The Frediano Trial

Rent is late again. The notice on your door has a date on it. Two thousand dollars cash. Forty-eight hours. A “non-invasive neural mapping trial” run out of a locked basement because, according to the woman who called you, the government already tried to bury the work. Her name is Nieve Frediano. She sounds brilliant, broke, and a little too grateful that you said yes. You need the money. You sign the waiver.