“I prefer the suspicion. It helps the girls I’m working with feel more comfortable.”
“So, you’re straight? I’ve never heard you talk about a girlfriend.”
“Not seeing anyone at the moment. I’ve been really busy. Would you like to see the next big thing?”
“You’d better not mean a dick pic. God, I can’t believe the last guy that sent me a dick pic on Tinder. Fuck, what are you guys thinking?”
“No, not a dick pic. Look,” Marc said. He opened a new folder.
The pictures had Drew mesmerized immediately. Cyberpunk porn. Compilations of bodies and machines, flesh and robotic. Real bodies but with wires and microchips and computers and tactical uniforms. Guns, ships, space backdrops, dystopian backdrops. Blade Runner stuff. A mixture of Star Wars, Star Trek, and Doctor Who combined with Mission to Mars.
Creatures from alien movies and stories appeared from face-huggers to Jabba the Hutt to Cthulhu. Nothing seemed too bizarre to include. Human-computer hybridization. Space lust. War machine, war mongering, and sexy death lust. And all done artistically. Porn introduced into the techno-cyber future.
“These are really amazing,” Drew said.
“Thank you. I’ve been devoting a lot of time to this. I’ve been working with several partners, guys who do the Photoshop stuff and the deviant art. You should consider doing some work with us.”
“I’m not sure. Tell me more about it.”
Marc explained how even though there was a growing trend to include more Photoshopped design elements and more art in the photography, whether it was for porn or more traditional needs, there would always be a need for real flesh and blood women to pose, even if after the fact you couldn’t recognize the personality. He had worked with a few models that agreed to pose nude on the condition that their identities would remain hidden.
“Being identifiable, especially for a professional model, is probably the best way to go in general. But consider comic books turned into movies. You can’t always recognize the actress behind all that body paint,” Marc said. “But it’s still very sexy even if we can’t recognize the face.”
“I guess I’m a little behind the times,” Drew said. “I have seen some great live anime characters and cosplay photography, but nothing that was actually pornographic.”
“Oh, it’s out there,” he said. “What you saw was an example of a huge trend. In Japan, there are artists and photographers who are so good at manipulating their models that it’s hard to tell where the realism ends and the fantasy begins. Some of the faces have slightly larger eyes and slightly narrower chins than you’d think a real person would have, but unless you get a peek at the metadata, you just can’t be sure what is altered and what is real. It’s part of the fun.”
“I guess it’s no different than when a model gets her tits done. Sometimes you know for sure, but other times, it’s a guess.”
“Right. Nobody says it’s not a real picture if the boobs have been done. Celebrity pictures and models, even centerfolds, have been Photoshopped for years. Experts clean up the skin, remove love handles, fix and add makeup. We are doing the same thing here, but creating a bigger fantasy world around the model. We’re creating characters. You’re not offended by me asking you to pose?”
“No. Not at all,” she laughed. She smiled directly at him and said, “I’m definitely interested.”
CHAPTER FIVE
They certainly give very strange names to diseases.
~ Plato
The reason you don’t get vaccinated against smallpox is because it doesn’t exist in nature. The reason it exists in labs is because nobody is vaccinated against it. Weaponized smallpox is scarier than nukes.
~ Blake Green
Brandon Hull pulled into the parking lot of Genaplat Technology Labs. There was no visible security outside, not because what was happening inside didn’t need to be secured but because sometimes hiding in plain sight was a better strategy. The building was industrial, concrete and glass. It had security cameras and good lighting and a small metal sign above the entrance that had Genaplat’s name and logo on it.
Hull thought about war as he parked. It used to be waged man-to-man with spears, clubs, and hand-fashioned weapons. Today, things had changed so much it was hard to know what could happen next. It was possible for an enemy to attack your infrastructure with a computer virus and then attack your body with a lab-enhanced virus. Which country, terrorist group, or crazy individual was responsible would be impossible to know.
The lab complex was on the outskirts of the city of Bristol in an unincorporated area. Boyd’s connection to the place was completely off the record to those who worked here except for the director, Jacob Matthews. Matthews stood in the foyer waiting as Hull walked in.
“Good morning. You must be Bruce Cowen? From the Herald?”
You’re a lousy actor, Matthews. Shut up, and take me inside.
“Yes. You must be the director, Jacob Matthews?” Hull played along. The plan had been for Hull to show up, get a tour, ask some questions, leave fake business cards, and hope that if a whistle blower existed they could flush him out.
All employees were contractually forbidden from talking to the media about the work done here. If anyone called him, he could query them about Novak and try to determine how big and wide their problem was. Hopefully, nobody would contact him and everyone would just do their jobs. In time, without anymore information coming out, the whole story would go away and the press would move on to the next scandal.
Hull had a press pass that was completely authentic except for the fact that “Bruce Cowen” didn’t actually work for the Herald. His business cards had a number that would be answered by a service. He doubted anyone would call, but it was a cheap and easy ruse. You never knew what bugs you’d catch when you spun a web.
Matthews shuffled Cowen through security and started a tour of the facility.
They walked through those areas of the lab that didn’t require any special clothing or protective gear. This was to make everyone aware of a reporter’s presence. Matthews gave brief descriptions of things the lab did, and Hull dropped his fake business card on desks when Matthews was pretending not to look.
They made their way through a maze of doors. Matthews walked up to a large glass window and explained that this was as far as they could go into the lab.
“You see the entrance over there?” He pointed to the left. “That is the Stage One area. It’s where techs that are working in Stage Two or are going into our Hot Zone suit up. Once you pass that entrance,” he pointed to the right, “you enter an area where toxic and biologically hazardous work is being done.”
The influenza vaccines that came out every year were always a best guess of what would work that season. Some years they worked very well, but other years they were barely effective at all. When companies worked on vaccines for military use, it was even more challenging.
The civilian population didn’t receive a vaccination for smallpox because smallpox no longer existed in nature. But smallpox did exist in labs, and military personnel going overseas received the best vaccinations suppliers could create based upon existing strains.
It was not known what a country like North Korea may have already created in a lab and supplied to terrorists. So Genaplat Technology Labs made calculated guesses and created vaccines for various versions of weaponized smallpox as well as other deadly agents.
Actually creating and possessing weaponized smallpox or other deadly agents for use as a weapon of mass destruction was a major international crime. The balancing act that faced Matthews was getting the best work out of his people while keeping them in the dark about many of the end goals of their work.
Sometimes it was as simple as having one section create a pathogen and then telling another section that whatever deadly thing they’d be working on next had been obtained from terrorists across the ocean, not from someone across the hall. So far it had worked ver
y well until that nosy reporter had started posing the wrong kinds of questions to the right kind of people.
Matthews continued the tour until they ended up in his office. Hull sat down and across from Matthews. He remained silent for awhile, waiting to see if the quiet provoked Matthews to say anything that might indicate he was upset or concerned, but he remained silent as well.
“You don’t feel there are any leaks? Nothing has you suspicious?” Hull asked.
“No, nothing. We’ve transferred a few people just as a precautionary measure. There were a couple people we suspected, people we felt might be overly concerned with what was going on here. Nobody, however, raised any significant red flags. You can’t get suspicious every time someone asks questions because asking questions is part of how they do their jobs. Our protocol from the beginning has been to move people through here before any one person has a grasp on what is truly going on, but it causes a lot of inefficiency if you get too paranoid. The only other person who knows the full scope of work here is Blake Green. He’s in charge of the Information Technology Department and completely involved in security. I trust him. Our mutual friend trusts him. He’s available whenever you’re ready to talk to him.”
“Sure. Bring him up.”
Matthews dialed Green’s extension, and Green walked into the office a few minutes later.
The three men went over protocols. They discussed suspicions and possible leaks. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary beyond what had already happened. Hull had already dealt with that, at least to the best of his knowledge.
The problem with the situation here, Hull thought, was that those working in the experimental part of the lab were extremely intelligent people. Keeping secrets from intelligent people while asking them to work on those secrets was a difficult task. Only a handful of experts existed in the world that worked in the extreme hot zones. Those were areas of a research lab that worked with extremely lethal microbes with no known cures and death rates above ninety percent. Ebola, Marburg, smallpox, anthrax, and various strains of the influenza virus all had the potential to be weaponized. Because they caused such gruesome deaths, possessing them in a weapons program was highly illegal at an international level, a violation of many existing treaties and pacts. Actually unleashing weapons such as these was a crime against humanity.
Everyone who knew what was really going on at Genaplat Technology Labs, those who had inside information, believed two things.
First, they believed that the enemies of America were working on the same types of projects. It was well known that weaponized smallpox programs had existed in Russia before the fall of the Soviet Union. Nobody knew who the Russians had supplied with lab specimens. Even the Russian government today didn’t know who currently held samples.
Once a group had biologicals growing it wasn’t hard to divide the cultures. It was prudent to assume the worst case when planning against terrorist attacks, especially those that were suicidal, well-financed, and organized.
A large part of the research they were conducting had to do with potential vaccines, something that could protect American soldiers if an enemy decided to use biological warfare. The terrorists of the world were hardly going to worry about international law. And in order to vaccinate against something deadly, it was necessary to have that very evil thing to create the protection against it.
The second thing they believed was that American interests would be better protected if they had the most horrible weapons ever imagined at their disposal. As ungodly and profane as it sounded, to unleash weaponized biological weapons on a future enemy might be the best way to shorten a deadly war. American forces had dropped atomic bombs in World War II and destroyed entire cities including civilians. As much as that decision was still debated today, there was no debate that it stopped the war.
Hull believed in his country, and he believed in Boyd.
He’d stop anyone trying to bring this project down.
He’d do it with pride, and he’d do it with lethal force if necessary.
CHAPTER SIX
Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.
~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky
It’s not news that women are attracted to money and power and men are attracted to tits and ass. What is front page worthy is finding that rare combination of crazy attraction in a decent fucking person.
~ Drew Stirling
Drew Stirling slept in on Saturday and skipped the gym. She’d stayed up much too late the night before talking with Marc. They’d gone back to his place after lunch and spent hours looking over his portfolio and brainstorming ideas for new photo shoots. They thought of different scenes and characters she might be interested in. She was really drawn to the steampunk images he’d shown her. Steampunk was fantasy like cyberpunk, only set in the pre-industrial Victorian age instead of the future. It included wild ideas of technology like those flying machines, bronze spy glasses, and submarines found in a Jules Verne or Orson Wells novel. She ended up drinking too much and getting a Lyft ride home. Her mouth was dry and her head hurt. She crawled out of bed and found some Advil. She swallowed them down with a bit of warm, flat Diet Coke.
Coffee. God, what was I thinking? But it was so fun. He’s really such a great guy. Maybe I’ll experiment and do a set. I can always wear some head gear. Nobody has to know it’s me.
She made herself some coffee and jumped into the shower. She thought about the pool as the hot water poured over her body. She didn’t skip her morning swim often. It was the secret she attributed to remaining slender and still being able to eat Mexican food once in awhile. Many of her modeling friends used cigarettes and Diet Coke as meal replacements. She’d always avoided smoking, but drinking Diet Cokes was one of the rituals she enjoyed. Being consistent with the pool and yoga gave her an advantage.
She started thinking about what kind of futuristic scene she’d like to model in. Maybe a sexy bounty hunter on a jet bike? Carrying a grenade launching shotgun? Or a light saber?
She was startled out of her daydreaming when a quick knock was followed by the door opening.
“Morning, Drew. I have to pee,” said her roommate Julie Brown. She walked in the bathroom. “You have fun last night? Whatcha do?”
“Oh, I drank too much, for one,” Drew answered. She laughed. “I was just over at Marc’s place. We were kind of working.”
“Kind of working? Sure you were. Wait a second, I thought he was gay.”
“No, he’s straight. Seriously, we were working. Working and drinking, but it wasn’t a date.”
“No need to get defensive. He is kind of cute,” Julie said. She peeked into the shower. “You’re telling me he didn’t try to grab that ass?”
“Perfect gentleman,” Drew answered.
“Nope, he’s gay.”
Drew dressed and went to the kitchen. She started making breakfast and sarcastically asked Julie if she’d like some eggs to go with her coffee.
“Yes, please. And can you rub my shoulders too?”
They ate breakfast together and got caught up on the latest gossip. Julie had been a friend for nearly five years now and a roommate for two of those. They rarely kept secrets.
“So, you like this Marc?” Julie asked.
“Yes, but —” Drew answered.
“But what?”
“He’s a really nice guy. He’s super sweet and considerate. He listens to me.”
“So, whatcha think? He’s so fucking nice that you don’t want to screw him?”
“God, it’s weird. I don’t know. Maybe he’s not my type?”
Drew told her more about the day she spent with Marc, starting with the Mexican food, and ending with a friendly hug sometime around one thirty in the morning. She told Julie they’d had a really great day talking about work and life. He had a good sense of humor. He was smart, hard-working, and handsome too.
“Sounds like you like him,” Julie said. “Maybe
you should go on a real date?”
“Maybe. But he hasn’t asked.”
“I’m sure you could think of a way to entice him,” Julie said as she swayed her hips and puckered her lips. They both laughed.
Drew sat down with a book after Julie left for work. She promised herself she’d go to the gym tomorrow morning. Sunday mornings were slow, and the pool would be completely free. She was reading the latest Malcolm Gladwell book. She enjoyed keeping up on trends and current events and felt it was important too. She also read the latest books on science and sociology and other topics that she’d considered studying. If she went to college — When she went to college.
She also enjoyed the occasional chick lit book from authors like Janet Evanovich. She was one of her favorite reads. She figured a little pleasure reading was good too, but she concentrated on keeping her mind up-to-date on technology even though it was fun to fantasize about being a bounty hunter or a private detective.
It was early afternoon when her cell started vibrating. It was Marc Chase.
“Hello, Marc,” she answered his call.
“Hi, I had a really great time.”
Drew’s pulse quickened.
Marc continued with small talk for awhile. He mentioned upcoming projects. He talked about some of the ideas they’d had the night before. He was stalling a bit, but eventually got around to asking her out. On a real date. That night. Tonight. This Saturday night. In a few hours.
Drew had to decide. She could say “yes.” She could say “no.” If she said “no,” she could say “No, I don’t want to date you,” or “No, I can’t tonight.” But that would be kicking the decision down the road. If she said “yes,” it could possibly end a good friendship and a long-term working relationship if things didn’t work out. Or it could go really well. He was such a nice guy.
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