Yocto

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  Gordy picked up the paper and saw the picture of the naval ships actually docked at Navy Pier and thought the coincidence worth a smile, as he was actually from Chicago and used to take many a girl to that very same spot. Now the Navy was there for real, with a base set up right across the Lake Michigan waterfront over at Soldier Field. The field was open, as the NFL season was put on hold. Gordy loved football, but more important to him was that there were no plans to resurrect the baseball season and have a World Series this year. That had only happened twice before, and it was something he never thought he’d see again. Possibly for patriotic reasons or possibly because they are rebel rousers to begin with, NASCAR and horse racing decided to press on.

  He perused over the DRF (Daily Racing Form), which was his bible, and he had hope. Currently his pick on the Exacta was chomping at the bit to get out of the gate, and “Betsy’s Best” had all the right numbers to win this race. She had won on a dry track, like Santa Anita here, just two months before. She loved to run in the midday sun, and she was great on shorter races like this one. Gordy could feel a winner here.

  He was counting on pulling out a win because he hadn’t had meat in a week, and he was tired of beans, tofu, and vegetables. He knew the nation was ramping up turkey farming to ridiculous levels, but until then, any existing meat was too expensive for him. He had read a story yesterday of a rich guy getting killed down in Florida. Apparently he took his expensive airboat and money into the backwoods looking to buy gator meat. The swamp folk not only hung him by his feet and disemboweled him, they wrote a note to the free world, “Stay out.” Then they drifted him back into the main waterway.

  The gate was pulled and the horses were off on their six-furlong race. Gordy was very hopeful as they cleared the first turn—Betsy Best was really turning it on. This was going to be a winner for sure, as the closest horse to his, Jacob’s Ladder, pulled up lame.

  Distracted by the lame horse, Gordy took his eyes off of his leading horse to watch. Jacob’s Ladder might have simply pulled up lame, but now he was doing a weird kind of dance, and the next thing Gordy knew, the horse went down. He turned to the racing pack left on the field and saw they were all on the ground—Betsy’s Best had come up twenty feet short of the finish line . . .

  * * *

  David’s family was taking an extraordinary amount of time in his office, so Jack had Sharon bring in a new workstation for him in the conference room—a room that was going to be filled with the Secretary himself tomorrow. Jack got word today that a lot of people were coming to visit.

  As he was going through his inspection reports, he kept the addictive TV on in the background. If people thought inspectors were tough before, today’s new inspector was no one to mess around with. Jack felt so guilty for his next thought, but he seriously was ready to throw in the towel. He was starting to feel like his place was in his home. And not his home here in the U.S., but his ancestral home of Greece.

  Before he went back to work, he watched a story coming out of New York. Other than the FEMA trucks, the Federal Government wisely used the one resource they already had in place: soup kitchens. Of course, a large percentage of those were church based. As food had become scarcer, people were realizing that having even one normal meal a day meant you were privileged.

  People within their communities started to become more tribal, and so did the churches in their respective neighborhoods. It was now being reported that St. Barnabas in the Bronx put the word out that unless you were Catholic, and more to the point, unless you were a local Catholic, then you might as well not show up for food. That’s how Jack felt right now, tribal.

  He refocused on his matter at hand when the TV did what it perpetually did nowadays, and that was to bring one horror after the next. Jack watched the video of the horse race at Santa Anita with a slack jaw. This was a significant break in the pattern. Unless horsemeat was eaten as a staple elsewhere, this was not any part of the human food chain, and it opened up a whole new avenue.

  Jack now realized that no enemy would do this. There is no invasion, no warfare, and no radio wave attack. Unless whoever is doing this is now taking random pot shots out of a bell tower, then the Earth is facing an extinction event and I know what every other scientist knows deep in their hearts. Sooner or later it is coming to mankind.

  Just when things started to cool down, this event just heated them right back up again. Jack was speculating what sub-species die-off was going to occur when reports started to come in from zoos around the nation. Zebra and donkeys both became victim of this event and before he could get out of his chair, Sharon was putting Secretary Copeland through. Jack greeted his superior with a lot less trepidation than he had the first time they spoke, “Hello, Sir, I am watching this unfold on my TV.”

  “Well us, too, Jack, and I wanted to call to give you the word from the White House. Your visit tomorrow is to relieve you of your duty as Acting Director of West Coast Operations. You have done a great job, but Jack, and this is straight from the top, we want you working on a fix.

  “Your theory made it to the President, and he does not want you mired in bureaucratic duties while you should be spending your time doing what your college degree was designed for.”

  That was the best news Jack had ever heard, “Thank you, Sir, so much! Not that I wasn’t able to hold the fort down, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about this situation almost every minute of my day—so I know I’m short changing the Agency somewhere, Sir.”

  “Jack, you’ve done a great job so far, but now we’re going to be taxed yet again with this newest die-off.”

  “Oh, Sir, that reminds me, and I am sure it is not lost on you. This is the first die-off that did not directly have any bearing on our food supply. Sir, I think we’re looking at an extinction event. Maybe this is what happened to the dinosaurs, maybe their air composition changed so dramatically that the new mixture was not suitable for their survival.”

  “You know we are looking at that Jack, but there is nothing there. There are just no signs of what the hell is going on yet.” After a short pause and some background voices being heard, Secretary Copeland came back on the line, “I have to go, Jack, as you can imagine, I have an emergency meeting to attend. Your replacement will be there tomorrow. It’s Dan Whitman from my office here. He’s a good man, Jack, so help him get transitioned.”

  “You got it, Sir, and thank you again.”

  “Figure this out, Jack. Somehow I have the same feeling David Ho did about you. Now you’ll have time to think. As of now, walk away from all paperwork and get into the lab, as you now have new animals to look at. Surely a clue is coming.”

  “You got it, Sir, I know I can do that well.”

  As Jack hung up the phone, he realized he was hungry; so he went to turn the TV off, and that’s when he saw another animal sub-species that died off. Huh, I forgot they were part of a genus debate . . . guess not anymore, and that kills my change in the pattern notion.

  * * *

  Karen’s eyes opened. She had no idea how long she’d slept, as she’d actually gone into a deeper sleep than she thought possible. She had twisted and turned seemingly forever, so it was really surprising to wake up having no sense of time or place. That was another part of the Space thing, once you were out here, all the normalities of life were gone, especially sleep. Then she remembered they had drawn blood earlier; maybe that was it. The American Destiny Lab was also where they did a lot of work on each other, including ultrasound and urine tests. There was no doubt that mankind was trying to survive longer than six months out in Space.

  She realized that she was an hour past her duties with her fury little friends. That was not like her at all, especially seeing that their area was the only place she could a get reprieve from thinking about her mom. How could life be so cruel? Why is life so cruel?

  These thoughts never left her head, so tending to her Wittle Wudy Wabbit was the thing that was keeping her sane; that and a certain Ru
ssian scientist. Of course, Anatoly had been wise and given her the needed space she required right now, and she cursed the fate that wrought such hardship on a love that she had been searching for her entire life. But her three babies were what she needed right now and they needed her to be on time.

  Karen hurriedly made her way to her lab, feeling guilty for the delay in her duties. Of course, no one really expected her to carry on her experiments anymore. Considering everything that was going on below, coupled with everything going on in her life, no one would have blamed her if she just checked out.

  That was not an option for her, though, and the thought of letting people down who were counting on her was out of the question. Her little men were going to have to make the trip down in the Soyuz capsule, just like they were scheduled to.

  Karen did not come through the hatch door with any flare this time, as she had lost her gymnastic routine when the joy started getting sucked out of her life. She entered the Destiny Lab and looked down its length—she was always impressed by the lab. A lot of the systems that keep them alive were in here, and in a way, Destiny was an inspiration for her to make it into Space.

  One of the previous astronauts had taken back to Earth a fabric cover from a machine that was installed here. Every person who had worked on this success story had signed that cover, which made its way to Princeton on display. That’s where Karen saw it, and it was a catalyst of sorts. She made her way to the rabbit cage and greeted her boys in her usual style, good morning, “Wandolph, Woscoe, Wudy.”

  Her blood ran cold as she look in and saw all three of her rabbits were dead. Their mouths gaped open like they were suffocated. Karen backed away terrified. She was completely scared beyond all reason. She was too scared to scream, too scared to cry, and she was sure that all the blood had drained from her face. She kept backing away until she hit the hatch. Realizing she needed Anatoly now, she went out of the lab and turned right into the man she was looking for, with the entire scientific team in tow.

  Karen could see on his face that he was holding the information she was coming for, and it wasn’t good. Anatoly knew that all the rabbits on Earth were dead. Karen was sure that her face told the same story, a face that confirmed that all the rabbits in Space were dead too. “Their gone, Anatoly, all of them. Somehow we are not immune out here like we thought we were. Maybe we already brought it up.”

  Harshal looked at her bewildered, “What do you mean brought it up? Do you know what this is, Karen?”

  Karen looked at him as if he were a child asking a question he surely should have known the answer to, “Of course, I do, Harshal, I’ve named it ‘Madness,’ and now Madness is upon us.”

  Harshal looked at Anatoly like a man needing some instant reassurance that Karen had not turned the corner. Anatoly confirmed, “Karen has concluded that this cannot be a pathogen, nor can it be an act of God, so she has determined that Madness is unidentified at this time, but will reveal itself in due time.”

  Harshal chided, “I’m sorry, Karen, but I will not waste another moment talking about this reductio ad absurdum. What is the purpose of this conversation even? We need to start our own investigation into the cause of death of these animals, and if we use our time wisely, then we can get an answer before we leave in less than four days.”

  Karen could care less that the bridge they had built was destroyed with the next sentence or not, “You go ahead and do that, Harshal, because you are smarter than everyone else down on Earth. Or, more likely, you will find nothing, waste your time and grow more frustrated. Because you can’t find Madness, Harshal, but it will surely find you, soon enough.”

  Commander Trofim broke the tension momentarily, asking in heavily accented Russian, “I am confused. How are the horses on Earth dying connected to our rabbits?”

  Karen did not know that the horse was the main die off on earth, and her answer came after some thought, “Because they are related, Commander. Most people think rabbits are related to rodents, and actually it had been the topic of much scientific speculation. But after all the studies were analyzed, it was determined their true genus was Lagomorphs, but there were still holdouts who believe them to be Equus, the same genus as the horse.”

  Commander Trofim seemed to understand, “It looks like that argument has been settled.”

  Out of respect for her situation, Harshal did not respond any further. Plus, he had heard what Anatoly had done to Oleg and he wanted no part of that. He simply made his way into the Destiny Lab to start the process of doing an autopsy/biopsy on the dead rabbits. It would be the last time Karen and Harshal spoke to each other, but she did have one more thing to add to the group as she headed through the group to her chambers, “I’m not leaving here.” She stared at Anatoly, “We’re all going to die anyway, and I am deciding to stay here.” She had made her way past them now and trailed back over her shoulder, “I don’t ever want to go back to Earth again.”

  * * *

  The Hotline rang with an ominous tone. It was ominous because President Kessel, his Vice President, and Cabinet had just been rushed under the East Wing of the White House. The Department of Measurement and Signature Intelligence (MASINT) had just informed them that Pyongyang existed no more. Their optical monitoring station in South Korea measured the blast at less than one kiloton. Not five minutes later there was a submarine based missile launch from the Yellow Sea aimed at North Korea. The ensuing explosion caused a magnitude 2.6 Richter scale reading and no above ground mushroom cloud. Which told the South that the bomb was detonated underground, a bunker buster.

  Inexplicably, there was no warning on the North Korean side either, as they must not have seen this coming. There were no extra movements or chatter, at least on any of the monitoring devices the United States had in place to keep an eye on them.

  Apparently China had evaluated the situation and realized that as long as the leader of this disobedient child lived, there could be no peace in the region. With the massive unrest in Hong Kong, Singapore, and Bangkok, China could ill-afford a range war with the madman that breached their borders with a wave of human beings only the day before.

  The U.S. President reached for the phone, fearing the worst, “This is President Kessel.”

  “Walter, my friend, how are you holding up?”

  “I assume you ask this of me, Grigory, knowing that we are both in our respective bunkers.”

  “Yes, Walter, knowing that.”

  “I’m okay, under the circumstances. What are your people telling you, Grigory?”

  The Russian President spoke with clarity, “They are telling me that you are ramping up your troop movements on the southern border, and the Peoples’ Republic is pretty sure you will take this advantage to invade them.”

  “Sure, Grigory, and we’re going to be backing up our troops with the array of Navy vessels that we no longer have placed in the region.” President Kessel’s voice was laced with cynicism, “I hope your Generals are not serious, Sir, as that part of the Korean Peninsula is going to be glowing for a number of years and we won’t be putting our troops in harms way.

  “All we want is stability in the region, and truthfully, if this incident that was precipitated by China works to ultimately calm the region, then we will be bringing a massive number of our troops home immediately. That is, if they took out their leader.”

  The Russian President informed the U.S. President, “Chairman Yu called me before the strike to assure me that this was not part of some grander plan. They had already received confirmation that Pyongyang was prepared to use their nuclear options to gain whatever advantage they could, including attacking South Korea without provocation. They were left with little choice but to remove President Yung and his Generals.”

  “Then why were we excluded, Grigory?”

  “Because with the proximity of your troops, you would have moved them out of harm’s way, out of instinct, and possibly given away their plan.”

  Walter was never one to be last to catc
h on, and he did not need the side bar that Sid was calling for, he got the gist of this call. “So they have you calling me to let me know that this is the one and only sanctioned use of a nuclear bomb to solve a problem. Right, Grigory? Seeing we have our newfound relationship and all, you are the perfect liaison to convey their proposal.”

  The Russian President stumbled, “Walter, maybe you are reading this wrong, I am merely explaining their side, there is no negotiation going on.”

  “Well, in that case, Grigory, seeing as there are no negotiations, we will review our nuclear options as well. We are not comfortable with this situation, I must tell you.”

  “Walter, please, now is not the time to escalate this. Let us find a diplomatic solution.”

  The U.S. President impressed everyone in the room more and more as the conversation continued. It was clear that the Russian President had apprehension in his voice. He feared what President Kessel might do, and that was the place where real negotiations happened. The erudite on the U.S. side understood that their President kind of brainwashed the Russian President into believing he would do what he must do to get the job done, no matter what.

  “I understand, Grigory, there is obviously a quid quo pro here if you mediate, so let’s get Chairman Yu on the line here and clear the air. I have no objection to you receiving a concession for your people. I would have done the same.”

  In that vital exchange, President Kessel let everyone in the Russian War Room know that he did not need to pause for advisors in a crisis, he was a man that could think on his feet. He was also a man who could not be deceived. His new mediators were able to bring Chairman Yu into the call, “Mr. Presidents, thank you for bringing me in.”

  They both returned the salutation, and Chairman Yu started the conversation, “President Kessel, I am sure that President Yeshevsky has briefed you on our reasoning and timeframe, we are just hoping that you can understand. As we pointed out to President Yeshevsky, because of the jet stream we will get the fallout, so this was not an easy decision.