Yocto

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  Anatoly, the wise, was the first to respond, and he was definitely more stressed than anyone had ever seen him, “That strain has never jumped from human to human, are you saying that there is proof she contracted it from someone else?”

  Harshal was quick to respond, “No, I am not saying that, but her last forty-eight hours are being researched with a fine-toothed comb. It wouldn’t make sense that she handled raw poultry, especially when you factor in the fact that people who know her say she does not cook.”

  Karen broke in, “If what you’re saying is true, then that virus is loose in Asia, and now it has been exposed to at least two international airports, one of them in my country.” Karen got very misty-eyed when she asked, “Do all of you think this is it? Is this thing going to cause the collapse of society? Is it going to win?” Karen finally had done it, she turned into the female of the species, and now she was no longer just a fellow astronaut—she had shed tears. Real astronauts did not shed tears, and now she had broken her own personal code by doing so.

  That was until she looked at Julien and observed him with an open tear in his left eye, which he made no attempt to wipe away and pretend it didn’t exist. Either his empathy for mankind was as deep as hers, or his empathy for her was so deep that it brought him to tears. Either way, she came to realize that Dr. Julien Grossen was deep, a lot deeper than his joking demeanor ever let on.

  Anatoly had been thinking, “If this has been a mutation of H5N1 all along, then why haven’t we found anything in any of the other animals. And why cows? They are not part of the animal chain that spreads these viruses. Maybe this is just a coincidence with the stewardess, and it has nothing to do with anything.”

  Julien had his turn now, “Either way, it doesn’t matter, this will cause widespread panic. This is going to be a bad thing at a very bad time. People are already hoarding food and becoming more isolationists, out for themselves.”

  Harshal broke in, “Exactly, Julien, which is why I am guessing that this won’t spread as heartily as it would have in good times.”

  Anatoly spoke, “That’s a good point, Harshal, but if this can spread amongst humans, and it has already traveled internationally, then we are too late. This will already be a global pandemic.”

  Karen softly broke in, “Don’t any of you find it morbid that we are so detached? That we don’t have to worry about it hitting us, so we can just sit back and be analytical, hypothesizing in such a grand manner. I only wonder if we were down there right now, would we have the same sense of calm.”

  Lately, the two Commanders of the mission were like backdrops, just props inside the Space Station, but one of those props, Expedition Commander Trofim Zardonov became part of the discussion when he announced that, “You will excuse me, but we are not so removed as you think. We are scheduled to be resupplied in less than two weeks. That means that everything coming up here has been down there, and thus capable of bringing up whatever is down there.”

  That sobered the group and brought the Earth’s reality a little closer to home. Karen was overloaded, and suddenly some downtime and sleep were desperately needed. She left the group still talking about the precautions that they could take to ensure that no pathogens could get to them, but she noted that no one said the word pathogen, as not one of them was convinced that this was all the work of a virus.

  * * *

  Sid Langston looked at the President and asked, “What, are you getting sweet on this guy?”

  Walter Kessel and his Vice President were allowing themselves a moment after lunch to chat. Things had cooled a little pandemic-wise, as the Chinese stewardess had been the only one so far to come down with H5N1. Also, her friends who went out with her in Hong Kong the day before her flight admitted that at one point that night they went to a place where there was cock fighting—a definite probable source for her contracting the virus. They placed her in an isolation ward, and it looked like it was all a big coincidence.

  President Kessel was scheduled to address the nation in an hour, but as a courtesy he was about to call the Russian President when Sid Langston abruptly called him on it a few seconds ago. He cleared his throat to address his over-direct subordinate, “No, Sid, I’m not getting sweet on him, but we have to start building a rapport with them, so why not help move it along by dialing him in on this?”

  Sid’s bushy white eyebrows raised as he answered with serious inflection in his voice, “Because they are still the enemy, Walter, and do not think for a second that the two of you can change seventy years of head-bumping.”

  Walter rarely argued with an impassioned Sid Langston, but this time Sid was wrong—and that was why Walter Kessel was the Commander in Chief, so he could override his subordinates when they needed correcting. “Calm down Sid, we are not weakening our stance by keeping our word to be forthright; we are just showing them that we are serious about the ‘sharing the knowledge’ claims we’ve both made. Now why would I want to be the first person to break that agreement between two men of honor such as ourselves?”

  Vice President Langston grumbled, as he hated to concede a point, but concede he did, while Walter’s Chief of Staff arranged the call to his newly obtained ally in the Russian President. “Hello Grigory, I hope I find you are doing well.”

  “Walter, our stores are empty, and every time we organize food giveaways, there are riots. Things are very stressful here, but I see on your news, it is no different there. This current news of the H5N1 flu has caused mass panic here, as many believe it is the human race’s turn to die.”

  “It’s happening everywhere. Our country is divided into four factions at this point. One quarter think it’s a cosmic clock that is shutting us down, definitely tied to the Mayans’ prediction. Then another quarter are thinking this is a Jesus Christ or Mohammed event that is signaling all the sinners that it is their time to die. Then we have the political demagogues who are sure this is an act of war. They are the ones who scare me most, and they are looking for parties to blame.”

  Walter had stopped talking, so Grigory reminded him, “You said there were four?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry, the fourth is our vegetarian sect who claim this is all the meat eaters’ fault for bringing their lakes of pig shit and gaseous clouds of methane from the asses of the millions of cows necessary to keep up with the appetite of savages.

  “What no one had factored in yet is the effect that having no milk is going to have on so many industries, and it is staggering. Overnight, we are in an economic depression. Bakeries, restaurants, cheese makers, all out of business, or are missing major attractions to their businesses.”

  Grigory’s stoic voice responded, “Yes, it is the same here, my friend. I hear Paris has already stemmed several major riots, as has Rome. Once the word spread that the stewardess had H5N1, it has been pandemonium worldwide, as everyone thinks that the disease has learned to spread human to human.”

  “Well, that’s what I called to tell you. We timed out of the incubation period for the other people on the plane, especially her work companion who had direct contact with her. Not only will she live, but no one else has come down with it, Grigory. I am about to address my nation. So, that puts us back to hunting what did cause this. I assume your people are still pursuing the radio wave theory?”

  “As a matter of fact we are, Walter. Seems our friends in Iran set up similar radio wave meters, as the earthquake scientists there went to school in California and knew of this theory. Iran has a very similar fault to the San Andreas. We are waiting for their results, but it looks like we might get some needed data from them.”

  Walter knew that was one deal even he could not have pulled off, and he let Sid have the “I told you so” look once the information was shared so openly. Presidents Kessel and Yeshevsky parted as usual, with the promise to get back to each other soon, or if any substantial information came to light.

  After the call ended Walter addressed Sid, “What if the Iranian data concludes there was a radio wave event
precipitating the Indian event? I think it’s time we start looking beyond confirming they exist, Sid, and start thinking about what they mean, don’t you?”

  Vice President Langston always liked President Kessel, and this was why. Not only could he not be led off the path when he knew he was right, but he was always thinking ahead with contingency plans. He had handled his distribution of FEMA resources to cover the highest populated areas in the most efficient manner possible under the circumstances; other leaders might have already lost control. His deploying regular army out into rural America to protect the crops was very prudent, as was using the National Guard to basically seal off the exit from the large cities. Martial Law had been in effect for 33 hours now, and so far there had been no riots at the food distribution points, unlike the rest of the world, where there seemed to be no law at all any longer.

  America, the spoiled, had amazingly become America, the example. Almost every other country had seen wholesale madness in their streets, or at least until their respective militia took control. The worst so far appeared to be in Brazil and India, where their two most populated cities went into absolute civil unrest. In Rio, there were so many fires that the fire department had to watch them burn, as there was just no way to traverse the streets any longer. In San Paulo, thousands liberated the prison and a new army was formed, and so far, they were the ones winning.

  Farmers who did not have the U.S. military to protect them suddenly had to become warlords, even hiring guns, as their crops had become ten times more valuable overnight.

  Sid Langston looked over his President and could see he was worn out right now, but he wasn’t over fatigued. He was going to get the country through this crisis by being the calm in the eye of the storm. Not to mention that he was heading out to spread some good news—that there was no human version of the die off coming, just an isolated case of the bird flu. To date, there had been six hundred and fifty isolated cases of H5N1, and the fact this girl was in the forty percent who lived was certainly going to calm a lot of people down.

  After one of his normally long contemplative pauses, the Vice President responded to his Commander in Chief, “I think that’s a very prudent idea, Walter, and one that I’m going to focus on as well. You’re right, we can’t afford to be playing catch-up with this—we need to get in front of it.”

  The President rose to leave, as he was being summoned by his Chief of Staff; it was time to address the nation, “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Sid, those radio waves have to have a source.”

  * * *

  Gibb Mason was sore from head to toe. Yesterday he had done some construction on his barn and as usual, his back was on fire, so much so that he had to take a pain pill. The last time that had happened, he actually hit the snooze for the first time in his life. Of course, he was up at the very next alarm, but for gosh sake he sure hated taking any pills.

  This time though, the pills didn’t work as well and he was up before his alarm. His wife, Gloria, had told him to do the task in smaller increments, as at fifty-five years old he wasn’t a young man anymore. Of course, he stubbornly ignored her and pressed on, as he needed the new housing space because they were going to be expanding again. How could they not? thought Gibb.

  He looked over at the clock on the wall and nearly screamed from shock, it was seven-thirty in the morning for Christ’s sake! He must have slept through a hundred crowing alarms by now! How could this be? He looked next to him and realized that his wife would not know the answer, as she was sleeping soundly. The only breakfast he ever ate was three bananas. For some reason, that’s all his stomach could ever handle for breakfast, so this farmer’s wife got to sleep in until 8 am, which was her preferred time to awake. Somehow, every morning, she slept through all the crowing that his other alarm clocks made.

  Gibb knew the minute he stepped out of bed that something was not right, as even at seven-thirty in the morning the crowing would have persisted. Yet he heard nothing? Owning a good size chicken ranch in Arkansas, Gibb had been around chickens his entire life and this was eerie because it was like nothing he had ever heard in his life. Absolute quiet. Chickens did not do quiet. Especially when something was out of whack, like the farmer not showing up at 6 am, as was the norm.

  As he entered his main henhouse, the stillness overtook him. Gibb instinctively knew right away that there wasn’t a single living thing in there, and he was right. Gibb Mason had discovered what everyone on Earth would soon discover. All the chickens in his henhouse, as with all the chickens around the world, were now dead.

  * * *

  Karen awoke with a feeling of unease. Anatoly had told her before her nap that although they were claiming otherwise, his Government had stopped pursuing his idea the minute the stewardess was afflicted with the avian flu. The four of them talked it out, and they decided that there was a low possibility the die-off events were influenza, or even imaginary super influenza. It just didn’t add up.

  So Anatoly was confused as to how anyone on Earth could be looking that direction. They each had the same data; therefore, he suspected a conspiracy was at hand. Why else would they give up on his idea so easily? Karen knew human behavior, and just like during 9/11, once people were faced with a reality that could not be easily explained by their known facts of the time, they tended to believe the first thing that made relative sense to them.

  As soon as she watched the towers fall, the scientist in her was amazed. She figured that if they melted to the point of collapse on the upper floors, that the unaffected steel below would have provided resistance to the top coming down. However, in the aftermath, the amount of steel beam debris made no sense.

  Then she heard the news say the steel was pulverized and she knew that the effect was in place, people were in a place where they were willing to believe anything remotely explanatory. Even the dustification of steel.

  Hypothetically, Karen was quite sure if she threw a giant titanium plate from the top of the atmosphere, that when it crashed into the 110-story building below, that building would now be stuck to the bottom of the titanium plate, only now in the shape of a smaller plate. None of the steel would have pulverized, as steel does not pulverize, it would have reshaped or been driven into the earth like a giant nail pounded by a hammer.

  If that 9/11 effect were in play now down there, then precious moments were being wasted pursuing dead ends. Time we do not have, thought Karen. She exited her chamber and Anatoly was right there. She had no idea how long he’d been there, but she knew right away that it wasn’t going to be good news.

  Something else was in play, too, as he was alone to deliver this news. It happened subtly, but there was no doubt it happened; somehow the competition was over, and Julien was no longer stumbling over Anatoly to get to her. Apparently, she must have given it away in body language, because no words were ever exchanged, but then again, in the language of love there rarely was.

  Anatoly struggled to get it out, “Chickens.”

  Karen asked with hope of isolation, “Where?”

  With much regret he answered, “United States at first, but this time the world followed right away, within minutes. Even freshly hatched chicks are dying within minutes of being hatched. Come, the others are waiting for us, and a little warning beforehand, the pilots are now listening in on all our discussions.”

  Karen responded sardonically, “Great, maybe Oleg can rub two sticks together and get us a fire, too. Then he can club me over the head and take me back to his den.”

  For the first time in a long time, the mirth returned to Anatoly’s face, “Commander Vershinin is a good pilot, and I will admit that we don’t have much to talk about, but I would hardly consider him a Neanderthal, Karen.”

  She then gave him something to consider, “Well, then you haven’t seen the way I’ve caught him looking at me. I’d say he was working things out, if you know what I mean?” She winked at Anatoly as they made their way into the command module.

  The mood in the ro
om was stoic. After the cursory salutations, Dr. Julien Grossen continued what he was talking about before they had entered, “Like I was saying, this event completely disproves the thought that a virus can be responsible. This is an attack of some kind, as some nation or faction has learned how to do this and is unleashing it. Maybe like a villain from the fictitious English icon, James Bond, or something of that nature.”

  Before anyone could respond, Anatoly received a message that changed the conversation completely. It seemed they did not ignore his discovery, and indeed had discovered that in fact there had been a large radio wave spike in India during the cow event, and moreover, there had been a worldwide one that occurred simultaneously during the chicken event. Radio waves were spiking simultaneously in different hemispheres.

  The first to comment was Harshal, “That dilutes my theory, but does not eliminate it. I was hypothesizing that this radio wave is a concentrated beam from Space, that maybe an extraterrestrial source was attacking us. But if they were concentrating it from Space, they wouldn’t be able to hit both sides of the planet at once with it.”

  Anatoly answered the silence with, “Unless they have us surrounded.”

  Karen took her turn in this erudite conversation, “Face it, if these Beings had the resources and knowledge to pull this off, then what would be their end-game? If they could pull this off with animals, then they could pull this off with humans, so if it were an invasion from Space, then they would have just taken us out. And don’t forget who would have been first, but we are out here alone—and alive.

  “No, I believe that this is something mankind has brought down on himself, and now we have to figure out what is happening, or we won’t have a planet to go back to.”

  Something hit Karen and she addressed Expedition Commander Zardonov, instead of Oleg, who had somehow moved next to her a little too close and was finally catching the attention of Anatoly, “Speaking of Earth, what is the news on our supply ship? Can we trust that whatever is going on down there is not some super pathogen and now on it’s way up here? How many days of supplies do we have left?”