Thrilled to Death

by James Byron Huggins

  “I hope you understand my reasons for overruling you at the meeting, Dr. Frank,” he began, as if the incident were thoroughly settled and merited only the vaguest defense.

  Frank shrugged. Said nothing. He still felt as if he was in a state of shock, and he had no compulsion to tell Adler anything at all although he knew where the conversation was going.

  “I appreciate your concerns,” Adler continued. “Truly, I do. I am not an unsympathetic man. But you must have more faith in our ability to control the beast. The incident today was an aberration.” Adler’s confidence was completely unforced. “I’m certain that it won’t happen again. Especially with a few additional safety measures.”

  “Well, I’m not certain that it won’t happen again, Mr. Adler. I don’t think you even realize what we’re dealing with here. I don’t think anybody does, really. Except me.”

  Adler appeared unsurprised, even pleased.

  “Indeed,” he smiled, “and that is the reason I summoned you, Doctor. There is no need to remind you that I have only been with this project for three months, while you have worked on it for years. I was assigned to the island only when the creature began this remarkably successful stage of development and until then Dr. Hoffman was, ah, directing the operation. And I have not altered the line of command.” He waved vaguely. “I have simply added another level of supervision. Surely such a fantastic scientific achievement as this merits as much supervisory personnel as possible, don’t you agree?”

  Silent, Frank waited.

  “I want to know the latest data concerning Leviathan’s development.” Adler smiled. “I understand computers, but I prefer personal input from the source. It is an ultimately superior method for evaluating data.”

  Frank stared a moment, spoke rapidly. “Leviathan is now sixteen feet tall and thirty-five feet long with fifteen feet of that in its tail. Its weight is approximately 12,000 pounds and it seems to have reached its maximum size. Internal resting body temperature is 326 degrees without the temperature rise ignited by kinetic energy release for—”

  Adler abruptly lifted a hand. “Excuse me, Doctor. Explain this creature’s ability to release kinetic energy to me again, and the relationship of the energy release with Leviathan’s body temperature. I’m still not certain that I understand it.”

  A reluctant pause, and Frank spoke. “Leviathan has vertebrae disks that continually contract, Mr. Adler, building unreleased potential chemical energy in semi-muscular non-Newtonian fluid sacs located between the vertebrae themselves. The vertebrae sacs also contain high catalyst molarity enzymes and menantinic, an enzyme that increases hemoglobin levels and euthrocytes in the blood stream. When Leviathan releases the enzymes and they are absorbed by specific muscle tissue that is already at peak tension in preparation for the event, a chemical reaction converts the tension into explosive kinetic energy where—”

  “Like a dolphin,” Adler confirmed.

  “Yeah,” Frank continued. “Like a dolphin does before he leaps from the water. A dolphin stores kinetic energy in its spine and then releases it all at once, propelling itself forward with greater force than it could have generated by simple muscular contraction.”

  “Yes, I see,” Adler gestured. “Good. Go on.”

  Frank stared a moment. “But with Leviathan, the kinetic release of stored energy is electro-neural and chemical in nature and therefore highly exothermic. When the reaction reaches a critical stage it increases the creature’s surface temperature from its normal 326 degrees to slightly over 600 degrees in the first 76 hundredths of a second.”

  “Incredible ...” Adler muttered, looking away. “Absolutely incredible.” He focused on Frank. “But how does the creature survive such an intense temperature? I don’t understand this. How can its blood not boil at such intolerable heat?”

  “Water boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit,” Frank said, “unless it’s under pressure. And the more pressure the water is under, the higher the temperature has to be before it will boil. Leviathan’s blood pressure is approximately 300 over 270. So that’s enough pressure to keep the water in its blood from boiling or evaporating at 326 degrees. And any blood damaged by excessive heat shock is quickly being replenished with high doses of menatopoietic in the blood stream, which is regulated by the upgraded hypothalamus in the cerebral cortex. Besides, Leviathan’s mutated cellular makeup is altered sufficiently to place the heat vaporization point well outside of kinetic energy release parameters. The native cellular structure of Leviathan’s vascular system is almost equal to copper or bronze in tensile strength, so the veins and tissues sustain the stress pretty easily.”

  “Absolutely incredible,” Adler repeated, amazed out of character. “But surely ... surely when the creature’s internal temperature reaches 600 degrees during the ... ah ... ah ...”

  “Kinetic energy release.”

  “Yes,” Adler nodded, “during the kinetic energy release. Yes. Surely then the creature’s blood would boil. It would die.”

  “No,” Frank shook his head, “Leviathan’s blood doesn’t boil because the internal rise in body temperature only lasts a split second. And that’s not long enough to superheat its entire circulatory system. Although a split second is more than long enough for...”

  Adler appeared to struggle with his enthusiasm. “Long enough for what, Doctor?”

  Frank hesitated. It seemed to him that the answer was obvious, considering the purpose of the project. Then he decided that Adler had asked the question simply so he could enjoy the answer. “Long enough to launch an attack, Mr. Adler,” he replied. “Just like it’s neurally programmed to do.”

  Adler smiled. “And what is the speed of Leviathan’s attack?”

  Frank felt an internal distance from the discussion. “Normally Leviathan charges at approximately 95 miles per hour, using only its hind legs. We’ve timed its attacks from one end of the cavern to the other. But with the kinetic energy release, it can cover approximately 1,000 feet at 145 miles per hour on all four legs before it exhausts the catalytic enzymes and adrenaline in its bloodstream. Then it has to move at normal speed for the rest of the attack. But a peripheral danger of the kinetic energy release is that Leviathan’s surface temperature of 600 degrees will cause anything in its immediate physical proximity to burst into flames. Even if it doesn’t touch anything. The shock of the ambient temperature suddenly increasing to over 600 degrees Fahrenheit will cause all low grade materials to shatter instantly, creating a virtual sphere of destruction. There’s just... there’s just too much heat.”

  Adler’s eyes had widened. “And this ... this kinetic release of energy is what caused the fire we had in the cavern this afternoon?”

  “No,” Frank responded. Adler’s ignorance of the creature’s true potential was almost frightening. “Today’s fire was caused by Leviathan’s ability to ignite the carpasioxyllelene gel.”

  “Yes!” Adler exclaimed suddenly, before settling both hands again on his chair. He nodded. “Yes. That is it. Go on, Doctor.”

  Frank sighed. “At some point in the tenth week of development,” he continued, “when I was using the nerve-input interpretative stimulus to upgrade its central neural net in the cerebral cortex with tactical data and initiating automatic reprinting of echo-memory on new brain cells, Leviathan developed gel sacs in the roof of its mouth and the front of its neck.”

  “The carpasioxyllelene,” Adler contributed.

  “Yes. One of the sacs contains carpasioxyllelene. The other sac contains another organic substance, still unknown to us, that reacts with it. Alone, each chemical is useless. But when they are misted together in an oxygen atmosphere they become highly flammable and react against each other to initiate explosive combustion. By rerouting muscles in its neck to provide pressure to the gel sacs, Leviathan can spray both chemicals at once from its mouth. Just like a pit viper sprays venom from its mouth to blind prey. And, li
ke I said, when the chemicals mist together in an oxygen atmosphere they ignite. Explosively.”

  “How long can it sustain this combustion?”

  Frank hesitated, as if the question had never occurred to him. “I ... don’t really know for certain. Today is the first time Leviathan ever did it. And I wasn’t even sure that it could. I don’t even think it knew that it could until it tried. And I’ve been a little busy since then, so I haven’t run any computations.” He squinted. “But ... it looked like Leviathan sprayed the gel approximately 300 feet with a temperature of maybe ... 12,000 degrees. More than enough to melt steel if it’s focused for a few seconds.”

  Motionless, Adler stared. “Surely you overestimate.”

  Frank leaned back. An apocalyptic vision of hellish flames exploding against the Plexiglas shield passed before him.

  “Look, Mr. Adler, you really need to understand what we’re dealing with here. This type of chemical combustion is similar only to plasma arc welding. It produces extremely high temperatures. Sometimes as much as 18,000 to 20,000 degrees. It’s a type of welding used on high nitrogen metals that are innately resistant to ionization.”

  Not appearing to notice the slight, Adler continued, “And do you think that the creature can sustain the combustion long enough to melt steel? Or titanium? Or even a niobium-titanium alloy?”

  Frank shook his head. “It can’t melt niobium-titanium alloy. Niobium-titanium doesn’t even have a melting point because it’s created in a magnetic matrix where the molecules are electromagnetically converged to form a high nitrogen content. But 12,000 degrees can certainly melt steel. Leviathan has a capacity for about twenty gallons in each individual sac. With both sacs combined, that’s forty gallons of gel that it can utilize. That much gel will probably allow it to sustain a significant level of combustion at a twenty percent oxygenated atmosphere for as long as five minutes. But then the sacs would be exhausted and Leviathan would need time to regenerate carpasioxyllelene pressure. “

  “How much time?”

  “A couple of hours, probably.”

  Pacing, Adler turned away. “This is absolutely incredible. Truly, this is something completely unknown to science.”

  “No,” Frank replied, finding some pleasure in taking a little wind out of Adler’s sails. “It’s not unknown to science at all. The bombardier beetle in South America does the same thing. It sprays two chemicals that mist together to create quinine. And the quinine bursts into flames upon contact with oxygen. The beetle can fire about twenty bursts before exhausting itself, and scientists have known about it for years. It’s just that we’ve never seen the same external combustion process on this scale.”

  Adler walked to the side. He cupped his chin before turning back. “And is there any possibility that the creature will melt the vault of the Containment Chamber?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “But can it break down the doors? Is that possible?”

  Strangely, Adler seemed more concerned for the creature than for the staff. Frank was struck by the sensation. “Yes,” he replied, staring, “it’s possible that it could break them down. We never counted on having to contain anything like this.”

  “But we are taking precautions?”

  Frank nodded.

  For a moment Adler stared. “Yes? Can you continue, Doctor?”

  “I’ve replaced the oxygen in the cavern with nitrogen. Leviathan will sleep as long as it’s in a nitrogen atmosphere.”

  Turning fully, Adler dropped his hand to his side. “But... but will the creature not suffocate? Does it not need oxygen to breathe?”

  “No, Mr. Adler, Leviathan won’t suffocate. Leviathan has a lung capacity of 270 liters, almost equal to that of a killer whale. And it filled itself with oxygen as soon as it sensed the presence of the nitrogen. Just like it’s neurally programmed to do. Right now it’s gone into something like hibernation where it’ll stay until its epidermic sensors detect the presence of an oxygen atmosphere again.”

  “And how long can it survive in hibernation?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Adler tilted his head.

  “GEO calculates that it can go at least eight weeks,” Frank responded wearily. “But it can probably go a lot longer. Maybe as long as eight months. There’s no way to know because I’ve never had to put Leviathan to sleep in a nitrogen atmosphere before. But it will survive for quite a while. And, by the way, Mr. Adler, this brings me to something I wanted to tell you.”

  Adler looked unconcerned. “Yes, Doctor?”

  “I’m going to run the tests in a ninety percent nitrogen atmosphere,” Frank said, solid. “Even after we cement the corridors, I’m not going to give Leviathan enough oxygen to ignite the gel again. And we’re not going to give it enough oxygen to get its strength up. We’ll test it, but we’ll keep it weak. Maybe at a quarter strength.” He paused. “I’ll run the tests for you, Mr. Adler. But I’ll run them my way. I’m not going to risk the lives of everybody on this island.”

  “I see,” Adler replied, a touch of scorn. “And you will not move from this? You are insistent?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is your justification?”

  Frank leaned back. “We’ve known for some time that Leviathan had developed phenomenal strength. That’s why I never completed neural programming a full-blown Hunter-killer Mode. Leviathan was becoming too dangerous.” He hesitated. “Until today Leviathan never gave the faintest indication that it would attack the cell. But now the situation has changed. And we can’t trust that Leviathan won’t force its way out of the holding area. That’s why I’m going to keep it in a high nitrogen atmosphere. If Leviathan is not operating at full strength, it won’t be able to defeat the Containment Chamber.’’

  Adler was motionless. “But how accurate will the tests be?”

  “Leviathan will attack food targets as we put them out,” Frank replied. “It will be moving more slowly than it’s capable of moving, but GEO will do calculations of its speed based on the increased nitrogen level. So in the end, we’ll have pretty accurate estimates on how it would have done in an oxygenated atmosphere.” He nodded. “That’s the best you’re going to get from me, Mr. Adler.”

  “I see.” Adler smiled. “Yes, I see. And you will not be dissuaded?”

  “No,” Frank replied, staring hard. “You have to try and understand something, Mr. Adler. Leviathan is not supposed to be in full-blown Hunter-killer Mode. Which it appears to be in. It should not be attacking the cell or trying to escape. The neural programming for an absolute Hunter-killer Mode was never completed. This is the mystery we’re dealing with. And I don’t like mysteries.”

  “But you created the creature, Doctor,” Adler said, frowning. “You should not be surprised at any development at all. After all, the entire purpose of your neural programming was to bring the creature into a Hunter-killer Mode.”

  “But I never finished the Hunter-killer Mode in its neural network!” Frank reiterated, angry. “That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand! Leviathan is not supposed to be reacting this way. It’s not in its neural programming!”

  “Then why is it reacting this way, Doctor?”

  A pause, silence.

  And Frank abruptly bowed his head, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know, Mr. Adler,” he replied, calmer. “It’s got to be something genetic. Leviathan has always been genetically unpredictable.”

  Adler stared a moment. “All right, Doctor,” he said slowly, “I understand your argument. And you may have your way. You may keep the creature in a high nitrogen atmosphere in order to reduce its strength. I only wish you to complete the tests as well as possible under the current conditions.”

  Frank leaned back again, uncertain.

  “Please, don’t look so surprised,” Adler continued, smiling. “I am not an unreasonable man. I realize that this creat
ure is extremely dangerous. I probably understand a great deal more than you realize.” He seemed to enjoy his abrupt display of knowledge, as if it displayed his power as well.

  “I understand quite well, Doctor, how you used the electromagnetic pulse focused through the sphere to genetically alter what was once a Komodo dragon. I understand how the amino acids in the dragon’s dual-strand DNA chromosomes were molecularly altered by the pulse to replicate in a mutated form. Your formula to determine the amount of power necessary to accomplish the task was fairly simple: M equals £ squared times T-I.”

  He smiled, almost laughing. “M is the manipulation-mutation of amino acids in the chromosomes, £ is the electromagnetic energy pulse wave, and T-I is the niobium-titanium intensification required for enhancing electron transference. Of course each factor had to be perfected individually before it was inserted into the formula. But it is the combination that achieves the desired effect.

  “And to prevent current loss you used the niobium-titanium superconductors with a 50,000-ampere charging field. The current was stored magnetically in a battery thirty meters long and 3.5 meters wide, discharging an electromagnetic pulse echoed through the center of the sphere every 25 hundredths of a second.

  “When the dragon was three weeks old, cellular impact began on tissues—first with compressed air, then sand, then larger objects that caused a rapid mutation of high-tensile armored scales. And when the creature was four weeks old, you magnetically supported its regenerative abilities, enhancing endocrine systems and tripling the molecules used for mitosis, or healing.”

  Frank didn’t move. “It was a little bit more complicated than that, Mr. Adler.”

  “But of course it was, Doctor,” the old man returned. “I speak only in layman’s terms. Yet the truth remains. You gave the dragon a phenomenally enhanced healing factor, an ability to survive virtually any wound. At five weeks, the healing factor was permanently set and a computer-aided Neural Control Program was bio electronically installed. Or in other words, Doctor, you planted the seeds of the infamous Hunter-killer Mode, the instinct to hunt and kill every other living creature on the face of the earth.