EARTH PLAN

by David Sloma

  Still, there were legal issues to consider. It was a crime to use human cells in such experiments, and by not reporting his findings to the authorities he could be labelled as an accessory to the crime. But if he spoke out then he would lose his job in a heartbeat. He thought, The experiments like this will continue here or elsewhere, probably in some secret lab—they’re probably going on there now. Would it be worth it to talk? He'd have to think that one over.

  He finished up his regular testing and filled out the report, then handed the report and sample over to the next division for their further testing. He wondered, Will they find what I’ve found? Or had they found it before in other samples and kept quiet? Just how long has it been going on? He would keep investigating on his own, if and until, he thought it would be wise to ask his boss to launch a formal investigation in the findings. But, he had to feel him out first to gauge his opinions on such things.

  In the cafeteria at work, Charles waited in the lunch line. It was the best lunch place of its type he had ever seen, and the word “cafeteria” didn’t do it justice in his opinion; that word brought up images of sticky plastic trays, bad food, and stale milk from his grade school days. No, this was a full-service restaurant, actually several of them together, capable of making many meals at once with the multiple grills, stoves, and ovens.

  There were chefs working behind the counters, real chefs who knew how to make delicious food! It was no wonder almost no one left the facility for meals during the workday. That was planned, Charles thought. More employee productivity if they don’t have to leave the property. Bastards. But the food was good, he had to admit.

  He found his boss sitting alone and pulled up to his table, tray in hand. “Hi, Mister Dacks. Mind if I join you?” Charles asked.

  “Not at all. Go ahead. And, call me John,” his boss said, clearing away the newspaper he had been reading.

  “Thanks,” Charles said, putting down his heavy tray loaded up with food.

  “They make quite the meal here, don’t they?”

  “They do! I’m starved. Ran out of the house without breakfast today.”

  “No one to make it for you, huh?” His boss smiled.

  “Not yet. But maybe with what I’m making at this job I’ll be able to attract a good woman.”

  “Yeah, there is that. How’s it going anyway? Still liking it?”

  “Oh yeah,” Charles said. He thought, What else can I say?

  “Good. Your work is good.”

  “Thank you.”

  They munched on their food and looked around. It was busy. Several people passed by and waved to them.

  “You know,” his boss said, “I’m drafting up the plan for the next quarter. Is there anything you’d like to put on the list as far as new lab equipment?”

  Charles felt his heart sink. He had thought for a moment he was going to be asked what project he wanted to work on next. “Oh, not really, no. We’re well equipped.”

  “Good, good,” his boss said, distractedly.

  This might be my chance, Charles thought. “Say, I’ve been reading some of the articles about DNA date signatures. There are some that I think are far older than we’ve realized. Even far older than humans have been around for, they believe.”

  “Oh yeah?” his boss scoffed. “And just how would human DNA exist before humans did?”

  “I’m not sure. But that’s what the findings say. It could be the result of asteroid impacts with human genomes on them, in the distant past.”

  “I don’t buy it, Charles. And evolution doesn’t support it. Anyway, that’s way out of our area of inquiry, as you well know by now.”

  Charles nodded. “I know. I just thought it was interesting, and if we’re getting new equipment, it might be fun to look into it.” There’s no way I’m going to get to do what I want here, he realized, his hopes dashed.

  “Sure. Unfounded speculation can be fun, but I don’t think so.”

  “Mmm, hmm.” Charles put more of the food into his mouth, but it was purely mechanical now; all the pleasure had gone out of it. The rest of his meal was just about getting calories into him so he could function a few more hours at work.

  He thought, Developing God knows what,, for what weapons system? He was sure he was working on weapons now, as everything was so secret, and he had to have his security clearance bumped up. Then, there were the military men who kept showing up at the lab, not even hiding it, in their uniforms. Charles had felt like quitting a few times already, but he had just bought a new house and a new car. Roped in by the money, he thought. How sad. I gotta find a way out.

  “Well, time to get back,” his boss said and checked his watch. He smiled tightly, picked up his tray, then stood up. “See you later.” He walked off quickly.

  “Yes, see you later,” Charles echoed back. Just like a parrot, he thought. Well, that’s what they want here, so I’ll be a good parrot until I can leave. Man, what am I gonna do? He didn’t even finish all of his food, but it was time to get back to work.

  He went back to his lab, swiped his security card on the door and entered the sterile environment. Sterile like their souls around here, he thought. Why didn’t I see it sooner?

  CHAPTER 22

  Charles spent his time off reading more of the alternative research journals that were reporting the findings about DNA being far older than had been suspected. There were a number of researchers working either independently or for companies who were interested in their results. Not a military place like I’m working at, he thought.

  He wanted to contact some of these cutting edge researchers, but he dare not do it while he was still employed by his current company HPD. He suspected they had been surveilling his communications, both for security leaks and to vet him for his security clearance upgrades. It made sense that once they started spying on him that they wouldn’t stop. So, he decided to not leave any tracks for them to find until he had resigned. But he had a house and a car to pay off before that.

  He sighed, there on his couch in his empty house. Maybe I can sell the house and car, he thought. And take a big loss. He’d not had either of them long. The house would not have had time to go up in value, and the car would just keep going down; but he knew that about most cars. Unless it was a classic car it was just a money loser. No, he planned to hang onto the house, at least for the time being. If things got tight with money, he could always put it on the market. The longer he held onto it, the better his chances of making some money.

  He woke up the next morning and had a hard time getting out of bed. He thought about what was happening at his job and knew it was not where he wanted to spend the rest of his career. But was the time right to go? Might as well, he thought, my boss doesn’t care what I want. He’s not even honouring the work contract—maybe I should sue? But do I want to sue a company with so many government and military contacts? As he got ready for work that day, he made his plan to quit.

  First, he’d need a sample of the human DNA to prove his findings, and it would also serve as a protective hedge in case anyone from the lab tried to come after him. Maybe I’m being paranoid, he thought, but better to be a bit paranoid and be prepared, than be unprepared. He took the remaining culture from the day before out of the freezer and made some slides to go under the electron microscope. Thankfully, they left him alone most of the time, so he could do what he had to do.

  He pretended to be going over the results again, just in case he was being watched. There were cameras in the lab. He turned his back to them and slipped a couple of the slides, inside sealed baggies, into his pocket, then resumed his work.

  He was thinking up his resignation letter when a new batch of cultures arrived for him to test. He thanked the person who’d walked them over—from where, he didn’t know; they never told him. The time he’d asked he was told it was over his security level. So, they were keeping him in the dark. The cultures could have been grown on a military base someplace, deep in one of their underground labs, or right
under his feet, hundreds of feet down, he had no way of knowing.

  He put the distracting thoughts out of his mind and resolved to finish the day, when he would hand in his resignation letter on the way out. He got back to work checking the new cultures. They were about the same as last time, containing the curious human DNA that was not supposed to be there. He was looking at them under the electron microscope when he saw something that made him freeze.

  “What…?” he gasped.

  He saw the same symbol on a DNA strand in the culture that he’d seen in the DNA of the cave people on his LSD trip, the three green circles intertwined. He’d never have found it unless he knew where to look, which he was doing just to check.

  But that had just been a hallucination, he told himself. Well, maybe not, he had to start to admit. But how was that possible? His mind boggled, and he felt himself starting to sweat. This was throwing a huge wrench in his plan to quit his job that day, and in his whole view of life and consciousness.

  He sat there for a while, staring into the microscope, checking and rechecking. The three circles were there alright, and they weren’t going away. “But how? How?” he muttered to himself and shook his head.

  Finally, he took a sample of the symbol and put it on a slide, which he slipped into his pocket, too. Should he report this symbol? Did they know about it? How could they not? He didn’t know, but since he was leaving anyway he figured he didn’t want to give them any help.

  He was considering this development to be some kind of breakthrough in his life, and he didn’t want his employers to understand it anymore than they might already. Lord knows what they’d do with the information, he thought.

  He decided to not quit that day, as he had a burning desire to look into this strange finding, and without a lab at his disposal he’d be stuck. I’ll keep working here until I get access to another lab, or they fire me, he told himself. He wrote up the report, testing for the things they wanted him to test for and ignoring the rest.

  They probably know about the anomalies, he thought, and are testing me to see if I deviate from their protocols and find out for myself. That could be.

  It could also be that they didn’t know about the things he had found. It was hard for him to go on, knowing what he knew, but he was unsure of how to deal with it all. He thought, I’ll just keep collecting samples and take them home, then I’ll have something to go on.

  It was risky to remove material from the lab but under the circumstances he felt it was worth the risk. It wasn’t every day that he found banned human DNA in test samples and then had altered DNA from an acid trip appear in real life! He needed someone to talk to and thought about who he could tell.

  CHAPTER 23

  Charles was sure glad to get out of work that day, and he knew who he wanted to talk to, his old professor, Stan. He cleared the security checkpoint on the way out of the inner parking lot, swiping his ID badge against the card reader that opened the gate.

  The security guards looked on and also watched their monitors, making sure the cameras were capturing everything. Charles had never seen security like in that place, and he wasn't sure he liked it much. It seemed they were increasing security measures on a constant basis, so there were always new rules to learn about what the employees could and could not do.

  He smiled as he drove down the freeway, happy that he’d gotten out with the samples without being caught. He could be in some hot water right now if he had. I’ve got to stash them someplace and not at my house, he thought.

  Charles stopped his car outside the professor's house. It was a new car, one of the electric ones, and he was proud about that. He had wondered for years why everyone was not driving electric cars when the technology had been available for decades. Well, at least I'm part of the solution now, he figured—even if I might have to sell it, soon.

  Not needing to have a car at all would be even better, he knew, but he lived in a climate with very cold winters and hot summers, so a car was a big help. Then there was the essential fact of commuting to work; without a car he'd spend way too much time on transit. But with the traffic jams lately, he was starting to wonder. He planned to look for his next job with as little commute as possible.

  The last time he had been at Stan's it was still warm enough to sit outside in the back yard, but not today; he could see his breath and there was snow on the ground. He thought, Has it really been over a year since I've been here? Since I had that incredible acid trip? It must be. He didn't know where the time had gone, probably consumed with his demanding new job.

  He couldn't believe he'd not yet talked to the professor about the acid experience. He figured he'd needed some time to process it and try and come to terms with it. For the longest time he didn't think it was real and was just a kind of vivid, waking dream brought on by the strong psychedelic. But now he had proof it was not just a hallucination.

  He rang the bell and waited, listening to the pleasant chiming. I should have called, he thought. But, it was alright, as he saw the professor’s shadow shuffling around on the other side of the glass, making him relax some.

  The door opened the professor looked out, his breath rising in the air, “Charles! How are you? It’s been a while!”

  “Hello, professor. I hope you don’t mind me just dropping over like this? But I have some important things to discuss with you, and…they really can’t wait.”

  The professor looked him over, saw the frustration and fear on his face. “Of course, it’s fine. Come on in!”

  “Thank you.” Charles crossed the threshold, and the professor closed the door over, looking out to the street, making sure no one was there. He wasn’t sure why, but something in Charles’s manner made him feel a bit paranoid and with good reason; he knew what sort of business Charles was into. But Stan was into some interesting new business of his own.

  “We’re just about to have dinner. I’ll ask the missus if there’s enough for three. Should be. Just a moment. Help yourself at the bar,” the professor said, waving at the side room as he walked off to the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” Charles smiled as he took off his coat and rubbed his cold hands. He stepped into the welcoming den with its bookshelves, thick carpets, dark wood paneling, a fireplace with a small fire going, comfortable seats, and well-stocked bar. He stood at the bar, looking over the bottles. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he looked into his own wild-looking eyes. He asked himself, What am I doing?

  Then the professor was in the room. “Looks like my wife made enough for three. Staying for dinner, I hope?”

  “Sure, that would be great. I don't have any plans, except going home to an empty house,” Charles said.

  “Oh, well, join us then! We'll have to find you a good woman too, eh?”

  “Yeah, well, if you see any of those around who are single and into me, let me know.”

  “Will do! Gin and tonic for you, too?”

  “Sure.” Charles was not in the mood to be picky about his drink.

  Stan mixed up three gin and tonics, smiling, humming a little tune. Charles wished he were in such a jovial mood.

  After dinner, Charles and the professor retired to his study for an after-dinner drink from the bar and some chatting, just the two of them in front of the fireplace. “No more hanging out on the patio at this time of year, huh?” Charles joked, sipping his brandy.

  “Nope, just a quick nip out for a smoke, if you like?” The professor finished putting another log on the fire, closed up the fireplace screen, then pulled out a joint. Charles waved his hand, dismissing the idea, “I don't think I can handle that right now.”

  “Why?”

  “There's just...a lot of things going on.”

  “Try me. You must have come here for a reason. To talk, maybe? Get something off your chest? Come out to the patio with me.” They got on their coats and went outside.

  The professor lit up the joint and took a puff, then passed it over.

  Charles watched him, sighe
d, then relented and took a small hit, then passed it back. Exhaling, he was glad he'd had some, as he started to feel a bit more relaxed. He breathed out heavily.

  “Come on, tell me what's on your mind. We've been friends for a long time, now.”

  “Yes, we have,” Charles nodded. “Well, it's like this...” He related his acid trip and what he'd seen there, and the recent discoveries in the lab at work—both things he'd not spoken to anyone else about. The story was long, and they went back inside.

  “Wow,” the professor said, having heard the tale. He got up and poured himself some more brandy. “That's quite a revelation, all of it. But, I'm actually not that surprised. Many people have had insights like that on LSD that proved to be valid with scientific inquiry. It's one of the theories behind why some ancient tribes like the Dogan had accurate data about distant stars that scientists have just recently validated—use of psychedelic substances that allowed them to know things beyond their usual five sense perceptions; things they had no other way to know. Some people have also been known to have these insights without drugs. But, in any case, these tribes were either getting psychic messages, maybe astral projecting and reporting the things they were seeing, or aliens were telling them. Any way you look at it, it's compelling.”

  “I don't know about aliens, but at this point you could say that I'm open to the idea. I mean, things have happened to me that I had no idea could happen. Amazing things. Mind-blowing, you could say! It certainly gives a lot more credence to things like the soul and life outside the body, the whole realm of spirituality.”