They had fallen deeply in love and tried to see each other at every opportunity, of which, given their very busy schedules, there were never enough. Aisling, had grown up in the Irish-speaking part of the Dingle peninsula in County Kerry, and she always seemed to possess a presence, a groundedness, that he couldn’t quite explain. She was the most caring person he had ever met and she approached the world with a sense of love and abandon, embracing everything that came to her. Her acceptance, indeed delight, in the chaos and uncertainty of the world, the happiness and grief, the magic and science had convinced him that she was the embodiment of a true Celtic heart in the streets of Boston.
Dan momentarily left his reverie and looked over toward the River Lee as it swirled and splashed past half-buried tree branches. He could almost hear the gurgles and murmurs and the muted lapping of the small waves as they swept up on the riverbanks. Aisling…Aisling…
It had been less than six months after they met; they were returning from a late evening meal at a well-known area restaurant and he had decided to take a short cut through Dorchester. As he drove through the darkened and quiet streets, he heard a sound, not loud, more like a soft pop, and a stray bullet from a gang members gun, that had been intended for a furtive figure in the dark, streaked through Aisling’s open window. In the chaos and the charm, the light and the dark, the love and the hate of Boston’s streets, Aisling, who had been the love of his life, was simply gone, gone in a heartbeat…
“Mind if I join you?” a voice said behind him. He turned, his memories of Aisling fading as he turned, like faint stars in the morning sky, and saw Dr. Sheila O’Neill standing there with a cup of tea and a cherry scone.
“Oh, no, of course not. Please sit down,” he said. He looked at her and smiled. They were good friends. She was also, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever met. She was tall, with long, bright red hair that seemed to stream in rebellious curls down to her shoulders in a way that spoke eloquently of a certain untamable wildness. Her hair was not her most notable feature, however. That had to be her penetrating, brightly luminous green eyes that conveyed not only a sense of high intelligence but also communicated the presence of her deep insight along with a mischievous sense of humor. It was a stunning combination that was very rare, even in Ireland.
However, it was Aisling who still dwelled in Dan’s heart, and despite Sheila’s physical beauty, it was only Sheila’s intellect that had attracted him. She had an amazing memory that allowed her to recall the most minute details about anything she had read, but she also had the ability to dissect and absorb information and then, somehow, leap to conclusions that were invariably correct. She had earned her PhD in molecular biology three years ago and had just turned twenty-eight years old. She had been on the staff at UCC for barely a year.
“How have you been?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”
“Oh, I was on a trip to New York for a conference on avian flu. Not much new to report really.”
“No announcements about an impending pandemic like last year?”
She laughed for a moment, then said, “No, not exactly. One of the presentations showed evidence that the 1918 flu pandemic was also an avian flu, so a lot of people seem to be even more concerned, but I don’t see the logic. All new strains of influenza start in the migratory bird population, but I don’t think that really tells us anything very useful about the probability of a new avian flu pandemic in humans.”
Dan nodded and took a sip of his tea. “Sounds like the same old thing. Publish or perish, and it doesn’t matter a whole lot what you publish! You look glad to be back.”
She smiled. “I am. I’m looking forward to getting back in the lab and in the classroom. This is where I belong, not with a bunch of researchers trying to hype their latest discoveries to some pharmaceutical company rep or trying to make a name for themselves so they can move up the next rung of the ladder.” Her eyes flashed just slightly as she finished.
Now it was Dan who smiled. “I thought as much. Well, it’s good to see you again.”
“Thanks. You too,” she said pursing her lips slightly. “What are you up to?”
“Remember the mammoth tissue I told you about?”
“Of course. It’s fascinating…unbelievable, really, that the tissue could still hold intact DNA. I’m surprised you didn’t launch a major investigation into it months ago. What are you waiting for?” She said before taking a bite of her scone. “Mmm, delicious,” she said, “Want to try some?”
Dan smiled. “No thanks, Sheila.” Then his face became serious.
“I do have my own plans for the material, sort of a mathematical analysis of the DNA. I want to try to understand, from a mathematical modeling view, how the DNA instruction set is interpreted and used by the cells. ” he said. “However, there’s only a small amount of material and I am waiting for one of my grad students to come up with a really worthwhile project, something inspired. It’s very important to me that our students become involved in this work too.”
“Yes, of course. So, tell me, have you found a grad student yet with an interesting proposal?” she asked.
“I think I might have.”
“Great,” Sheila said, “I can’t wait. Tell me! What is your student’s concept?”
Dan smiled at her. “He has an idea that the mammoth DNA might harbor a clue that could explain why they became extinct – perhaps there is some sort of mutation in the DNA, or maybe they had some genetic inability to respond to something in the environment. He’s one of my best students… really very creative and…well, actually I’m supposed to meet him in the lab in about fifteen minutes. Want to come along?”
“Sure,” she said happily. “I was hoping you’d invite me to see the mammoth sample sometime anyway!”
They left the café and walked across the campus toward the biosciences building. The lab was on the fourth floor and as they left the elevator they saw Brendan waiting outside the door of Dan’s lab.
“Hello, Doctor Quinn,” he said, “Hi, Dr. O’Neill.”
“Hi, Brendan,” Dan replied, “Let’s go in.” He opened the door and they followed him in, past the laboratory benches covered with ongoing experiments, and into a room far in the back where Dan donned a pair of heavily insulated gloves before opening the cover of the frozen specimens storage unit. The mammoth sample had been cooled to minus eighty degrees Fahrenheit in an attempt to keep it even colder than Arctic conditions to ensure that it would not deteriorate. He showed them the sealed container with the small sample inside.
“That’s it?” asked Brendan. “It looks like it’s only a few cubic centimeters.”
“That’s all there is,” Dan said nodding his head, then he asked. “Do you have any doubts that it will be enough?”
“Oh no. None.” Brendan said, “We should be able to get plenty of DNA from this. It’ll be enough.”
Dan turned towards Sheila. “What do you think?”
“Hmm? Oh, it looks amazing. Amazing. I was just thinking. Maybe I could use some of this material too. I mean I could use the same material that Brendan is using because once it is analyzed in the computers I only need access to the genetic codes, the same as you, not the actual material itself.”
“Oh?” Dan said with a smile at her enthusiasm, “What did you have in mind?”
“It’s just sort of an idea I have about evolution and DNA. I don’t think Darwin and his followers have quite got it right about the mutations in DNA being random. I have always thought there must be an interaction between the environment and nuclear DNA that promotes the morphing of the genetic code.”
“What?”
“Really. I know it sounds a little far out. But so is the idea of random mutations when you think about it. I think I would like to do some comparisons with this tissue’ DNA and the DNA of modern elephants, for example the gene responsible for hair. I think we might be able to show that the loss of hair might be an adaptive response at the DNA level rath
er than a simple Darwinian ‘survival of the fittest’ process following random mutations of the gene.”
“That’s really interesting!” Dan said. “It’s OK with me if it’s OK with Brendan. What do you say, Brendan?”
Brendan smiled broadly, “Sure thing, Dr. Quinn. I would be happy to work with Doctor O’Neill too.” Sheila smiled at him but said nothing.
“Brilliant,” Dan said, “We now have three very interesting projects shaping up. Brendan’s search for the cause of the mammoth extinction, Sheila’s search for evidence of environmental triggers of evolution, and my search for a set of mathematical equations that expresses the DNA instruction set. That should make good use of the DNA!”
Dan spent the next several minutes discussing the procedure for examining the material, and then his mobile phone beeped. It was the reminder feature notifying him of an appointment he had to meet with a pharmaceutical company representative to discuss a possible major donation to the department.
“I’m sorry,” Dan said, “I have to go. Brendan, I think you can carry on here for a while. OK?”
“Sure, Dr. Quinn.”
“OK,” then, turning to Sheila he said, “ you might want to come along to this meeting. It looks like we might be able to set up a partnership with one of the pharmaceutical giants!”
“OK,” she said, “I’m intrigued, let’s go.”
They hurried down to his office and as Dan unlocked the door he couldn’t help but notice a large manila envelope that had been slipped under the door. It was blank except for his name that had been printed in black ink. He felt slightly uneasy as he picked it up. It had been several months since he had received the other messages from his now dead godfather, Tim, and this mysterious envelope had the look of the others.
“What’s that?” Sheila asked. Dan hesitated for a few seconds, not sure what to say. He hadn’t told anyone about the previous letters, but he felt he needed to confide in someone.
“Come on in,” he said.
They entered his office and Dan locked the door behind them. Sheila’s eyes opened a little wider.
“I’m not sure what this is,” he said, “but I think it might be the last in a series of letters I have been receiving. If I show it to you, you have to keep it confidential, OK?”
“Sure,” she said, without hesitation.
Dan briefly told her about the letters he had already received and how they had warned him about an organization called Omega that was apparently some sort of government agency that was involved in some very secretive projects, mostly concerning nuclear materials and diseases related to exposure to radiation.
“I have no idea why Tim sent these things to me. I have never had any interest in nuclear energy or physics, and I really don’t know anything about the diseases that are associated with exposure to nuclear materials. It’s very troubling to read all this, but, realistically, I don’t know what he expected me to do. I guess he must have been desperately hoping I could do something, but what?”
Sheila listened attentively but had nothing to say at first, then after a few seconds she replied, “He must have had confidence in you, Dan. He must have felt that, however improbable it might seem, you have an important role to play. We’ll just have to see what it is.”
He thought about her words for a moment then nodded in agreement and slowly began opening the envelope.
TOP SECRET
MAELSTROM EYES ONLY
17 April 2001
Background: For over fifty years the AEC, and later the Project Omega Office, have worked to study the effects of nuclear materials on humans. Initially, this work was considered only of marginal importance relative to the effect of nuclear detonations themselves. This view was revised after the early results of Project Ghost indicated that while the power of nuclear detonations was truly massive they were also very localized. Project Maelstrom has continued with the analysis of the Three Mile Island and Chernobyl data. This data has clearly shown that airborne dispersal of nuclear contaminants can have a much more lethal effect that the nuclear explosion itself.
Recent Results: The use of nuclear contaminants as an air-dispersed weapon has many advantages; however, because the technology needed to create the most deadly of the contaminants is very advanced there are very few nations that have the ability to construct such weapons. This greatly hampers the use of such weapons in a clandestine mode because the unique isotopes employed can thus be traced to the likely country of origin. Ultimately, this weapon becomes a doomsday weapon of last resort and not a weapon that has tactical uses.
TOP SECRET
TOP SECRET
New Directions: Advances in biological science indicate that there may exist, either in nature, or possibly in the laboratory environment, either bacterial, viral, or prion-based diseases that could be dispersed by airborne methods that would have massive killing power. This power is then multiplied greatly if the diseases are contagious. Ultimately, it is found that biological weapons are thus potentially superior to either nuclear weapons or chemical weapons in both their killing potential and also in their untraceability to their original source.
Recommendation: Proceed with the highest priority with clandestine tests of simulated release of biological agents over populated areas. If these tests prove effective, transition biological strike weapons to active, Top Secret, status.
TOP SECRET
Seven
There was not even a sliver of a moon to lighten the darkness. It was one o’clock in the morning at Edwards Air Force Base, California, and all non-essential people had been sent home hours before. Only people with top secret clearances, who had been read into the Nightshade program, were now on the base. The runway and control tower were completely enveloped in the blackness of the night. If anyone had been watching, it would certainly seem that there were no activities at the base.
The experimental Nightshade aircraft had stopped at the end of the runway, its engines idling almost in silence, while the two-man crew went over their pre-flight checklist. It was not the B-2 stealth bomber that General Baker believed was participating in this test. Indeed, there was no reason for the General to know that this aircraft was the new XB-3 Nightshade – the only one of its kind. The Nightshade was a complete and radical design departure from the now antiquated B-2. Although it incorporated stealth technology that was much improved over the B-2’s, its aerodynamic capabilities were completely different. It was a swing-wing bomber, capable of supersonic high altitude flight. However, when it made its bombing run it could move its wings so that they had almost no swept-back angle. The wings also extended in length so that the wingspan of the plane was effectively doubled. There was an important reason for this: the aircraft made its bombing runs completely silent, as a glider.
Besides having very different aerodynamic qualities compared to any other aircraft in the U.S. Air Force, the Nightshade also had a very different payload capability. It had no ability to carry either conventional or nuclear bombs. The area that would have been dubbed the bomb bay was instead fitted with a very large plastic bladder that could hold 5,000 gallons of liquid. This bladder was connected to a tail-cone at the rear of the fuselage that would atomize liquid that was pumped from the bladder, thus providing the aircraft with the capability to spray an extremely fine mist of whatever liquid it was carrying over a large area without being detected. The Nightshade, the most deadly weapon ever built, was a stealth, biological attack bomber.
The crew of the Nightshade donned their night vision goggles and patiently waited for the final few seconds on the countdown clock to tick by and reach the one-minute mark. There would be no radio contact with the control tower, although it was fully manned. Moments later the clock display read 1:00 and the infrared runway lights were turned on. The entire length of the ten thousand feet of pavement was now bathed in light that was invisible to the human eye. However, using their night vision goggles, the runway now appeared as bright as day to the crew. For the people watc
hing from the control tower there was no indication that the aircraft was about to depart, and, even with their night vision goggles, the control tower crew could barely make out the shape of the aircraft. Then, suddenly, as soon as the countdown clock in the tower reached the 0:00 mark, they saw the infrared runway lights on the far side of the runway begin alternately vanishing and then returning as the Nightshade occulted them as it passed in soundless acceleration. Seconds later it was gone. The infrared runway lights were turned off, utter darkness once again covered the airbase, and the Nightshade was nothing more than the memory of a whisper in the wind.
Special agent Mike White was casually strolling along the Las Vegas strip, just outside Caesars Palace. He had an iPod in his shirt pocket and two earphones plugged into his ears. He nodded his head in accompaniment to the beat of a hit song as he walked. To the casual observer, he looked like a young college student enjoying a break from school. He didn’t break his stride, but turned his head only slightly as the music stopped in mid-song and he heard a voice say, “Item 29 confirmed. Now, T minus one hour.”
Special agent White was not alone this night in Las Vegas. Twenty other agents, similarly equipped, were also walking about the city listening to iPods. All had just received the same message.
General Baker sat at his chair in the Omega underground control room in Alaska. He had watched the display clock count down to zero and then start counting up. It was now reading +38:00. The situational awareness screen displayed a map showing the path of the aircraft and the city of Las Vegas; a small flashing red light on the display indicated the current aircraft position.
“She’s moving right along, sir, isn’t she?” Colonel Waters said.
“She sure is,” he replied. Then he thought to himself, “too damn fast for a B-2. Those bastards, they won’t even tell me what the hell they are really doing.”
The Viral Epiphany Page 4