The Cygnus Virus

by Terry Zakreski

  As soon as he gets back to his apartment, he slams his backpack down and heads for the kitchen. He grabs a plastic garbage bag from under the sink and yanks it over his disgusting face. He drops to his knees, rips off his belt, loops it around his neck, and jerks it tight. He pulls until he’s sucking plastic and can’t swallow. He pulls until his survival reflex fights back and he’s gasping for air, feeling the sudden rush of blood to his head.

  Then he sobs into a dirty dish towel for an hour.

  He thinks he’s survived the worst of it, but he’s wrong. He went into the abyss and she followed him out.

  She’s the subway rails screaming at him to jump when the train comes thundering up. She’s the frozen waters when he crosses a bridge.Take the plunge. She’s the gun store clerk. Buy the shotgun and the shells colored with her blood. She whispers, turn the wheel into a semi, a parked car. Do it now. She’s the doodles of handguns and nooses in the margins of his life.

  He doesn’t answer. There’s more pain to be found in continuing to live, he supposes. Nor does he move on. More like, he just stands in there and takes it, until Death’s voice fades.

  He returns to Manitow Springs that summer with his tail between his legs. He takes an apprenticeship with old man Turner, eventually assuming his practice after Turner retires. Then he floats his way through life as we find him today, a man addicted to his sorrow and the memory of his love from long ago.

  Something else must be added to understand the Third KEE. To understand Andron and what he is today.

  The meteorite, of course, made a horrific noise as it crashed through the atrium glass above them. What bothered Andron, what will always bother Andron, is that in the noise and confusion, Andron instinctively pushed himself back from the table.

  While this did not and could not have pushed Astrid into the meteorite’s path, he imagines that somehow he could have pushed or pulled her away and been hit himself or saved them both. So the last thing he imagines that Astrid’s beautiful eyes saw of this world, is him saving himself at her expense.

  Of course, Andron has it all wrong. Astrid’s last vision of him was one of love and her final moments were full of joy. She felt connected to everything and how it began. The meteorite that slammed into her was energy from that great explosion of matter and time.

  So was her body, her thoughts and love of Andron. She was, he was and we are, the handiwork of stars. And finally, in the meteorite’s fatal arrival, she heard what had eluded her for so long — the universe sounded its one perfect note.

  So to speak.

  Chapter 6:

  The Cosmic Jackpot

  The Butterfly Words are just words without the ILEAP program, the packets of data it downloaded and, of course, Andron’s glitchy computer. These cherries are now carefully guarded state secrets. Back then, they all spun up in Andron’s computer room.

  It was an unwelcome jackpot on a cosmic slot machine.

  Before saying the Butterfly Words, Andron is on his computer reading up on the COHC and who might be calling the shots on its Board. He reads Thomas O’Brian’s profile and looks at a picture of the man.

  Corporate evangelist, he says out loud, forgetting about not saying anything around his computer.

  Oops.

  Random pages splash up everywhere as though spun from a wheel.

  He waits for the splatter to settle, pulls up some images of the Cloth and stares at the face of Yeshua.

  The slain god.

  He checks on his investments, scrolls through the headlines and studies his weather widget to prepare for the cold week ahead. While shutting off all the open pages, he notices that his computer splashed up a few porn sites in its wake.

  He shouldn’t look, but he does anyway. He’s soon back on persianpussy.org trolling for actresses that look like her, like a hundred times before. Revulsion wells up within him and he begins clicking out of the close-ups of cumshots and cunnies, of faces and bodies that are not hers.

  Fuck it.

  He gives in and masturbates anyway. There’s one that kind of looks like her. He exposes himself to the image. He closes his eyes when he comes and screams Astrid in the canyons of his mind. He feels like shit after. He cleans himself up, flushes the tissue down the toilet and returns to shut the rest of the windows down, including the other random ones his computer spun up.

  He pauses on Yeshua’s image.

  Then a banner ad catches his eye.

  I L E A P

  ILEAP — Intelligent Life on Exoplanets All Pursuit. Andron clicks on the banner and is soon reading about an ambitious plan to link hundreds of thousands of computers on the Internet.

  Piles of data would be extracted from the networked array of radio telescopes around the planet, parsed to the individual computers to separate potentially coherent signals from the oceans of space noise washing over the planet.

  They were, with their giant parabolic discs pointed skyward, to be the ears of the world.

  Curious, Andron probes deeper.

  Under About ILEAP he learns that the project was launched on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the discovery of the Holy Cow signal.

  Back then, Paul Freedmont was one of the first researchers to use radio telescopes to search deep space for intelligent life.

  Freedmont and others argued that, since we’ve been broadcasting radio and television messages traveling at the speed of light into outer space for the last fifty years, if there were indeed other advanced civilizations in the Universe, we should be getting their radio signals, even if they were light years away.

  We could search for life on other planets simply by staying put and listening in.

  Freedmont and his cohorts set up the Elephant Radio Telescope with much fanfare, but all they managed to pick up was the usual background static from outer space.

  Though background noise is not without significance.

  This white noise is the echo of the Big Bang still reverberating through the universe. Tune an analog TV between channels. The flickering lines dancing on the screen are the ghost whispers of the Big Bang.

  And then the researchers picked up something.

  There was a faint signal distinct from the usual background noise. It lasted only sixty-six seconds and then it was gone.

  In spite of all efforts to trace it, it was never heard again. But back when the signal was picked up, Freedmont and his researchers thought they had made contact, however briefly, with another civilization on another planet.

  When the unusual numbers first appeared on a printout, Dr. Freedmont circled them with his pen and wrote in the margin:

  Holy Cow.

  Freedmont continued the quest to make contact with other advanced civilizations in the universe and ILEAP was conceived.

  Impressed, Andron decides to lend his modest computer’s capabilities to the enterprise. His motives do not spring from the usual boyish wonder that inspired most subscribers.

  He wants answers.

  He wants to find out who is responsible for the meteorite that killed his love. And if God is to blame, then he’ll find a way to get even. So he subscribes, consents, downloads and installs the necessary software.

  He clicks the FIND LIFE button and sets the wheels in motion to explore the Universe. Then he wanders off to pour himself a drink, take his chair, and ultimately say the Butterfly Words.

  I am asking you and this empty room, surely, there must be someone somewhere to love me.

  These words cause the Butterfly Glitch, cause the ILEAP malfunction, cause the Internet crash, cause the Cosmic Jackpot, and cause our story.

  Cherries, Cherries, Cherries.

  You lose.

  Chapter 7:

  The Bad Man

  “Are you a good person or a bad person?” the boy asks.

  Young Andron is playing in a park in a cluster of trees near a playground. His banana seat bike is on its side with a pedal stuck in the grass.

  The boy is trying to figure out whether Andron is s
afe to play with, but Andron is stumped. Being good might imply he was a sissy, bad meant cool. He settles on good and wonders if he made the wrong choice.

  The kid has snot on his face.

  The thunder of a fighter jet passing overhead makes them duck and look up in alarm.

  Andron wakes up to the same fighter jet shaking his room. As he surfaces, he realizes that the power’s out and there’s no heat. He reaches for his cellphone. No bars, but the display says 5:00 am.

  Over the next week power outages and fighter jets are commonplace.

  The reason seems incredible. Manitow Springs is reportedly the epicenter of a massive cyber terrorist attack that crashed the Internet.

  Shock and awe headlines splash on the Manitow Springs Tribune.

  MANITOW SPRINGS GROUND ZERO FOR CYBER ASSAULT — NO TERRORIST GROUP HAS TAKEN RESPONSIBILITY

  CHINA DENIES WAGING CYBER ATTACK TO TEST WESTERN DEFENCES

  FEDERAL INVESTIGATORS SWOOP DOWN ON MANITOW SPRINGS

  NO STONE WILL BE LEFT UNTURNED, THOSE RESPONSIBLE WILL BE BROUGHT TO JUSTICE, PM VOWS

  They come in waves, the men in black suits and SUVs determined to find the source of the attack. A hotline is set up. It yields a few useful leads. Leads like, I think it was my neighbor, he’s Chinese and never cuts his lawn.

  They eventually get around to Andron.

  Mindy calls him to say that there are two gentlemen waiting in reception. They’re NSS, that’s all they would say.

  “Tell them I’ll be right out.”

  Andon closes the open files on his desk and puts them on his credenza. In front of the pictures of his niece and nephew and his humidor. He gulps down the rest of his tepid black coffee. He looks at the degrees hanging on his wall for no apparent reason, one from McCaddin. Then goes out to meet his uninvited guests.

  “Good morning Mr. Varga, I’m Hector Sanchez and this is my associate Walter Lang.”

  Hector’s untucked stained shirt barely covers his fat stomach. He has black hair, a black moustache, short arms, and sideburns. Walter is a foot taller, with a blonde buzz cut, square jaw, and muscles that don’t belong in the suit he’s wearing. He stands near the doorway.

  Hector shakes Andron’s hand while giving it a twist.

  “Well now that we’ve been properly introduced, why don’t we head over to your office, counselor?”

  “Before we do that, can you guys tell me who you are and what this is about? I don’t think you have an appointment.”

  “Sorry we didn’t call first Mr. Varga, we’re the NSS and have a few questions. We should really do this in your office. We’ll be quick.”

  Hector flashes his badge and Andron notices the gun.

  “The NSS? This is Kanada, I don’t think you guys have jurisdiction up here?”

  “Listen to this guy, lawyers always asking about jurisdiction, except when they’re fucking your wife and stealing your kids.”

  Wally touches his ear and whispers something.

  “Listen, counselor, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Call the cops if you like it hard.”

  Hector smirks.

  “The police? Okay, you guys need to tell me what this is about or I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Mindy follows the conversation back and forth like a tennis game.

  “Okay, counselor, you are under suspicion for being an Amerigon.”

  “What?”

  “Well, ain’t all Kanadians supposed to be polite?”

  Andron, Hector and Mindy laugh. Wally touches his ear again.

  “Come on, counselor, we’re just investigating the cyber attack from a few weeks ago and we have to go around and ask questions. The quicker we do this, the quicker we can get out of this frozen shithole”

  “Well, in that case, won’t you please come in? I’d hate to delay your departure a second longer.”

  Andron gestures to the hallway and they follow. Hector licks his lips at Mindy on the way by.

  Andron wonders whether this might be about one of his clients and prepares himself to invoke solicitor-client privilege.

  He closes his door, bids them to sit down, and then sits down himself. In his leather lawyer’s chair, Andron regains some confidence.

  “It’s not every day that I am visited by representatives of the NSS, I confess this does feel a bit movie-like. Hopefully, not a horror film where I end up with a black bag over my head and taken away to an interrogation facility.”

  Hector laughs. Wally doesn’t.

  “Actually, we were hoping that wouldn’t be necessary.”

  Hector leans forward and puts his hands on Andron’s side of his desk.

  “We just have one question, counselor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  Apparently, that’s the wrong answer.

  “You know exactly what, you lying piece of shit, I’m talking about the billions worth of damage you did by sticking your dick in the Internet.”

  Hector nearly climbs over Andron’s desk while he spits that out, knocking over Andron’s coffee mug. He’s close enough for Andron to get a blast his bad breath.

  “I…what?”

  Andron pushes his chair back from the mustache, black eyes, sideburns and foul breath. No one’s acted like this in his office before.

  Wally gets up and Andron reflexively turns to follow him. Hector slaps Andron hard across his face.

  “Pay attention to me, fucker.”

  “I’m all ears now.”

  Andron stares straight ahead as ordered. His face burns with indignation.

  “I have another question and you better answer right this time.”

  “Such as?”

  “Who are you working with?”

  “Well, as you can see, I’m kinda self-employed around here.”

  Hector doesn’t explode this time. He just smiles while Wally jabs a needle in Andron’s arm and slides a black hood over his head.

  Five or six other men in black suits storm in. They drag Andron out and take his computer.

  Calls keep coming in but Mindy stops answering. She merely watches open-mouthed as they drag her boss away with a hood over his head and walk out with his computer.

  Hector licks his lips at her again when he walks by.

  The headlines sweep away any talk of border incursion or trampled civil liberties.

  CYBER ATTACK SUSPECT IN POLICE CUSTODY

  LOCAL LAWYER SUSPECTED IN CYBER ATTACK NABBED BY THE NSS

  ANDRON VARGA, QUESTIONED AT AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

  INVESTIGATORS UNABLE TO DETERMINE WHETHER VARGA WAS WORKING ALONE

  No one cares about Andron’s rights after that or that they knocked over his coffee mug. Now he’s the bad kid in the park no one wants to play with.

  Chapter 8:

  The Gospel of Mary and the Cloth

  Thomas O’Brian sits at his desk and glances again at the headline on his computer. It’s after hours. He’s still in his suit and tie. Vivaldi’s Four Seasons plays from his executive office stereo.

  The developer’s lawyer was arrested in the cyber-attack investigation. An emergency meeting of the board was called to discuss it. Thomas wants the power to deal with the lawsuit, and legacy donations in general, as he sees fit. He thinks that they should be more bullish now that their opponent is down.

  The trouble is getting anything past the nervous nellies on the Board who are bothered by all the legal bills from Kanada.

  To Thomas, the choice is between being ruthless or being walked over. There’s no middle ground.

  The Gospel of Mary and the Cloth lies open on his desk. He’s reading it for inspiration and to find a quote to nudge them his way.

  The Gospel is a recent and remarkable discovery. An antiquities dealer acquired the papyrus codex on which it was found in Cairo at the turn of the last century and it was only recently published.

  Next to the Cloth, it’s the
most revered possession of the Church of the Holy Cloth.

  The original Papyrus is safely stored in its sapphire glass display not far from Thomas’s office. He has a translation of the original Aramaic before him. It’s choppy and chunks of it are missing because of its age, but it’s no less compelling.

  Chapter One tells of Mary Magdalene’s lamentations after Yeshua is crucified. How she is sent to buy his burial Cloth. She mourns the Savior’s death and their disastrous campaign into Jerusalem. Yeshua was to be a new David, who would drive the invaders out. And now he is gone.

  3) Mary prophesied that marching in like kings into Jerusalem would be a disaster. She knew that they would pay for their arrogance. But they would not listen. They sealed their ears with vanity and blocked their eyes with airs. They should have built their alliances carefully. They should have slipped in and out of the City unseen. Instead, they went in too proudly and enraged the jackals on the Sanhedrin, who ran to Herod barking, “this Yeshua is claiming to be David’s heir, is claiming to be king!” Meanwhile, the brethren drank the poisoned wine of flattery from the fickle crowd. They thought themselves kings marching into town. They were lambs for the Offering, to be burnt up and cast down.

  Chapter Two is Mary recalling the parable of the mustard seed, how Yeshua explained it to her and the disciple that Yeshua loved in the garden. How Yeshua kissed her after. The explanation Yeshua gives is the foundation of the Church’s beliefs about God, man and the cosmos.

  4) The Savior spoke, “you know the mustard tree and you know the seed. You know what it was and what it will become. All matter, the Heavens and the Terra, was once smaller than that mustard seed, but grew into what appears to us now. When you behold a seed, you know what it will become. When you behold the tree you know what it was from. God is the mustard seed. He is everything that was and everything that will become. He that has ears, let him listen. He that can understand, let him understand!”

  Chapter Three tells of Mary’s brutal rape by two Centurions on her way back to Jerusalem with the Cloth and her loss of faith.

  Chapter Four tells of Mary’s vision of a circle with lines slashing through it and how she will one day conquer by it. She hears two nightingales singing in a feral mustard tree and finds her Savior’s everlasting peace.