A slender woman at a desk directly opposite her window, happened to glance up at that moment and saw the movement from within the observation room. The woman reached for a telephone, not taking her eyes off the glass window and spoke to someone in an urgent tone then finishing her call, she hurried around the observation desk and made her way into the sterile room. Soon the tiny space flooded with official looking people in white lab coats, milling around and checking her vital signs.
“How are you feeling, honey?” the nurse gently stroked her head.
“Tired,” she managed to whisper. “Where am I and is Pa alright?” the worried whisper became more stressed and the heart monitor responded in kind.
“You’re in University Children’s Hospital, Shayden, and he has been in, but he had to go for treatment and he said he would be back as soon as he was finished.”
The nurse’s soothing words and her cool hand stroking her hot forehead reassured Shayden’s heart. It had been a long time since she had had anyone to offer the tenderness of a motherly caress, even if she was only doing her job. Shayden glanced across at the name tag pinned to the nurse’s uniform and the nurse followed her gaze and responded in a kind tone.
“My name is Ruth, Shayden, and I will be your nurse while you are here.”
Ruth’s revelation seemed to momentarily calm Shayden’s fears.
“What’s wrong with me?” Shayden’s gravelly whisper sounded like someone else’s voice as she peered up at Ruth’s warm brown eyes.
“The doctors don’t know yet, Shayden; they’re still testing you.”
The worry returned to Shayden’s face and the heart monitor reacted with this latest piece of news, causing Ruth to respond in damage control mode.
“They’re doing their best, sweetheart, and you will be as good as new very soon.” Ruth’s big smile and reassuring voice calmed Shayden’s troubled mind.
Shayden’s brow furrowed as she tried to tease out her recollection. “The last thing I remember, I was in my new school, collapsed on the floor and a small boy was shaking me while other students just stepped over me and left me, as if I wasn’t there. Then I blacked out and that’s the last I remembered until waking up just a few moments ago.”
Ruth’s gentle face was a mass of compassion and she squeezed Shayden’s hand. “Try to rest now. You will be back in school in no time.”
*~*~*~*
Doctor Albert Hass’ six foot frame stood by the windows of his spacious eleventh floor office and peered out onto the city streets of Atlanta, Georgia, deep in thought. His seventy-two year old mind and body was still in good shape, part of the reason he still had a job with the federal government department and not retired off. He was a shrewd, determined man and when he took over the leadership of the experimental facility forty years ago, it was constantly in the public eye.
The semicircular building represented a much maligned complex and its very existence–although crucial to the nation’s defenses–was not welcomed into the city’s skyline by the Atlanta population. The installation was accused every time a new strain of influenza, food poisoning or any unexplained health problems swept through the metropolis, causing the government media department to realign the facts and whitewash the populace with its persuasive propaganda. The campaign had become so influential, convincing the public of the uniquely Georgian origin of the experimental institution that it had led the rest of the nation in its cause. The expert diatribe had appealed to the public’s competitive nature and they began to take ownership of the establishment, silencing the critics and very soon, the stigma had disappeared altogether.
The sun was going down on a hot and humid day, leaving a ball of deep red in the western sky, while the city lights were just awakening and glistening in the heat, like tinsel on a Christmas tree, against the vast city horizon.
Hass shifted nervously on his feet and shivered as he remembered the day, not unlike today, nearly thirty years ago. A disgruntled employee had stolen a vial of the Ma1-14 virus they had been working on for the army and had thrown it into the exhaust duct of the air conditioning. Fortunately, the filters had arrested its spread into the outside air and the risk–as well as the ex-employee–was arrested before either could do any more damage. Ma1-14 was so deadly to human life and so undetectable, it was decided to destroy any traces of the virus and abandon further development.
Nonetheless, the incident had been leaked to the local media and all of Hass’ efforts to downplay the truth had only reignited mistrust among the people and it looked like a full-scale riot would soon put them out of business. The establishment was locked down and surrounded by heavily armed police, until crisis meetings at high level of government could determine a path through the minefield.
Hass, struggling for his own survival, had an idea and after many months of bureaucratic wrangling, convinced his superiors to open the centre to a camera crew. The highly secured premises would be explained to the general public, leaving out crucial areas of restricted experimentation. He would have a small team of scientists led by a petite, attractive woman to showcase the capabilities and safety backup systems to contain and destroy any crucial scientific experimentation that went wrong, while foregoing visiting any of the controversial laboratories. If the public could see the human faces of those who worked in the facility and their unconcerned demeanour and trust in the building’s safety systems, then the suspicion and mistrust would evaporate once again.
Hass’ hunch had worked. The attractive woman scientist stood before the cameras, softly but confidently explaining all the safety backup systems and capabilities of the complex, allowing crucial experimentation that had concluded in eradication of known diseases in third-world countries. The cameras had diligently followed her throughout the secured corridors, stopping in a change room to don breathing apparatus and plastic protective suits, before entering a low risk experimentation laboratory. The woman had confidently answered–with a charismatic smile and a smooth, convincing but unwavering voice–pointed questions from the media group designed to trip her up.
At the end of the tour, the woman’s live performance was seen by a mass audience, satisfied nothing untoward could possibly threaten the safety of their fair city. Soon the populace lost interest again. The demonization and suspicion disappeared behind the cares of day-to-day life while the Department for Biological Defense silently continued on without any further public opposition.
As Hass peered down into the busy streets of Atlanta watching the population going about their business, his mind drifted back to the many emergencies the DBD had suffered through. He shivered again, recalling how close they had come to being permanently shut down and infecting the world’s population with Ma1-14, now secretly classified as a weapon of mass destruction.
A loud knock at Hass’ office door interrupted his musings and he turned back to face the vast room and the intruding noise that had disturbed his thoughts.
“Yes. What is it?” Hass’ tone was verging on annoyance.
The door opened and a colleague entered. “Sorry to disturb you, Doctor Hass, but I think you should see this memo.”
Hass took the paper from his colleague and began to read. An astonished shadow passed over his face and he stared at the concerned face of the man standing only metres away. “How is this possible?”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 25
The small, semicircular conference room deep within the secured confines of the Department for Biological Defense bristled with faces that Doctor Albert Hass hadn’t seen for years. Important faces he had hoped he had seen the last of and would not ever see again.
He checked a manifest of characters against the faces represented and ticked off each one, confirming the identity of all present in the room. Satisfied the room contained only invited luminaries, he nodded to the guard standing at the door. The guard spoke into a lapel microphone and then blocked the doorway, preventing anyone from entering or leaving. Concerned eyes followed the guar
d’s movements and it stifled the conversation taking place, realising the people within the room were now, in effect, literal captives. A murmur developed into a crescendo of babble, indignant at their captivity, until Hass raised a hand to silence the group.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being so prompt to my request for a meeting. I realise that you are all busy and important people in your respective fields and some of you have travelled across the globe to be here. What I have to say may change the face of medicine and world economics, or indeed, it may already have.”
A new round of excited chatter erupted and Hass held up his hand again for order.
“Cut the theatrics, Hass, and get to the point!” an indignant voice exploded from the circle.
Hass waited for silence, his tired, bloodshot gaze resting on each face while some of the medical experts returned his glare with equal intensity; others cowered under his stare and looked away. The silence overtook the room as Hass gathered the facts of his mission and finally found a place to begin.
“There has been a spate of new diseases breaking out in intense clusters all over the world. Diseases we thought had been eradicated and others we thought could not be communicated.”
An unimpressed professional curled her lip in response and defiantly asked, “Such as…?”
Hass met the curl with a statement that created a ripple of laughter. “Tourette’s syndrome, for one.”
“Tourette’s is not a communicable disease, Doctor Hass,” an indignant physician crossed his arms across his chest in defiant disdain, peering around the room at his peers and silently inviting them to ridicule Hass also.
Hass batted away the ridicule with a wave of his hand and continued, “We have a report suggesting a group of high achieving teenage girls, all from the same area and in fact, from the same school came down with the syndrome at the same time and developed tics that are endemic to the condition. One day they were fine; the next they had all the symptoms of Tourette’s syndrome. After a period of many months, some of the girls improved but in most cases, it has persisted. In one situation, the syndrome appears to have been communicated to their respective carer. Nonetheless, these bright teenagers have suffered severe cognitive dysfunction and have plummeted from high achievers to something far less.”
An excited babble broke out among the group, all shaking their heads in disbelief.
“There is more.”
Hass’ simple statement stopped the furious diatribe.
“We have seen increased cases of the effects of Lyme’s disease, multiple sclerosis, myalgic encephalomyelitis, swine flu, lupus, fibromyalgia – just to mention a few. The re-emergence of a strain of polio has even been detected in some places, as well as an unconfirmed report of a new, deadlier Ebola pathogen. To date, these are the ones we know about and they all have a common thread.”
Hass was interrupted by an antagonised voice, “I don’t need to tell you how hard we have worked trying to discredit the psychosomatic effects of these diseases, Doctor Hass. Do you have any idea how much just one of these outbreaks on an epidemic scale could cost the insurance industry and the world economy?”
Hass recognised the annoyance paved across the hard face of Denton Miles, representing the powerful Health and Wellness Underwriters. He sighed, knowing full well that politics and economics would soon raise its ugly head in a predictable stance to try and refute his claims.
“What of the many millions who are already suffering from unrecognised but legitimate diseases? People whose only crime it is to be unfortunate enough to have been exposed to these potentially deadly diseases through no fault of their own, while the medical fraternity is bullied into burying its head in the sand, pretending that the patient’s genuine symptoms are all psychosomatic. In the meantime, the disease itself goes unchecked and multiplies exponentially while we argue about who’s going to pay for it!”
Hass’ eyes burnt into Miles.
Denton Miles shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Doctor Hass, does not the Health and Wellness Underwriters fund this facility and in fact, nearly all the work going on in here?”
“Mostly, except for the military’s efforts,” Hass conceded.
“Then, don’t you agree, the suffering of a few... how do I say this?... useless eaters, people who don’t contribute to the wealth of the world, is neither a loss or a problem. They would be straining the resources of the people who really count. If these so-called diseases remain psychosomatic and medically ridiculed as nonsense, then they would have to pay the extensive costs involved with their unfortunate disease and its cure, not everyone else.” Miles’ face contorted into a threat, suggesting Hass would be well advised to leave well alone and drop his futile speech.
Hass, however, had anticipated Miles’ tactic and was saving the biggest bombshell for last. He threw out his trump card.
“Through our recent research on the new strains collected from across the world, we believe we have identified an underpinning retrovirus common in all these diseases. The culprit attaches itself to the DNA at a molecular level and when the body copies the DNA to make a repair, the culprit superimposes itself into the DNA and rewrites the DNA roadmap, confusing and destroying the neuro-immune system and the body’s ability to heal itself. Once this occurs, the body’s defense mechanisms are rapidly destroyed, leaving the cognitive functions, central nervous system and cell motors in ruins. The result is a human being that cannot function. In a military situation, the culprit could debilitate an enemy’s entire army and civilian population in a matter of months. It appears this same culprit can attach itself to any viral disease and amplify the symptoms of the virus until it establishes itself on the patient’s DNA and overcomes the immune system. To add to the dilemma, the culprit cannot be detected in the body by normal blood testing, as it hides in a slimy film at cell level, making it almost invisible to an uninitiated pathologist.”
Hass turned his full attention to Miles.
“The implications of leaving this viral predator unchallenged, Mr Miles, is catastrophic. An epidemic is already happening and left unchecked, it will develop into a pandemic and possibly overtake the people who really count.” Hass stared unflinching at Miles and left the statement hanging, to give it weight.
From another part of the room, an old white-haired researcher shifted uncomfortably at the description given by Hass.
“Forgive me if I am wrong, Doctor Hass–and I sincerely hope I am wrong–what you are describing sounds very much like a dangerous project we were working on for the military several decades ago and was abandoned due to its volatile nature. I hope you are not insisting Ma1-14 has somehow risen from the ashes and made a comeback.”
The casual and quietly spoken man had his worst fears confirmed by Hass’ gentle nod, while a ripple of horror echoed around the room then burst into pandemonium.
Hass sighed loudly and again called the meeting to order; then after the room quietened, he continued, “It has all the destructive hallmarks of the supervirus and we believe it is a version of Ma1-14 and most probably, not the original variety we destroyed. It is possible, a sample we sent around the world to have expert laboratories study has somehow escaped undetected through airborne air currents–into the air conditioning system, for example–and mutated. Unknowingly regenerating and creating a new strain of supervirus.”
“What can be done about this?” an anxious woman called across the room.
Hass glared at Miles. “We need to start researching a method to destroy the new strain immediately, before it reaches critical mass.”
“Now wait just a minute, Hass. Have you any idea how much this little charade of yours is going to cost?! The government needs to shoulder the expense of this exercise and not the medical fraternity, before you go around shouting supervirus!”
Miles peered around the room searching for his counterpart, Dennis Lakely, the representative for the powerful pharmaceutical group who had been strangely quiet. “What do you h
ave to say about this, Dennis?” Miles barked.
Dennis Lakely straightened in his seat, completely unconcerned. “Well, Denton, I am sure we have pharmaceuticals in the pipeline that can deal with any new strain of virus. It makes good financial sense for us to research and develop a pill for this thing, even if it takes us a few decades. I am sure we can turn this to our advantage, therefore the answer is quite simple. To keep the financial stress off the Health and Wellness Underwriters, we just need to discredit any talk of this new supervirus and even ridicule patients that present with symptoms. I am sure we can run a smear campaign throughout the medical fraternity, seeing though we own most doctors and I am sure the government will back us, as usual.”
Hass’ exasperation was mounting at the offhanded talk. These people were contemplating making big money from cruel human distress and not wanting to deal with an impending pandemic larger than a tsunami. He knew their powerful influence would once again sway the government to be complicit.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 26
A paved cycle trail twisted up past the old deserted mill, steering joggers and cyclists along the quiet babbling waters of Crieton Brook, a favourite for local fitness fanatics. The brook wound around the tired old mill, its ceaseless flowing waters constantly driving the arthritic wooden waterwheel, groaning and complaining and making its tortured overtures known to all who passed.
It was an old sawmill that hadn’t seen profitable tenure in nearly fifty years. Douglas fir still grew all around the local area in plentiful supply, but government restrictions and mobile mechanised competitors sounded the death knell for the quaint old mill. The stationary mill couldn’t compete with the mobile mills, spending ever greater portions of its meagre profits hauling lumber to the mill from ever increasing distances. The mobile competitors, however, could cut their costs and set up their mills right next to the tall stands of timber, cutting the market price for lumber to the bone. Soon the market had forced the hand of the mill’s owners and the old landmark was abandoned, leaving only the crumbling building and the worn out waterwheel as a monument to a bygone era.