's never seen before—a faint, shadowy mark near her brainstem.

Liam smiles. Not warmly. Hungrily. INT. LIAM'S PRIVATE OFFICE - NIGHT Liam plays a recording of Maya's diagnosis. He rewinds. Watches her face. He's not reporting this to any hospital board. He's building a file.

Maya whispers: "Not a stomachache. Appendicitis. Twelve hours."

Liam: "Look at it. Tell me what you see."

Maya hesitates. Then—her eyes change. She traces her finger over the scan.