CENTER 82. Text and Cover Art Copyright © 2020 by Christina J. Thompson. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written authorization of the copyright holder. Unauthorized distribution of a copyrighted work is a violation of Title 17 U.S.C. For information or questions regarding this work, including authorizations, please e-mail the author at:
[email protected].
DISCLAIMER:
This is a work of fiction. While some of the scientific concepts mentioned herein are loosely based on real principles, their applications are completely fictitious. Names, characters, events, etc. are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.
Cover Art
by
Hyperlight Artwork
Copyright © 2020 by Christina J. Thompson.
TITLES BY THIS AUTHOR
August Shadow
The Moments Between
The RATION Series:
Ration (Book #1)
Center 82 (Book #2)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing is a daunting form of artistic expression, and self-publishing adds an even greater level of difficulty to the process. I would be lying if I said that I’ve never been disheartened enough to consider giving up—writing is my attempt to communicate who I am to the world, and pouring my heart and soul into something that seems underwhelmingly unknown can feel pointless at times. Even the slightest bit of encouragement is invaluable to me for this reason, and while I can’t begin to list everyone who has impacted me throughout this process, I am beyond thankful for each one.
To my sisters, Cynthia, Catherine, and Carolyn—once again, I am eternally grateful for your support. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.
To my brother, Michael (PharmD, c/o 2021)—thank you for lending me the benefit of your doctorate program, even at 2am when I’m pretty sure you thought my questions were indicative of sudden-onset insanity.
To my husband—I know the sappy parts of my writing make you squirm, and that you’ll never admit how much you secretly like them. Thanks for not going overboard with faking disgust to save macho-face.
Julia, Kim, Kristin, Katy, and Maggie—your enthusiasm is my motivation in the wee hours of the morning when the shadows in my brain try to convince me to give up.
To my readers—I cling to each elusive review I receive from people who have read my work, and those opinions—good and bad—are an enormous part of the reason I keep writing. There are no words to express how grateful I am for that encouragement.
To the rest of my friends and family—I wish I could name you all. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
A special thanks to the Raymore Arts Commission for supporting my work, and to Hyperlight Artwork for doing such an amazing job.
Finally, I thank God for giving me a story to write and the words with which to create it. Without You, I am nothing.
For Catherine, Carolyn, and Cynthia—
Thank you for believing in me.
CENTER 82
by
Christina J. Thompson
Book Two
of
the RATION series
PROLOGUE
One Hundred and Fifty Years Ago
Dr. Lance Remy rested his head against the car window, staring at his reflection as the dark, empty landscape outside flew by. He lifted his hand to his mouth to cover a slight yawn, his skin stretching as he moved, and his eyes were instantly drawn to the fine wrinkles that lined his face. A wave of unexpected sadness washed over him. He wasn’t young anymore, but at least the sorrow was tempered by his accomplishments. His discovery would make history, provided something didn’t go wrong. It was still too early to tell.
He sighed, focusing his eyes beyond his reflection. Shadowed corpses of dried-out trees lined both sides of the road, the few withered leaves that clung to their branches fluttering in the night breeze as if desperately signaling for help. Or perhaps signaling in warning, signaling that it was time to mourn their last few moments of life because once they finally fell, they would never return again. Either way, like him, their best years were gone.
Remy tilted his head to gaze up at the rising moon. Its pale light felt piercingly cold, and he shivered, reaching forward to tap the driver’s shoulder.
“Turn the heat up.”
The driver obeyed, and Remy adjusted the vent beside him to direct the hot air onto his face. He scoffed to himself; the government had restricted daytime travel due to scorching temperatures and pollution, but that same heat was a blessing once the cold night set in. It was strange how unrelentingly contradictory life could be, even in regards to his newest accomplishment. The universe had to be balanced, though—excitement always had to be tamed by a twinge of frustration, which was the exact feeling that welled up in his heart as he glanced at the man sitting beside him.
Dr. Peter Albertson was the founder and president of Albertson Labs, and he was also Remy’s boss. Instead of wearing a labcoat like all the other scientists that worked at the lab, Albertson’s attire was always casual, and most people who saw him would never guess that he was the head of the most powerful research facility in the world. Perhaps it was intentional, a disguise meant to shroud him in anonymity, but the more likely reason was simply that his position afforded him the luxury of not needing to worry about his appearance—and worry, he did not.
His long, gray-streaked brown hair was perpetually disheveled, and his navy-blue shirt was almost as wrinkled as his khaki slacks. His tall, heavyset frame required him to sit hunched-over in the backseat of the car, one of his sandaled feet propped up on the armrest in front of him. The strong features of his wide, bearded face were softened by a bored expression, but Remy wasn’t fooled. Albertson was always paying attention, his mind in constant pursuit of his next big success, and his brazen confidence often led him to taking unnecessary risks.
It was this sense of recklessness that had resulted in the late-night trip outside the lab’s complex, and Remy heaved a sigh as he shook his head in dismay.
“I don’t want to do this, Peter,” he muttered. “The Remy Process is still in its infancy, I’m not ready to announce it yet.”
Albertson looked up.
“Your research is sound, Lance. We’ve had over a dozen successful tests―”
“That’s not enough, it’s still too soon. You’re sending me on national television to discuss a breakthrough that―”
“That will change life as we know it,” Albertson finished, his dark eyes glittering with warning in the dim light of the backseat. The car’s brakes whined as the driver stopped outside a wide gate, and a blast of cold air flooded through the cab a moment later.
“Credentials?” the security guard demanded, leaning down to peer through the open window.
“We have an interview appointment with Action News,” Albertson answered loudly. He handed his name badge forward, then motioned for Remy do to the same. “I’m Dr. Peter Albertson, and this is my colleague, Dr. Lance Remy―”
“From Albertson Labs, right?” the security guard asked, his face brightening. “Any progress on the new crop program we’ve all been hearing about?”
“Let’s just say that it’s showing promise,” Albertson beamed, but his voice was tense. “May we proceed?”
“Of course,” the guard said, waving them through. The car inched forward as the gate opened, and Albertson sighed heavily, glancing at Remy.
“And that is why we need this announcement, Lance. The
country needs some good news, and your achievement is the closest thing we have to that right now.”
“Not if it ultimately fails,” Remy countered. “Then what will we tell people?”
“I suppose we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Albertson replied, leaning forward to direct the driver. “Pull up right in front of the doors and wait, we won’t be long.”
“Yes, sir.”
The car stopped, and Remy swallowed hard as he reached for the door handle.
“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” he said. Albertson shot him a glare as they stepped into the building.
“Just do as you’re told, Lance. Hello, Dara! It’s great to see you again!”
A tall, dark-haired woman was standing near the reception desk, and she grinned brightly as they approached.
“There you are! Cutting it a little close, Peter, I was afraid you weren’t going to make it in time!”
“We have time,” Albertson laughed. “We’re ten minutes early.”
“Ten minutes before we go live, you mean! That’s not exactly what I’d call early!”
She took the hand he offered her, shaking it enthusiastically before turning her attention to Remy.
“You must be Lance, it’s nice to meet you. I just want to say how much all of us appreciate the opportunity to have this interview, on behalf of everyone at Action News―”
“Will this take long?” Remy interrupted, ignoring her outstretched hand. Albertson’s eyes widened with annoyance, but he managed to smile.
“My colleague is in a hurry to get back to his work,” Albertson chuckled. “You know how lab rats are, most of us don’t step foot outside unless we’re dragged from our work on pain of death. Or termination,” he hissed, his voice dropping so only Remy could hear.
“Well, we’re all very grateful to have you here,” Dara beamed, motioning for them to hurry as she headed towards the studio. “Any updates on the crop program?”
“That wasn’t what we agreed to discuss, young lady,” Albertson chastised playfully. “Stick to the matter at hand, I’d hate to have to walk out on live television.”
“Off the record, then?”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Everyone is extremely concerned about it, Peter.”
“I’m well aware of everyone’s concerns, but I think Dr. Remy’s announcement will be more than enough for us to focus on. Shall we?”
Albertson reached for the door marked ‘Studio One’ and gestured for Dara to go ahead of him. She nodded politely and walked forward, calling to one of the assistants as Albertson grabbed Remy’s arm.
“She’s going to push it,” he whispered. “Do not let her rope you into talking about the crop program.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Remy answered, pulling away. “I know how to deal with these people, I’ll be fine.”
Dara turned and beckoned.
“Dr. Remy? We’re running late, but the makeup artist will just need a few moments―”
“No makeup,” he snapped, marching forward to the circle of chairs arranged in the center of the studio. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dara frowned but didn’t protest, and a flurry of activity exploded on the set as the technicians prepared for the interview broadcast. Remy sighed, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose and straightening the collar of his labcoat. He ran his hands through his thinning gray hair, smoothing the wayward strands, then he glanced at Alberston’s figure standing off in the shadows. The man’s stance was tense, and Remy’s lip curled in contempt. He wasn’t ready for this, but there was no way to refuse. The future of his research depended on Albertson Labs.
He sighed, fixing a polite smile on his face as he turned to Dara.
“Ready when you are.”
A voice began calling out the countdown.
“We’re live in five, four, three…”
The countdown went silent as Dara straightened, her pristine white pantsuit gleaming in the light as she turned towards the camera.
“Good evening, I’m Dara Evans and this is Action News at nine. Joining me in the studio tonight is Dr. Lance Remy from Albertson Labs, here to discuss a groundbreaking scientific discovery. You heard it first on Action News. How are you, Dr. Remy?”
“I’m great, Dara, thank you.”
She glanced down at her notes as she continued.
“We haven’t been given much information about the topic of this discovery, Dr. Remy, only that it would change life as we know it. It sounds exciting, and it would seem that it’s been a top-secret project of Albertson Labs until now. Can you start by telling us exactly what it is?”
“Well, Dara, let me begin by saying that I’m extremely proud of this accomplishment. This project has been my life’s work, but I can’t take all the credit for it. As a matter of fact, this particular subject has been pursued by mankind since the dawn of science itself.”
“And what subject would that be?”
“Chemical alchemy.”
Dara’s eyes widened.
“Alchemy? You mean the medieval pursuit of turning common elements into gold?”
Remy chuckled.
“Gold is useless, Dara. I’m talking about saving lives.”
“Can you elaborate?”
Remy drew a slow breath, doing his best to swallow back the condescending tone that was building in his throat.
“We know that all matter consists of atoms, right?”
Dara nodded quickly.
“Yes, of course. Elementary school science, I’m sure all of us remember learning about that.”
“Exactly. Everything in existence, regardless of how simple or complex, is made from a combination of atoms. The air we breathe, water, even gold—it can all be broken down into protons, electrons, and neutrons.”
She leaned in closer, exaggerated interest painted on her expression as she waited for him to continue.
“The alchemy discussed in medieval texts wasn’t as far off the mark as we used to think, Dara. Even though medieval scientists didn’t understand the basic building blocks of matter yet, their hypotheses were theoretically sound. They just didn’t have the proper technology to fully explore their ideas.”
“But you do?”
Remy nodded.
“I do. I won’t bore you with the scientific details, those will be published later, but I can tell you that I’ve devised a process that takes the atomic structure of things and, well—rearranges them, if you will, into whatever chemical composition I choose. It’s based on technology that has existed for years, but I’ve refined it and taken it to a whole different level. I’m calling it the Remy Process.”
Dara held up her hand.
“What do you mean, technology that has existed for years? I’ve certainly never heard of anything like this.”
“I’ll give you a basic example,” Remy said. “We’ll start with water, we all know that water consists of two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom.”
“H2O.”
“Yes, exactly. However, through a chemical reaction, we can add an extra oxygen atom that creates H2O2, which is hydrogen peroxide. The technique for causing this reaction has been used for many years, and what I’ve done refines and applies that concept to other forms of matter in a way that is easy and cost-effective. I mean, it’s not really easy, it’s actually a highly complex and scientifically advanced process, but you get the idea.”
“And what can you create with this process?”
Remy grinned.
“Anything. Well, almost anything.”
“Give me an example.”
“My current project has addressed the development of growth hormones using this technology. I can synthesize the atomic structure of amino acids, then refine those amino acids to form synthetic growth hormones for widespread medical applications. White blood cells produce chemical antitoxins that fight against infection, as
another example. While I can’t produce the cells themselves, I can create synthetic antitoxins that have the same effect, all with the press of a few buttons. More importantly, I can tailor those antitoxins to target specific strains of an infection or medical condition.”
“What does this mean for humanity?”
Remy’s chest swelled with pride.
“Cancer is now a thing of the past, for one,” he answered, his voice lilting with excitement. “And the chemical processes that cause our bodies to heal can be accelerated, meaning broken bones and other injuries can be repaired in mere days.”
He paused, waiting for her to gasp with shock, but she looked unimpressed.
“Anything else, Dr. Remy?”
Her voice was edged with impatient expectation, and he did his best not to snap at her as he delivered the rest of his rehearsed statement.
“Albertson Labs has rushed production of over a thousand of my machines, which I’ve named Remy Synthesizers. Each solar-powered unit is equipped with state-of-the-art self-maintenance technology to ensure that government-mandated energy efficiency and zero-waste protocols are followed. This amazing breakthrough is still in its infancy and the potential applications that remain to be discovered are endless, but for now, at the very least, we will be equipping medical facilities across the country―”
“What does this mean for the food crisis, Dr. Remy?” Dara blurted out. “You said you can synthesize matter, does this also apply to food?”
Remy could see Albertson start waving in a frantic attempt to stop the interview, but he pretended not to notice.
“No, Dara, it does not. The Remy Process is limited to chemical compounds―”
“So what you’re telling all of us today is that your discovery will not do anything to help the starving population of this country and the world,” Dara interrupted, her demeanor growing suddenly cold.
“That is not what I’m saying, Dara, I’m simply clarifying that food is not on the list of matter my process can produce. However, pre-existing genetically-modified stock created by our lab could benefit from growth serums or other―”
CENTER 82 (RATION) Page 1