Isonation

by In Churl Yo

  “Fine. Keep the gun, Theo, but only if you point the damn thing at me.”

  Ogden’s face filled with torment. He butted the side of the pistol against his temple, then lifted the barrel until its sight was centered on the only woman he had ever loved. “Now tell me what this is,” he said. “And please, don’t spare the details.”

  Miranda sighed. This was a conversation long overdue, and one she had dreaded since Cecil had made his decision all those many years ago.

  “The Ceres Corporation is not all that you were led to believe,” she began. “While the organization’s main function was the administration and operation of the entire global supply chain, a task at which you’ve excelled, its real purpose was kept hidden to all but a very few.”

  “And pray tell what purpose was that?” Ogden asked.

  “Why, to save the world.”

  “The Ceres Corporation did save the world. Without our infrastructure and timely innovation, humanity would have without a doubt succumbed to the Zombie Flu—this is all historical fact, absolute and immutable.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “But you’re also wrong.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “And you’re not supposed to. Theo, your father was under a tremendous amount of pressure. He knew the odds of our survival better than anyone else, and the wheels Cecil set in motion, the decisions he made, were for the good of all mankind, even if they caused him no small amount of personal pain and anguish.”

  “Pain. Anguish. You’re describing a stranger. You’re contradicting everything I’ve ever heard and been taught. Are you telling me my whole life has been a lie?”

  “Not a lie. A sacrifice, shared between a father and son.”

  Ogden could no longer process what he was hearing. He recognized the words, and those words formed sentences—but the narrative was gibberish, a story told by a small child to cover up some trivial misdeed. “The purpose, the truth,” he said, “was to build this ship? Why?”

  Miranda moved to place her hand on his shoulder, but Ogden fell back out of her reach. “We had no choice,” she answered. “Extinction was at hand. This ship was mankind’s last, best hope.”

  “If what you say is true, why wasn’t I told? I should have led this project. I should have been in command!”

  “That decision was made a long time ago, and I argued for you then just as you’re doing now. But the lie was deemed more important to maintain, a lie compounded by years of compromises and justifications until it became so indoctrinated, so much a part of our story, that we had no choice but to continue the charade or risk the fall of our fragile, makeshift society. We were desperate.”

  Ogden began wagging the gun in his hand. “So, what, you gave that responsibility to Lightsea?! He’s no leader. He’s a cog, an animatronic, no more capable of inspiring leadership than a first-day custodian or some virtual fake-skin salesman. There’s no way my father…”

  “It was Cecil’s decision to keep you in the dark, Theo!” Miranda exclaimed, her words thundering across the metal-encased landing platform. She regretted yelling and calmed herself before continuing. “And eventually…I agreed with him. You weren’t just a kind of plausible deniability. You were to become the main perpetrator of our deceit, a role you could never play if you knew the truth.”

  The Ceres Corporation’s Chief Executive Officer paced slow circles, his mind racing, his stare a thousand kilometers away. Then without thinking, Ogden turned and pointed his sidearm at Dr. Lightsea’s head. “An error, a mistake I intend to rectify immediately!”

  Zoah jumped between them.

  “Please, please, don’t shoot,” she pleaded. “I know all of this must be hard for you to hear, but I can see how much you loved your father, even if he did hurt you. I’m just like you—my dad didn’t tell me about any of this. I’m hearing all of this for the first time too.”

  Ogden’s arm wavered before he caught Nox and Caleb’s movement in the corner of his eye and stepped toward Zoah, cocking the pistol as he aimed for her again. The two men backed off.

  “You wouldn’t hurt your father, even after knowing about all of this, would you?” Zoah asked. “We both love our fathers. Please, Mr. Ogden, please don’t hurt mine.”

  He regarded her as he would any executive decision he had to make, but Ogden’s mind refused to process the problem, mired in a kind of muck and dullness he was not used to. Miranda put her hand over the muzzle of the gun, her eyes moist with fresh tears. “I am sorry, Theo, but she’s right. You have to end this now.”

  Ogden looked at his mother and broke down. He released the hammer and placed the weapon in her hand. Miranda waved over her two assistants and followed them out of the bay as they led the bewildered CEO to her quarters. Only after the exit doors closed with a clang could you feel relief settle over those who remained. Dr. Lightsea hugged his daughter.

  “That was reckless, young lady,” he said, “but I did appreciate it. Now where do you suppose she learned such behavior?” Lightsea eyed the man with white hair.

  “Don’t look at me, Charles,” Nox replied. “She was like that before I met her.”

  Zoah pulled back from their embrace. “Wait a second. You two know each other?”

  “More than I’d care to admit,” her father answered, a grin across his face. “We first met back in primary school. That’s all ancient history now. But I suppose in a manner of speaking, you’ve known him your whole life as well. He’s your godfather.”

  Neema’s eyes lit up in recognition. “You’re the Big Boss that Nox was in communication with,” she said.

  “Those messages were private!” the white-haired man interjected, feigning annoyance, “and heavily encrypted. I guess nothing’s sacred anymore.”

  “I asked him to watch over you, Zoah,” Dr. Lightsea continued. “Nox has been following you since he discovered your real identity in Taiwan. Before that he was undercover keeping tabs on Ogden for us. When the time and opportunity was right, he abandoned that mission and brought you all here.”

  “And where is here?” Neema asked. “What’s the lie you’ve been telling the world, Lightsea?”

  “You must be hungry,” he said, avoiding her glare. “Nox, why don’t you take everyone down to the mess hall and give them a tour while I speak with my daughter? I promise, he can answer all of your questions just as well as I.”

  Milton stepped toward Zoah. “Maybe I should stay with you,” he suggested.

  Dr. Lightsea eyed the young hacker.

  “Um, dad, this is Milton—my boyfriend,” she said by way of explanation.

  “I see. Milton…you should stay with your friends for the time being.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I mean, I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Of that, there’s little doubt,” Dr. Lightsea replied. He turned to his daughter and offered her a warm smile. “Let’s go, Z. We have a great deal to discuss.”

  CHAPTER 30

  26 Years After the Pandemic

  She was late. She wanted to run, but it wouldn’t look good for her to be seen sprinting down an office hallway full of executives, especially on her first day there. That was not the first impression she wanted to make, although if she didn’t show up on time, it might all be moot anyway. She hedged and increased her pace to a brisk walk instead.

  A corner turned; a glass door opened. She entered an anteroom walled in transparent bulletproof material and waved at the woman seated behind clear polycarbonate at the protected receptionist station who returned an incredulous look to her. The handle buzzed and released a magnetic lock, and she stepped into the room.

  “You are late,” the woman whispered, emphasis on the letter ‘t’.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  They walked together without delay toward a pair of oversized oak doors at the end of another passage, this one adorned with impressively sized oil paintings depicting various dark scenes of war or otherwise depressing settings. She thought a nice wa
tercolor of yellow flowers in a vase might do wonders for the mood here, which was otherwise serious and dour, although that was probably the desired effect the designer was going for. It was working on her.

  The receptionist stopped short of walking into the doors, pulled at her jacket to smooth out the material, then knocked three times. A muffled response later and the doors were open. She followed the woman into the large office, a room full of ornate wood furniture and a wall of windows that overlooked a nearby park that took her breath away. Windows were a complete luxury, and one with a view this spectacular were unheard of. Behind the desk sat a man she recognized—of course, everyone knew who he was. The fact that she would be working for him in a position that all her friends were quite envious of was not lost on her, even as a part of her was screaming to run and hide lest she make a fool of herself, which she had been known to do from time to time.

  The assistant cleared her throat. The man looked up from his screen and nodded, giving her his full attention. “Your flight is ready to leave on schedule,” she began. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take a call en route. Franklin says its urgent. And I have your dinner with Ms. Pyle confirmed for 7:00 this evening.”

  “Anything else?” he replied, pointing his head toward the girl standing next to her.

  “Oh, yes. Your new intern, Madeline Price.”

  She gave him her best smile.

  He responded by standing from his chair and heading for the door. Madeline stood confused and looked at the assistant, who shooed her toward the man, motioning for her to catch up and follow him. The new intern fell in step behind her boss as they walked down the hallway. She was surprised at how fast the man moved, cane and all.

  “You’re Elizabeth’s daughter, right?” he asked.

  “Yes! Elizabeth’s my mom.”

  “Smart woman, your mother. Very smart. I hear you’re a lot like her.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Cecil.”

  “Um, thank you, Cecil.”

  “You’ll find I’m not much on formality. Titles, salutations, honorifics. Sounds vaguely like horrific, don’t you think? At my age, you learn such things don’t matter. At my age, getting to an efficient, effective result is much more paramount, especially in these times we live in. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I suppose that depends on whether it’s the result you wanted, sir. I mean Cecil, sir.” Madeline shook her head in embarrassment.

  “I never waste my time with bad results, young lady. Can’t afford them.”

  They paused at a pressure-sealed metal door manned by an armed guard, who went to attention when they arrived. The man patted the security agent on the shoulder and entered a code on a nearby keypad, releasing the lock and hard seal around the doorway. She followed him into the small room, and they sat down on a bench inside as the cycle began to sanitize and pressurize the air once the door closed behind them.

  “You scored well on the Rosweiller test, yes?” Cecil asked.

  She nodded an affirmative.

  “Second-highest score on record, if I remember your file.”

  “I was perfect on the standardized portion,” Madeline replied. “The written and verbal tests are subjective, so in my opinion it’s a bit unfair to rank scores, especially when there’s a negligible difference between the two.”

  “Quite right. You’re quite right. I only bring it up as a testament to your qualifications—16 years old, aptitudes off the charts and a third-year med student at the top of her class. There’s a reason you’re here.”

  “Yes, I’m your new intern.”

  “I’m afraid there’s more to it than that.”

  A second door released its seal, and they exited the room and boarded a large drone ship. Madeline barely had time to fasten her restraints before they were in the air, flying high over the city. She grasped her armrests while watching the fast-moving scenery pass by below.

  “Ah, yes. Your first flight. It’s quite safe, I assure you.”

  “If you say so, Cecil.”

  “I pulled you out of your family’s quarantine and your virtual world because, well, quite frankly, we need your help in the real one.”

  Before she could respond, a screen lit up in front of them indicating an incoming call. The man motioned with his hand to receive it. “Franklin, please tell me you have good news,” he said.

  “Afraid not. The latest results are still showing inadequacies in our shielding. It’s a regular Chernobyl out there.”

  “I don’t have to remind you we are running out of time. We need those specifications—manufacturing is dead in the water without them,” the man replied. “My God, it’s a simple matter of engineering, isn’t it? Work the damn problem.”

  Franklin laughed. “I’ll remember to tell the team that during our next project briefing. Or maybe you should tell them yourself. How far out are you?”

  “About an hour.”

  “We’ll have the red carpet waiting.”

  The man nodded, then disconnected the signal. He sat back in his seat, and Madeline could see a weariness take over his frame—no longer the most powerful man on the planet but for a moment, a senior citizen confounded by his daily crossword puzzle and well overdue his afternoon nap.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, recovering. “Our business these days seems to consist of solving an endless array of problems.”

  “You said, ‘we are all problem-solvers’,” Madeline replied. “At my commencement address last year.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes. Your speech helped my decision to go pre-med. I wanted to make a difference, eradicate the Zombie Flu. I hope that’s why you’ve brought me here.”

  Cecil Ogden let her words rattle around his head before responding, “In a roundabout way I suppose you are here because of the Flu, but make no mistake, you still could have a profound impact on mankind’s continued existence, just not in the way you expect.”

  She frowned a little at this, then turned her attention back to her window; a patchwork of empty row houses and cracked asphalt streets littered in debris zoomed past them. It was as she expected, a world without people in it, but the prospect still managed to invoke some sadness in her—and a fair amount of determination.

  “My advice would be to keep an open mind,” Ogden suggested. “It will serve you well in the coming days.”

  Madeline looked to the Ceres founder, straightened up in her seat, and replied, “I will. I promise.”

  The rest of their journey passed quickly. The drone ship cut an arc across the cold, choppy waters of Lake Erie, then headed north inland toward a large industrial area into what used to be Canadian territory but was now a Ceres facility. A strong crosswind forced the pilot to circle around, giving Madeline a quick look at the busy complex below before landing. As soon as they touched down, Ogden was up and opening the hatch, eager to get outside and get to work.

  “You’re early,” the man from the conference call named Franklin said as Ogden shook his hand.

  “I reviewed the numbers from the last test. I want to go to the lab,” the CEO replied, “see the data for myself.”

  Franklin nodded and led them across the landing pad into a nearby building. Two armed guards stationed at the door there were soon mirrored by two others at the end of a long passage, and to Madeline it all had a decidedly military feel, although she couldn’t fathom the need for it given how rifles made for poor weapons against viruses. Just who were they protecting this place from now that all their enemies in the world were gone, save a microscopic one?

  At first glance, the laboratory was indeed impressive—cordoned behind floor-to-ceiling glass walls it brimmed with stainless steel tabletops and state-of-the-art equipment; everything you’d expect to find in Ceres’ top research facility, complete with an army of white coats who were the world’s best minds all gathered together to make some serious scientific mischief. Right now, however, they looked frustrated to Madeline—and tired.

  Ogden
sat down at the main station and with a few careful gestures had several virtual windows floating around them full of spreadsheets, various formulae and blood cell samples (which caught Madeline’s eye). He took a moment to survey everything before taking a deep breath.

  “Alright then,” the CEO said, “show me.”

  Franklin stepped forward and tapped the far-right window and expanded its contents. “We tested the latest prototype panels, and while the results were promising, all long-term indicators still pointed to catastrophic exposure without fail.” He pulled up another window and pointed to a diagram. “The polyethylene and metal alloy construction proved to be around 50 percent effective, but getting to a 100 would take us outside our build parameters. It would be too thick and too heavy for any kind of real propulsion.”

  “Damn,” Ogden whispered.

  “This is a comet assay,” Madeline said pointing at a nearby window. She used her fingers to select and enlarge the image. “I’m seeing tails and migration patterns along several DNA strands—a non-enzymatic attack consistent with damaging levels of radiation.”

  Franklin nodded. “You’re looking at the effects of 750 millisieverts of long-term cosmic ray and energetic particle radiation exposure—exactly the result we’ve been trying to avoid without much luck.”

  “Cosmic ray?” Madeline asked. “What, are you trying to go to space?”

  “Indeed we are, young lady,” answered Ogden, “and doing a piss-poor job of it, I’m afraid.”

  Nearby a white coat cleared his throat, and Franklin waved the young man over to the group. “One of our engineers thinks he has a solution,” he said. “I promised him an opportunity to pitch you his idea, but I should preface it by saying it would require us to restart the design process from square one.”

  “Not entirely,” the eager scientist replied.

  “Ah, yes! I remember you now,” Ogden said, then grinned mischievously and turned to Madeline. “I should think the two of you would have much in common. Please allow me to make the introductions: Madeline Price meet Charles Lightsea.”