around saying, ‘Here are the plans to my fiendish plot to take over the world.’
That’s not what Harshan anarchists are all about, Damisi cast. They want a balance of power.
They want no centralized power, Muna cast, power for individuals only, which ultimately means power for the bully.
I examined the front panel of the incubator and discovered that the samples had only been in for seven minutes and had three seconds left. The time expired and the glass door of the incubator popped open. The trays slid out on their own. I jumped back and glanced at the face mask. Should we be wearing protective gear?
This is a level 1 lab, several voices echoed in my head.
That doesn’t mean it’s safe, I retorted. I reached for the mask and bumped the trays. I caught all but one, which slid to the floor with a clatter.
Quiet! the voices shouted.
Sorry. I slipped on the gloves onto my trembling hands and slid the mask on. I placed each dish back on the fallen tray. None of them broke and nothing spilled. The samples clung to the surface.
“How may I help you, Haji Tamosh?” Hearing a voice amid the chatter of casting thoughts startled me. It was metallic and lacking in low bass tones -- a synthesized voice. My first impression was to shout, “Turn that thing off,” but then asked myself, why. No one was here, and if someone was recording -- most labs did record for insurance reasons -- video would also be recorded. Besides, all pretense of stealth was lost when I dropped the tray. I turned and saw that Haji had activated one of the lab bots.
“I am lab assistant bot Ya Moyo 9E1, but you may address me as Bot-One.”
“Bot-One,” Haji said, “state the nature of the most recent work done in this lab.”
“Creating 180 cultures of a modified a strain of Toxoplasma gondii, designated as R95.”
“Tell me more,” Haji said.
“The R95 strain must be continuously maintained in HeLa cell cultures at an elevated temperature with acceleration catalysts for five to fourteen minutes before harvesting. Tachyzoite yields of less than...”
“That’s fine,” Haji interrupted. “Tell me about the R95 strain.”
“Would you like a basic or comprehensive description.”
“Basic,” Haji said.
“R95 is a different genotype of the R6 Toxoplasma gondii samples provided to this lab. The original strain is a protozoan parasite that causes toxoplasmosis and until 126 years ago was fairly common, about a quarter of the world’s population had it.”
“Ew,” Damisi said.
“Cats were carriers,” the bot said.
“Cats?”
“Yes, cats are the only species in which natural T. gondii can sexually reproduce. Protozoan eggs are excreted.”
“You don’t mean...” Damisi said.
The bot nodded. “When the protozoan is ingested by a rodent, it forms cysts throughout the body and brain, making the rodent like cats. The cat eats the rodent, Toxoplasma reproduces, and the cat sheds the parasite in its feces.”
“And the mouse eats the feces,” Damisi said. “Like I said, ew.”
“But you said it was in people too.” Haji said.
“Yes,” the bot said, “and it was mostly harmless unless the infected person was pregnant or had a compromised immune system.”
“What about this new R95 strain?” Haji asked.
“It is an form of T. gondii with three alterations. First, the parasite can reproduce outside the feline digestive tract.
“Where?” I asked.
“Any warm, moist environment. Would you like specific environmental parameters?
“No,” Haji said.
“The second alteration makes it more virulent.”
“How fast?”
“It effects the host within minutes.”
“What’s the third characteristic?”
“It is not clear to this bot.”
“You mean no one told you?” I asked.
“That’s correct, and this bot cannot determine the characteristic based on available data, however, it might affect humans as it did the rodents.”
“You mean make us like cats?” Damisi asked. “I’m fine with that.”
“My guess,” I said, “is that they want to use it for some other form of behavior modification. How does it change rodent behavior?”
“One moment, please,” the bot said. “Accessing the nexus.” The bot’s eyes dimmed for a second and then brightened. “For the rodents, cat hating is a fixed-action pattern. The rodent doesn’t learn it; it’s born with it. When it inhales cat pheromones -- cat smell -- it runs unless it’s infected with Toxoplasma. It doesn’t drive it crazy, but Toxoplasma only changes one behavior. It makes male rodents think the smell of cats’ urine is the scent of a female rat in heat.”
“That’s stupid,” Haji said.
“Not for the parasite,” the Muna said. “The parasite can now breed. If it ended up in the stomach of a hawk, it would be a dead end. It needs the cat.”
“So,” I said, “I memorized a method to mutate a parasite that can change our behavior and spread more easily. The staring man told me to ‘memorize it, make it, spread it.’ He also said that I was his last contact. He either has other contacts here in this university or at others.”
“I bet it’s others,” Haji said. “Makes sense to spread it from several locations at once.”
Muna nodded. “If they can’t get it in through the border or the food supply, then make it at university research labs. Brilliant.”
“The Harshan are really clever,” Damisi agreed.
“It’s perfect,” Haji said. “Federal security is so tight, you can’t send the instructions on pathogen modification through email, so instead deliver the message through a simulation.”
“Federal security,” Damisi said. “We live in an oppressive society.”
“You’re telling me,” Muna said. “We don’t live in a republic. It’s all a sham. The banks run everything.”
I looked back at the trays in the incubator and asked, “Bot-One, is it airborne?”
“This bot does not know.”
“You don’t know?” I asked.
“No. It has not yet been determined. However, with the original strain, airborne contact was possible if the feces were disturbed.”
“Like knocking over a tray.” I looked at Muna and said, “Don’t the lab bots have safety protocol to keep them from creating dangerous pathogens?”
“I bet someone altered their program,” she said. “Brilliant.”
I threw my hands up. “Would you stop saying that? Listen, we should all leave the lab. I think we’re infected.”
“You are,” Doctor D said, “but that’s OK.” We turned around. He stood behind us and must have entered the room quietly through the other door.
“Doctor D!” Everyone was excited, even euphoric.
He smiled. “Well it’s good to see you too. You think you can help me with an experiment?”
“Sure,” Haji said.
“Of course,” Damisi said, smiling.
“What?” I said. “He’s a Harshan anarchist!”
“Oh,” Doctor D said, “such negative words. I am a freethinker.”
Incredulous, I looked around at the others. They either looked at me with a hint of disgust or, in Damisi’s case, couldn’t keep her dreamy eyes off Doctor D. This is nuts, I broadcast to everyone but the Doctor.
“Tenbu,” Doctor D said tenderly, “I can see you have a level of immunity. I’m also immune. Vaccinated,” he said, tapping the side of his nose. Then to the others he said, “Tenbu’s condition has worsened. His is hallucinating again. We need hold him down.”
The door. I ran for it. Haji was in the way, his hands extended. I dodged him and pushed Damisi out of the way.
“Get him!” Doctor D yelled.
Someone tripped me and I hit the floor. I hate the floor. I turned over in time for Muna and Haji to pounce on me. I slid out of their grasp, but several
hands held me down. An elbow jabbed into my gut. I gasped for air. Haji pinned my arms and now my flailing legs... Damisi was sitting on them. Panting, I looked at each face. They were all serene. I heard several voices cast at once. Calm down. We don’t want to hurt you. Tenbu, don’t fight me.
“It’s for his own good,” Doctor D said.
I was Alex waking form the car accident all over again. Would writhing tentacles come out of Doctor D’s fingers? I didn’t feel the same confusion now as I did earlier when I ran out of the classroom, believing I was Alex. No, I had absolute clarity of the situation and even my friends’ reactions no longer confused me. I glared at Doctor D. “The parasite makes them pliable, doesn’t it?”
“I’m impressed,” Doctor D said. “But, if they’re just pliable, why don’t they listen to you?”
I looked at Muna and forced myself to relax. “I guess it’s time for me to get that operation,” I said.
“Yes,” she answered. “You’re overdue.”
“Let me up,” I said, “and we can go together.”
“I don’t think so,” she said tenderly.
This was taking too long. We still breathed in the parasites. What would continued exposure do? Would it eventually break down my immunity? Despite myself, I struggled, and their grips tightened.
“Hold him,” Haji growled.
“Yes, Doctor D said, “hold him steady. I’ll give him a sedative so he can rest while we run that experiment.” He walked to the other side of the second counter and opened a drawer.
He smiled. It’s no use, Tenbu, he cast. They won’t listen to you. You’re not Harshan, and everyone knows that the Harshan are... He paused. Come on, Tenbu. Finish the sentence. Everyone knows that the Harshan are ...what?
Idiots.
You see, you really are mentally disabled. He filled