Isabelle was eager to continue her research which had been disrupted by the missing file message earlier. She plugged the thumb-drive into the computer and stood before her interactive walls. The contents of the little device came up empty on her screen. Thousands of pages of information were gone. This wasn't enough to stump a seasoned journalist such as herself. Isabelle searched for the round-baskets article again on the Internet, but all her attempts failed. The file was nowhere to be found. Isabelle didn't know it was Gene's new-truth silo who had deleted the file from its own server and any other computers on the net, but something seemed a bit suspicious to her. A knock on the door. Isabelle answered and Ryan came into her office at the perfect moment. He was on top of the world that morning. The new computer system he managed was every programmer's dream. As confident and clever as Ryan was when it came to technology, around Isabelle he literally tripped over his own feet. Ryan’s schoolboy-crush on Isabelle began the first day of his employ at the media center.
Isabelle was very confident, smart and without a doubt the most beautiful woman who had ever talked to him. Ryan spent most of his time behind computers. He had the looks, but his lack of social interaction had made attractive women appear to him as all too elusive. Ryan just didn't know what to say or how to act around members of the opposite sex when they were more than mere digital simulations. Isabelle was glad to see Ryan; who better to help with the computer problems she had encountered.
"Hi Ryan, nice to see you."
"Really? I mean - nice to see you, too."
He responded while pushing his glasses up on his nose. His nervousness showed. Perspiration kept causing his glasses to slide down his nose. Isabelle smiled. She took it as flattery that an intelligent man such as Ryan would become so unraveled by her presence. He was convinced that Isabelle would be attracted to the fact that he ran the world's most powerful computer system. "How is the new system working for you?" he asked with great anticipation. Ryan's bubble of pride was about to pop.
"Not so well. I've been running into all kinds of problems."
Ryan gulped, "What kind of problems?"
Isabelle's answer was short. "This."
She typed "ball lightning, folklore, energy" into a search screen. Isabelle selected one of the results. A story from Asia appeared:
Heavenly Phantom-Ships With Lanterns.
As quickly as it appeared, the text vanished. An error message flashed across the length of both walls.
Invalid Account - Access Denied
This left even Ryan a bit dumbfounded. "That shouldn't happen," was the best answer he could muster for the moment.
Ryan had come to Isabelle's office to hear how impressed she was with his new system but instead, it locked her out completely. He felt like a knight who fell off the horse before his fair maiden. Still, Isabelle had more problems to report. "I've had trouble with the biometrics reader at the garage this morning, too."
Suddenly Ryan saw a chance to regain Isabelle's favor. With a triumphant smile, he pulled a little device out of his pocket that looked a lot like a laser-pointer. With pride back in his voice, he told Isabelle, "I have a way around the retina scans for you." Ryan twisted the end of the little silver cylinder in his hand. A holographic eyeball appeared at its end. He handed the device to an amazed Isabelle and continued.
"It's a skeleton key. You can have it, if you like."
"Ryan, you're brilliant. Thank you."
"I came up with it because I got tired of getting blinded by the scanners all day. This way you won't get stuck outside."
Ryan could feel the blood rushing to his face. He didn't want Isabelle to see him blush. Ryan hurriedly assured her that he was going to look into the computer problems right away and rushed out of her office.
6 ISABELLE AND DR. KENSHIN'S SECRET
At the Apophis Particle Accelerator Berlin, a luminous orb was racing through the facility’s circular tunnel at speeds yet unmatched by man’s vehicles and projectiles. The ball of light travelled in complete vacuum and was suspended by a blanket of superconducting magnets that wrapped the tunnel in its entirety. The structure’s functional part stretched under Berlin’s outskirts in a ring thirteen kilometers in radius.
On the surface, the setting sun illuminated helium tankers as they were unloading their cargo into storage tanks at the engineering building. In one of APAB’s futuristic office buildings, Quantum Physicist Dr. Kenshin, a man in his late 50s with grey, scruffy hair was talking to Isabelle via video link. He sat before one of the many computers in his office. In his hand was an oversized model of a helium atom. Isabelle was probing for a hidden truth.
"Doctor, it defies logic that someone would build a multi-billion dollar particle accelerator to prove a flawed theory."
Kenshin responded. "The official position of this company is that the standard model of the atom is absolute truth."
"It was once said to be the truth that the earth was flat."
Kenshin sighed and looked at a display case. Inside, the medal from his Nobel-Prize hovered over a small superconductor. He continued. "You can't use this, okay?"
"I promise."
Kenshin began to shed light on Isabelle's hunch. "Everyone here knows that the old concept contradicts modern findings. The firm built the collider anyhow, telling the public they could find the particle that carries gravity. But there is no such thing."
Isabelle's journalistic instinct was right. She probed further. "Why was such an expensive machine built?"
"I really can't talk to you about this anymore. You should look into weapons research."
The video link disconnected. A message appeared in its place.
Call Disconnected - Subscriber Does Not Exist.
7 VACCINE TROOPERS
A short distance away was Silverlake, one of the older parts of town. The neighborhood was home to many families and artists. The unique style of each dwelling set this quiet part of Los Angeles apart from the track-housing that defined so many of the city's suburbs. Silverlake was also where Isabelle's father, Lionel de Fleur, had made his home.
Lionel lived in a modest house at the end of a cul-de-sac. The swarm of parrots we know from Isabelle's house was resting in the trees that lined the rotund dead-end. The street was quiet on this sunny February day.
Suddenly, the 108 parrots of the tropical swarm screeched and hastily flew off. What had startled them was the sound of an approaching helicopter. In pace with the aircraft above, a convoy of vehicles rolled into what, until moments ago, had been a peaceful and serene neighborhood.
Two police cruisers comprised the spearhead of an ominous convoy. What followed were as a dozen black sports utility vehicles, a furniture truck and a tractor-trailer cattle transport. A group of patrol cars at the end of the convoy stopped to close off access to the neighborhood behind the vehicles.
The dark SUVs darted to the front of every residence. In synchronized precision, all the vehicles' doors flew open. Troopers in black jump-suits exited and rushed to the entrance of each house. The noise of the low-flying helicopter drowned out their heavy footsteps.
A detail of Troopers approached the door of Lionel's neighbors, the Weavers. A heavily armed Trooper pounded on the Weavers' front door, breaking the window in its center.
"What the hell is going on out there?" shouted David, the very upset father of the family as he threw the door open.
The Trooper wasn’t exactly impressed with Weaver's demeanor and took an even more aggressive stance. Without saying a word, the uniformed warrior held a scanner up to the man's face. The device resembled the electronic clipboard of a delivery service. It emitted a blinding light and left Mr. Weaver slightly disoriented. A screen on the device displayed his driver's license picture and a list of information for the Trooper to read. It showed the family as independent business owners with considerable assets. The readout listed David's wife and daughter as the only other residents of the house. The Trooper barked at the very upset family father before h
im.
"Sir, due to your unwillingness to get vaccinated against the monkey flu, your family is posing a risk to national health."
The Trooper struck a chord with David who launched into a rant. "This is still a free country and it is my choice whether or not I want to get vaccinated. You have no right to even be on my property. Someone is going to pay for my door!"
While David was going on in anger, the Trooper briefly looked over his shoulder and motioned for one of the policemen. The patrolman angrily came to join the group, a couple of others from across the street followed suit.
"Is there a problem?" he asked.
David was confident that the police would come to his aid. "Damn right, there's a problem!" he bellowed. "I'm not getting an injection and neither is my daughter."
Without saying another word, the policeman took out his tazer, aimed it at David's heart and pulled the trigger. In a flash, two wires with fish-hook ends shot through the air and lodged themselves in the father's chest. Excruciating voltage flowed through his body, causing him to collapse in a seizure. The policeman continued discharging the gun into him while the Trooper read on.
"In accordance with the emergency health bill, you and your family are going to be quarantined and placed under the care of the Apophis Corporation. Your assets hereby become property of Apophis to offset the cost of your treatment."
Several Troopers stormed the house and dragged David's wife and daughter outside. When Mrs. Weaver saw her husband twitching on the ground, she tried to break away from the Trooper's hold.
"Better cooperate if you don't want to end up like that!" proclaimed the cop, finally releasing the trigger of his electric weapon. The family was dragged off the porch and lined up on the front lawn.
Shoulder patches and ball cap of one of the Troopers’ uniforms featured an image of the staff of Caduceus. In this symbol of an ancient civilization, two snakes form a double-helix around a staff that is topped with a winged silver-circle. In modern times, most individuals only know this to be the sign of a pharmacy but fail to understand its meaning or relevance. The Vaccine Trooper carried a bag that contained several injection guns. The handle of each was marked with colored tape. He pulled out a gun with a red mark. Other guns in his bag were marked with blue. Blue was reserved for those who Gene deemed suitable cash crop. It contained a booster-shot of fluoride, a substance found to suppress the need for individual thought. Without sterilizing the injection site or even allowing time to roll up their sleeves, the Trooper injected each of the Weavers. What they didn't know was instead of a vaccine, they had each received a lethal dose of a weaponized strain of the flu virus. The shot was going to leave the entire family dead in a few days' time.
"You can't take us!" cried David's daughter, "our dog can't stay home alone."
One of the Troopers laughed, "Don't you worry, we'll get your little dog, too."
Two of the Troopers came out of the house carrying valuables. One held a large zipper-bag full of cash and jewelry. Another carried a box containing the family's camcorder and their laptops. The sound of the family dog yelping out his last breath as a Trooper snapped his neck emanated from the inside. The daughter couldn't believe her ears. Tears welled up in her eyes and shortly thereafter, a Trooper emerged with the animal's lifeless carcass in a large plastic bag. The daughter screamed hysterically.
"Shep! You bastards killed Shep!"
Her arms flailing, she broke free and made a run towards her dead dog when the other two policemen drew their stun guns and fired their high-voltage wires into her body. The Troopers were laughing at the girl, who was now twitching on the ground and screaming uncontrollably. Within a few moments’ time, the current flowing through the teenager's body caused her to lose consciousness. She twitched a little while longer under the force of the current until the policemen released the triggers of their taze guns. Each of them yanked the hooks out of her flesh before they threw her bleeding and motionless body into the cattle transporter.
"Go, look after your daughter!" shouted one of the Troopers as he struck the mother in the back with the butt of his machine gun.
"But, I've been vaccinated," sobbed the woman.
The Trooper struck her again. "Go or be shot," he replied as he raised his automatic weapon to aim at her face. Both parents complied in agony.
Next door, Lionel was sitting in his living room, smoking his pipe and reading a mystery novel. The deafening sound of the helicopter had muffled the noise from the Weavers' struggle. Lionel was used to the constant rumble of helicopters. Television stations, the various secret and public police forces, and Apophis security maintained an armada of aircraft that left the city’s angels rarely a quiet moment. Isabelle’s father was a bit surprised when a Trooper pounding on his door was the only thing that could be heard over the helicopter's blades. Concerned that his front door might give way to the heavy assault, Lionel set down his book and pipe. He made for the door as quickly as could be expected from a man in his late years. He was nearing the door and shouted, "I'm on my way. There's no need to break down my door," to little effect. The pounding continued and Lionel could hear the Trooper shouting.
"Vaccine check - open up!"
Lionel reached his arm out and turned the handle, pulling the heavy oak door towards himself. The entryway revealed the Troopers in black jump-suits. The one who had been pounding on the door raised his biometrics scanner to Lionel's face. The device's bright light was a bit disorienting to him and moments later, the Trooper was reading Lionel's profile. A screen similar to what had appeared at the neighbors' showed Lionel's picture and instructions for quarantine. The driver's license photo on the screen showed his hair before it had turned grey and his hairline had moved backwards into a horseshoe-shape.
"Lionel de Fleur?" barked the Trooper.
"Yes?" Lionel responded cautiously.
Without wasting a beat, the Trooper followed the instructions on the screen of his clipboard. After a speech about Lionel being a danger to national health, the paramilitary visitor glanced back at his display. Unseen by Lionel's eyes was a profile that designated him as a political and economic threat to the firm with no worthwhile assets.
"Sir, you will be injected with the vaccine and quarantined in your home."
Lionel didn't like at all what he was hearing. From his career as a journalist, he knew that Apophis had a history of conducting pharmaceutical tests disguised as vaccines on entire populations. He had never taken a flu vaccine and was hoping to keep things that way. The aging journalist was getting a glimpse at the mayhem outside as he saw most of his neighbors getting dragged onto the cattle transport.
"I'd hate to ask, but is there another option?"
The Trooper shouted back, "You will be vaccinated by force and taken to an Apophis quarantine facility."
Lionel rolled up his sleeve and, without another word, the Trooper pulled out a vaccine gun that was loaded with the lethal strain. The vial that sat inserted on top of the gun was still fairly full - enough doses to wipe out several neighborhoods.
"How will I know when I can leave my house again?" Lionel asked concerned.
"You will be notified," barked the Trooper as he tagged him with a wireless wrist-bracelet. He handed Lionel an “I've been vaccinated” button and uttered his parting words.
"Have a nice day!"
The Trooper slammed the door shut. Moments later, Lionel could hear the hissing of an aerosol can as foam cement filled the gap that separated his door from its frame. Troopers swarmed the perimeter of the California ranch-style house. Within a few moments, foam sealed windows and the back door of his home.
Lionel was trapped inside.
8 A WARRIOR RECEIVES HER MISSION
The sun was nearing its zenith. Most people in Los Angeles were already counting the minutes to their lunch hour. Most people; not Tasha Methusa.
Tasha was a very athletic and attractive woman in her early thirties with cocoa-brown skin. She kept her hair in thick cur
ls reminiscent of a head of snakes. Tasha’s parents were the dictatorial leaders of the small East-African nation Eritrea. The young woman had left her homeland because she didn't agree with the concept of a dictatorship. Thanks to her militaristic upbringing, Tasha had found employ as the commander of the Apophis Corporation’s covert unit. She was sworn to dispose of those Gene deemed industrial spies or terrorists.
Tasha lived in the hills of Los Angeles in one of the most technologically-advanced homes anyone could imagine. Where Isabelle's house was designed to incorporate nature in its functionality and decor, Tasha's house used electronics and automation. Every room in the urban warrior's home contained multiple screens so she could stay abreast with e-mails and track subjects under pursuit. The only photograph decorated the living room. In a stainless-steel frame, the image of her parents reminded Tasha of her childhood in Africa.
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