by Judyth Baker
Which door to open? After a moment, they opened Willard’s door very slowly: the Old Man had his weapon ready, but what they saw made them gasp. The walls were covered with ripped fabric. The computerized data banks were strewn like spaghetti across the floor. Willard’s once-beautiful antique mahogany desk had been broken to pieces. The window was entirely knocked out. Worst of all, there was blood everywhere. However, the room was empty.
“He must have jumped,” Mary whispered.
“Lucky it was that window,” the old Man said. “The canopies would have saved him.”
“Maybe…” she replied.
“I’m sorry he got exposed to the bacterium so quickly,” the Old Man whispered. “I know you were fond of him. I hadn’t meant to contaminate him as we planted the bacterium around the world. The poor thing was slated to be one of the last. Instead …”
Mary made a snort of disgust. “You know I took a lot of time to modify my shape,” she complained. “I’d been promised exotic sex. It was one of the perks of this whole assignment. Instead, he developed a barbed penis. I wanted a little fun, and you wrecked that! It was painful! Disgusting!”
“What you wanted,” the Old Man reminded her, “was also disgusting. Sex with a humanoid species that’s destroying this planet. They are criminals! Monsters!” He began chattering at her in their native language – not easy to do with the fleshy tongues they had (if only temporarily).
“Oh, hush!” she finally said. She saw he had been jealous. To mollify her a little, for she always chose her paramours well, the Old Man felt required to say more. “He was a bit more organized, mentally, than most of them. I’ll grant you that. He even finished the distribution program for us. Saved us several months of having to infiltrate blind. We needed that.”
She looked at the shambles of what had been Willard’s office: she now noticed his books – those outdated collections of printed paper had been ripped to pieces, just as the drapes that once hung at the window had been ripped and now hung in tatters. Even Willard’s trench coat was in pieces. It was then that they heard a deep growl from inside Willard’s storage closet.
“Let’s get out of here!” Mary whispered. They backed away toward their own office door, stun gun ready…
As they reached the door and opened it, there was the sound of smashing wood as Jackson slammed himself against Willard’s storage closet door to stand before them. He shook his great head at them, his fierce yellow eyes slanted with a kind of controlled hate and fury. In his jaws was a thick human femur, from which ribbons of red meat hung. His glorious mane was dark with gore. What was left of Willard’s body hung, connected to the legbone by its bloody, eviscerated pelvis, behind the great beast. There was something else in the creature’s eyes –some kind of spark of recognition, a hesitation … but then he opened his enormous jaws, the bone spinning from his great maw, and leaped forward, as Mary screamed.
They sprang back just in time, slamming the heavy office door. The Old Man locked it, and the two of them dragged a desk against the door as the beast slammed itself against the door twice, with a hideous roar. For now, the heavy, fancy door was holding up. As Jackson roared, pacing outside, they were very much aware that the walls, however, were mere plastic sheets: if he threw himself against a wall, he’d break through.
“We can’t stay any longer!” the Old Man said urgently into his hand-phone. Somewhere outside, they heard an explosion. As it faded, Jackson roared again, and the very walls seemed to shake.
“Yes,” Mary said heavily to her husband. “We can’t stay a minute longer!”
They pushed the Old Man’s newest acquisition, the desk that had once belonged to President John F. Kennedy, against the middle of the wall. It had survived into this present era, where nothing was sacred and all things had a price. The office had been a splendid place, but now the truth would be coming out. “I’ll miss this room,” the Old Man admitted, as they pushed every chair that could be moved against the wall. “I’d like to have taken Kennedy’s rocking chair with us. You know, a souvenir of a better man.”
“We’re always on a budget,” she reminded him.
They heard the wail of a siren from what was surely the last police car or ambulance still running in the big city. “It’s almost over,” he commented, pulling out the Report Files. “It’s progressing geometrically, I think. But I’m no mathematician. I’m just an exterminator.”
“We need to get out of here before Jackson tests the walls,” she said urgently.
The Old Man nodded. “The ship will be here in just a minute or two,” he reassured her. “Meanwhile, we’ll update the report.” He took up the Extermination Recorder and began the final on-site report in the quaint native language of the destroyed species.
“Hansen Oil Company: private memorandum for hazard pay. Collateral damage: Subject Elijah Jackson, mutated prematurely, may have to be exterminated forcibly, since Jackson killed subject Willard Anderson prematurely. Subject Willard Anderson, age 28, weight at onset of infection: 150 pounds. Weight at termination, 400 pounds, killed by Jackson, weight at onset, 190 pounds, estimated weight, today’s date, 750 pounds. Subject prematurely exposed, contrary to instructions.”
At that moment, they heard Jackson’s growl again. It seemed to penetrate their own wall. As he panted heavily just outside their door, they waited, silent and breathless for a long minute. Finally, all sounds from Jackson ceased. With a sigh of relief, the Old Man handed his wife the stun gun. “He won’t think to break through to us yet,” he told her. “I’m going to finish the report, so we’ll get the extra Hazard Pay. As for Jackson, he’s probably decided to consume more of poor Willard.”
Mary listened: it was true, Jackson’s heavy panting had stopped. He must have returned to his kill.
The Old Man now read Report Number Two into the recorder. “As predicted, the species to be terminated did not recognize the symbiotic relationship between the mutated leprosy virus and Hansen’s Snake Oil. It is assumed that this incompetent and destructive sub-species of Rock-Weed will consume itself in its new, obsessive lust for meat within ten days. We expect a few artificial islands to sustain a few survivors for another few months, but because we have an airborne bacterium to handle such an exigency, and have shipped H.S.O. to all such islands, we see no problem clearing the planet of this humanoid weed. Retinal retention photo of Mr. Jackson is being sent now, showing typical leonine features and the expected level of aggression needed to justify our extermination of this specimen. Now – please hurry and get us the hell out of here, before Mr. Jackson deploys his aggressive talents on us!”
“Not very elegant,” she told him, as they moved toward the open window.
“I apologize for this hasty exit,” he said, showing her the green underside of his tongue, for he was truly sorry he’d exposed her to this very real danger. But who would have expected Jackson to have navigated twenty stories up, using the stairs? Once a workaholic, always a workaholic, he thought to himself, as he strained to see the approaching Rescue Vehicle. He was pretty sure they’d get on board before Jackson thought to crash through their wall … Below them, as they stood there with a fresh breeze caressing their sunbathed faces, they could hear, amidst the occasional screams and the occasional gunfire, the roars of lions. What happened next would be recorded in the annals of the planet’s history. But that is another story.
* * *
1 1. “Visual impairment and blindness occur in patients with ocular leprosy ...[including]acute iridocyclitis, causing pain, [and] photophobia.” http://www.leprosy-information.org/sites/default/files/Prevention%20of%20blindness%20in%20leprosy.pdf Acquired Feb. 11, 2016.
2 2. At present, glow-in-the-dark mice are being used in cancer research. Anticancer, Inc. has developed transgenic mice that glow as green as the Grinch under fluorescent light. “When a blue light is shone on (a mouse bred to glow green, via GFP Fluorescence)...every cell (that contains actin) in its body will fluoresce green. Human cancers that expres
s DsRed can be implanted into these mice. The cancers will give off red fluorescence. Now the cancer cells can easily be observed and monitored in live green mice. Allowing the researchers at Anticancer Inc. to observe metastasis (cancer cells moving around the body) and angiogenesis (blood vessels growing into the cancer and supplying oxygen and food). “ This green fluorescent protein became part of the mouse’s basic tissues. https://www.conncoll.edu/ccacad/zimmer/GFP-ww/cooluses1.html Acquired Dec. 31, 2015.
3 3. When the human body becomes infected with particularly severe forms of diseases like tuberculosis and leprosy, its immune response is to produce lots of interferon-beta, a virus-destroying protein. There’s just one problem. Those diseases are bacteria, not viruses. Researchers… first discovered this unusual property while studying leprosy. Patients whose immune systems were dealing with a milder form of the disease produced interferon-gamma, which is the correct protein to ward off bacterial infections. But when the leprosy was more severe, interferon-beta became more prominent. Not only is this antiviral protein useless in fighting off bacterial infection, it also can jam the proper working of interferon-gamma… The researchers looked at the recent outbreaks of homeless people in the LA area… Flu outbreaks can be relatively common in shelters, where the homeless typically live in very close quarters. These outbreaks, combined with vitamin D deficiencies due to lack of exposure to sunlight, can combine to provoke a strong antiviral response in the immune system, which means producing lots of interferon-beta. This in turn prevents the immune system’s usual production of interferon-gamma, leaving the body exposed and susceptible to bacterial infection. This effect might not be observed until months after flu season passes. http://io9.com/5988198/tuberculosis-and-leprosy-thrive-by-pretending-to-be-viruses Acquired Oct. 15, 2015
4 4. “Differentiated cells possess a remarkable genomic plasticity that can be manipulated to reverse or change developmental commitments … the leprosy bacterium hijacks this property to reprogram adult Schwann cells, its preferred host niche, to a stage of progenitor/stem-like cells (pSLC) of mesenchymal trait by downregulating Schwann cell lineage/differentiation-associated genes and upregulating genes mostly of mesoderm development. Reprogramming accompanies epigenetic changes and renders infected cells highly plastic, migratory, and immunomodulatory … acquisition of these properties by pSLC promotes bacterial spread by two distinct mechanisms: direct differentiation to mesenchymal tissues, including skeletal and smooth muscles, and formation of granuloma-like structures and subsequent release of bacteria-laden macrophages. These findings support a model of host cell reprogramming in which a bacterial pathogen uses the plasticity of its cellular niche for promoting dissemination of infection and provide an unexpected link between cellular reprogramming and host-pathogen interaction.” http://www.cell.com/cell/abstract/S0092-8674(12)01501-2?_returnURL=http%3A%2F%2Flinkinghub.elsevier.com%2Fretrieve%2Fpii%2FS0092867412015012%3Fshowall%3Dtrue&cc=y= Acquired Feb. 12, 2016.
5 5. http://www.smiledentaljournal.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=154%3Alion-face-syndrome-a-rare-case-report&catid=907&Itemid=110 Acquired Nov. 30, 2015.
6 6. Notes from the Internet: “The penis of a lion, like all felines, has backward pointing barbs. In lions, copulation is often accompanied by snarling, biting, growling, and threats...“ “…For all species of the cat family, mating is painful. It’s not the biting that hurts the female, it’s the male’s penis, which is barbed with 100 tiny hooks.” Ref: http://www.catcollection.org/cat/lion Acquired Jan. 20, 2016.
7 7. The heartbeat rate for a lion is about 40 beats a minute. Look it up for yourself.
8 8. “Cymanity”: the author’s term for the human-Cyborg composites of the future where the individual is more than 50% Cyborg.
9 9. The author made up this word to describe Jack’s now super-strong lower jaw, suitable for crushing large bones.
Hospital Zone
(Geneva) – Fully autonomous weapons would … be able to select and engage targets without meaningful human control.… Programmers, manufacturers, and military personnel could all escape liability for unlawful deaths and injuries caused by fully automatic weapons, or “killer robots,” Human Rights Watch said in a report … issued in advance of a multilateral meeting on the weapons at the United Nations in Geneva.… The many obstacles to justice for potential victims show why we urgently need to ban fully autonomous weapons.1
When Larry woke, he realized that he wasn’t out in the desert anymore. He wasn’t interacting with her anymore. Somehow, that was important. Somewhere deep inside, Larry knew he had gone too far. He’d done something illegal. But what was it? One thing he knew for sure: it was an unbreakable secret … so why was he here in this hospital bed, dressed in prison stripes?
Cautiously, he lowered his feet to see if he was allowed to touch the floor. He was. Stiff, anxious, feeling achy all over, Larry shuffled his way across the glass floor to the toilet. His urine bag sensor told him he needed food: his glucose level was too low.2 After relieving himself, and being dried off, he tried to turn on his personal mirror, but it wouldn’t materialize, so he had to content himself with looking at a wall mirror, knowing very well that the face he saw might, or might not, be pretty. In prisons, wall mirrors usually reflected the person’s mood. This could distort the face that was presented. If the mood was not calm enough, Larry would not be able to see his face at all, so he did his best to focus on self-control and peace. It worked. He could see the face of a black man in his youthful prime, with a rainbow of curly hair on his head. As with most men, all his beard hair was gone, but he had kept his ear-locks, which hung in dreadlocks almost to his collarbone. The eyes looking back at him were his favorite color – blue – and when he smiled, all his teeth were pointed. It was the latest fad.
Yes, that was him, all right: Larry Snopes. Biochemist, entomologist, and chaser of women …with prison stripes.
The stripes would turn from black to red if he crossed the wrong line, and he’d get electroshocked, so Larry watched carefully as he returned to his bed to determine just exactly where the boundaries were. They never told prisoners; he basically had to guess. Larry had learned long ago a trick to figure out the boundaries.… But wait… how did he learn about the boundaries? Had he been here before?
All he could really remember was the acrid air in the desert, and how his motorcycle–
“Well! You’re awake!”
He turned to see a Robo-Doc, who had glided into the small 12 x 12 room.
“I don’t know what this is all about,” he told the robot. “I want to talk to a human, please.” (He knew he had to treat the Robo-Doc politely).
“Not available. Sorry.” The Robo-Doc didn’t sound sorry.
“Now let me tell you something!” Larry replied, as his black stripes turned from black to pink; a warning signal that he had to keep his emotions under control. “You are going to be more than sorry, if you don’t cough up a human. Pronto! I’m an important person. I own twenty of you, back in the labs. I want to talk to a human. Now!”
The Robo-Doc seemed to tremble unsteadily before its steely-strong arms reached out and gently restrained him, pumping small doses of what Larry knew had to be a tranquilizer into his body.
“Damn it, anyway!” he spluttered, then relaxed. “Why did you do that? I wasn’t going to…”
His mind wandered off, due to the drug. “Wasn’t gonna…” He fought the urge to close his eyes and sleep. No! He had to find out what was going on. Why he was here.
“Let go of me,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I don’t need any more of these injections.”
“I can’t,” the Robo-Doc told him. It thrust him back into the bed. “We will try again in an hour. Thank you.”
As Larry leaned back, a soft pillow inflated under his head automatically. At the same time, a small wire coiled itself around his arm: there was the quick stab of a needle. He was getting something else pumped into him, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about
it.
“Some heads are gonna roll over this…!” he managed to say, before an artificial darkness crept over him, and he had to close his eyes.
When Larry woke, he realized that he wasn’t out in the desert anymore. He wasn’t interacting with her anymore. She was important, but he couldn’t remember why. Somewhere deep inside, Larry knew he had done something illegal, and important. But, what? Why was he here in this hospital bed, dressed in prison stripes?
Cautiously, he lowered his feet to see if he was allowed to touch the floor. He was. Stiff, anxious, feeling achy all over, Larry tried to calm himself. He flipped on his personal mirror and saw how weak its battery was, but he caught a glimpse of himself. He could see the face of a black man in his prime. That rainbow of curly hair was his. His ear-locks hung in dreadlocks almost to his collarbone. Those eyes looking back at him were his favorite color – blue – and his pointed teeth glistened with gold. Yes, that was him, all right: Larry Snopes. Biochemist. Entomologist. Lover of women… with prison stripes.
He knew the stripes would turn from black to red if he wasn’t careful. Avoiding electroshocks, Larry remained sitting on his bed: he knew there were boundaries… But wait. Yes, he had been here before…
All he could really remember was the acrid air in the desert, how his motorcycle had broken down … how he had to protect her from them. Yes, that was it. They mustn’t learn about her…
“Well! You’re awake again. Perhaps this time, you will be reasonable.”
He turned to see a Robo-Doc, who had glided into the small 12 x 12 room.
“I don’t know what this is all about,” Larry told the Robot. “I want to talk to a human, please.” (He knew he had to treat the Robo-Doc politely).
“Not available. Sorry.” The Robo-Doc didn’t sound sorry.