by Craig Hurren
“Well, you didn’t see him in action like I did. Trust me; be glad he’s on our side.”
As the couple got ready to leave Holly’s apartment; halfway across the country, near Groom Lake, Nevada, a helicopter approached the side of a massive rocky escarpment. Professor Linus Gelling watched out the window as the military chopper neared its destination. It was his third trip back since he was seconded to the top secret base a month earlier and he was always amazed by the fact that there was no road or track leading to their destination. In fact, even from the air, there was no trace whatsoever; no indication of what lay under that huge, red, rocky escarpment. He wondered how they managed to bring in so many supplies and so much technical equipment without leaving the slightest trace. He didn’t dare to imagine the amount of earth moving and construction equipment it must have taken to build the massive bunker in the first place.
The Twin Huey utility chopper touched down twenty yards from the edge of a large outcrop and waited just long enough for Gelling and his two guards to exit before the pilot wound up the rotor, adjusted the pitch and lifted the powerful beast into the sky, heading back to the secret air base it came from.
The three men walked in silence to the foot of a rocky wall and one of the guards put his hand on a natural looking six inch square rock, which silently drew inward and to one side to reveal a high tech biometric security system with enhanced retinal scanning technology. He entered a code into the keypad then moved his face in for the system to scan his eye. The other guard did the same, followed by Gelling, and the huge rock wall emitted a deep groan as it began to pivot on a twenty five inch diameter case hardened steel spigot. A few seconds later, a gap wide enough for a supply truck opened up for them to walk through. The door was elevated two inches above ground level to avoid leaving any trace of its movement across the desert floor, while still allowing trucks to drive into the facility’s loading bay.
As they entered, the massive door began to close behind them and two MP’s approached to pat all three men down and check their identification. Once satisfied, they waved Gelling and his guards on to the metal detector and body scanning station, and from there, they continued toward the elevators. A guard pressed the call button and they boarded as the elevator doors swished open. He then selected underground floor number seven and the car flowed smoothly downward to its destination.
The doors opened to a wide hallway and the men turned left then walked about seventy paces past various electronically sealed, steel doors with coded numbers above them. Gelling wondered how many of these rooms there were in this place but whenever he asked, the response was silence. They finally reached the number Gelling had come to know as home. One of the guards leaned in for a retinal scan and Gelling followed. The magnetic lock clunked open and the guard pushed the door open for Gelling to enter then let it close automatically.
Alone again, Gelling reflected on his new life. His room was certainly comfortable and well appointed with every accessory he could ask for. It had tall ceilings, a gourmet kitchen, a very comfortable lounge area with a modern entertainment system, and his sleeping quarters were like a five star hotel. He really couldn’t complain, but the fact that he was basically a prisoner in this secret facility was a feeling with which he was still coming to terms.
Still; his work had always come first and his laboratory was comprehensively fitted with the most up to date equipment of its kind in the world. He had excellent support staff and the freedom to work unhindered – as long as he met the milestones his military hosts set for him. In the outside world, he had lived for his work. He’d sacrificed any kind of personal life many years before so if he thought pragmatically, this was really no different to his former life as a free man – at least he hadn’t been sent to some maximum security federal prison, like Devlin had. No, he really couldn’t complain. The government needed him and it was nice to be needed. His work was just as important to them as it was to him so he should be happy – but he still felt strangely unsettled and couldn’t quite put his finger on why.
He made himself a cup of tea and was sipping it while reading the newspaper, when the lock on his heavy door clunked open and a guard appeared. “Colonel Watson would like to see you in his office professor.” the man said.
Gelling put his cup in the sink and followed the guard out the door and back to the elevators. They went to underground floor number five and the soldier led him down the hall to Watson’s office. Gelling had met the colonel many times before to update him on his work so such visits were not unusual but this time was different. As he entered the office, Gelling saw the back of someone seated, facing the colonel at his desk. Their meetings had always been one on one up until now so he didn’t know what to expect.
“Come in Professor.” Watson called out. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Actually, I think you two are already acquainted.”
The person stood, and as she turned, Gelling recognized her stern face. They had met at an international conference a few years ago and he’d found her work most intriguing. Dr. Olga Voronin was a renowned expert in her very specialized field of sensory signal interpretation. She was known to have discovered several previously unknown neural pathways associated with how the brain receives and interprets sensory inputs from all five senses.
“Dr. Voronin; it’s a pleasure to see you again. But I don’t understand – how can you be here?!” he asked.
In her heavy Russian accent, Olga greeted Gelling, “Eet’s good to see you again too professor.”
“Dr. Veronin has become, shall we say, disenchanted with her masters in Russia. They cut her budget dramatically because they felt that her research was stalling and would not produce any useable technology. Combine that with third world living standards and she thought it was time to approach us. Once we knew the extent of her research, the potential of combining her discoveries with your project became very obvious. The CIA helped her to defect and here she is.”
Gelling’s brilliant mind immediately tried to process the possibilities but he couldn’t clearly identify any real benefit from combining Olga’s research with Project Hallucineers. “I’m sorry colonel but I can’t see the applications.”
“That’s because you think like a scientist and not a strategist professor. You designed SSCH technology to help people with psychiatric disorders. It was Devlin who corrupted it for his own use. You’re looking for general human benefits where we’re more concerned with the military and economic health of our great nation on a geopolitical scale.”
“I’m afraid I still don’t follow.”
“I’m really not sure I do either colonel.” Olga said.
“This is exactly why the military should be in charge of such ventures. We can see not only the big picture but identify opportunities where others would see nothing. You two are going to have a wedding.”
“Vot?!” Olga demanded.
“Not that kind of wedding doctor. You are going to marry your technologies to develop the most potent and adaptable tactical weapon ever conceived – aside from nukes. With this technology, even armies the size of China’s will be no challenge for our forces.”
“How can our research on the human brain possibly make an advanced weapon such as this?” Gelling asked.
“The possibilities are staggering if you put your mind to it. Imagine a foot soldier that can see like a hawk, smell like a bloodhound, hear like a rabbit, and feel no pain. Then imagine that same soldier programmed with SSCH to achieve his mission without fear or remorse, yet still have the ability to adapt to changing circumstances. We already have powerful anabolic technology to dramatically boost physical strength and endurance so when we combine all these elements, each one of our soldiers will be worth ten of any other army’s. And that’s just the beginning – imagine a fighter pilot supercharged with the same technology…and the list goes on. We’ve always had nuclear superiority but with this, we’ll be unbeatable in conventional warfare too.”
Gelling�
�s mind raced as he realized that the colonel was right – all this was theoretically possible. “But how can we do this to our troops. These are free human beings with lives of their own, and families, and rights. The anabolic treatments cause serious long term health problems. And that doesn’t even address the ethical concerns.”
Watson smiled knowingly. “Follow me.”
The colonel walked out of his office, Veronin and Gelling following closely as they looked at each other, shocked by the revelation. Flanked by two guards, they went to underground level eight, almost directly below Gelling’s laboratory. They entered an anteroom with a viewing window, made from super high strength hurricane glass, overlooking a laboratory. There were four burly military guards armed only with high tensile batons, handcuffed to each wrist so they couldn’t be disarmed. In the center of the room was a reclining lab chair with heavy restraints mounted to eight different points around it.
“Society is cluttered with useless human refuse. These people add nothing to society and are a major financial burden as well. I’m talking about murderers, psychopaths, rapists; you name it. Why should we, as a society, keep them safe and warm with three squares a day in their bellies, when there’s no hope they will ever reform or make any useful contribution. Your combined technologies are going to change all that.”
Watson signaled one of the guards inside and he opened a door at the far end of the room. A man heavily strapped to a tilted mobile table began to enter the doorway. Just as he was pushed fully into the room, Watson said, “Doctor, Professor; I would like you to meet your first test subject. This is Bryan Adler.”