From the Earth: A Future Chronology Anthology

by D. W. Patterson

  "Hi Jack its Phylicia, I just heard that you won't be coming to work for a while. Are you ill?"

  A first year doctoral candidate, Phylicia Hastings' specialty was DNA sequencing and gene expression. She was short, quick-witted and had a knack for knowing who to call to solve a problem.

  “Doing okay at the moment,” said Jack. “But a couple of days ago I was working late in the lab and suddenly got a bad headache, the next thing I know I'm on the floor. It turned out to be a mini-stroke.”

  "Oh no!” said Phylicia. “That must have been a terrible ordeal... so unexpected at your age. Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "No," said Jack. "Nothing that I can think of. I'm just supposed to rest. I'll be in next week to speak with Professor Camble about what I need to do to recover.”

  "Well please be sure to look me up while you're here. I'll probably be in my office, if not look in the lab. Will you promise to call if you need anything in the meantime?"

  "Alright I'll stop by, and thanks.” Jack had always found Phylicia helpful and upbeat but he had never considered her a close friend, so it was a little surprising but somehow comforting to hear from her. He had no one else.

  Jack spent the next several days thinking about how he could follow the doctor’s orders while still pursuing his research. He soon settled into his new routine, his Annie providing scheduling and diet support. He reviewed his finances and found that if he was careful he should have enough savings to last for several months. He hadn't made much as a researcher but he hadn't spent much either.

  In reviewing his past Jack came to realize that he had gotten caught up in the business of doing science. He had become so engrossed in grant proposals, publishing, conference presentations and team building, that the core of science, theory and experimentation, was something he did almost as an aside. All that activity had the appearance of progress but in fact it was no more than a cycle of busyness. He had gotten caught up in that cycle and he now realized that many of his fellow researchers were also.

  If only he had applied some of the engineering discipline he had learned as an undergraduate. He might have more to show for his efforts.

  Miri had been right about him always rushing through everything without looking back. 'A roller coaster ride', she called his approach to life, always looking for the next thrill. He had dismissed her concerns as unfounded worry. Hadn't she understood that all the hard work was just a means to an end? To hurry the coming of the day when he could slow down and spend more time with her and little Jack. Now his health had imposed upon him the necessity of slowing down and reviewing his days and planning his tomorrows.

  Jack's eyes watered as he thought: Miri, without you and little Jack what do I have to plan for?

  5

  After his day at the clinic Wesley prepared to depart.

  "Thank you and your staff Jacques," said Wesley. "You've been most accomodating. I have to say I'm impressed with the work you are doing here for the Sudanese people."

  "You are welcome Wesley," said Dr. Petiot. "You will keep me informed of the findings of the CDC?"

  "Absolutely," said Wesley. "And thanks again."

  His sample bag already secured to the motorbike by Kamal, Wesley climbed aboard and they were off to the hotel.

  Juba was located close to tropical forests along the White Nile. But this section of Juba, with its dirt roads and few trees and small scrub bushes, reminded Wesley very much of the western part of America. But with a lot more red dirt which was everywhere, even in the air. As he looked at the bare concrete buildings they passed he noticed for the first time a military presence. Soldiers standing guard at each intersection. Soldiers gathered at the entrance to commercial buildings. He didn't remember seeing them on the way out that morning.

  Kamal dropped Wesley off at the Panorama and confirmed that he would pick him up the next morning for the trip to the airport.

  As a backup to his Annie, Wesley asked the desk clerk for a wake-up call at six the following morning and went to his room. He placed the samples in the small fridge and once secured he went to the dining room for dinner before emailing the CDC and turning in for the night.

  Wesley awoke to what sounded like thunder. He asked his Annie for the time. It was a few minutes after five. He snapped awake when he heard the unmistakeable sharp crack of gunfire. A more distant thunder made him sit up, he jumped at the knock on the door.

  Wesley went to the door and demanded, "Who's there?"

  "It's me Kamal," was the answer.

  Kamal entered the room. "Hurry Dr. Williams," he said. "We must get you out of here and to the airport before the roads are blocked."

  "Okay Kamal, while I get dressed tell me what's happening?"

  "The Dinkas are attacking the Nuers. The government forces are trying to stay neutral."

  "Why," said Wesley. "Why doesn't the government maintain order?"

  "The government is caught in the middle. It is a coalition with no side having a clear majority. So they cannot generate a consensus and they do nothing. It's tribal, I have seen it many times."

  Wesley had his clothes on and having packed last night was almost ready. All he had to do was get the samples from the room fridge. When finished he turned to Kamal and said, "I'm ready."

  They climbed aboard the motorbike for the short trip up Airport Road. But Kamal immediately turned onto a side street. He yelled back at Wesley, "The main roads are probably already blocked we will take a less direct route."

  "You know best," yelled Wesley over the roar of the motorbike.

  They had only gone a couple of blocks when they almost crashed into a military convoy which blew through the crossroads. The last jeep in the convoy slid to a stop. Two soldiers jumped out with their guns trained on Kamal and Wesley.

  "Halt!" they yelled in Dinka. "Who are you, where are you going?"

  Kamal answered in Dinka, "I am Kamal Cham and this is Dr. Wesley Williams from America. I am taking the doctor to the airport to catch his plane."

  The soldiers approached the pair. "Why then are you going this way? It is quicker and shorter by Airport Road."

  "We were worried that the road might be blocked," said Kamal.

  "Maybe," said one of the soldiers. "Get off the bike we need to search."

  One of the soldiers was inspecting Wesley's passport and identification. The other had taken Wesley's bags back to the jeep to search. Just as he reached the jeep a shot rang out. The soldier dropped. The bags hit the ground. Then the concussion of an explosion launched the jeep into the air and made Wesley hit the ground and scramble for his papers which the remaining soldier had thrown down when he started running.

  Kamal had mounted and started the motorbike and was yelling at Wesley to get on. Wesley struggled to his feet and climbed behind Kamal.

  "My bags, Kamal my bags!" he yelled.

  "Sorry doctor," yelled Kamal as he gunned the motorbike. "I'm afraid they have been destroyed, we must go."

  Kamal slid the bike around the corner of the street as the remains of the jeep were blocking the intersection. He righted the cycle and opened the throttle. Wesley was too shocked at what had just happened to be afraid of the speeding, careening motorbike.

  Wesley noticed all the lights on the streets and the buildings were out. In the distance he could see the orange-red glow of fire. He still heard a loud boom occassionally, but thankfully in the distance. Kamal pitched the bike over as he made another turn without slowing. Wesley had no idea where he was or which way led to the airport.

  It was just then that they turned onto Airport Road and Wesley saw the airport entrance. Kamal had succeeded.

  Kamal had to stop at the makeshift checkpoint that had been setup. The guard challenged him. Kamal, speaking in Nuer answered back. The guard looked at Wesley and asked in English for his papers. Finally they were allowed to pass.

  Wesley was still stunned when Kamal pulled up to the entrance and stopped.

  "Sorry Dr. Williams abou
t your bags," said Kamal. "I'm afraid there was nothing I could do."

  "You did everything you could Kamal," said Wesley somewhat in shock. Artillery boomed nearby. "I want to thank you for getting me here safe, it's unfortunate about the bags but it's not your fault."

  "Goodbye Doctor," said Kamal as he started his motorbike and roared away.

  Wesley stared in disbelief at the back of the disappearing Kamal, riding away almost as if nothing had happened.

  He walked up to the guard at the entrance to the airport lobby. He pulled his papers and identification from his coat pocket. The guard allowed him to pass.

  6

  The meeting with Professor Camble had gone well Jack thought. He had explained that he wouldn’t be able to come back for at least six months, doctor’s orders. Professor Camble had been understanding and told Jack he had his full support and that Jack's health was the most important thing. Jack left the meeting feeling confident that someday he would be able to return to his research at the university.

  Jack went looking for Phylicia, finding her in her office. They decided to get a cup of coffee in the cafeteria before her next appointment. “How did the meeting with Professor Camble go?” asked Phylicia after they were seated.

  “He was actually very understanding. I was afraid that he might be upset when I told him I would have to take six months off.”

  “Six months!” exclaimed Phylicia before she could catch herself. “I'm sorry Jack, I didn't mean to, I mean it is such a long time.”

  “That's okay Phylicia, I should have told you more about my condition before.” Jack then told Phylicia the details of his illness. He found it easy to talk to her and ended up telling her the story of his past few years. It was the first time he had opened up to someone since Miri had died.

  After he had finished Phylicia said, “Jack I just want you to know that I will help in whatever way I can, even if you just need someone to talk to.”

  “Thanks Phylicia,” said Jack. “I appreciate your concern and I will let you know if there is anything you can do.”

  They talked a bit more before Phylicia had to get back to her office. Jack returned to his apartment.

  It was the following evening that he got the email from the university research committee. It informed him that his research had been suspended. That it was the property of the university and that he should not use or claim any of the results as his own. And that Jack had been taken off the roll of PhD candidates. If he should wish to renew his application for PhD he would need to reapply with the proper forms. The email wished him well and mentioned that official paperwork would follow.

  At first he was a bit stunned at the bluntness and speed with which the committee had seemed to make its decision. After talking to Professor Camble he expected a more tactful approach to be taken. But he knew how competitive research positions had become in the past few years, especially following the employment crisis.

  Though young at the time Jack remembered that the crisis had started as the automation of jobs became more common in the developed world. Transportation was automated, jobs were lost. Fast-food was automated, jobs were lost. Retail was automated, jobs were lost. By the time automation spread into the developing world the crisis was too visible for governments to dismiss it. To quell the rising unrest governments all over the world had no choice but to establish a guaranteed life income. The income was to be paid by a tax on automation, a tax to which businesses vociferously objected but became resigned to pay as they realized that without purchasing power people simply couldn't buy the goods the now automated businesses produced.

  Conservative pundits predicted that a government provided life income would lead to a majority of the population spending their time in virtual pursuits such as gaming. And while a lot of people did spend their days in virtual worlds others, feeling liberated from the immediate need to earn a living, were pursuing learning and advanced degrees as an outlet for their energies. This had created a huge demand for positions in undergraduate and graduate programs. Universities found they could pick and choose the students they admitted to their programs.

  By the time Jack entered graduate school many disciplines had stiff competition for admittance and continued enrollment. He had seen others lose their positions in labs because they were deemed not to be serious enough about their research. Or because they hadn't put the hours in or because they had questioned their assignments or they had questioned their adviser's motives. Anyone that didn't show complete devotion was subject to immediate dismissal without recourse. Jack knew he wasn’t unique.

  It was decided then, thought Jack, he went out for a walk. His Annie alerted as he reentered his apartment. It was Phylicia. “Hi Jack, this is Phylicia,” she said. “I was just calling because I heard what happened with your research.”

  “You found out already?” asked Jack.

  “Well, I was in the lab when they buttoned up your experiment which I found disturbing, so I started asking around. I guess I've developed some good sources over the years, it didn't take long to find out what was going on.”

  “Then you know that I've not only lost control of my experiment, I've also lost my standing in the doctorate program and any use of the results of my research.”

  “They kicked you out of the program too? I didn't know that. I don't understand, I mean how could they do that?”

  “Supposedly it is in the agreement we signed when we entered the PhD program. If for any reason we abandon our research we can be required to forfeit our place in the program. The research committee claims that my request for a six month sabbatical constitutes abandonment. But I guess it's to be expected, you know how competitive research positions are today. I wouldn't be surprised if they don't replace us all with research Annies.”

  “Jack that is so unfair!” said Phylicia. “They just want to get their hands on your research, that's what I think.”

  “I've been thinking I haven't made as much progress as I should have and besides,” Jack paused, her words sinking in. “Why do you think that someone is trying to appropriate my research?” he asked.

  “Because, no matter what you say, you've made more progress than all the others. There is a lot of jealousy in that lab. Someone has decided to take this opportunity to steal your research.”

  “Do you think steal is the right word?” asked Jack.

  “I'm afraid it is the right word. That is the state of university research these days. Did you know that most of the research done in that lab can't even be reproduced? I've tried and I for one question their results. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kenneth doesn’t take over your research, he’s always been Professor Camble’s favorite and Camble is under pressure from the administration to show some results out of his lab. That's probably why he didn't stand up for you.”

  “Well, I don’t like to think of science being practiced like that but you may be right, I’ve seen others treated not much better. I will just have to do what I can to keep my research alive while I recuperate.”

  “Jack, if you need anything from the lab or the university just call,” said Phylicia. “I’ll be glad to help you with any research you pursue.”

  7

  The long flight from LAX to Guangzhou, China was over. Now it was only another hour until landing at Tang Son Nhat International Airport in Ho Chi Minh City.

  Dr. Roberta Hughes of the CDC was going to Vietnam to investigate a viral outbreak in the western part of southern Vietnam. The virus seemed highly contagious but not life-threatening. Out of the hundreds of cases Vietnam health authorities were monitoring only one person had died.

  That was different from the virus outbreak that her colleague Dr. Williams had investigated in South Sudan the month before. There the virus was highly virulent but not so contagious. Unfortunately he had lost his samples trying to leave the country during a coup attempt and apparently the virus had run its course, so the CDC had not been able to make a definitive classification except for what Dr. Wi
lliams' Annie had analyzed.

  Dr. Hughes drifted off to sleep and was awakened by one of the flight attendants upon landing. The entire trip had taken nearly thirty hours including layovers.

  In the modern terminal Dr. Hughes saw someone holding up a sign with her name on it. The person turned out to be Dr. Cam Nguyen.

  “Hello,” said Dr. Hughes, “I'm Roberta Hughes.”

  “Hello,” said Dr. Nguyen. “I am Cam Nguyen. I work with the Health Ministry and will be your guide during your stay in Vietnam. I hope you had a pleasant flight?”

  “Yes,” said Dr. Hughes. “Too long, but overall not a bad flight.”

  “Good, let us get you through immigration and then pick up your luggage downstairs.”