9 Tales From Elsewhere 12

by 9 Tales From Elsewhere

  Despite this emotional void, Matthew played the part and gave a simple answer.

  “Thus far, I have always been able to handle whatever life has thrown at me.” Matthew said.

  “Good, I do not doubt you Matthew. You have a remarkable sense of composure,” said Dr. Derosa. He then continued.

  “It’s just hard to emphasize with words how great and powerful this research will be. This is very hands on work. Your job title is officially documented as lab assistant, but hell, you'll be doing much more than assisting, son. Your team will be working on direct modifications of extreme lethal and contagious pathogens. “

  Dr. Derosa paused, launching a dead lock stare on Matthew- perhaps trying to sense a weak link somewhere.

  He continued.

  “Look, I’m not cutting any corners when I say you will be directly altering, mixing and matching a very infectious pathogen’s genetic make-up, or genome, to enhance its potential capability as a catastrophic biological weapon….. The Spanish flu, which I’m sure you have studied, killed between 50 and 100 million people during its 1918-1920 epidemic run. Granted medication was light years away in development, which we know accounted for the many millions that died. But… The fact that the Spanish Flu is a combination of two viruses has always intrigued, yet concerned researcher…

  “Matthew... let me ask you something... Two viruses infecting the same cell, very rare, a freak of Mother Nature, right?”

  He did not wait for an answer from Matthew before continuing.

  “It was! But now it’s 2014 and humans, as well as mother nature, can create a medical epidemic like a Spanish flu... at will…..And were taught that terms 'Freak' and “weapon” are negative terms Matthew, but your job is to look at the flipside of both, that is- a freak is also beautiful because it is rare. And a weapon can also save millions of lives.”

  Matthew knew Dr. Derosa had been assuming throughout the conversation that, like the vast majority of humans, Matthew had a decent conscience and was empathetic. And that an assignment to create a 'freak weapon', one capable of wiping out an entire country, or perhaps humanity itself, would cause Matthew to fold on such an offer. What Dr. Derosa did not assume(and why should he, after all he was supposedly dealing with a brilliant sophisticated medical student) was that Matthew had a freak encounter with a dog and a man who implanted something in his ear; and ever since has had, speaking of freaks, gradually developed the characteristics of being one himself.

  It was freakish how Matthew’s level of intelligence began to skyrocket at the age of eleven. Then, his junior year, his freakish behavior took a deep dive towards the negative side of the term. Matthew locked himself in his room on weekends reading everything and anything on infectious diseases- What caused them? What did the bodies look like? Which symptoms caused the most pain and suffering?

  His mom was his only family and she was gone most weekends visiting her boyfriend 2 hours away. How could she notice these negative changes in her son?

  However, I think most would agree, he was treading the waters of psychosis his senior year when, sick as a dog with the flu, Matthew injected his pet cat named 'Mengele' with a full cc of his own infected blood.

  Matthew cut in reassuring Dr. Derosa. His voice very calm.

  “Doctor, I have no doubts about my assignment.” His lips curled into a grin- “My perspective of the job is that I'm helping in the advancement of medical knowledge. You don’t have to dance around your words Dr. Derosa, because I do feel that altering a disease can, in some cases, be beneficial to mankind.”

  Dr. Derosa lost his train of thought, taken far aback by Matthew’s reaction to everything he had spilled out in the last hour. He knew Matthew was on board.

  “Well that’s the attitude were looking for Matthew! And ya know we could sit here for hours discussing minute details about your on the job routine, but, again, it’s a learn-as- you- go situation.

  The doctor then paused and gave Matthew that look. The one people make for a split second when they want to say what is on their mind, but they’re not sure they can trust you (yet 9 of 10 times they tell you anyway.) He raised his eyebrows. The stress lines on his forehead were deep and prominent.

  His voice lowered and he caved in.

  “I do want to brief you on another recent project I spear headed. I named it SARS-COMBO-21. And I sure hope old man Rockefeller isn’t turning in his grave over this one,”

  Dr. Derosa chuckled nervously.

  “Matthew, we've mutated 2 of the SARS virus’s genes.”

  His voice faded almost to a whisper, brimming with conscious guilt.

  “This project was so hush-hush that two separate teams of scientists were involved- one unaware of the other. Both teams were given either of two genes to manipulate. My team was located here, the other…. somewhere in the mid-west. Any necessary communication was mediated through military middlemen of whom I had no part

  Doctor Derosa leaned over the table, inches from Matthews face.

  “The team of scientists and doctors I worked with mutated gene 1. The result... we manipulated the incubation period of the SARS virus to EXACTLY 21, not 2-7 days…. The math is simple Matthew. A person or animal can become infected and spread the virus while being asymptomatic for an extra 19 days, thus infecting 1000's of others before so much as clearing their throat..”

  Matthew didn’t blink or say a word. He was fascinated.

  Dr. Derosa sat back in his chair and pushed his hands forward in front of his face, palms up, pushing away an invisible blame.

  He continued-almost venting.

  “Now, the tampering of the second gene by the other team, I had nothing to do with Matthew. He shook his head, an exaggerated ‘no’.

  “I DO NOT know how and I DO NOT care! ...Rumors are that they spliced it, but who knows... I being the head of all this, was informed of the final result.”

  Again, he leaned across the table. The Doctor’s pale blue eyes, now somewhat glassy, locked with Matthew’s. His words tumbled from his lips, slow and thick, full of remorse...

  “Imminent death! 3-5 days from the first symptom. Whatever they did to that gene it souped up the entire virus like a tiger on steroids. One of the deadliest just made deadlier- an unstoppable fucking monster, Matthew…. The speed and strength at which the virus latches onto and multiplies, within the cells of a host’s respiratory tract... The poor bastard won’t know what hit by the first symptoms….”

  Doctor Derosa grimaced, slowly shaking his head from side to side.

  And any natural antibodies humans carry do not stand a chance to fight this entity. It’s a great white pouncing on a baby seal…. Bottom line, by altering these two genes, both teams re-engineered the SARS Virus's virulent potential beyond any hope of stopping…... And should anyone become infected, it would be the greatest pandemic ever known to mankind.”

  Dr. Derosa got up without saying a word. He crouched down and pulled open a drawer at the bottom of his desk. He picked out a pack of Marlboro100's, lit one up, and took a deep, long drag. Staring up at the ceiling, he exhaled.

  “Hope this doesn’t bother you Matthew, but if so… tough shit.” He said- an equal mix of sarcasm and truth. “After telling you everything I just did, I could smoke this whole damn pack.

  “Well, Doc, I appreciate the confidence you have in me to discuss such a project.” Matthew said.

  The doctor smiled and even laughed a bit- “Don't Worry, you won’t have any part in working the SARS -21 project….Besides, most of it is in the hands of the military anyway... “

  “I’m placing you with a team of three others, Dr. Lomax, Dr. Patel, and Dr. Marx. You will be reporting on a strain of avian bird flu, specifically its adaptations in humans. The three doctors will explain in detail when you meet this Monday.”

  Dr. Derosa then looked at his watch-a nice Rolex Oyster. He dropped the 3 quarters smoked cigarette into a can of diet coke on the corner of his desk. He looked up at Matthew and clasped his hands
together.

  “And, well, that’s about it for now Matthew. I do apologize, as I am running late. Do you have any last questions?

  “I do have one question…The SARS project you worked on, is it still in the lab where I’ll be working?” Matthew asked.

  Cocking his head to the side, surprised, Dr. Derosa responded, “Why would you want to know that Matthew?”

  Expecting Dr. Derosa’s reaction, Matthew knew an obvious, phony response could open a very rotten can of worms and jeopardize his internship. So his answer was honest-well at least somewhat.

  “I just thought if protocol allowed, you could show me a sample… I’m just very impressed….And maybe I can learn something...

  “Let me think about that one Matthew. That’s a tall order.”

  He then stood and extended his right hand. Matthew stood, pushed in his chair, and gave Dr. Derosa a firm handshake. They exchanged simple goodbyes. Matthew turned and had his hand on the door to leave when he heard the Dr.'s voice.

  “Actually Matthew”...

  Matthew turned to face him. When he did, the doctor was holding a standard glass vile appx two inches long and filled halfway with a maroon/ red liquid. Wrapped around the center of the vile was a white label. In black sharpie, the letters and number “DS2”were written across it.

  “This vial here is an exact replica of the SARS COMBO-21.”

  He held it out for Matthew to get a better look.

  “It looks ordinary, doesn't it?” Dr. Derosa asked (Though he never had the intention to let Matthew answer). “Just think Matthew, if this were the real deal you would be holding a pandemic in your hand… And the only thing between you and this weapon of mass destruction, would be this here black cap sealing the vile air-tight” (Tap-Tap-Tap-Derosa tapped at it, emphasizing his point)

  And just as suddenly as the vile appeared, the doctor placed it back into a drawer below the one holding his cigarettes.

  The doctor concluded, “Matthew, I'll see you real soon.” He turned back toward the door before adding, “I’m late for a meeting.”

  He waited for Matthew to step out before locking the door behind him. Dr. Derosa then hurried back toward the lab, while Matthew, his head full of macabre thoughts, rode the subway back to his apartment.

  Monday morning Matthew arrived 7:45am at the prestigious Schwartz Research Building, located on First Street. He walked through the two automatic sliding glass doors and was greeted by the scent of fresh Pine-Sol. To his left a scrawny janitor, who looked to be in his late 60’s, guided the wooden handle of an old flat mop across the floor. About 30 feet straight ahead sat a front desk, waste high, where 4 rent -a- cops were sitting. One was checking a person’s I.D. badge (or at least pretending to). The second guard, using his left arm and index finger, flailed directions at a man with a confused look. The third guard was sharing a laugh with a young blonde in a short black skirt. And the fourth, a young butch woman, or was it a man, was staring Matthew down front and center.

  As Matthew approached the “being,” he thought of Pat, the androgynous character from Saturday Night Live played by Julia Sweeney. Funny enough, just before Matthew introduced himself, he glanced down and saw a silver name tag reading –“Pat”- in bold black lettering. “It” was in fact a “she,” Matthew realized, when he noticed the nametag was pinned just above a blobby, yet unmistakable left boob. Matthew introduced himself and his reason for doing so. The next 25 min consisted of filling out paper work and getting his picture taken to adorn his I.D. badge. Below the title that read (“Research Team”), Matthew’s height, hair color, and eye color were listed, along with LAB J. Also on the badge, a barcode was engraved on the bottom right. And In the center, a hologram of a caduceus (often the symbol used for anything medical) glimmered, as Pat handed him the badge. The badge itself was of course a standard procedure for security at almost any company. Yet, the more modern biometric aspect of the security Matthew had to endure was the digital scan Pat had taken of his eyes and left thumbprint.

  “Don’t lose this badge because it’s a 100.00 replacement fee,” warned Pat. Her voice, not surprisingly, was quite baritone.

  Matthew thanked her; and as instructed took the elevator to the 5th floor.

  When the elevator doors opened, a thin, balding man, in a green smock of some sort, directed Matthew down the hall to LAB J. He instructed Matthew to first and foremost scan his I.D. across the black box adjacent to the lab door when he arrived each morning. Next, he was to place his left thumb on a finger scanner that stuck out from the wall, just left of the lab doorknob. Finally, his irises would be scanned by yet another device.

  He thanked the man and walked towards the lab door. It was ordinary enough looking Matthew thought to himself. It was a silver, heavy steel single door, with a window at eye level, about a foot in length and width. As he was about to scan his badge he heard a voice, a thick Asian accent trying to direct him.

  “You- can’t- break- aw-duh- aw –no- let- in.”

  Matthew cocked his head around to find an older Asian man, perhaps in his 40’s or 50’s, wearing a white lab coat. He wasn’t smiling and seemed to have popped out of thin air. Matthew, a bit startled, thanked the man, and watched him abruptly walk away. Matthew figured that “Don’t-break-aw-duh” meant “in order,” being 1. Scan badge 2. Thumb, 3. Eyes.

  After following the (aw-duh) as instructed, 3 beeps emanated from somewhere within the bowels of the vault like door. A handle, not a doorknob, extended from the door. Matthew pushed down on it and opened. There Inside was a beefy security guard who introduced himself as “Junior.” Around his waist sat a duty belt, complete with a glock. After greeting Matthew with a simple “Hi sir.” he peered at Matthew's badge and said, “Follow me down this corridor.”

  Just as the corridor veered left, Dr. Derosa, decked out in a white lab coat, walked toward Matthew. He glanced at his watch and said, “Hey Matthew, sorry I forgot to tell you about the lengthy security procedures.”

  Matthew was not nervous, excited or any other emotion for that matter. Sure, his face and tone of voice could mimic any feeling in the book, but deep inside- he was a vacant lot.

  Dr. Derosa brought Matthew into his small office back outside the lab. One-by-One Matthew’s team members, Dr. Lomax, and Dr. Patel, all much older than himself, trickled in to introduce themselves and make small tall. Matthew played his part well. He told them how lucky he was for the opportunity. He smiled and said he couldn’t wait to get started. Then, just as suddenly as they entered, the three new team members left the office.

  Dr. Derosa gave Matthew a two-hour lecture on bio-safety levels and bio containment precautions within use of the laboratory.

  “Just like how some federal penitentiaries place criminals in different wards according to their criminal nature” Dr. Derosa explained, “we do the same with our laboratories and the contents within. BSLL (bio-safety level laboratory 1) our lowest level, deals primarily with infectious bacteria and viruses that pose a minimal threat to laboratory personnel…. Your jewel thieves and cat burglars… We do not house BSLL 2 and 3 laboratories at this facility.”

  He paused,

  “We do, however, have one BSLL 4 lab… This lab houses our criminally insane- infectious diseases with no vaccines… we’re talking Aids and Hemorrhagic diseases such as Ebola. This is actually the very lab where I conducted the SARS project.”

  Matthew felt a rush of adrenaline streamline through his body as he thought of himself having access to BSLL4. Still, he didn’t say a thing- no setting off alarms.

  “Well” the Dr. continued, “I’m sure you took a class on all this jargon Matthew, but I had to go over it with you either way.”

  A simple, “I understand Doctor” was Matthew’s response. All he really heard or cared about though, was that there was a BSL LAB 4 in the building.

  “So, Matthew, now I’ll have Dr. Marx your third team leader come back in to chat you up about your work detail for the next 2 weeks.”


  Matthew thanked Dr. Derosa. The thought to, again, ask Dr. Derosa about SARS 21 began to formulate in Matthews mind, though he dismantled it deciding it would be best to wait.

  About 5 minutes later, Dr. Marx, well over 6ft tall with a salt/pepper beard and head of hair to match, entered the room. He plopped down in the seat Dr. Derosa had just occupied. His deep blue eyes were clear and intense. His face, rugged in a Harrison Ford kind of way, was full of creases- surely caused by age and the stressors any doctor faces throughout his career. And more than likely, each crease told a different story- perhaps a young patient who died in his care, a divorce, or worse, maybe a horrific experiment he worked on similar to Dr. Derosa's. He gave Matthew a genuine smile and began…

  “Matthew, again, welcome to our team.” His voice was tired, his smile quickly faded. . “I understand Dr. Derosa told you very little about exactly what you will be working on; and I'd rather not divulge every nook and cranny of the project in one shoot…. I find the approach to “chunk” your assignments on a bi weekly basis much easier, as not to be confusing to both you and myself.”

  Dr. Marx rubbed his palms together as he continued to speak- in what seemed to Matthew to be a nervous habit.

  “In a nutshell, Matthew, we are researching various adaptations of the Avian Bird Flu in human cells. This research has been ongoing approximately a month…month and a half. Your first two weeks here the team would like you to review our reports, both written and on the computer hard drive. Your job is to categorize, scan, then type up any similarities found amongst the separate reports written by Dr. Patel, Lomax, and myself. You understand?”

  “Yes Dr.” said Matthew.” He did understand, but was instead focused on what the thoughts in his head were planning and plotting.

  “Good.” Dr. Marx replied, “because even though the three of us doctors' work together in the lab we write up our own reports on research. We do this rather than write them together as not to influence conscious or unconsciously each other’s findings and interpretations of such…… It may sound a bit confusing, but this method can produce excellent results…. Then, after we each write up our findings and reports into the computer, we or rather I should say you, Matthew, can conclude any similarities. The information can then be hyperlinked into a separate document….. And this whole process will better organize any pertinent information you find. … And well... that’s about it for now.”