by R E Kearney
Shengwu nods in agreement. Her sense of altruism overwhelms her fears of an epidemic. She may not be a doctor, but she is still a healer. Her life is Life.
“Yes, it’s the right thing to do and possibly profitable, too.” Once again Negocio is in quest of the diamond among the coal. If there is any way he can help Puerto Rico, he will find it. “Because, you will charge for your treatment. You will charge as much as the patients can pay. Then we will appeal to the UN and the World Bank for assistance. Charities too. Charities are very sympathetic and generous toward small nations fighting medical emergencies. Medicine is money. La piña está agria. Puerto Rico needs it. You’re going to make it.”
“And you will coordinate it?” Shengwu continues to be wary of Negocio’s promises.
“No, we…you and me…we’ll coordinate it, as a team with our state police, La Uniformada, and our health department, Departamento de Salud. Remember, you’re in the newly independent nation of Puerto Rico. We’re on this island all by ourselves now, so either we do it or it doesn’t get done. But, we must begin before we can finish.”
“Then sir, to begin, I will need to implant you, your staff and as many police and health department workers as possible with genomes edited to resist Aethon. Then all of you must be trained to recognize and safely handle Aethon sufferers. They cannot be allowed to freely wander San Juan and Puerto Rico.”
“True Shengwu. Good point, we cannot allow them to mingle with Puerto Rican citizens and healthy tourists and possibly infect others. But, we also don’t need any bad publicity or fear like Zika caused us back in 2015 and 2016. We must ensure that we appear self-sacrificing and compassionate to the rest of the world. Yet, we have to be smart about this, so we don’t create alarm here among our own citizens.”
“Yes sir, it’s important we remember that small things make big impacts.”
Negocio returns to watching the tourists outside his window. “Yes, I agree. So, once you have…very discreetly…implanted the police and the health department workers, you’ll train them to recognize Aethon sufferers…inconspicuously, of course. There’s really only two external entrances into San Juan - the airport and the cruise ship port, so that’s where we’ll station them. I’ll establish a Puerto Rico customs. I’ll call them the Arrivals Greeters. Keep it friendly and non-threatening. They can survey, assist and escort.”
Again Shengwu vigorously shakes her head no, challenging Negocio’s instructions. “I don’t know how to train people to recognize Aethon sufferers. I’m a genome engineer. My work requires analysis and engineered editing of an individual’s RNA using SPEA’s laser computer. As I told you before, it’s an individual by individual process.”
“Then change your process, Shengwu. Dios aprieta pero no ahoga! God will squeeze, but will not choke you!” Frustrated, Negocio slaps his hands together shocking Shengwu. “Invent! Innovate! It is not what you know, but what you do with what you know that is important, Shengwu. Put that cyber genius Robert Goodfellow to work. He should be good for something other than catching hackers.”
“Well, I suppose…”
Delighted with himself and his plan, Negocio smiles broadly at Shengwu. “Anything else?”
“The protestors. They cannot remain outside of my facility. They’ll intimidate and interfere with patients seeking treatment, like they did with the Jacobs brothers. If people are too afraid of them to…”
“I’ll see what I can do, but they’re not breaking any laws. Removing them may raise too many questions. People will be curious. So, we’ll see. Is that all?”
“No that is not all. There is one principle that you must not forget in your planning. Aethon spreads fast and kills quickly. Thousands could die. If you don’t contain and control it, like you promise, Aethon will devastate Puerto Rico. How many dead neighbors can you bury by yourself?”
FORSAKEN – FORGOTTEN
“You’ve been compromised. You have humiliated us. Both of you are an embarrassment.”
“Yes, Deacon. I understand.” Explaining his failure to complete his assigned mission to his superiors in Washington D.C. from San Juan’s Metropolitan Detention Center is certainly not something Albern Dumm expected to occur when he and his partner, Faul Dusslig arrived in Puerto Rico six days ago. But now, this is exactly his uncomfortable situation. Sitting in the center’s secure conference room, he meekly avoids eye contact with the scowl of his crusade commander.
“No Albern, I don’t think that you do understand. Not only did you and Dusslig not accomplish your assignment, but now Goodfellow, Shengwu and the Puerto Rican government are aware of your presence.” Society Security Elder Deacon Mack Evoil glares at Albern through his holographic display. “Your incompetence has exposed us. You were ordered to be discreet…to not bring any attention to our recovery effort. You failed, miserably.”
“Yes sir, but once Faul and I are released, we will finish your assignment. We remain your obedient servants.”
“No. You and Faul are done. You are liabilities, now. I’ve already dispatched your replacements. Willy Wanker, Billy Bollocks and Pour LeNuls should arrive in San Juan tonight.”
“But sir…”
“Pardon me? Are you challenging me?” Evoil glowers at Albern. The heat of his anger sears the air from Washington D.C. to San Juan.
“No sir, I would never do that, but I thought our mandate was to apprehend Robert and deliver him to you, not hurt him. Willy, Billy and Pour are brutal Order of Sicarii enforcers. They may kill him.”
“You’re correct. They can be brutal, but they’re effective. I doubt that they will fail me, as Faul and you did. But to ease your conscience, I’ve instructed them to take whatever actions that are necessary to secure mister Goodfellow and ensure his cooperation. They should not kill him…unless necessary.”
An uneasy, queasiness engulfs Albern. Not a violent man himself, he considers Evoil’s brutal tactics atrociously cruel. “But of what use will he be to you, if he is too injured to assist? Robert is not a violent person. Why do you want to hurt him?”
“That…Albern…is personal.” Evoil scowls. “Goodfellow is not as innocent as you think. Not only has he obstructed our partners’ cyber-surveillance efforts, but he destroyed their equipment, as well. His interference cannot go unpunished.”
Evoil grinds his fist into his forehead, as if trying to scrub away pain. “But more importantly, he owes me a debt from Africa. A debt that I plan to ensure he pays…with interest. For as it is written in the book of Matthew; ‘ye have heard that it hath been said, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’”
Evoil’s words alarm Albern. When he and Faul agreed to travel to San Juan and kidnap Robert, they considered it their sacred duty. After all, Evoil had convinced them that Robert was in league with these treasonous Puerto Rican rebels and the atheistic Chinese. But, their plan was only to kidnap him and deliver him unto Evoil, not kill him.
Albern dares to object. “I cannot condone such cruelty against Robert. He has done nothing to warrant such vindictive and callous treatment, Deacon Evoil.”
Glowering, Evoil shakes his finger at Albern as he rains down upon him hell fire. “Do not dare to interfere! That is not your decision, nor do you truly understand our situation, Brother Dumm! Robert Goodfellow is not yet expendable. But, he is only my means to an end. I know that he is working with Shengwu. So, through him, I can gain access to her and her father Yisheng. Yisheng created and then stole ELF.”
“ELF?” Albern is unaware of the ELF connection.
“ELF and Yisheng must be found and returned to serve our Lord.” SS Deacon Evoil swells his chest and points his finger at Albern. “For ELF is described in the teachings from Jeremiah when he says, ‘You are my war-club, my weapon of war; and with you I shatter nations, and with you I destroy kingdoms.’ ELF is our weapon, Albern, our war club, delivered unto us by God to create the Earthly Christian kingdom of our Lord.”
“But, that cannot be. ELF is immoral genet
ics.” Bewildered, Albern challenges him. “Deacon Evoil, you told us yourself that genetics is evil.”
Softening his voice, Evoil attempts to neutralize Albern’s ELF concerns by providing a different motive. “Yes, in the hands of non-believers, genetics is the work of Satan. But, we are believers. Goodfellow is also our conduit to those non-believers of SPEA. They are doing the devil’s work and must be stopped. Through him we shall destroy all our enemies. If that means he must die, then when the time is right, it will be God’s will.”
No longer understanding Evoil and fearing that there is no reasoning with him, Albern decides he only desires that Faul and he be allowed to return home. “When shall we be released?”
“That’s between you, your lawyer and the Puerto Rican authorities. We are no longer involved and disavow any connections with you. Any additional appearance or participation by you two will be dealt with punitively. As far as we are concerned, you failed us and you no longer exist.” Blip. Evoil disintegrates into a blank, black screen.
Staring angrily at the black screen, Brother Albern quietly vows, “O Lord, God of vengeance, God of vengeance, shine forth!”
SICK SIGNS
Watching the lengthening line of frightened Puerto Ricans pushing and shoving and fighting their way through the entrance of Stamina Vitae, Robert recalls the words Scottish poet Robert Burns once wrote, “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley”, or as he remembers it from his English literature class, the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry. Clearly, Negocio’s plan to have Shengwu inconspicuously implant his staff and as many police and health department workers as possible with genomes edited to resist Aethon has gone way awry.
An implanted and protected police officer or health department worker is never discreet and will never be silent. Certainly not in Puerto Rico where the family is still an extended system encompassing not only those related by blood and marriage, but also godparents and informally adopted children. So, they will demand the same protection for those they love – their families. Their families tell their friends. Their friends tell their friends. And, in a surprisingly short amount time, every Puerto Rican is queuing up for implanting.
The news spreads as fast as the digital signals of social media carrying it. In a matter of minutes, three million Puerto Ricans are terrified of something named Aethon. Something, they have never known before, but they instantly fear, and there is only one place where they know they can be made safe – Stamina Vitae.
Now, Robert understands why Rita pleaded that he come and assist Shengwu at her clinic, instead of aiding Zhou. She was not exaggerating when she exclaimed to him, “We’re being overrun! Margarete is not here. We need you now.” In less than forty-eight hours, San Juan has changed from peaceful to panic. Instead of facing a pandemic, Negocio and Shengwu now face pandemonium. Only seven in the morning and fear-filled families pack the street.
Robert’s auto-auto halts as seven protestors sluggishly wander onto the pavement in front of him. As usual, they wave their signs, shout some biblical quotes and pound on the front of the vehicle. Also, as usual, he smiles and waves at them. But, they are not as aggressive this morning as in the past, Robert notices. They are just robotically going through their motions. Perhaps they are beat by the heat or perhaps they recognize him and realize that their protests will not stop him. After all, they did not discourage any of the hundreds awaiting treatment
After the protestors shout their last sermon at him and begin lethargically wandering to their tent, Robert climbs out of the mulish vehicle. It refuses to proceed with humans blocking the path in front of it. Locked in hover, its electronic voice brays that it is ‘unsafe to continue’ – ‘unsafe to continue’. Robert is forced to hike the remaining half mile to Shengwu’s facility’s gates. He is an intruder and not greeted with appreciation. Instead, his walk to Stamina Vitae becomes a gauntlet run.
Fearful of contagion, Robert notices that the throng has adopted an official uniform consisting of paper masks, latex gloves and apprehensive looks from foreboding filled eyes. Afraid that the person next to them may be infected, family members cluster closely together to establish a safe space. They glare at the other groups near them, snarling at anyone who breaches their invisible safety boundaries.
“Hey! Mira pescao (look here, you fish)! Where do you think you’re going? The back of the line is behind me! ” A mother attempting to corral three arguing children shouts at Robert as he walks past them and their improvised shelter.
Unprepared for the woman’s verbal attack, he meekly responds, “I work here.”
“Then why are you out here?” The mother thunders at him, as she struggles to restrain her battling boys. “Wait your turn. Like the rest of us!”
“But, I’m needed inside.”
“Yeah, I need to get inside too mister. We’ve been waiting here for seventeen hours.”
Screaming and bawling, her two boys tumble to the pavement in a wrestling fight. While she is momentarily distracted by her children, Robert slips past her deeper into the crowd of other anxious and angry waiters. They are no more accommodating or understanding. In their opinion, he is a foreigner, an intruder, someone who may be infected and infectious.
They form an outraged and distrustful human wall determined to defend their safe spaces and positions. An elbow rams into his ribs. A leg thrusts forward tripping him. He stumbles, but does not fall. A slap here, a smack there, and too many insults to count. One after another he takes their shots.
Bruised, battered and rattled, Robert finally staggers through the gate and into the facility. But being inside the gate is no reprieve. Shengwu’s carefully planned and constructed bio-energy producing garden is now a trampled and trashed, overcrowded, makeshift camp of apprehensive families.
Cautiously, he picks his path to the clinic building entrance, avoiding as many unhappy campers as possible. But, he cannot avoid the strong stench of urine, feces and rotting food that assaults his sinuses. Feral cats and dogs scavenge through the discarded food wrappers and bags. Hordes of flies and gnats swarm from the ground with each step. Obviously, many of these people have been waiting far too long.
Remembering how Pion emphasized that Aethon spreads through human excrements, Robert proceeds cautiously. He steps vigilantly. Nobody, he passes appears ill with Aethon, but he is not taking chances. He has no desire to test Shengwu’s preventative sprays and clothes.
Only by shoving his way through a loud, bickering crowd does Robert finally battle his way inside the clinic building. Squeezing through the entrance, he wedges into a reception room crammed wall to wall with hot human flesh. Crying children, arguing adults and the strong stink of sweat slams him like a fist.
Head and shoulders taller than most of the crowd, Robert searches for a familiar face. He spies Rita, who is quarreling with a young mother holding a loudly wailing baby. She is struggling to soothe both.
Robert waves to attract her attention. “Still no sign of Margarete?”
“You certainly took your sweet time getting here.” Ignoring his question, Rita shrilly assails Robert as he wades through the sea of humanity toward her. Then she mumbles so Robert cannot hear, “Más lento que una caravana de cobos.”
Two women next to Rita listen, laugh and point at Robert, confusing him. “What did you say Rita?”
“I told them you’re slower than a caravan of small crabs.” Rita jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Shengwu is waiting for you in her immersive collaboration workspace. This entrance behind me will respond to your bio print.”
Inside her collaboration workspace, Robert discovers Shengwu discussing her deteriorating situation with Pion. “I cannot examine and treat this many people. My equipment is being overused and beginning to malfunction. I’m concerned about the accuracy. Any gene editing mistake will have serious consequences.”
“I am experiencing severe problems here, as well, Shengwu. We are dangerously overextending
and stressing our resources. You have to stop. Stop now!” Pion appears to be reaching her shut-down stress level.
“Stop! I fear if I don’t test and treat these people, they will riot. Wreck my clinic. They may…” Mumbling, Shengwu slumps onto her rest couch. “I need help. I can’t do this by myself. I need my head counselor Margarete. With a look and her soothing words, she could pacify their Aethon fears. Establish a triage to separate the well from the sick.”
“But, they don’t have Aethon and they are obstructions. Possibly intimidating somebody who is infected and infectious, and spreading it to others because they cannot fight through this crowd of healthy hypochondriacs.” Looking extremely exhausted, Pion leans forward. Her left eye twitches as her hand quivers. “These people are not sick!”
“But, they are sick! Sick with fear.” Robert bursts into their discussion. “I just fought my way through several hundred…no maybe a thousand terrified people. And there are more coming. More coming every day. They are scared. Scared to death. You cannot abandon them.”
“What is your solution then?” Shengwu irritably retorts.
“Reassurance. We must make these people feel safe.” Robert hesitates. “No, actually we need to make everybody in Puerto Rico feel safe. If they aren’t infected with Aethon, then others should know it. Freedom from fear is the best medicine we can provide.”
“And how do we accomplish that?” Shengwu asks unconvinced.
“We investigate, invent and improvise.” The prospect of a challenging new mission excites Robert. Catching hackers is beginning to bore him. It is a fight he has won many times before.
“I hope your execution is as clever as your enthusiasm…” Rita interjects as she charges into the room. “…because I could really use some help out there. I just separated two mothers intent on beating each other to be the next family examined. I can’t do this any longer. I need help! Where is Margarete?”
“Well, I need your help too, Rita. I also need a source of graphene and the best and latest 4D printer, because the bio-analyzer I am planning must adapt as fast as Aethon mutates.”