Panspermia Deorum (40 page)

“Yessa. Eat
many animals and Feranna.”

“Feranna?”

He pointed at a
primitive drawing on the trench wall, in which there was one figure
eating a headless human.

“Olla stop
eating Feranna. Bodu magic. Bodu stop Olla eating Feranna.”

Zlatan and
Lydia asked for a moment to discuss this proposal.

“What do you
think?” whispered Zlatan.

“You’re asking
me what I think, is this for real? You’re always telling me what to
do. Ok, here’s what I think. You should try out this mumbo-jumbo
for a few days, and if it’s safe I’ll give it a shot. These people
seem to like us so I can catch up on my sleep. They’ll probably get
food for us too, and that really would be cool. Of course this Olla
dude might just be high on bee sting juice.”

“No, he isn’t.
We couldn’t see any heat signature coming from him.”

“Ok, let’s say
he is off-heat, it could be temporary, like it comes back when you
stop the bee stings.”

“I’d take that,
it would allow me to get back into the exclusion zone to tell
someone I trust, about what these people have stumbled upon. Unless
there’s a miracle breakthrough soon, this is as good a second best
as we’re going to get.”

He turned back
to Olla.

“I want to
start bodu stings.”

“Yessa.”

Proceedings
were interrupted by the young hunter-gatherers returning. Zlatan
noted that some were infected and others weren’t. He turned back to
Olla.

“What happens
if I start the sting and then…”

“Pay no
attention to him, Olla,” said Lydia, “he’s just a fizz mouth, gimme
a bodu.”

One of the
young men intruded.

“Olla my
father. He had bees all his life, taking honey from them. He cannot
feel stings now. I must have care with the bees. Too many can kill.
You need check before sting. I will give you check for bad
reaction.”

He looked both
Lydia and Zlatan up and down making some kind of assessment.

“You have some
of our blood in you, and you are hot, but him, he is different,
very hot. He has sickness bad. Will need many bees. Come.”

Zlatan assumed
the young man was going to offer a primitive check for an allergic
reaction to the bee venom and was implying that Lydia may have more
resistance to the virus because of her ancestry. She had her own
take on the young man and whispered some advice to him.

“Listen,
Zlatan, I don’t want to spend the rest of my time living and
shitting in the bushes. If I’m going to die anytime soon, I’d
better enjoy the now. This young dude, he kinda stirs my juices,
and I wouldn’t mind being stung by him, bee or no bee. So, I’m
ready to take my chance, and if you pass his test you should head
back to see whoever this person is that you trust inside the
exclusion zone. Maybe I can come back then, when I’m clean and
ready. Deal?”

Zlatan nodded
his acceptance. The very fact that deviants were living alongside
norms convinced him that there was something important to learn
from these people.

T
he building Brandon had selected wasn’t ideal in many
respects but at least it was pretty inconspicuous, which was
crucial.

“What about the
technicians?”

“There are two
excellent colleagues where I work, and they’re ready to help, but
that’s another thing we have to consider. All three of us have to
continue to work during the days, at the company. We can only do
this stuff in the evenings, otherwise there will be suspicion. My
two friends are taking a hell of a risk here and we need to pay
them well. You can work here during the day and keep track of
what’s happening with this virus around the world. The equipment we
need is on order and can be delivered whenever you authorise
payment. One other thing, the Australian project, and probably
others, made a serious error in designing experiments with this
virus. Trying out the actual ‘magic bullet’ before we have all the
other constituents of a vaccine ready is doomed to failure. I’m
stressing this to remind you of its incredible ability to mutate.
We need our own Trojan Horse as part of the solution, administered
at the same time as the first two components of the vaccine.
Deception is an essential, but one-shot ally with this baby.”

“That’s quite a
lot for us to swallow, four of us against the big companies
throughout the world. But, I agree that the only way to stop this
thing is to ignore the rules, or better still, accept that the
first rule is that there are no rules. So, who do we have to see to
rent this place?”

“It’s a
back-street guy. He owns a number of rundown properties like this.
It’s cash on the first of every month, no questions asked. I’ve
paid the first month, so if you can reimburse me we’re already the
tenants. You ok with that?”

“I don’t seem
to have much choice. Let’s go and pay for the equipment. When do I
meet your colleagues?”

“Like I said,
there’s no time to waste. Tonight at seven.”

*

Brandon
Mitchell wasn’t exaggerating, the situation was reaching a
potential ‘no way back’ point. In particular, the centres of
highest population density, urban areas, were witnessing massive
numbers of reported abductions, disappearances, half-eaten bodies,
and public altercations between deviants and norms. The inexorable
result of the latter was clear; even if a norm managed to win a
gladiatorial conflict, they would end up infected. In reality, they
could never truly win or even tie, the norm count could only
decrease by one, and this alone guaranteed the onward march of the
deviants. A frightening prospect to be contemplated was precisely
how far up organisations such as banks, law enforcement, and
government the scourge had gained control.

One technology
company had claimed they’d produced a successful hand-scanning
device which could identify deviants at a range of five metres.
Debates had ensued on whether mass access to such equipment would
simply generate uncontrollable panic in the streets. It was never
concluded; the company production plant was levelled to the ground
by explosives.

*

Lydia had felt
no particular after-effects from her first bee sting and asked for
another.

“Let’s get my
recovery moving. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Suma. It is
the name of my mother’s father. She died, I was young.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.
Well, I should lie down and get some sleep. Will you check if I’m
ok later?”

“Yes. It is
important.”

He turned to
Zlatan and asked him to hold out his hand. This was going to be
much worse than a bee sting. Suma’s grip was prodigious and was
tightened to mask the pain of pushing a hollowed out tube into his
lower arm. A kind of local anaesthetic handshake. Suma produced a
tiny wooden dish to collect blood before handing Zlatan a piece of
cloth to staunch the wound. The patient almost passed out while
Suma mixed a yellow paste with the extracted blood.

“We will wait
for tomorrow.”

“Why?” said
Zlatan.

“”Yellow must
find the truth.”

“What will it
tell us?”

“Everything to
know if you are safe.”

“Some of your
people have the sickness, but you said Lydia would be ok because
she had some Aborigine blood in her family.”

“Yes. Lydia is
not so hot. Others of our people are hot. Some bad blood.”

“I see. What
happens if my blood is bad?”

“You die.”

“Great. What if
my blood is good?”

“We can give
you bee sting. Only one for every moon. Not like Lydia.”

“Ok, how many
stings before I begin to get better?”

“Sunrise will
tell us. We need all truth, not some truth.”

“I’m sorry to
keep asking questions but if I have good blood how many stings will
I need? I must go back to my home.”

Suma raised ten
fingers and then another ten.

“Shit. You mean
twenty moons?”

“Or more. You
will not talk to others at your home about bees.”

“Of course not.
You can trust me.”

*

After meeting
with Brandon’s two recruits, Eugene was more than happy with the
entire plan. He phoned his father with the news and confirmed that
he would be working in Japan for at least the next year or so.

“I expect to
get home maybe once a month, depending on how things go here, but I
need to pull the rug on the apartment I had lined up, at least for
now. Can you do that for me please?”

“Naturally. It
will only take an email. I suppose you want me to tell your mother
and Sophie about your extended stay?”

“That would be
great, Dad. I have another request of you though.”

“Ok, let me
hear it, I can always hear it in your voice. It’s tricky isn’t
it?”

“It could be
for me, being the black sheep which deserted the Australian clique
which thinks it is still
the
authority on world health
risks. Brandon and the rest of us are going to have to cut many
corners to have any chance of defeating this virus. One of the
components of the plan is to design some organic molecule, one
which we don’t really know the structure of yet, or exactly what it
has to achieve in terms of specific interaction with the virus. So,
here in Japan, we can’t be both under the radar and demanding
information of national health organisations at the same time. We
need to adjust our targeting as things develop across all
continents. You had contacts in all of them with VB Aerospace. We
just need regular updates on the spread of the virus and any
differences from one part of the planet compared to the others. I
don’t mean the dross which is fed to the press. That stuff is all
stage-managed to fool most of us. I need to know about any changes
in scientific approach regarding mutation of the virus, and this
kind of information won’t be released to the public as it happens.
However, these changes will undoubtedly occur, and knowing when is
critical for us. The kind of thing I’m talking about could be any
of the following – appearance of a new genus of pharmaceuticals,
approval of substances which are claimed to slow the infection by
means other than oral intake, official endorsement of natural or
homeopathic remedies, and trends in burial or cremation of the
ever-increasing number of corpses, regardless of religion. I know
this might sound a bit far-fetched, but it is important, because at
present the health organisations are being forced into reactive
mode, and we must become proactive or this fight will definitely be
lost. I’m sure you know people who know people who know some of the
decision makers. There are bound to be leaks, people sworn to
secrecy, we need to be in on them. Guys like Bondarenko come to
mind.”

“Let me think
about this, Eugene. I think I understand what you said, but I
should give it more consideration if I’m going to avoid giving you
bum steers. Call me again in a week.”

“Thanks, Dad.
I’m now able to appreciate what you went through in the years
leading up to finally killing off the cosmic threat. Speak to you
soon.”

One Month
Later

L
ydia was now on four stings a day, each on a
different part of the body. She no longer had the symptoms of a
deviant and she was back on a vegetarian diet. She was so grateful
to Suma, so much so that he was quite fatigued with her nightly
visits to his private section of the trench.

Zlatan was
impatient, especially as he could see no heat signature when
looking at Lydia. Some of Suma’s relatives were not making the same
progress that she had, and this was causing tension within the
camp. Zlatan had passed the allergen test and was on a single sting
per day, but as yet there was no discernible retreat of his desire
for meat or his blurred vision. Lydia’s presence didn’t help.

“Relax, hot
boy, you’ll know when to expect some change. I keep telling you
that your shit will change colour. Then you’ll have the ‘green’
light, ha-ha.”

“Very funny.
You never think about anyone but yourself, do you, Lydia? Every day
I spend here is one less for humans to find a vaccine. Would you
take a message back to the exclusion zone for me if I don’t make
it?”

“No way. I’m
going back to where I used to live, once Suma tells me I’m stable.
You can’t seem to live in the now, Zlatan. Anyway, how do you know
those bastards in the exclusion zone won’t kill you? Maybe they
won’t believe you’re not a threat any more. Remember, these people,
including me, aren’t cured – we’re just free from the symptoms, and
we don’t act like these Alphas or Betas you keep banging on about.
They’re sure to ask how you’ve changed from being fully infected,
and you know Suma said we can’t talk about the bees. The stings are
his peoples’ only hope and there won’t be enough of it to share
with the pigs that disowned us. You’re on your own with them.”

Zlatan
reflected on what she said. For once, she appeared to have given
some serious thought to the problem, even if it sounded like
justification of her apathy. He decided to pester Suma to increase
his stings to two a day.

*

Although Eugene
had not earmarked it, one pivotal point emerged, which could easily
have been included in the request to his father, the one regarding
social trends. Whether it was obvious in hindsight, or had been
considered as a low priority assignment, the disposal of human
waste now entered the equation like a wind of fertility.

Because of the
rapidly changing ratio of deviants to norms, landfill became
land-dumping. The chances of workers becoming infected from
handling waste was the main driver, aided and abetted by many of
the decision makers having crossed over. A self-reinforcing trend.
The stockpiling of waste, literally at every doorstep, was a potent
facilitator for the virus. Added to that, recycling had petered
out, by precisely the same reasoning. Burning personal waste became
a daily chore for everyone, a step back in time, in which
neighbours actually interacted as opposed to merely being people
who lived next door. In itself an additional march to
infection.