by Rob Mclean
He had been dreaming that he had been having a conversation with the alien ambassador. Concern and compassion had radiated from the envoy as they talked like old friends. But all the pleasantries had dissipated once his eyes opened and he remembered where he was.
He groaned loudly when he saw another gaggle of white coats conferring outside his Perspex walled cell. After a last few words to her colleagues, a frumpy, greying, bespectacled woman spoke into the intercom. “Mr Akil El-Masri?”
Akil sat up in his bed and nodded gently, conscious of his unrelenting headache.
“I am Professor Gretchen Zobels. I am here as part of a delegation from the World Health Organization.” She paused, waiting for acknowledgement from Akil. He gave them a lazy wave.
“As you would have noted, you are being held in this quarantine chamber, following contact with and possible contamination from an alien species.” The formal way she addressed him sounded more like a litany of charges against him in a court of law. A sinking feeling of dread gloomed in his stomach.
“I have a head cold,” he tried to sound casual and dismissive as he stood groggily, “that is all. I had it before and I’d be over it now if you would just give me some pills.”
“I am sorry, Mr. El-Masri, that we couldn’t give you any medication.” She appeared genuinely regretful, but Akil felt his temper rising. “We didn’t want the pharmaceutical effects to mask any physiological effects of your… condition.”
“Condition?” He staggered over to the intercom. “What exactly is my condition?”
The Professor sighed and adjusted her glasses. What Akil had first thought was frumpiness, he now saw was tiredness. The woman’s face sagged with huge darkened bags under her spaced-out eyes. While he had been sleeping, it would seem that the medical team had been busy working around the clock. That sinking feeling yawned into a huge chasm as he wondered what had kept them so busy.
“Mr. El-Masri, our tests show that you have more than a simple head cold,” she paused. Akil felt his head throb. The room spun and his focus blurred. He hoped that it was just the flu, but he had to lean up against the Perspex wall to steady himself.
“You have been contaminated with a novel life-form. We presume it has come from your contact with the Alien ambassador.”
The professor moved to look into Akil’s face as she spoke. “Do you understand, Mr El-Masri?”
“What about the Chinese?” Akil motioned towards the wall-mounted flat screen behind the delegation. “Wouldn’t they be infected too?”
A serious look passed over the professor’s face. “Yes, most likely they are, but our Chinese friends have, so far, refused to comply with our requests for swab samples.”
“Good for them,” Akil said. “They looked fine to me.”
“They probably are,” the professor conceded. “The organism appears to be harmless. An alien equivalent of normal skin flora.”
Akil stared at his hand, imagining the microscopic alien organisms colonizing his body. “Harmless you say?”
“Yes, if I were to guess, I’d say that they have been engineered for a specific job.”
“Engineered?” Akil echoed, “As in made?”
“Yes, well, they probably took a standard sort of terrestrial bacteria and have modified it almost beyond recognition to suit their purposes. Quite amazing really.”
“What purpose? Why would they do that?”
“As far as we can tell, they are there to protect the ambassador from our micro-organisms. I would suggest that he is covered in a protective mono-culture of these organisms, both inside and out.”
“I am no expert, but wouldn’t germs on the skin be different to those in the bowels?”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right, but that’s the amazing thing. They have made it so it can regulate its internal biochemistry, switching on or off various pathways depending on the environment it finds itself in. So it is essentially the same organism, just modified to suit the conditions anywhere in the body, to form a protective layer that stops any terrestrial pathogens from colonizing.”
Akil wiped his dripping nose onto his sleeve and sniffed. “But what about my head-cold? Isn’t that a virus? How does this organism protect him from my virus?”
The professor glanced at her colleagues. She was probably telling him more than he needed to know. Maybe she would be worried that he might sell the information. She must know how entrepreneurial he was.
Then to his surprise, she turned back to him and shrugged, “The truth of it is that we don’t know, but be assured we’re working on it.”
Akil acknowledged her admission with another wipe of his nose.
“Usually a virus hijacks the cellular mechanisms of the host cells to reproduce copies of itself. Somehow the alien organism has a way of preventing this, no doubt put there specifically. Cellular regulation is something we’re still working on.”
His brow creased with the effort to think. His mind felt as though it was swimming against a tide of syrup. “So what stops this bug from taking over the world? Why do you think it’s harmless if it can change so easily and has such defences?”
“That’s the thing. You see, they have engineered it to be deficient in an amino acid that is not used by terrestrial life. The ambassador must be the source of this amino acid, whether he takes it as a supplement, or if it has also been engineered into his cloned body; the organism can’t survive without it. Elegant, isn’t it?”
Akil didn’t share her enthusiasm and didn’t hide it. “So why am I still being held? And where are my things?”
“If it is any consolation, Mr. El-Masri, the Chairman of the United Nations has voluntarily agreed to be quarantined as well.”
“I’ll bet his prison cell is better than this.”
“Did you know that the first Apollo astronauts spent three weeks in isolation in case they brought back organisms from the moon? The risk is very real, Mr. El-Masri.”
Akil dismissed her chatter with a swat of his arm.
“How long will I be held prisoner? When will I get my things back?” He felt his blood pressure rising. The thought that his video of the inside of the alien lander was getting less and less valuable with every passing day didn’t help his throbbing head.
“Your belongings have been examined by our team for contamination…”
“You have no right…”
“Mr. El-Masri,” she cut him off with a tired, raised hand, “your rights have been over-ruled for the greater good of society…”
Akil banged his fist against the Perspex wall. “You can’t do that.”
“Mr. El-Masri, please do not worry yourself. Your agent has been very active on your behalf. While your possessions have been acquired, with the consent of your national government, the contents of your video camera were able to be copied and sent to your agent.”
El-Wahabi, that old goat, Akil grinned. Yes, that son of a rabid dog would not let this opportunity be lost. May his Allah bless him. Akil gave praise to his own God as well.
“While you were sleeping, your footage has been aired on the Al-Jazeera network quite extensively, although the more recent Chinese expedition has now overshadowed it.”
Akil’s grin broadened as he tried to calculate his royalties.
“So you see, Mr. El-Masri, we understand your situation and we hope that you can see that we are trying to work together for the best possible outcome.”
“I would be more happy to help you if you could do something for my headache.”
The professor dug into her lab-coat pocket and produced a plastic vial. It contained small, white tablets that Akil hoped were the pain-killers he so desperately wanted. He watched with growing anticipation as she put them into the transfer chamber.
“These are not flu medication, Mr. El-Masri,” she said seeing Akil’s anticipation as he reached for them. He held the vial in front of him and examined it.
“Then what are they for?” he could see no writing on the vial or the pi
lls.
“We would like to transfer you to our facility in Geneva.”
Her tone suggested that her wishes were rarely, if ever, refused. She inspected his holding cell with distaste. “I’m sure you’ll find the accommodation there far more comfortable than this Cairo cargo bay.”
“And these pills?” Akil persisted.
A proud smile flickered across her tired face. “We have synthesized the missing amino acid. We want you to take these pills to nourish the alien organism.”
The initial disappointment at not getting any pain-killers was replaced by outrage. “You have to be joking?” He stormed about the cell, regardless of his pain. He was tempted to throw the pills across the room, but then his craftier side saw an opportunity.
He fixed the professor with a calculating look. “What’s it worth?” He asked, “For me to be your guinea pig? How much will you pay me?”
A look of revulsion momentarily crossed her face before she recomposed herself. “If it is simply a matter of money Mr. El-Masri, I’m sure we can work out a suitable arrangement with your agent.”
A grin broke out on Akil’s face. He could see, as he measured the walls of his cell, that he really had no other options and getting some cash from his oppressors was a small victory.
“Perhaps you don’t realize it, Mr. El-Masri, but that organism you carry is priceless. The study of the genetic engineering that went into it is valuable beyond any grubby handouts you could want.”
“When do I go to Geneva?” Akil wondered how he would get in touch with his family.
“We’ll transfer you from this…” she grimaced as she surveyed the holding cell, “as soon as the paperwork can be finalized. Perhaps two or three days and we’ll be leaving Cairo.”
“I want to talk with my family before we go.”
“Of course. It will be arranged as soon as you are feeling up to it. Perhaps you would like to talk with your agent first?” The professor did little to hide her pointed remark.
“I would settle for a few pain-killers,” Akil moaned as he rested his aching body on the bed.
“If we are correct in our assessment, the alien organism should rid you of your man-flu as soon as you start taking the supplement.” She turned and marched around a corner and out of sight. Her cluster of white coat devotees quickly followed.
Chapter 33
Captain Lau strode along the lengthy tunnel that led to the isolation cells. Carved from the raw black earth and supported by lumber beams, the tunnel laid deep underground, along an exhausted coal seam.
Water dripped from the roof and trickled along the rough-hewn walls to form dank, fetid pools on the floor. Paving stones had been laid by earlier generations of prisoners. They traced a relatively drier path through the toxic mud.
Bare light globes hung intermittently from a single cable strung along the roof. They had been switched on for the Captain’s visit, and they crackled overhead as water and electricity fought, sending vapours of steam as the globes warmed up. Their harsh brilliance carved stark shadows from the surrounding oppressive gloom. Hot droplets fell, tracing steaming paths to the ground.
Sergeant Wei followed close behind the Captain, a menacing shadow and brutal enforcer of her master’s wishes. Their heavy boots echoed along the passageway heralding their approach and filling the inmates with rising dread.
A heavy oily smell, thickened with an insidious sulphurous stench filled the stagnant air. The toxic odours gave way to the offensive, earthier stink of confined humanity as they approached the cells.
Whimpering sounds came from cells as they marched past, leaving behind a trail of relieved sobbing as those inmates found that they weren’t to be targeted today.
It had been a few days since she had singled out the rebellious girl for special attention. The anger and defiance in her stare had stayed with her since she had the girl put into isolation. More troubling, her face had visited her in the small hours of the night, something that none of the thousands of other prisoners had ever done before.
The Captain had spent more time wondering about that than she knew she should. Her baleful stare haunted both her waking and sleeping thoughts ever since she had first come to the Captain’s attention.
She knew she could snuff out the girl’s life with a word, so it both disturbed and intrigued her that the fragile pinyin had obstinately refused to speak when questioned. The Captain could see a sharp intelligence behind those implacable eyes, but even the prospect of pitch-black isolation in these dank cells hadn’t loosened her tongue.
She would have to challenge herself to devise new ways to humiliate and degrade her body while she laid siege to the rebellious mind inside.
Standing outside her door, she straightened her posture and smoothed out her uniform. She caught the sergeant watching her and frowned as she realized that it might look as if she was preening herself. She patted herself down, checking her personal arsenal of torture tools.
She had presided over enough of these interrogations to know that they only ever ended in one of a few ways.
Either the prisoner had their will broken and complied with whatever was wanted, or it ended badly. Sometimes their mind was broken and they went insane, or their body broke and they died. The challenge was to break their will before you broke their body or their mind.
With the Urghur, it was the mind that was in danger of breaking. The Muslim Mongol had an admirably tough body that soaked up punishment. Captain Lau was confident that the woman’s sanity would evaporate long before her stout body gave out. Still, she could still be of use to the nation even if that happened.
This girl was different. She was so small and frail that the Captain was certain that she would be dead long before her defiant spirit was quashed. Although she had lost many young women in similar acts of defiance, she always regretted the waste of such potential. Especially this one.
She couldn’t say for certain why this one was any different, but she reasoned that she had to find a way to stop the wasteful loss of such physically weak, but mentally strong, citizens. That, she reassured herself, was why she would need a different, less physical approach with this prisoner.
“Sergeant, have you heard of the story of how the wind had challenged the Sun to see who was more powerful?”
A puzzled look flashed across the Sergeant’s face. “Of course you haven’t. It is an old tale, told to children for generations to show that force isn’t always the best way to get things done.”
The Sergeant nodded, but clearly she wasn’t sure where the discussion was going. The Captain continued. “The wind wanted to show the Sun how powerful he was by blowing the coat from a man, but the more he blew, the tighter the man clung to his coat. In the end he gave up. The Sun then shone and within minutes the man was too warm and took the coat off all by himself.”
The Sergeant’s face lit up with understanding. “Today, you will be the Sun,” she said with pride.
“And you are to be the wind,” the Captain stated. “And together we will remove this pinyin’s coat of superstition.” With a nod, she motioned for his Sergeant to open the door to her cell.
The door swung inwards as the Sergeant marched in and switched on the light. The girl blinked and squinted at the sudden glare, but did not acknowledge her visitors in any other way.
She lay spread-eagled, face up on the floor. Her hands and feet were tied with rope and stretched apart, secured to the walls through iron rings. A trio of iron spikes had been drilled into the floor and these framed her head.
Strips of filthy cloth were wrapped around both her head and the spikes to keep her face firmly in place.
Her tatty orange prison overalls were barely recognizable under the coal mud stains but swamped her slight frame. She lay in a pool of murky water that was filled from a steady drip that fell, with maddening monotony, onto her forehead, running down to fill her eyes and nose.
The Captain swung a halved and hollowed out bamboo log across to intercept a
nd divert the dripping water away and with a flourish, then pulled a clean handkerchief from her top pocket. She ignored the angry glare from the girl while she wiped her face dry.
Sergeant Wei produced an iPad clone and was about to announce the prisoner, her name and her crimes. It was standard procedure and Captain Lau had anticipated it. With small clearing of her throat and a wave of her hand, she stopped her sergeant just as she began. “I think, Sergeant, that our prisoner should tell us who she is, don’t you?”
“Hao,” she said with a bow of her head. She carefully put away the stylus and stowed the iPad back into its protective cover clipped to his belt. She then drew her electrified cattle-prod. It hummed menacingly in the damp air.
“Now,” the Captain walked around the girl, inspecting the rest of the dank cell, “I need your name.” They had all her details already, but silence was the only way the girl had left to her to demonstrate her defiance. Breaking her silence was the first step, she knew, to breaking her will.
It did not surprise her that she remained determinedly mute. With a barely perceptible nod to his Sergeant, the cattle-prod was pressed into her armpit. The cracking zap of current was followed by a scream of pain, but it was an angry, full-bodied, defiant roar that promised vengeance. Her furious eyes bore into her. If sheer mind-power could have any effect, the Captain would have died a protracted, painful death under the force of her hatred.
The Captain felt her head spin as she stood. She didn’t like to admit that she enjoyed this part of her job, instead seeing it as a necessary duty for his country, but she had to smile when she saw the burning but impotent rage in the girl’s eyes, for she knew from years of harsh experience that all resistance was pointless. Doubtless, her smile would only provoke the girl, but ultimately, it wouldn’t matter.
“Now, Sergeant, there’s no need for such brutality,” Captain Lau said as though she meant it. She felt momentarily light-headed and had to put one hand to the wall to steady herself. She cursed silently at this weakness. She knew both her Sergeant and the girl would see it as such. A quick glance showed her that the girl had a malicious smirk on her face. It took all her self-control to stop herself from stomping on the girl’s smiling face.