Extinction Level Event

by Jose Pino Johansson

  07 CATCH HIM IF YOU CAN

  Houston, TX

  8:00am. The alarm goes off, sending Krishnan rolling out of bed and into the shower. After a steamy plastic enclosed waterfall and hot breakfast Krishnan dons a business suit and tie, preparing himself for the flight back to Los Angeles. There he intends to go through every GeneZTech document regarding Project Deniability and look for clues which would help FEMA and the Feds halt the progression of EWK-1. He checks himself in the mirror once more, splashes some cologne and goes into his car.

  Driving back to Houston's George Bush International Airport, Krishnan parks his blue Honda in the multistoried parking garage for multi-week parking. Taking out his dark brown suitcase out of the trunk, he stretches the handle and heads to the Shuttle pick up for passengers heading to the terminal. A brisk fifteen minutes later the Shuttle leaves Krishnan at the entrance of Terminal C. Krishnan heads towards the Continental Airlines counters, picks up his boarding pass that he reserved yesterday afternoon online, and gets on an escalator taking up to the second floor to the Monorail, heading for Terminal A.

  His phone rings. "Hello?" "Hi, Dr. Krishnan? Its Wang. Its urgent." "What is it?" "Where are you?" "About to board my flight back, Wang, what could be so urgent now?" "You're a wanted man, Doctor." "What do you mean, a wanted man?", asks Krishnan, paling. "I had a call from the FBI asking whether you were here, followed by several agents who came here looking for you. I don't know why they want you, but they're after you." Krishnan's gut knots. Gulping, silently doing a breathing exercise to keep himself from breaking out in sweat, Krishnan thinks quickly. I have to get back to LA. No, wait, I can review this material anywhere. Someone must know I'm out of LA, and about to review Konovalov's records on Project Deniability. Someone wants to stop me from looking at this. But who? "I need to talk to you and the rest of the team. Keep up the team until my return." "When will you be back?" "As soon as possible."

  Krishnan, now knowing someone wants him. . . . needs him behind bars, discreetly ditches his cell phone in the nearest trash can. I can't get on this flight. He glances at the large lines waiting to get past security, and weighs his options. He quickly figures that since the alert had gone up recently for him, it would be a major risk trying to board his flight, as security may now be actively watching for him. The best option would be to try to talk to Onassis directly, get himself cleared, and review the flash as soon as an opportunity presents itself. Since his laptop is in his suitcase which was already handed over to the airport personnel, some other anonymous computer would have to be located.

  Krishnan, with his bag in his hand, reverses his step and turns back to the escalator. Walking as nonchalantly as possible while aware that security personnel may now be interested in approaching him, he keeps his glances casual as he surveys the terminal scene, suddenly a much more hostile environment. Glad that he didn't step into the monorail to Terminal A, he glides from the escalator out into the stream of people heading towards their respective flights. Nearly colliding with middle aged woman on his way out, he smiles briskly and apologizes quickly. She flutters slightly, ignores him, and continues on her way.

  He sees three security officers by the closest doors, and chooses to continue walking to the next entrance. Many passengers flock by, taking little to no notice of him. He exits the building at the second entrance and walks casually over to the shuttle pick up. Leaning slightly, he takes out a pair of sunglasses and puts them on. Even in winter the Texan weather will allow people, at times, to get away with wearing sunglasses without being out of the ordinary. Dozens of people walk out of and into cars, buses, and limos pulling into the large U shaped road hugging the terminal built for incoming traffic. Krishnan is pleasantly surprised when after five minutes the shuttle arrives. Krishnan walks in, noticing another two police strolling through the crowds of arriving passengers. The Shuttle, nearly empty, whisks him from the masses of people at the terminal to the less crowded outlying parking lot.

  He steps out, taking a look at the passengers waiting for the shuttle before walking past them and heading through the vast parking lot towards his car. No trouble, he thinks to himself. Getting in, he drives out of the airport complex heading south towards downtown Houston. Find a pay phone, make a quick call, try to reach Onassis. If that fails, talk to McCarthy. Krishnan drives down on the southbound Toll road, paying close attention to any police cars on the road. Even though they are probably doing nothing more than hunting speeders, Krishnan is taking no chances. Disinclined to be apprehended when he knows himself to be free of any wrongdoing, Krishnan decides to make it to Konovalov's house later in the day if conditions permit. He keeps an eye on his speedometer- as the last thing he would want now is to be pulled over for a simple violation such as breaking the speed limit.

  He pulls into downtown's traffic soon enough, the brunt of morning rush-hour having dissipated by ten o'clock. Krishnan pulls the Accord into a supermarket parking lot. Getting out, he walks around the block, checking out the CVS, Pharmacy, clothing stores and passerby. He finally finds a phone booth a hundred meters away and walks towards it. Clinking in several quarters he picks up the phone and dials Onassis's number. The line puts him on hold. After waiting patiently for two minutes a machine answers, prompting Krishnan to drop the phone and dial McCarthy instead.

  Krishnan is rewarded when McCarthy does, indeed, pick up the phone. "Its Dr. Krishnan." "Ah, Dr. Krishnan, I see. You know, I'm technically supposed to have you arrested the moment I see you." "Yes, about that- what for? By whose authority? I did nothing wrong." "I'll believe you, for now. . . but I'll need details if you expect my help with this. Where are you now?" "I can't tell you." "I need to know. And what are you doing there?" "Look. . .EWK-1 was designed by Dr. Konovalov's company, GeneZTech, and someone had him taken away three days ago because of that. Now someone wants me out of the way too." "Out of the way?" "Yes. The project was codenamed Deniability, and was procured by NBACC secretively, confidentially. However, I have managed to download all of Dr. Konovalov's files, including all dealings with NBACC, onto a flash drive. I have it with me. I also think that someone in Defense knows this and wants to prevent me from looking at the files. I can't say more." "I see." Krishnan hears McCarthy let out a breath of thought over the phone. "I see. It could be a mistake on someone's part, rather than some paranoid conspiracy. Either way, we need to find out. I'll try to shake up some sympathy, get that arrest warrant called off. You on the other hand, stay low for now. And try to send me those files so I can have a look at them as well." "Ok. I'll see if I can get them to you today."

  He hangs up. I need an internet cafe. He walks over to a grocery store and asks them for the nearest place where he could access the internet. Getting two good answers from the store clerk, he gets back in his Honda and drives to the first place. Walking in he asks for 'the Net' and is waved over to one of the terminals in the back of the store. Logging in, he quickly sets up a new GMail account. Plugging in the flash drive, he uploads all of the Deniability files and sends them in two separate batches to McCarthy. He then types in a quick letter to his wife, quickly explaining that he is wrongfully wanted and not to expect him back for a while. Finally, he decides to ditch his car and rent a car instead, quickly finding several rent-a-cars scattered throughout the downtown. Writing their locations down, he rapidly logs off, pays the fare, and returns to his car.

  What now? I'll drive to California if I have to, but I should tell Konovalov's family that he is ok and will be out soon. In person. He decides to head for Konovalov's place, to rest for the night. Firstly, he drives into a drive-through to get some late lunch, parking in the parking lot to take his time eating it. Then he starts the sixty minute drive across Houston to , where he hopes there will be no police to arrest him the moment he enters Konovalov's driveway.

  Soon enough Krishnan finds a parking lot near one a Hertz rental. He leaves his car and walks over to the establishment. Refusing to use a credit card, he pays for a week's
usage and is soon given a dull gray Toyota. Driving out with the new car, Konovalov makes his way onto Interstate 45 towards Dallas. A good seventy minutes later he reaches Konovalov's large suburban home. He creeps up the street once, driving two miles below the posted 30 mile speed limit, on the lookout for snoopers, plainclothes officers, or anyone who could possibly report him to the FBI. Seeing no one, he parks the car by the sidewalk curb and climbs out, walks casually up to the front door and rings the doorbell.

  No one answers. He rings it again, waiting for another minute. A busty fortyish blonde, on the shorter side and slightly squarish of face, opens the door. As expected, it is Natasha, Konovalov's partner for several years whom Krishnan had met on a few occasions. "Hey, VK.", she greets him, nonchalantly. Whether she is surprised or not by his sudden visit doesn't show. "Natasha". She gives him a quick, distantly friendly hug. "What is it? It has to do with Viktor, hasn't it?", she asks in a moderate Russian/East European accent. He never figured what country exactly she was from, but assumed Russia as well. "Yes." She invites him in, motioning with the hands. "I can't stay too long, have they asked you about my whereabouts?" "No. I just saw it on the news though, and about Viktor! Oh, I don't know what to do!" "Nothing.", he tries to reassure her, "there's nothing you can do at the moment. I'm working on it. He's not guilty of anything, you have my word on that.. .did you talk to him?" "Oh, yes.", she replies sadly, "he called three days ago. Said he was being put in a federal prison, in Maryland, for a while. Only said it had to do with his work. She sobbed a bit. "Can I get you something?" "Some drinks and snacks would be great."

  She goes into the kitchen, leaving Krishnan pacing around the living room, pondering his next move. Simple, LA. Maybe McCarthy got the memo, but I need a way of contacting him. Not from here, though. Natasha returns with a two drinks, a box of snack bars, and a sandwich. "What have they got you for?", she asks conversationally. "Taking secrets and keeping them for myself", he replies humorously, trying to lighten the mood, "Basically the same reasons as Viktor. It is certainly related to what is happening around the world right now. But don't worry too much, we'll have a permanent fixture soon." "I certainly hope so, have you been reading any of the news from around the world? They said squirrels, birds are now dying out because of a lack of food, the poor creatures! Oh, you just have to do something!"

  "We are", he replies soothingly. "I need to get moving." "Oh, stay a little longer, no one is moving you from here." "Has anyone come by looking for me?" "No." "Which means they probably will soon. One thing, Natasha, I'd like to borrow a few hundred dollars, I may need it and I don't have that much cash on me. I'll return it whenever I get the chance." "Ok, sure, VK." "And one last thing- Can I borrow your car? They most likely already have mine under the radar." "My car. . .?", she goes over it for a second before replying, "sure why not. I suppose I can live without if for a week or so. What about your rental?" "Return it." She cocks her eyebrow, questioningly, before heading out of the room, returning a short while later with another box of snacks and the cash that Krishnan needs for a relatively anonymous trip west.

  After taking the cash and food items down to Natasha's small European-like car, he hugs Natasha good-bye and tells her not to worry about Konovalov. Hell, maybe she's seeing some other guy right now. He glances at her once more before brushing the thought away and driving off. Eager to beat rush hour traffic, he presses the accelerator into I-45, heading northwards to merge with I-35 four hours later. Unfortunately, the small Fiat's performance on the road isn't what may be expected of sports cars of similar size, but Krishnan accustoms himself to the new vehicle. The road northwards ends in Oklahoma, where he intends to overstay for the night before continuing westwards through New Mexico and Arizona to reach California within two days. By then he hopes this would have been cleared up and he would be able to return peacefully to the lab without hassle.

  Krishnan continues driving. Night falls, traffic dies down, and he continues on the road. He stops by a small town to see if he could access his e-mail. Finding a motel that allows him to use it, in exchange for a small fee, he briefly sends a message to McCarthy inquiring details of his 'wanted' status. Getting back in the car, he continues his odyssey northwards, eventually driving into Oklahoma's outskirts slightly after midnight. Finding a reasonable-looking motel, he checks in with the very bored looking attendant at the desk. The attendant soon waves him off with a key to one of the rooms. Krishnan finds himself in a small, yellow- painted, slightly dusty single-bed room with a tiny cubicle of a toilet. Making do, he settles down his bag, takes a long drink from a bottle of water, and soon finds himself asleep in no time.

  Rome, Italy

  It was becoming obvious that a conference would be hard to come by in two weeks. Some countries were not even concerned with the spread of EWK-1, as the current outbreak was so far from their borders that it posed no direct threat to them at all. Or in other, more special cases, some even expressed a secretive, suppressed glee over the fact that their rivals and/or enemies were being infected by a massive agricultural plague while they were living unscathed. Manjak discussed the proposition with Maurice, who finally supported it enthusiastically after three days of thinking about it. By then it was already clear to Manjak that the issue at hand would have to be discussed by the United Nations in New York.

  But before that could happen a realistic proposal would have to be drafted and presented to the General Assembly- a realistic idea of countering the changes that were seen as very nearly unstoppable by many around the globe. At the moment, Manjak was just now stepping into a room filled with premier civil engineers, biologists, ecologists, geologists and even a philosophers. Their came from all corners of the world, from national agricultural ministries to private engineering firms to Universities like Cornell, Oxford, and Tsinghua, many personally invited by Manjak. Manjak walks into the room, shaking hands with everyone around before talking. "Gentlemen. Ladies. I have gathered us all here this week, to find common ground between our ideas, so that we may find a solution to our planet's before we run out of time. Many of you have submitted proposals to the FAO, which we will discuss. To conclude in brief, none of us are leaving this building, until we have a main plan and a contingency that could be submitted to the Security Council." Heads look around at the Deputy-Director's strong words, but he waves a sturdy gaze around the room to make everyone notice he wasn't joking. "This may be our one chance to get a viable, politically acceptable plan before the entire planetary ecosystem becomes wasted."

  Manjak leads the first round of discussions, slowly developing common ground from a myriad of conflicting views. What becomes apparent is that many propose hydroponics and aeroponics as the means of solving the key question: growing food without a natural ecosystem. As to producing any significant quantities, the solutions seem to be the quaint ideas of "urban farming" and "farmscrapers"; both ideas that contravene traditional ideas of farming, which is usually done in rural, horizontally inclined areas. A few argue that the quality of food will decline after such new, artificial methods are introduced, arguing over the differences between meat, poultry, and dairy products coming from "industrial" versus "free-range" farms. Following the same line of though, arguments are made that criticize how aeroponics grows plants in a medium that may not provide the same quantity and quality of nutrients as plants grow in soil. One engineer makes a counter by remarking that plants have been grown successfully in space, and there are plans to produce food in space for longer space voyage.

  Let's not take this discussion into space. . . Another starts proposing the use of nanoscale sized machines to mimic the action of earthworms in soil, recycling the materials. "Hold on," interrupts Manjak, "Are these nanoworms even built yet? Does a prototype exist, does any company have plans of even experimenting with such devices over the next six months? Or is this merely a hypothesis that somehow we can artificially mimic soil regeneration with current nanotechnology?" The engineer who spoke turns his thick glasses
in Manjak's direction, replying, "A Korean conglomerate has built a prototype. Unfortunately the tests so far have been far from satisfying specifications and objectives, and the nanobots are, of course, not self-replicating. The company has run tests with the nanoscale devices using them in lieu of earthworms in On-site organic digesters and waste processors." "Out of the question. I've read the test reviews, the design has far too many flaws, is less than 20% efficient compared to worms of comparable size, and cannot be self-replicating for control purposes, even if we had that level of technology", answers Manjak, "Quite honestly, we will not solve this problem with a mere leap of technological in a specific field. Rather, a massive, worldwide investment and construction and development of infrastructure that supports high density high yield agriculture in a human controlled setting. We cannot let freak accidents like this spread to every corner of the globe. The future of agriculture, the basis of civilization, is to be compartmentalized. Farmscraping allows for effective compartmentalization, whether by block, by city, or by region, should something occur."

  "So that's it, then", an engineer from Japan lauds. But, that is not it. Debate begins afresh with dozens of people expressing their concerns over such a plan, from construction sites to environmental impact to funding. Where do we build these new cities of plenty? Tear down swaths of old, deteriorating neighborhoods? How will this impact the cities? What could possibly make people wish to live next to fifty-story chicken farms? How will cities deal with the increased electrical demand, movement of waste, or cope with the smell of said chicken farm? And who's going to pay for this? A legitimate question, think Manjak. A collective global fund managed by the UN? Individual nations? Will there be a supervisory body to watch over each nations' progress and guide over previously agreed upon specifications and building codes? The Engineers viciously begin a debate with scientists, philosophers, and public policy experts over the implications that a worldwide 'farmscraper plan' would have.

  Five hours later, Manjak walks into his office with no conclusive consensus in his hands. He calls Bao, who in Geneva for a conference. "I need WFP getting me some backup for a 'Farmscraper plan' of sorts." "WFP? You are supposed to be responsible for strategic goals, Trip." "But if WFP can publicly state that this plan will alleviate major problems in a few years time." "No plan is guaranteed to succeed. Especially one on such a massive scale as the one you propose. Besides, demand always increases to catch up with supply in the long run. This is a basic principle of economics, and applies to our field as well, Trip. Unfortunately, in many regards." "But with this, we can control the supply, thereby keeping demand in check." "Many may argue that that's a bit totalitarian."

  "Its a problem, but to be considered later when we have a more foreseeable and stable future. Right now the planet needs this." "Have you talked to the Secretary General yet? If you can get his office to approve it and support it." "I've send the Secretariat the preliminary details, I have a conference scheduled with them and the board tomorrow." "Well, convince them and it will go a long way by the time you can bring this to the public and the national governments." "I will, trust me." Manjak and Bao part ways as Manjak heads over to Director Maurice's office to give him an update. After that he returns to the conference room, where the rest of the night continues the all-out debate over the future of world farming.

  Los Angeles

  The GeneZTech records of the company's involvement soon found their way, encrypted, through the fiber optical ethernet to McCarthy's screen. McCarthy spent hours going over them the morning he received them. Quickly he understood that there were many loose knots that needed to be tied up.

  He immediately calls Medina at NBACC. "Hello?", answers Medina. "Hello, its McCarthy from the USDA. Are you aware that there is a warrant out for Dr. Krishnan's arrest, and that someone from either DoD or NBACC authorized it?" "No. I wasn't aware of this, we are actually sharing information with Dr. Krishnan from our collaboration with GeneZTech. He is our most best connection with your scientists over there in Los Angeles." "Yes, well, it seems someone is accusing him of treason and now since no one knows his whereabouts here we are being distracted from our jobs by the FBI looking for him. Could it honestly be a case of mistaken identity? Someone may have accidentally placed Krishnan as the suspect in place of someone else?" "I really don't think so," negates Medina, "I can also assure you that talk to the FBI headquarters, but I am fairly certain that their facts are straight. Their reasons are their reasons.", replies Medina melancholically. "What about the Department of Defense, who runs NBACC." "They have no connection with Dr. Krishnan, or with GeneZTech, I'm afraid." "Ok. Thanks for your time." "Anytime."

  McCarthy hangs up. Why is talking with him always a dead end? No useful information at all!

  McCarthy decides to play the next card, and calls up his boss in Washington, getting the line through after five minutes. "Its McCarthy here. There is an arrest warrant out for Dr. Krishnan. We just had Dr. Konovalov arrested for some similar charge, I was wondering why are our scientists suddenly being taken away?" "I wasn't even aware of this. Really? Under whose authority? ", answers the Secretary of Agriculture. McCarthy, surprised to hear that even Onassis doesn't know of his leading scientific cadre's disappearance, explains the unusual situation to his boss. "Huh, very unusual. Send me those files, I want a look." "Absolutely." "Do you know where Dr. Krishnan is, at the moment?", asks Onassis curiously. "No, sir, I do not." "Hmm. . .that's just fine. Make sure you send me those files, we could make a case out of this. It smells fishy, and I see no reason not to take this to court; the Supreme Court if necessary. Meanwhile, I'll make sure we got those two doctors back in your town in no time."

  Hanging up the phone, McCarthy puts on his sports jacket before heading to the UCLA campus.