The New Reality

by Stephen Martino

  Alex asked, “Samantha could you please run a simulation on the chronographer of the entire retrovirus’s effect on the victim’s non-infected body?”

  “One step ahead of you, as usual,” she responded.

  Chapter 28

  “I can’t get anything by you,” Alex said as he and the rest of the group exited the Stratoskimmer and began walking along a sandy beach next to the Aegean Sea. “You’re on top of everything, aren’t you?”

  “Well, thank you,” she responded as they all listened to her on the thin black mini-telecommunicators strapped to their wrists.

  “You’re welcome,” he commented, smirking to the others.

  As Samantha continued her monologue, the rest of them continued their stroll along the nicest beach the coastal city of Mavisehir, Turkey had to offer. Overlooking the Aegean, it had a wonderful view of some of the beautiful Greek islands and a cozy atmosphere that had drawn tourists to the area for many years.

  Just like all the other Turkish coastal cities, this one had been evacuated because of The Disease, leaving the bustling markets vacant and the place totally deserted.

  One would never know how much death the city had seen over the past year by looking at it. Just over two months ago the tourist hotels were converted into makeshift hospitals, while large piles of bonfire wood on the beach served as the local crematories. Most of the population had perished and those who survived fled the area, possibly spreading The Disease around the world.

  Their stop here was not one of pleasure. Though the city did possess an overwhelming aesthetic allure, they had no time to enjoy it. Their minds were focused on finding a cure.

  While trapped at Megiddo, the Stratoskimmer’s pilot, Tom, made the best of his time by finishing some of the maintenance work not completed on Madeira. He had been displeased by how the ship had been flying even before their attack and wanted to reevaluate the entire system before their departure.

  During his inspection, he made one startling discovery: the ship had been infested with necroids that somehow infiltrated its innermost circuitry. A few methodically moved around the motherboard, but most appeared to be fused with the wiring or other electrical mechanics.

  Though not recognizing the significance of his finding, he cautiously showed the circuits to Alex in private, as to not create any panic. Alex immediately realized what had happened. While most of the necroids remained at Neurono-Tek, some must have boarded the Stratoskimmer before they left and had been revealing their location and relaying the ship’s communications directly to the UAA. It made complete sense. He now understood how SattAr could have discovered him both on Crete and Megiddo.

  Alex informed the rest of the group about the discovery and as usual concocted a plan to use it against the UAA. First, he encrypted all further communications with Samantha so that no one could eavesdrop on their conversations, regardless of the necroid moles deep inside the ship’s circuitry. The grainy red transmission was thus a net result of this safeguard and not some computer glitch as Samantha assumed.

  Secondly, this current pit stop on Mavisehir had been intended as a decoy to lure the UAA away from the Aegean. While Alex and the rest of the group planned on commandeering one of the abandoned boats in this western coastal city, Tom flew the Stratoskimmer out over the Pacific, hoping to lead the UAA on a wild goose chase.

  “So, what was the retrovirus’s effect on the victim’s non-infected body?” Marissa then went on to ask.

  “The experiment,” she responded, “shows that just like when I activated the bcl-xl gene in the victim’s body, infecting her with the entire retrovirus that included the bcl-xl gene inside of it produced the exact same results.”

  “Mystery solved,” William confidently said.

  “Not so fast,” Samantha interrupted. “We still don’t have a way to stop the retrovirus from spreading or a cure once the person is infected.”

  “In addition,” Marissa added, “it doesn’t explain how it’s spread or why I never found this retrovirus on any autopsy.”

  Before she could make any further comments, she noted Jonathan lagging uncharacteristically behind them. The usual snap in his step was no longer present, and he walked along the sand as if he were trudging through three feet of snow. The others had been so involved discussing The Disease with Samantha that they did not notice his absence.

  She ran back to him and placed her arm around his shoulder. “Are you O.K.?”

  “Not to worry,” he said, attempting to muster his most cheerful tone. “Your thoughts should be on finding a cure for The Disease and not on an old kook like myself. The world needs you right now. Send me out to pasture if you need to, but never forget our goal here.”

  Marissa held him closer and guided him through the sand. “I’m not going to pull out the shotgun yet,” she jested. “Come on. You probably picked up a cold along the way. I’ll give you something when we’re on the boat. You’ll be fine.”

  Jonathan knew otherwise.

  After looking at her experiment a little longer, Samantha exclaimed, “It seems as if the virus can only replicate in the body within a six hour time span, a week after its initial infection. After that, it totally stops reproducing. And ironically, the virus can only replicate in the inner lining of the lung, known as the endothelium.”

  “That explains why I never found anything!” Marissa quickly said. “If the virus can only replicate in the lungs, there would never be any evidence of its remnants in the blood or the tissue samples I examined. Also, because The Disease takes months to clinically manifest, the active virus is long gone by the time a person would go to autopsy.

  “And more importantly,” Marissa pondered aloud, “that means that the virus would only be contagious months before the person shows any signs of The Disease and for only six hours.” She paused and then spoke into her telecommunicator. “How long do you propose the virus would remain alive outside the body?”

  “I’m not sure? Maybe--”

  “Less than a day,” William interjected. “This virus has been out of commission for thousands, if not millions, of years. There have been too many mutations along the way for it to retain its longevity.”

  “The only problem,” Alex concluded, “is that if it’s produced in the lung’s endothelium, it can spread extremely easily in an aerosolized form. All you would need to do is breath on someone else to infect them.”

  “Don’t you love virology!” William said.

  “So William,” Samantha asked, “if you know so much about viruses, how do we stop the spread?”

  William was at a momentary loss for words. Though extremely interested in virology, he understood the answer to her question carried serious consequences. “We can’t. Because of the mutation rate of such a virus and its high infectivity rate, we’d conceptually have to vaccinate the entire population of the world every two weeks for about four months to rid ourselves of The Disease.”

  “Plus, there’s no way to stop the carnage caused by the bcl-xl gene once it’s activated in the body,” Alex added. “After it starts producing proteins, the damage is irrevocable throughout the body.”

  “This is the worst-case scenario we’ve always read about at the NIH,” Marissa said. “The ultimate pandemic.”

  Jonathan whispered in a meek voice, “‘The kings of the earth, the nobles, the military officers, the rich, the powerful, and every slave and free person hid themselves in caves and among mountain crags. They cried out to the mountains and the rocks, ‘Fall on us and hide us from the face of the one who sits on the throne from the wrath of the Lamb, because the great day their wrath is come and who shall be able to withstand it?’’”

  “Revelation 6:15,” Marissa quoted.

  “I think hiding ourselves in a cave until this disease thing blows over sounds like a good idea right about now,” William quickly commented.

  Marissa added, “I better let the NIH know that it’s time to activate the humanity disaster plan.”

  �
��This is only getting worse,” William fretted aloud.

  Marissa continued helping Jonathan as they boarded their boat. His skin felt cool and damp, as if he were trying to sweat off a fever that never occurred. The strong, eager eyes that once started the mission now looked hollow and lacked their usual spunk. She wanted to say something, but Jonathan gave her a small wink. “I’ll be O.K.,” he said as he slumped down on one of the deck’s benches.

  The sailboat was certainly a magnificent one. Trimmed entirely in white and with an expansive below-deck living quarters, this 40-foot vessel would definitely serve its purpose. The trip to Patmos would not be a far one and if they had to make the trek, why not procure the sleekest ship at the dock?

  “Nice choice,” William complimented while he and Alex began to pull up the sails. “Can you hotwire this thing to get it started?”

  “If I can torch a whole building without a match in two minutes,” Alex joked, “I don’t think starting up this ship’s engine will give me much trouble.”

  “But that was my home,” Guri interjected.

  “Just keep turning that winch,” William directed. “There’s no time to lament about your apartment. We could all be dead in a week anyway.”

  “Don’t plan your funeral too early,” Alex said. “We still have to finish up some business on Patmos and hopefully find that cure predicted in the Bible code. Isn’t that right, Jonathan?”

  He nodded his head and gave them each a smile.

  “So where’s the code say we go next after Patmos?” William asked, almost too afraid to hear the answer. “Hopefully somewhere warm and safe.”

  “Nowhere,” he responded solemnly. “It all ends on Patmos.”

  Chapter 29

  “We simply cannot continue without further funding from The New Reality,” Ari Lesmana insisted. “We are on the verge of independent economic prosperity.”

  Albert Rosenberg knew otherwise. He had been privy to their country’s economic status for years and knew their creative accounting practices only created an illusion of prosperity. Though the unemployment numbers were declining, underemployment, food stamp usage, and the poverty index were at an all time high. The reality was they were plunging into an abyss of debt unheard of in the twenty-first century, condemning future generations to economic destitution.

  “You must realize,” Albert said, “my remarks at The League of World Leaders were certainly not intended for you or the UAA.”

  Ari gasped a sigh of relief as he eased himself back into his chair. Though he and Albert had come to a mutual understanding before the recent meeting with the League, Ari needed conformation that his country’s sovereignty would not be in jeopardy.

  “Your continued presence in the Middle East,” Albert went on to say, “is vital for the economic and political stability of the region. I can assure you, there will be no interference with the UAA while you are in charge.”

  Despite the excellent quality of this communication, Albert’s frail voice could barely be heard. Ari strained to hear every word and listened carefully so that he would not misinterpret a single syllable.

  Albert’s holograph in the center of Ari’s office could not conceal his bedridden state. Ever since the last time they spoke he had taken a noticeable turn for the worse. Only his big blue eyes provided any vestige of his former self.

  Masika glared down upon his image with pure disgust. The thought of partnering with any Westerner, let alone a successful capitalist entrepreneur, sickened her.

  Out of site from Albert’s vision, Masika’s furrowed brow and contemptuous snarl kept Ari’s attention throughout the whole conversation. It was as if the muscles she used for smiling had become atrophied and her scornful expression had become permanently etched in her face.

  “I must assure you,” Ari said in a rather boastful tone, “that the money loaned to the UAA is being utilized in a positive manner. Besides all the public sector jobs I’ve created, my mass stimulus packages, economic bailouts, and other generous programs have brought the UAA into a new era of economic prosperity. Only with my…”

  Ari droned on ad nauseam. If Albert felt the slightest bit better, he would have curtailed this self-gratifying monologue from the very beginning. In reality, he knew that all these programs Ari spoke of were total failures and condemned the UAA to generations of economic disaster. Only an endless amount of loans could continue to pay for them all. Plus, they also created no real jobs and only hindered true economic growth.

  “Do not pursue Alex Pella,” Albert finally interrupted. “He has already thwarted you twice and his intensions are of no interest to you.”

  Ari suddenly went silent. Even Masika’s chiseled expression changed. They both were stunned to realize that Albert knew about these plans.

  “You must understand,” Ari began to say in an attempt to circumvent the subject, “that this disease affects us all, and the well-being of this country, if not the world, is at stake. As leader of the UAA, I must not overlook any opportunity that presents itself to our great nation.”

  “Let me restate this simply,” Albert again, “you must not pursue Alex Pella. He is a man among men and someone not to be toyed with.”

  Before Ari could make a rebuttal, the communication ended. He was left with only one parting caution from Albert. “Be careful of your actions.”

  Masika waltzed across the office. Through clenched teeth and an ever further furrowed brow, she blasted, “Albert thinks of you as a fool! You, not this Western-born Alex Pella, are a man among men! His eyes are clearly blinded by his greed, and he cannot see true greatness when it stands before him!”

  She slammed her fist on his mahogany desk. “One day The New Reality, along with all of Western society, will bow down to you and the UAA!”

  Ari had no doubt of the authenticity of Masika’s words. Despite his horribly failing economic policies, he truly believed that he was the world’s next savior.

  The fire in Masika’s eyes always excited Ari. Momentarily forgetting to think of only himself, he stared into her hypnotic gaze. Like a Greek siren, she could lure him into even the most dangerous of terrain.

  He grabbed hold of her arm at once, wanting more.

  “This is not the time!” she chastised.

  Ari removed his hand but kept his eyes on hers the entire time. He felt no sense of disappointment. The true thrill with Masika was in the pursuit rather than the conquest.

  “What is the latest status of our bunker?” she asked, without changing her expression.

  Her domineering voice echoed off the office’s ocean blue walls. Offset by a large bay window behind Ari’s desk and cherry hardwood floors, the room created a relaxing atmosphere amidst the heated discussions that usually took place there. Pictures of Ari adorned all the walls; they were trophies of his conquests, windows into the perceived success he created for himself.

  “‘The mood in which we usually exist depends upon the mood in which we maintain our environment’,” Ari responded with a suave smile.

  Masika became at ease. Her muscles went from their stiff and rigid state to a more relaxed position. Even the furrow between her brow became less conspicuous.

  Ari had used this quote many times in the past. Taken straight out of

  Nietzsche’s Daybreak, it had a way of easing any tense situations between them. He had the book memorized and kept it close at hand for both inspiration and guidance.

  “Our bunker is complete,” Ari went on to say. “As The Disease ravishes humanity aboveground we, along with ten thousand of our chosen brethren, will be safe from its far-reaching deadly tentacles.”

  “You see, my wife,” Ari went on to say with a swagger in his voice, “I will continue to pursue Alex Pella despite Albert Rosenberg’s adamant warning.”

  The fire in Masika’s eyes grew with her husband’s every word. Her pulse raced and pupils dilated.

  “We,” he went on to say, “define our lives and our country’s destiny, not this man. We are th
e creators of our future, and no person shall stand in the way of my success—especially not a capitalist from the West.”

  Both emotionally and sensually excited by Ari’s words, Masika grabbed her husband’s arm, no longer resisting his advances.

  “And if Alex Pella does not divulge to us the cure for The Disease,” he continued, “then I will have him and his Western companions exterminated while we watch all of Western society and the world crumble in The Disease’s wake. We will then rise and create a new world, a utopian world without boundaries or classes, completely controlled by me.”

  Before Ari could partake in Masika’s advances, a holograph appeared in the center of the office. Upon its emergence Masika moved to the corner of the room so that she was once again out of sight.

  “SattAr,” Ari said in the most commanding voice he could muster. “May I help you?”

  “Yes, Malik,” he said with the proper greeting. “We have lost Alex Pella.”

  “You do not bring me good news. I was under the belief that our necroids were tracking him.”

  “They are,” SattAr responded matter-of-factly, “but I now believe that his team discovered the necroids and have taken us on a protracted diversion over the past 24 hours.”

  “I need to see you at once,” Ari said succinctly. Knowing his plan depended on Alex Pella and his companion’s capture or demise, he had to addresses the situation immediately and delay personal pleasure for later.

  Chapter 30

  The day spent sailing across the Aegean provided Alex and his cohorts some needed relaxation. Without anyone trying to shoot or electrocute them, they used the time to catch up on lost sleep and mentally decompress.

  William took the opportunity to fill up with as much food as possible in case they missed another meal while Guri could barely stomach any food due to continuous seasickness. Even Marissa’s medical treatment could barely subdue his incessant nausea.