"I was doing genetic research at the Woodhaven Clinic, treating children of drug addicts. This was ten years ago, when neuroin first hit the streets. It was an impure form of the drug, not the engineered cocktail that became so popular among the more educated. All of these kids were born with severe brain damage; most died before the age of twelve. Those few, those precious few who survived, they had a gift. I call it a gift; for them it was more like a cosmic joke. They would wake up in the night, curled up in the corner of their room, screaming, clawing at the wallpaper. Because, when these little children, as they closed their eyes at night, they dreamt only of murder, over and over, one after the other. And it didn't take long for us to realize that the real nightmare was that these so-called dreams were about to come true; these murders were actually happening!"