2084 The End of Days (3 page)

“Dr Venters. I believe that your proposals are highly laudable, particularly given the current state of infertility and gene pool defectiveness. Why, even in the State of Massachusetts where I’m based, the forecasts for infertility in men alone are worse than even those that you described in your own presentation. My concern is how do we pull this network of DNA superstores together?”

Marcie took a sip from her bottle of water, taking time to digest Broinn Mulholland’s question.

“Dr Mulholland, I am very well acquainted with the excellent work that the Boston Center does in the furtherance of human genetics. In fact, I have visited it on numerous occasions, although I do not think that we personally have met each other…?”

Mulholland shook his head to agree in the negative that they had indeed not met.

“…In fact, Broinn, the Boston Center is actually earmarked to be upgraded to be one of the 20 DNA superstore centres in the USA. I should clarify that I believe the 20 centres actually cover North America, i.e., USA and Canada.”

“That is also my understanding, Dr Venters, but again how do we pull this all together?”

“Well, I have to state that there is still a lot of detail to be sorted out in this area. It will be a huge undertaking to administer. But, in principle, the idea is to run it from a new administration centred in New York under the auspices of the UN. The proposal is to call it the United Nations Organisation for Human Genetic Sciences. All the databanks of human DNA materials will be administered by this new UN department and the computer systems required in maintaining this network will be controlled by this department. It probably does not fully answer your question, Dr Mulholland, as there is much work still to be ironed out. Will that suffice at present?”

“Yes, thank you, Dr Venters.”

Marcie awaited the next question much more relaxed and confident.

“Dr Venters. Cordelia Sommers, Daily Telegraph. You talk about this being a worldwide network and imply that it is something that will serve the whole of humanity. But would you not agree that in actuality this is just another wedge being stuck in between the UN, who you say are going to run this, and the LOIN, who are actually being excluded from it?”

“Ms Sommers, is it? Yes. Well, Ms Sommers, I am not a politician, I am a scientist. And as a scientist my ethos, as was that of my father before me, has always been to work for the good of all humanity. At present the politics and the ethics of the Mullahs running the League of Islamic Nations has precluded them from entering into any agreement to be part of this DNA network. It was proposed to them and they declined, but it is not part of my job to encourage the League to join this network. I am satisfied that four-fifths of the world’s population will be genetically protected if this network is put in place. I only hope that in time diplomacy will prevail over the many issues that divide the UN and the LOIN and that the League will one day become a part of the integrated DNA network.”

Marcie fielded a few more questions which tended to be more of a technical nature on the ability to superstore DNA, the technicalities of mass screening to separate the “good DNA from the bad” as one questioner put it, the programming and storage of all the data on a UN supercomputer and some further clarification on where centres would be sited. Marcie dealt with these with ease and she was feeling pretty upbeat as she eyed the clock on the auditorium wall behind her audience. It was time to wind up the presentation. In fact, she had run over time a little.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I see that I have kept you a bit longer than booked and your stomachs will be beginning to grumble. I can take one final question before you all rush off to lunch - anyone else?”

“Dr Venters. Mahmoud El Kharroubi, journalist for Al Jazirah. Don’t you think this whole concept of a vast network of human DNA, only, as the questioner before called it – good DNA – is something straight out of a Frankenstein horror movie?”

That knot in the stomach quickly returned. She thought whether she should even grace the questioner with an answer, but Marcie felt compelled to defend her work.

“Mr El Kharroubi. I realise that many people around the world will hold ethical, political and religious views which will make them disagree vehemently with the type of work that I and many of my colleagues in genetics are conducting around the world today.”

The journalist tried to interject with a ‘but’. Marcie raised her hand and stopped him in his tracks. Marcie continued.

“But, nothing, Mr El Kharroubi - I am not the Frankenstein’s monster that you may have your readers believe. Many parts of the world are facing a genetic crisis. Right now males and females are being born infertile in their droves. Babies are increasingly being born with inherited defects and diseases. Now, we can guess at the reasons for this crisis. We may think we know what the reasons actually are. But until we do, we need to find a method of retaining pure DNA across the world until we can eradicate the causes of mounting infertility and abnormality…”

Mahmoud El Kharroubi decided that he was not going to be cut short again and seized on a word in Marcie’s unfinished answer to his question.

“Yes, Dr Venters, that is the word you geneticists strive for, isn’t it!? Pure - pure DNA - genetic purity - the Aryan Race! That is the kind of pureness that the Nazis strove for back in the early 20
th
century. The kind of work that Dr Josef Mengele did for his beloved Adolf Hitler, would you not agree?”

The auditorium fell into a deathly silence shocked at El Kharroubi’s rude and undignified outburst but also awaiting an answer from Marcie. The answer surged out like the pyroclastic flow from a huge volcanic eruption destroying everything in its path.

“MR EL KHARROUBI. I AM A JEW! For you to compare me and my work with that Nazi butcher Mengele – der Todesengel - is a total and complete insult to me. I cannot and I will not give you the satisfaction of an answer! Good day, ladies and gentlemen!“

Marcie grabbed her notes furiously and crashed out of the auditorium as quickly as she had entered it. There was a very small ripple of applause, which the now long gone geneticist failed to hear, mainly from the clinicians, but the remainder of the audience sat stunned at the conclusion of the presentation. Eventually everyone began to either leave for lunch, return to work or to go to other meetings. As they all milled about waiting to exit through the swing doors that Marcie had crashed through, Mahmoud El Kharroubi surreptitiously slipped Marcie’s memory stick from the computer and into his pocket. He thought to himself, maybe it’s not that controversial, but what the hell, might as well take it for background material. Back in her lab office Marcie sat slumped and beaten behind her desk. She thought resignedly - well, the gutter press got their headline!

Chapter 2

Earthdate: 01:14 Wednesday January 29, 2081 CST

"H
ere comes the Big Baby, Jack!”

Jack Crossan caught the message from Xi Xhu Pan on his intercom and a broad smile cracked his craggy unshaven face. He jumped off his cramped bunk that gave him constant backache in his tiny galley and flipped back a quick reply.

“Ah’m comin’ up to the bridge, Xi Xhu.”

Jack calculated that the shuttle was about 4 hours early as he half-scurried, half-floated through the low gravity of the decks of MGal3 on his way up to the bridge. He was guessing that it must have gotten blown along on some favourable solar winds as it was more often or not later than its normal scheduled arrival. A few of the other crew members that he passed gave the Commander the thumbs up. One or two to signify that Jack was soon to be on his way back home to Earth and one or two others to show that they too would be joining him. Within a couple of minutes he hauled himself through the open hatch door and into the bridge. Jack wheeled himself into the empty seat beside Xi Xhu Pan, who was Watch Commander that evening. Xi Xhu pointed Jack to the viewing porthole. Xi Xhu knew that there were more detailed views of the arrival on the bridge monitors but he knew Jack would want to see the actual ship arriving – the real deal. Xi Xhu directed Jack’s gaze by wagging his index finger and exclaiming.

“Thar she blows!”

The huge space shuttle Oceanus, which was not at first sight unlike a giant whale, cruised slowly in at docking speed towards the space station after a 14 week journey from Alpha Base, 56 million miles away in Earth orbit. Oceanus was to remain above Mars for a week to refuel, change crew and unload and reload supplies. It would then be making the longer 15 week return journey home to Earth, clocking up an additional million miles, due to the variable orbits of the two planets around the Sun. It was also forecast that the solar winds would be against the spaceship on its return journey. Jack stretched out his arms as if to give the ‘Big Baby’, as it was affectionately known, a huge hug and shouted out to Xi Xhu.

“Peggy Sue, honey, ah’m a-comin’ home!”

Xi Xhu tried to bring Jack back to the task in hand.

“You want to bring her in, Yank?”

“Hey, Xi, you’re Watch Commander, you bring her in. And ah’ve told ya before – I ain’t no Yankee dog – ah’m a good ole Southern Johnny Reb!”

Before Xi Xhu could begin the docking preparations, Jack leaned over and wrapped his arms playfully around the Beijing-born astronaut in a tight bear hug. At the same time the first crackle of communication from the Docking Engineer on the bridge of Oceanus echoed from the radio.

“Oceanus calling - ready for docking instructions - MGal3 respond, copy?”

Xi Xhu wriggled out of his Commander’s grasp.

“Jack, let go of me! We’re not all heading back to Earth…”

The puzzled Oceanus engineer responded to Xi Xhu’s comment.

“Oceanus here – copy that instruction again?”

Jack laughed and started to float out of his chair with a playful goodbye wave and added.

“Oops, sorry Xi – better leave you to get on with it. I got my bags to pack anyhow!”

Xi Xhu Pan gave Jack a quick silent friendly jerk of his middle finger then he turned back to the bridge console to carry out the tricky docking procedure for Oceanus.

At the same time back in Houston Control Center, Lex Kosloff was in touch with his ‘oppo’ on the bridge of the Oceanus, both men ensuring that the docking manoeuvres were carried out to plan. Lex was exhausted and desperate to get his shift finished on time at ‘zero two hundred hours’ in about twenty five minutes. He had cursed when he had heard from Oceanus that their arrival status was to be four hours earlier than scheduled, which meant it was going to be smack bang at the end of his nine hour shift. Any delay would mean that he would be into overtime, as it was deemed too risky changing controllers during the complex docking stage. Lex radioed the engineer on Oceanus.

“This is Houston to Oceanus. What is your current dock position - copy?”

As he waited for the response Lex rubbed the day old stubble on his chin and then smacked his face vigorously as he sat at his station in NASA HQ.
Jimmy Soderline sitting next to Lex’s station looked over at Kosloff and thought that his workmate had been looking pretty rough lately. Soderline questioned Lex sympathetically.

“You okay, Lex?”

“Yeah, no sweat, Jimmy - I just need a good night’s sleep. These night shifts lately have been doing my head in.”

“I know what you mean. At least we’re back on days in a couple of weeks. How’s the Big Baby doing anyway?”

“Ah’m just waiting to hear from them.”

Lex turned back to his monitors as he still awaited the Oceanus response. What he did not share with Jimmy Soderline was he was not only exhausted from his long night shifts. Lex desperately needed a drink. Since New Year he had been hitting the Scotch hard – really hard. When he arrived home at his place at 1938 Robindale Drive over in south west Houston on New Year’s Day, after his radio communication with Jack Crossan, he had been in a pretty good mood. Lex was looking forward to celebrating the special day with his gorgeous wife Marna and, of course, some smoky peaty Lagavulin. Lex’s thoughts were interrupted with the distinct crackle.

“This is Oceanus to Houston – Verne Andriessen here Lex. Able to report that the docking grabs on MGal3 are extended and we should be on them in two minutes our time. Copy?”

Lex responded sluggishly.

“Houston to Oceanus - copy that Verne. Let me know when Oceanus is hooked up to MGal3. Do you copy?”

As he reviewed his monitor Lex noted all the indicators looked good from Oceanus. He let his thoughts drift back to New Year. When he had arrived home at Robindale Drive the place was neat and tidy and Marna had obviously been very busy making it nice for Hogmanay. The previous year 2080 had not been great between Lex and Marna, mainly because of his frequent drinking. He had promised his resolution for 2081 would be to get on top of it. However, he did tell her the previous night that he would only have one or two drams of Lagavulin. Just to celebrate. After all, it was New Year. As soon as Lex walked in to the living room he saw the small note neatly folded and placed in the centre of the black glass coffee table. Lex opened it and read it as if viewing some awful disaster unfolding on live 3DTV.

Lex,

I can’t take any more. I can’t cope with your drinking. You’re just killing me. I have gone back to my parents’ place up in Dallas. I need time to think things out. You really need to get help.

Marna

Lex had collapsed onto the sofa completely crestfallen, Marna’s note fluttered down to the wooden floor and slipped slowly under the sofa. He knew things had been bad lately but he just did not expect to lose his wife. He looked over at the drinks cabinet and the bottle of single malt was practically screaming at him. He did not just have one or two that night. Lex crashed out on the whole bottle. Next day, with his head in a real fog, Lex had tried calling Marna up in Dallas, but her father fiercely rebuked him and told him that his daughter did not want to hear from Lex until he had dried out - completely dried out. Lex yelled down the phone at her dad.

“I’m no alcoholic, ya know!”

Since the call to Dallas, Lex had been hitting the bottle almost daily. As yet it
had not affected his work at Houston Control, but he thought that it was only a matter of time before he was caught in one of the random drugs and alcohol tests. However, he told himself he was still going to need a couple of softeners when he got home after tonight’s shift, just to take the edge off. Just then Verne, the engineer on Oceanus, radioed back.

“Oceanus to Houston - docking procedure safely completed, Lex. The Big Baby is in bed for the night. This is Oceanus signing off - over and out.”

“Houston to Oceanus - Lex here - Houston copies that - over and out.”

He noted the time. 01:55. Lex tapped his touch screen and switched over to call his supervisor, Irene DuPré, who was stationed a couple of rows behind him.

“Hi, Irene - did you catch that on the Oceanus? The Big Baby docked safely at 01:55 CST.”

“Yeah, Lex – that was a good job.”

“Okay for me to sign off at zero two hundred as scheduled?”

“No probs, Lex – oh, yeah - before ya shoot off? Ah just wanna remind you that we’re scheduled in for your Performance Appraisal on Friday 7
th
next week, okay?”

Lex groaned deep inside but replied as upbeat as he could muster, then lied to Irene.

“Yep, eh, good for me on the 7
th
– um, it’s in the diary.”

“Good, ‘cos there’s an issue that I want to run by you then. Okay, g’night, Lex. You get off home.”

Lex thought that sounded ominous but Irene switched the call off on her monitor before Lex could reply, or that was the impression that Lex got. There is an issue that Irene wants to run by me? It rung in Lex’s ear and buzzed in his brain. She must have cottoned on to his drinking. How? Maybe Jimmy suspected that he had been on the sauce or smelt it on him. Nah! Lex thought that it must be something else. He tried to convince himself to stop worrying but right then he felt a small tremor in his right hand. Suddenly, he felt a gentle elbow in his arm and he looked round a bit too sharply at Jimmy. Soderline laughed at Lex.

“Hey, man, you goin’ home or what?”

Lex nodded his head wearily. He started powering down his monitors as there was no relief post for his station tonight. He grabbed his stuff, tapped Jimmy lightly on the shoulder and made his way back to the locker room. He thought Irene looked rather grimly at him as he passed up near her station. She gave him a cursory wave acknowledging his departure. As he took his bag out of his locker, Lex groaned, God, I’m gonna need that drink when I get home.

*

Earthdate: 13:21 Sunday February 2, 2081 GMT

Gary Mackintosh and Ewan Sinclair sat with their double espressos in Chuck’s iCafé just off the Royal Mile in the heart of Edinburgh. Ewan was daydreaming as he surveyed the scene outside the large picture window, looking out at the buildings which were still much the same as they were over 300 years ago. The street had been pedestrianised many years ago and because it was such a freezing cold winter’s Sunday afternoon there were only a few people walking outside the café. In fact, there had been a sprinkling of snow which added to help erase any signs of 21
st
century modernity. Ewan thought to himself with a wry smile that he would not be surprised to see Rabbie Burns or Deacon Brodie walk in for a ‘wee café latte or twa’. Gary was otherwise deeply engrossed on his laptop, which had voice activation response built in. However, because they were in a public place, albeit the café was practically empty, Gary was operating the laptop with touch screen commands with the voice activation switched off. In fact, there were actually only two others in the café. A waitress called Michelle was reading behind the counter and an old well-known drunken ex-soldier called Buster had come in out of the cold for a sly kip. Gary and Ewan had been in the café for about an hour with nothing much said between them. Ewan was now feeling bored and beginning to perceive that nothing was being achieved with Gary faffing about on his computer.

“C’mon, Gary, give that effing NASA thing up and let’s head down the
Mile for a couple of pints.”

“Och, will ye just gimme a minute, Ewan? Ah think ah might just be on to something here.”

Ewan groaned loudly and the girl behind the counter looked up from her digital gossip magazine. Michelle quickly scanned the café for some sign of customer movement, but there was none. The old drunk was still blissfully asleep. Michelle yawned and went back to reading her celebrity gossip. Ewan whispered in Gary’s ear.

“You’ve been farting around with that E2MSN system for over a week and the best that you’ve come up with is some pretty boring pictures of Mars and a couple of ship’s manifests for the space shuttle Oceanus. Come on, Gary, let’s just leave it alone. We’ll end up getting extradited to the US on hacking charges and for what – nothing!”

Gary did not even look up and Ewan snapped in exasperation.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Gaz - look, I’m heading off down to Brodie’s Bar for a drink. Are you coming?”

Ewan pushed his cheap metal café chair back with a slight screech on the tiled floor which extracted a tutting rebuke from Michelle for interrupting her gossip read again. He started to push himself up when Gary raised his palm to stop him from leaving, swivelling his laptop round to face Ewan.

“Mars and manifests? Mars and manifests is it? Well, just take a fuckin’ look at that then!”

Diffidently, Ewan sat down and looked at the screen as indicated by his friend’s wagging finger pointing triumphantly at the webpage. Ewan seemed unimpressed with Gary’s apparent revelation.

“It’s an email. So what – I’ve seen an effing email before.”

Gary raised his eyebrows slowly, looked up and gave a slight shrug. He
then answered in mocking repetition.

“It’s – an - email. Just - a - fuckin’ - email. Seen – one - ah - them – before – huuuuh?”

Gary hesitated for effect and then stabbed his finger at the screen.

“Just read the fuckin’ thing!”

Ewan began reading and slowly it dawned on him that this was certainly a bit more interesting than a few bland photos of canyons and craters on Mars or the Oceanus crew and passenger list for next week’s return trip to Earth. As he read the email his left eyebrow arched higher and higher and Gary’s smile kept getting broader and broader.