by Clara Ward
“Among us, there have long been those with certain talents, talents which developed naturally, through genetic selection, thousands of years ago. It will be hard for many of you to believe until you have reviewed the data we are making available, but these talents include the ability to read minds, to move objects telekinetically, and to sooth and occasionally communicate with animals. Many of you may possess these potentials unknowingly. Due to changes in symbiotic organisms living on human skin, most of these talents can only be activated by increased pressure, applied simultaneously to all parts of a person’s skin.”
A bar appeared at the bottom of the screen with web addresses flowing across. Some of the sites Reggie recognized from NGOs he’d worked with, others were strange word combinations that he knew could be generated indefinitely by the anti-censorship program he’d helped devise. But the terminals by him were still deactivated.
“This increased pressure is also key to relieving the painful medical conditions, such as colitis, that I mentioned before. I would encourage everyone to take the time to fully understand the new possibilities and procedures, before using pressure treatments to control medical problems or explore other possibilities.”
“Shit,” said Tom, the image of a movie tough guy betrayed.
Howard kicked at the floor. “If he’s right, they’re going to squish us all, if they don’t just kill me first.”
Reggie said nothing. The doctor continued with his speech.
“Above all, I ask that everyone, around the world, join together to make this a day of triumph and understanding. There are those who say humans are too suspicious, too full of hate, to bear this revelation. They say it must lead to global slaughter and destruction. But I believe that our only chance of avoiding such tragedy is to face the truth with honesty and integrity. We can find new ways to live together in peace and unity.
“Finally, for those of you who are still receiving this transmission, let me begin to explain some technical details. I know you will have doubts, but full genetic explanations, along with medical and political evidence, will be kept available online. As an overview, there are symbiotes on human skin that suppress many of the older abilities. These may be called zootochloro interferoid, or ‘new zoots’ for short. While these new zoots seem to trigger some forms of arthritis and other disorders, there is also a new strain of telepathy that only works when new zoots are present on all parties involved. Government secrecy over many years has limited research into other ways the new zoots may benefit people with certain genetic variations.”
Computer terminals in the small conference room came on with a slight hum. Reggie’s attention tore between the man still talking on the main monitor and the urge to seek data and reactions from the web. He stood, as if frozen, where he was.
“There is another strain of symbiotes on human skin, and on most every other animate or inanimate surface, called zootochloro pasuritni.”
Reggie collapsed into a chair and typed as he listened.
“These ‘old zoots’ appear to be necessary not only to the original special abilities, but also to some functions of our immune and nervous systems.”
Reggie reached a major news site as he heard Tom and Howard start typing.
“These microscopic creatures have—“
“He’s published DNA sequences,” Howard said, “They’ll be able to identify us by cheek swab.”
“What Sarah did to me. She must have known—”
“She didn’t,” Reggie said.
“Someone must have known. All those government bastards questioned me and studied me, and they never told me about “zoots”, or other telepaths—”
“The Bin Hali are threatening to bomb PAD island,” Reggie whispered.
“If China doesn’t first,” Tom said as he typed a little too hard.
“Did you guys read the data page Dr. Knockham put out?”
“We’re putting it out,” Reggie answered, “I set up the procedures to keep his data on the web, and Phil’s locked me out of our internal system so I can’t even see how it’s doing.”
“Our teep genetics are way simple compared to the older stuff,” Howard said. If I let them squish me, I might lose my telepathy, but my teek might be as good as Sarah’s.”
Reggie’s fingers collided for a moment. Had Sarah heard the news? Was she safe?
“China has no official statement,” Tom said. “Anonymous sources say they’re breeding a teep/teek army. Someone’s accused them of creating the new zoots.”
“The U.S. is getting panned too, blamed for the cover up. There are links to the AIDS vaccine scandal that say they’re recruiting teeps. They report a riot starting in D.C.” Reggie added as he checked his favorite blogs for opinions.
The video transmission of Dr. Knockham ended and the screen went blank.
“Reggie, maybe you’re a spotter,” Howard said. “They’ve got sequences for it in the old genetics. They don’t mention it showing up with the new zoots still present or working to spot the new teeps, but if teeks can work despite new zoots, who knows.”
Reggie looked at Howard. The guy was still studying Dr. Knockham’s data page. Was this what most people around the world would do? Or would they prepare for war? Or bury themselves under heavy household furniture? Reggie imagined the death count the next day from people smothering themselves to get rid of new zoots. Of course, if half the planet died in war tonight-- Reggie picked up his phone and dialed Phil.
“Let me out of here Phil. There’s work I can do.”
“I’m sorry, Reggie.”
“Let past be past. I can help keep us up and running. You know I can.”
“Your friends are new telepaths. What are you? What’s Sarah?”
“I don’t know if I’m anything. Sarah’s a teek. Maybe she could have been a new teep but she didn’t have new zoots or something. Why does it matter?”
“A teek? What happened with her and the government?”
“You knew! Did you send the car that tailed us in Jamaica? Were you reading my mind at Pizza Pop?” Reggie’s voice was rising as he thought it through.
“Wait, Reggie. I could never read your mind, and you refused to try scuba diving, so I thought you knew—”
There was another voice in the background, and then over Phil’s phone came the voice from TV, “Reggie, this is Leonard Knockham. I think we’ve made some mistakes. If your Sarah’s who I think she is, our people did send a car to Jamaica, but just to watch; we couldn’t risk being discovered then. Phil knows nothing about it or that Sarah helped me escape from England yesterday. I had no idea—”
“Is Sarah safe?”
“She should be.”
“She better be. So what side are you working for?”
There was silence at the other end, and Phil came back. “Right now, we’re on the side of free information. I can give you full access to our system and open a video conference line. But you’re probably safer staying in there. There’s some chance of rebellion within the company.”
“And the people outside threatening to bomb us?”
“We have some influential friends. Can you vouch for the people you’re with?”
Reggie looked at Tom who rolled his eyes as news scrolled across his computer screen.
Howard looked up from the data he was still studying, “If Tom tries anything, I’ll pin him against the wall for you.”
“Promises, promises,” Tom muttered without dramatic effort.
Reggie shook his head, “I think I’m safe enough in the room with them, if that’s what you mean.”
Reggie didn’t know what he wanted to ask next, so he dug into his work. The attempts to wipe their data off the net weren’t very sophisticated so far. The automated anti-censorship routines were rooting themselves firmly in cyberspace. Saudi Arabia had taken their whole country offline. China was suggesting that good citizens look to government sources and not trust corrupt capitalist media. The U.S. government was denying any knowledge
of anything. So far, not bad.
Less than twelve hours after the broadcast, official statements were released simultaneously by the Chinese and American governments saying the crisis was over and peace would prevail. Reggie stared at his computer in disbelief, then turned to the video conference screen where Phil still worked at his desk.
“Is that success?” Reggie asked.
“Could be.”
“Care to tell me how we pulled this off?”
“Follow the money. Big business pulled every string they had to keep the markets stable.”
“Are they controlled by teeps and such?”
“No, nothing so direct. A few may have had unfair advantages in the past.”
“Care to let me out of here so I can get some sleep?”
Reggie had just returned to his room and undressed when his PAD rang. He picked it up expecting to hear Phil and was quite surprised to hear a terrified teenager on the other end.
Chapter 31
July 28, 2025 – Bangkok, Thailand
The morning of July 28th was ordinary. James came into his office around 9 AM. He leafed through his paper correspondences and turned on his primary terminal. Triaging email, nothing required an immediate reply. Checking his calendar, the only meeting listed was the summer soirée at the Johnson’s house.
Four times a year the Johnsons invited an eclectic group of friends over to discuss current events and political trends. At first, James thought they invited him just to fix him up with women. But since the conversations inevitably turned to invasion of privacy issues in the U.S., which often involved genetics or at least medicine that James could explain, he’d developed his own niche in the group. He wondered if he should go today. What had Knockham’s last note meant? Was some event about to happen or was someone coming to see him personally? He set up windows on his computer to monitor breaking world news and a science discussion group. He thought about staying in his office all day, then realized someone trying to meet him might use the soirée.
The food at the Johnsons’ was excellent, as always. There was a meat appetizer cleverly bound up in banana leaves and a quiche with something not quite like spinach in it. But James had trouble sitting still. There was no one here he hadn’t met before. Maybe he should have stayed in his lab.
“James, what do you think of the finger prick ID legislation in the U.S.?” Ida asked, probably being a good hostess.
“The challenge on behalf of government employees? They have no chance in the current Supreme Court. Now if private employers try to require DNA matching, that will probably fail. So far genotype privacy has held, even in the U.S.” No need to suggest why to Ida, but most of her guests weren’t teeps, so that was that.
“Do you think they’ll really use it, have automated blood draw machines at the entrances to important buildings?” a young woman in a speckled orange sari asked. Her mind was silent and James wondered if she worked for the government.
“No, just an excuse to increase their database. Even if someone designed a machine that couldn’t be tricked and posed no disease risk, most people aren’t ready to trust it.”
James felt the fingers on his right hand begin to tap up and down his glass. He discretely mirrored the movement with his left hand then tried to keep still.
“Why don’t they just use cheek swabs or retina scans?” the citrus clothed woman asked, tilting her head and perturbing a wave of long black hair. Could Ida be planning to fix him up with her?
“The legal precedents aren’t as strong. Courts lag behind science by at least ten years. Or maybe they think it’s harder with a blood test to substitute someone else’s sample.” But even as James spoke, he realized the finger prick could also collect a sample of skin parasites to be tested.
During the slight conversational pause, an older woman in a flowery dress, Mrs. K-something from the university literature department, approached Ida. “Oh Ida, where’s Emma-dear, I brought her a book.”
“You’re too kind. I’m afraid Emma’s exploring adolescent sulking.”
“Is it a boy?” the woman cooed with a smile, while thinking that Emma was a good girl and mothers always worried too much.
Ida’s expression changed not a bit as she said, “No, just some friends of hers moved away, and she’s blaming us. Let me call and tell her you brought something.”
“I have her number on my cell.”
“Oh, it’s changed. She has a PAD now. Costs her four times as much, but her friends use them; so she thinks they’re de rigur.”
James wandered by the dessert table and selected a mango tart before heading across the courtyard and calling a taxi.
He hadn’t noticed the music from the taxi’s radio until it was interrupted by a man speaking in English.
“I’m Doctor Leonard Knockham . . .”
James leaned forward, gripping his hands on the front seat as the message he’d been waiting for came through. When the radio station regained control, after the phrase “symbiotic organisms,” the driver muttered “crazy farang.” James wanted to ask him to try another station, see if the message was still breaking through somewhere. But he could hear the driver’s mental skepticism in Thai. Without understanding all the words, James picked up the cabby’s disbelief, mixed with some reasonable fear.
He sat back and examined his own fears. What if a mob came pounding at the lab door as he furiously tried to delete files? If they gave him a chance to talk, what could he possibly say? Would he be hearing horror and fury from a mob of minds the whole time?
Society had accepted tetrachromats and men with extreme pheromone sensitivities, would telepathy be so much harder? He imagined posing that question to a non-telepath, and the devil’s advocate part of his brain shut up.
What if society required anti-telepathy treatments? James knew it was possible genetically. He’d discovered a couple mechanisms himself, but as germ warfare they would have been tricky. With a modern legal and medical system involved, it could be done, and there might be even easier fixes involving the parasites. James imagined himself voluntarily stepping forward to give up telepathy. How often had he wished not to hear people’s thoughts? How many friendships and activities had he scorned because he couldn’t stand eavesdropping on the people involved?
His fingertips began to tap rapidly against his palms, excited at the thought of giving up his teep. But was it only wishful thinking? He might be even less socially competent without some outside input. Was there any place left for him in the normal scientific community?
Then he thought about Sarah. He imagined a mob chasing her down, beating her to a pulp. He imagined her hurting someone in self-defense and hating herself for it, or just having to give up telekinesis. Wasn’t what she could do useful to society? But wasn’t it even more frightening than telepathy?
James hadn’t prayed in fifteen years, but in the back of the Thai taxicab, he folded his hands together and made what was either a wish or a prayer. Just let people get through the next few days, and don’t let them hurt Sarah or anyone like her.
Back in his office, James retrieved the day’s broadcast and data from the web. It was so much more than he’d figured out on his own. He checked his samples with the new data while he monitored scientific reaction on his preferred discussion groups.
There came a knock at the door and Alak strode in, mindspeaking, “So you’ve heard? Are these other types legit?”
“Probably, but I need time.”
“We have no time. We may need weapons and defenses.”
James didn’t even look up from his computer. “I’ll work fastest if you leave me alone, and send me any relevant information.”
Alak left quietly and James barely noticed. He was halfway to what might be a discovery. Using Lenny’s simplest notation, Sarah was indeed a mover and had two of the rarer alleles where just one would suffice (BB 11 23 M). The other two movers in Thailand were BB 11 2 M, which made sense.
The problem was, James himself should
be a mover according to the new data. He was BB 11 2 M. Would he be a mover without zootochloro interferoid? Why could the others function despite the new zoots?
He checked the relatives of his known teeks, but none of them had the 2 M or 3 M which should make them teeks. He searched his whole database and found two other teeps who were 2 M like him. He started searching for how they were like him and unlike the teeks.
In minutes his analysis gave a simple answer, a single region of DNA. Was this a factor Knockham had missed? Was it only necessary for BB telepaths to express telekinesis also? Or was it a false lead hiding a more complicated answer?
James checked and the paranoid schizophrenics with what he’d called “precursor telepathy” or what Knockham labeled “AA” also had the sequence he lacked. He tentatively labeled it “4” and looked to see if there was a way to contact Knockham. He found none and wasn’t surprised.
Then James began to wonder if his father had been BB 11 2 M without the 4, if he’d been spreading teek genetics without knowing he was almost a teek. He didn’t have access to his father’s genome, but he could try to find out if Sarah was his child or his father’s. That might give a needed clue.
He punched up the analysis and wondered why he hadn’t checked before. The answer popped out. Sarah was almost certainly James’s child, not his half-sister. So that didn’t tell him anything new about his father’s DNA. Carefully, he erased all of Sarah’s records from the machine. Her genotype was in his pilot and his results could be recreated trivially, but at the moment, he was a little more worried than usual about someone breaking in. Wherever possible, he safeguarded his data. Then he went back online to study the reactions of the scientific community.
Two groups of parasitologists, one in Johannesburg and one in Oslo, were releasing articles on zootochloro interferoid they claimed journals rejected for reasons they hadn’t understood at the time.
A well-respected German researcher was the first to report his lab had partially confirmed Knockham’s data. A grad student had supposedly checked his own records, found he carried the sequence for telekinesis, and stepped forward to be a test case. When someone raised ethical objections, the young man had threatened to hire someone to bury him under dirt if his colleagues were going to waste the opportunity. An hour later the lab had sequenced his DNA, isolated both new and old zoots from initial skin samples, borrowed a suitable pressure chamber across campus, taken more skin samples showing only old zoots survived, and conducted a telekinesis demonstration in front of cameras and witnesses. Skeptics were still trying to debunk the demonstration, but the lead scientist had good credentials and had verified his own identity on camera and by web signature.