Bobby knocked on the door.
There was no response.
He knocked again, harder this time. Then shuffling footsteps came from inside, and the door opened a crack. Half the face of an old woman in her sixties appeared, her eyes cloudy and her gaze vacant.
"Water Department." Bobby held up a forged work ID. "We received a report that there's a problem with the pipes on this floor. I'm here to take a look."
The old woman stared at the ID for several seconds before slowly opening the door.
The room was dark, its curtains drawn, with only the glow of the television screen providing light.
A shopping program was playing on the TV at low volume. The furniture was old but tidy, and the air carried a faintly cloying scent—the same smell as the Leviathan samples in the lab.
"Where's the kitchen?" Bobby asked.
The old woman pointed to the left.
Bobby walked into the kitchen. It was tiny, with unwashed dishes piled in the sink and the faucet dripping. He crouched down, opened the cabinet beneath the sink, and inspected the pipes.
The pipes looked normal, but there were faint pale-yellow crystals around the joints. He took out a small vial, used a cotton swab to collect some of the crystals, and sealed them inside.
Then he stood and walked into the living room.
Mrs. Jansen was still standing by the door, completely motionless. Her eyes were fixed on the television, but her pupils were unfocused.
"Mrs. Jansen," Bobby said, lowering his voice, "have you been feeling unwell lately? Sudden dizziness, maybe, or your vision going dark?"
The old woman slowly turned to look at him. Several seconds passed before she stiffly replied, "No. I'm fine."
But Bobby noticed a subtle delay between the movement of her lips