CENTER 82 (RATION)

by Christina J Thompson

  “I…I can see you paid attention to the psychology unit,” Andreas stammered in wide-eyed shock. The ration shrugged.

  “No, I just spent a lot of time observing the way you all interact with each other,” it answered. “It’s not hard to see how people work, they’re all convinced that they’re right even when the evidence that proves them wrong is staring them in the face.”

  Andreas could feel the ration’s eyes boring holes into her as it spoke; she glanced away, refusing to meet its gaze as she considered its suggestions. She couldn’t deny the validity of the points it had made, and she heaved a sigh as she turned to leave.

  “Fine, we’ll do it your way,” she muttered, beckoning to the ration as she stepped towards the lab’s service entrance. “We’re taking the back corridors, let’s get this over with.”

  Andreas navigated up the stairs inside the service access until she reached the twenty-second floor. The meeting room’s main door required a code, a fact Brenda was likely counting on to keep the conference from happening, but the rear entrance was never locked. She stopped at the door marked ‘Conference D’, steeling her nerves as she reached for the handle.

  Ayn watched as Andreas put her hand out to open the door, noticing that she was trembling. It was almost amusing to see, and the ridiculousness of the situation was not lost on him. For once, the keeper was facing the same fate as the ration.

  He could hear quiet voices murmuring throughout the conference room as he followed Andreas onto the stage, and he glanced around at the faces that were staring up at him, trying to read each expression. They all seemed confused and curious, all except for one: in the very back stood Brenda, and from what Ayn could see, she looked like she was about to explode.

  The room fell silent as Andreas took her place behind the podium, and she motioned for him to stand beside her as she reached for the microphone.

  “Good morning,” Andreas said, her voice cracking as it echoed out through the speakers. “I’ve called this conference to present my preliminary findings for my current project and to discuss further research into a very serious issue I’ve discovered.”

  Ayn quietly cleared his throat, and he saw Andreas hesitate.

  “I apologize, I should say that David discovered,” she corrected herself. “Dr. David Sipp, as you all know, was working on a project that explored a potential defect that caused supplement resistance in rations. I, like many others, didn’t believe his theories were credible, and I reported his activities to the administration as a result. I’m standing here today to tell you all that I made a terrible mistake.”

  Andreas paused, taking a breath as she glanced down at her pages.

  “Dr. Sipp’s research was lost before he could present it to the scientific community, but fortunately, one piece remains. The ration you see before you was Dr. Sipp’s original test subject from Project Nine, returned to our facility from Settlement 109 due to its exhibition of cognitive traits that should have been suppressed by the compounds contained within the supplements. For the last few weeks, I have been conducting tests on this ration in an attempt to prove once and for all that Dr. Sipp’s claims were unfounded. He believed that this ration’s physiology was key to isolating the supposed defect he had discovered, and during the course of my testing, I have become thoroughly convinced of the same. In fact, it was not my own tests that led me to this conclusion, but rather a witness to Dr. Sipp’s work that was able to describe the process by which he obtained his results. Because of this, I now have evidence that this test subject has value to our research above and beyond the question of supplement resistance.”

  Ayn met her gaze as she glanced back at him over her shoulder; her eyes locked with his, almost as if asking if the timing was right, and he gave her a slight nod.

  “This ration is that witness,” Andreas announced.

  Murmurs of confusion rose up from the group, and she raised her hands for silence.

  “Allow me to demonstrate,” she said, gesturing to Ayn. “Ration, explain what you told me.”

  “What the hell is this, Andreas?” a voice called out. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Quiet!” she barked, sending shrieks of feedback through the speakers. She motioned again, and Ayn sighed heavily as he took a step forward.

  “To you all, I am formally known as strain 27680, and I am marked as the first ration developed under this designation.”

  A collective gasp of shock rang out as every mouth dropped open, and Ayn raised his voice as he continued.

  “Dr. Sipp performed a number of tests on me during the course of Project Nine, and he located a protein mutation within my strain that prevents supplement compounds from having an effect. As the mutation is constrained only to unique cells in the brain itself, supplement saturation in blood and tissue presents as normal and therefore renders this defect undetectable through standard testing. However, a simple marker-and-stain histological analysis of cerebrospinal fluid confirms the absence of the compounds, and the use of protein imaging of cells retrieved from the blood-brain barrier provides a definitive method of verifying the defect’s presence.”

  The room was dead silent as he finished speaking, then, after a long pause, a roar of voices erupted from the crowd. Every hand shot up, and Andreas pointed to the front row.

  “Dr. Trent?” she called out. The man stood up.

  “I…I don’t know where to begin!” he stammered, his eyes bulging. “How did it learn to speak?”

  “It has informed me that its capacity for speech was developed from overhearing the researcher training program during its time in incubation.”

  “Have you conducted an intelligence assessment?” another voice called out, and Andreas nodded.

  “It scored a 67.”

  “That’s impossible!” Dr. Trent gasped. “The scale doesn’t go past thirty!”

  “I had to reset the scale,” Andreas told him. “I originally thought the test results didn’t register at all.”

  “Have you performed cognitive brain imaging?” someone else asked.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Andreas answered. “And it doesn’t appear that I will have time to do so.”

  Ayn could see Brenda’s eyes narrow even from across the room.

  “Why not?” Dr. Trent demanded. “We need to understand what’s going on, what if the strain I’m working on right now has this same defect?”

  Andreas took a deep breath.

  “After learning that I was in possession of this ration yesterday, Dr. Hanson approached me in my lab and told me that it is subject to the resolution order that was given for Dr. Sipp’s Project Nine. I defied that order to give me time to call this conference, but in a few hours, the ration will be euthanized and placed in cold storage. I will then be removed from the facility.”

  “So you held this conference not to share your results, but to override the resolution order,” Brenda called out, and Ayn saw Andreas shift nervously.

  “Yes…I mean, I did it for both reasons, but―”

  “Another attempt to save your own ass,” another researcher quipped, and several others murmured in agreement. “This is just like when you were charged as a sympathizer alongside David, except instead of betraying us to Smith, you’re trying to use us to circumvent policy.”

  “It doesn’t matter what her reasons are, we need to conduct living studies!” Dr. Trent protested. “This subject could be key to determining if there are any other affected strains! We can’t test a dead ration’s mental processing―”

  “We don’t need to know about the ration’s mental processing!” someone else shouted, and Ayn saw Brenda smile. “That’s a non-issue, there’s no valid scientific reason to explore cognitive function! Our sole focus is developing and maintaining a food source, and this defect poses a threat to that food source. If we are to believe what we’ve heard, we already have the information we need to check other strains—protein imaging and CSF marker-and-stai
n analysis. We don’t need the ration to remain alive for that!”

  Ayn cleared his throat.

  “Then you won’t know what else David was working on.”

  Everyone in the room turned their attention to him.

  “I saw everything he did in the lab,” Ayn continued. “He only proved one of his theories—the protein mutation—but there was another one that he didn’t get a chance to finish working on.”

  “And what was that?” Dr. Trent asked.

  “Well, if the supplements couldn’t reach the brain because of the protein mutation, it stands to reason that direct injection of supplement compounds into the spine could bypass the problem, correct?”

  “It’s a bit more complex than that,” Dr. Trent answered. “But for the sake of argument, yes.”

  “David tried that on me—he injected the pain control compound directly into my spine, but there was still no effect. His theory was that my brain actually lacks receptors for that compound. Now, I may be wrong, but I don’t think you can test for something like that on a dead ration.”

  “That is a valid point,” a woman spoke up, but she sounded almost pained to admit it. She chuckled mockingly. “What I’d really like to know is if we can override the part that euthanizes the ration and leave the rest.”

  “You mean the part that requires my removal?” Andreas snapped indignantly.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” the woman answered bluntly. “Hell, I’m almost willing to sacrifice the ration if it means you go with it. You gave confidential files to Smith, your actions resulted in the loss of three researchers―”

  “You have no proof of that.”

  “Come on, Monica, we all know it! We’re not stupid!”

  “I just can’t get over the nerve you have,” another voice chimed in. “You expect us to help you when you’re facing punishment from the board, but where were you when David was in the same position?”

  “I already told you that I made a mistake,” Andreas replied. Her tone was calm, but Ayn could hear the condescending bitterness in her words. “I was wrong, just like you will be if you allow this ration to be resolved―”

  “I think we’re straying from the topic,” Ayn quickly interrupted, his voice booming through the conference room. “This isn’t about Dr. Andreas, it’s about objectively evaluating whether or not my scientific value requires me to remain alive.”

  An unexpected laugh welled up in his throat as he spoke the words; the insanity of the situation was surreal, yet here he was, calmly trying to prompt the people who held his life in their hands to stay focused.

  “The ration is right,” Dr. Trent agreed. “Regardless of what Andreas did or didn’t do, we have a responsibility to focus only on fact.”

  “I have a question, ration,” someone asked. “Dr. Sipp attempted direct injection of the pain control, but what about the behavior control compound?”

  Ayn shrugged.

  “He never got a chance to try it. He was removed within days of discovering the protein mutation, he couldn’t test the other theories.”

  “And we won’t be able to, either, not if this ration is euthanized,” Andreas added. “We may know how to identify the problem in other strains, but testing all of them will take time that we don’t have. This ration is the first confirmed case of the defect, we can’t afford to lose it yet.”

  Ayn couldn’t help rolling his eyes—yet.

  “Are you really listening to this?” Brenda cried incredulously. “I never imagined that I would ever see my scientists entertain something this ridiculous!”

  “I’m not your scientist,” Dr. Trent answered, turning to look at her. “I care about evidence, and right now, that ration is evidence.”

  “And you’re playing right into that woman’s hands!” Brenda shouted angrily. “Are you really foolish enough to let her get away with this again?”

  “I’m a scientist, Dr. Hanson,” Dr. Trent countered. “I keep my personal feelings separate from my work, as do my colleagues.”

  He stressed the last part, giving a meaningful look around the room, then he gestured towards the stage.

  “Euthanizing that specimen could prevent us from determining the exact cause of this problem, and if it is as widespread as Dr. Sipp believed, we would lose an invaluable source of data. So the question we must answer is simple—based only on what we have seen and heard, should the ration be resolved pursuant to the standing resolution order? I, for one, think not. If any of you disagree, stand up now.”

  Not a single person moved, and Ayn watched as Brenda stormed out through the door.

  “How soon can I obtain tissue samples?” one of the researchers called, and the others quickly joined in.

  Ayn sighed. This was exactly what he had expected.

  †‡†

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Brenda fumed as she headed for level twelve, her shoulders heaving as she tried to control herself. She reached the executive unit and burst in.

  “Good morning, Dr. Hanson,” Janelle greeted her. Brenda ignored the woman, marching past the desk and throwing open the door to Executive Smith’s office.

  Smith raised a brow as she entered.

  “Brenda, I wasn’t expecting you―”

  “We need to talk, Jeremy,” she interrupted. She sat down and crossed her arms. “Something extremely serious has come up.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “What happened?”

  “It’s Andreas and that goddamn ration!” Brenda snapped angrily. “Turns out, it was the test subject for Project Nine!”

  Smith’s eyes grew wide.

  “What? How did you miss that?”

  “It’s one ration out of thousands!” she shot back defensively. “I can’t keep track of them all! I figured it out, that’s what matters, and I told Andreas that she needed to destroy the damn thing pursuant to the Project Nine resolution order. I thought I had the situation under control, but she called a conference this morning and convinced everyone to override the order!”

  “Loopholes in policy,” Smith mused, shaking his head. “I know how frustrating it can be.”

  “It’s worse than that, Jeremy, you don’t understand. The ration—it can talk!”

  The blood instantly drained from Smith’s face as he gasped.

  “What?”

  Brenda nodded.

  “It described all of David’s work,” she said, whispering a curse. “Everything I managed to hide the last time around, including the unproven theories David was still working on when I got rid of him! You have no idea how hard it was to keep him from explaining his testing process during his hearing, not to mention destroying the equipment he needed to recreate his results—it was all for nothing, now everyone knows what he did!”

  Smith raised a brow.

  “What do you mean, when you got rid of him?” he asked slowly. “What exactly were you trying to hide?”

  Brenda sighed heavily as she rubbed her temples; no one else knew the full extent of her efforts, but if she was going to fix this problem, she had no choice but to tell him.

  “What I’m about to explain to you is confidential,” she began, giving him a long look. “No presiding scientist has ever discussed things like this with an executive—my own board doesn’t even know—so I mean it when I say that this information can’t go any further than this room. Do you understand?”

  Smith nodded gravely, and Brenda sighed again.

  “We’ve known since the very beginning that the rations have normal mental capacity, Jeremy, that’s part of the reason we designed the supplements in the first place. Keeping them drugged from the start of incubation inhibits brain development and their ability to react, with the apparent exception of this one goddamn strain―”

  “Andreas is convinced that the problem goes beyond one strain,” Smith interjected. “If she’s right―”

  “She’s not
,” Brenda stated firmly. “She’s just spouting David’s work, it’s nothing but sympathizer hysteria born from his blatant attempt to challenge the ration program. I found out about what he was doing and convinced one of the lab assistants to help me stop him—the record of his work was deleted, and an unmedicated test subject in another lab was used to destroy certain equipment―”

  “That was you?” Smith breathed, his eyes wide. “We lost an entire lab! Base One was furious!”

  “A necessary sacrifice,” she told him, waving dismissively. “The program was under threat, I couldn’t allow David to recreate his results in time for the hearing. Andreas was the last loose end, she knew about the project and was supposed to be removed at the same time, but we all know how she managed to avoid that.”

  Smith crossed his arms.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about―”

  “Save it, Jeremy,” Brenda hissed. “This problem goes beyond your scheme to access confidential research, admitting that part pales in comparison to the real issue. Exposing the ration’s defect seems to have convinced the other researchers that more strains could be affected, this could destroy the ration program.”

  Smith pursed his lips.

  “But what if more strains are affected?” he asked. “I think you should at least consider looking into it―if this defect really extends beyond this one ration, there’s no way we can continue the program. We can’t issue defective stock, we’ll have to harvest the algae―”

  “The algae isn’t an option!” Brenda snapped. “The coastals are subject to a standing order that permanently bars the dryland population from accessing the algae, and they are equipped with defense systems to enforce that order.”

  Smith narrowed his eyes.

  “What do you mean, permanently? I’ve never heard of this!”

  Brenda made a face; she jumped to her feet and began pacing.

  “Because it’s not something the administration is involved in,” she told him. “File-pushing government officials can’t even begin to understand the delicate balance required to sustain what little life remains on this planet, so this matter was left up to the scientific community―”