5 March 2053
Lab Report Summary
Rats 3, 9, 17, and 19 show general immune response. Rats 2 and 15 are comatose. All remaining rats unaffected. No sign of eggs or larvae.
Did you know,” began Tuan, pulling Lien’s attention from the report she was working on, “there’s a wasp that can turn caterpillars into zombies?”
Lien went back to the report. “Glyptapanteles,” she said. For a time, the silence was punctuated only by the rapid clicks of computer keys.
“It just reminded me of our case,” Tuan said at last. “The wasp injects its eggs inside the caterpillar. They hatch, chew their way out, and then use some kind of mind control to get the dying caterpillar to protect their cocoons.”
Lien didn’t respond. She really had a lot she needed to get done.
“Wouldn’t it be awesome if these larvae climbed in people’s brains and turned us into zombies that served the moth queen?”
At first Lien was so intent on her report she just murmured assent. But then she replayed the sentence in her mind.
“Tuan, you watch too much anime.”
7 March 2053
Lab Report Summary
Rats 3, 9, 17, and 19 have all returned to normal health. Rat 2 woke from coma but suffers from tremors. Rat 15 remained comatose until death (six days after bite). All other rats symptom free. No sign of eggs or larvae.
Lien tightened her surgical mask, set her iRis to data-capture mode, and then slid a scalpel into the dead rat. They had waited two days for larval worms to appear on the corpse. None had. As she peeled away muscles and tissue, she saw no sign of anything unusual. The rat appeared to have died of dehydration.
She was more confused now than she had been a week ago. Over a hundred moths, but no females. Twenty exposed rats, but no larvae. She didn’t know whether to be relieved the bites didn’t lead directly to voracious offspring, or to be troubled that they could apparently kill you anyway. Nothing made sense.
30 April 1889
Nepal
My leg continues to ache deeply, but the sharp pains are gone. I am able to hobble about with a cane. Today while out walking, I found a group of girls clustered around the goat pen. Nyima was among them. “Dead goat,” she said, pointing to an animal rolling from side to side while bleating feebly. Its hide was covered in large sores, which oozed dark blood onto the short white hair. One of the pustules burst and a large maggot climbed out of the still-living animal. Nyima repeated the phrase “Mara’s daughters” three times. When I asked her to explain, she said what I interpreted as, “Stupid man did not eat his goat. Now Mara will take it for herself.”
Watching a creature fighting to live as it is consumed by parasites is something that will be difficult to forget. Goat is a common food here in the valley. I can only hope I have not eaten the meat of infected animals. I asked Nyima if Mara’s daughters ever hurt people. She said it had not happened for a long time. I am nervous that whatever immunities the villagers have developed will not protect me.
10 March 2053
YouTube video pofNR_WkoCE-TrG
ALL COMMENTS (6,148)
Top Comments ˅
kidclub18 (17 min ago)
OMG! You can actually see the worms crawling in her barf! I’ve heard of cats puking out worms—but people? That’s just nasty.
3BWolfish (4 min ago)
Can’t believe morons like you actually believe this crap. Dude. No one barfs bugs. Hoax for sure.
You’ve gotta watch this,” Tuan said, beckoning for Lien to follow him out of the lab room.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she said, loading another tube into the centrifuge.
“No, seriously, you need to watch this now.”
Lien followed Tuan down the hall to their office, feeling both curious and irritated. When they got there, she could see a video had been loaded to his computer screen.
“YouTube?” she asked, a hint of accusation in her voice.
“Trust me. This is one hundred percent work-related.” Tuan clicked play.
The sound quality was horrible. Were they speaking English? She saw people drinking at a bar. The camera was focused on one girl with her head down on the table. Around her people were pumping their fists and cheering. The girl lifted her head. She looked terrible. Pale, sweaty face, trembling hands. She raised a shot glass to her lips and drained it. The crowd cheered. Then the girl started to gag. Several people rushed away from the table. The cameraman laughed, then the girl vomited everywhere. Bright-red vomit, the color of fresh blood. The view dropped quickly from the girl’s face to the table itself. At first Lien thought the moving surface was just the result of shaky cam, but after the view refocused she saw dozens of familiar caterpillars.
“Where was this filmed?” she asked.
“Toronto, Canada. Two days ago. The video already has over fifty thousand hits. I would say the ‘keeping it quiet’ game is about to end.”
2 May 1889
Nepal
Ever since the incident with the goat, I have been puzzling over the term “Mara’s daughters.” The name Mara seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I could not remember why. Today, while reading my book on Buddhist philosophies, I encountered an image titled, “Mara Tempts the Buddha.” And I remembered. Mara is the queen of demons.
12 March 2053
Viet Nam
Lien followed the sound of angry voices down the corridor. Were they speaking Mandarin? She found Tuan in the moth room watching an argument between the director and a group of suited men.
“What’s happening?” Lien whispered in Viet.
“The typical. China wants to take control of our project … and probably engineer a bioweapon.”
One of the men glanced over, but Lien doubted he spoke Viet. At a command from their leader, the men started picking up cages and walking out of the room.
“Put that down!” their director shouted. He seized a man’s arm. Startled, the man lost his grip on the moth tank he was lifting. Lien watched in horror as the cage flipped off the counter. When it landed, the side panel pushed open a few centimeters. A spring forced the door shut again, but it was too late. At least a dozen moths had escaped.
Before she could react, Tuan pushed her roughly through the door and slammed it shut. Turning, she was surprised to be alone. She heard shouts coming from the other room, but didn’t dare open the door. Instead she peered through the glass pane.
Tuan had grabbed the emergency fire extinguisher and was spraying anything that moved. As the frigid foam hit the moths they fell to the floor. Eventually the startled men recovered enough to start stomping and smashing. It was all over in under a minute. As soon as the room had calmed, Lien pushed the door open.
Mara’s Shadow by Quintin Gleim
“Don’t worry,” Tuan said, “we got them.” But his reassurance didn’t calm her. She stared in horror at his arm. There, just above his wrist, was a large red welt and a small trickle of blood.
Tuan stared at the bite, then looked at the Chinese officials. They were carefully turning the fallen cage upright again. Tuan slid his hand deep into the pocket of his lab coat.
5 May 1889
Nepal
Last night Nyima took me to visit her grandmother. The ugly goat accompanied us, as always. Nyima believes the hapless creature brings her luck. The purpose of the visit was to learn more of Mara’s daughters. I questioned Nyima directly, but she refused to answer. She told me that because she is still in Mara’s shadow, she must not speak of her.
And so, we went to her grandmother, who apparently has left Mara’s shadow. From her I learned a legend, which I will do my best to repeat. Keep in mind that my grasp of the language, while improving, is still quite limited.
There was once a young man who tended goats. One evening, a storm scatte
red his herd. He searched diligently until every goat was found. But now it was late, and the man grew tired. On the way home, he took the shorter path through Mara’s gap, although he knew the passage was forbidden.
Approaching him in the guise of a beautiful woman, Mara sought to lure him from his task. “I can offer you all a man desires,” she said. “My body and my love are yours if you but ask.”
The man fell silent, and Mara thought she had won, until he opened his mouth to speak. “I have a wife at home, beautiful and strong. What more could I desire?”
Mara tried once more. “I can offer you power and dominion over all you meet.”
The man looked at the animals gathered around him. “I command many goats, and they follow me with affection. This is all the power I desire.”
Now Mara grew angry. “I can offer you wealth and riches, enough to fill many valleys. Do not deny me again.”
The man was not intimidated. “I have children at home, obedient and kind. What greater treasure is there in all the world?”
With this, Mara became enraged. Shedding her disguise, she revealed her true form, a demon fierce and powerful, with sharp fangs and the tongue of a snake.
“A curse I place upon them all,” she said. “Your wife will not live to see her children grown. Your goats will feed my daughters instead of yours. And your children will live always in death’s shadow.”
15 March 2053
Viet Nam
Lien stared at the clock in dismay—was it really that late? The lab was kind of creepy in the middle of the night. Sounds echoed sharply in the empty space instead of being absorbed by soft background chatter.
She had to figure this out. Tuan would not end up like Peder Fridell. If those hungry little devils thought they were going to eat her lab partner they were seriously mistaken.
It had been three days since they’d moved Tuan into quarantine. And three days of his absence had made her realize something. She liked having him around, or at least, she disliked having him gone, which was the same thing, wasn’t it? Not for the first time in her life, Lien wished her amygdala would communicate more directly with her frontal cortex. Why the hell did evolution think it was a good idea to shoot emotional chemicals into the bloodstream without telling the rest of the brain what they were for?
Pulling up a live video feed, she noticed she was not the only person awake. Tuan lay on the floor of his quarantine room, bouncing a tennis ball off the wall. She watched him on her monitor for a while, reached for the mic button, hesitated, then pushed it.
“How’s it going?”
Tuan didn’t look toward the wall monitor. “Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine. One hundred.” He caught the ball one last time, then sat up. “Well, the good news is my left hand is finally developing some fine motor skills. Poor thing has always felt a little inferior to his counterpart.”
Lien felt amazed he could find humor at a time like this. “You seem to be in a good mood. Aren’t you worried?”
He shrugged and tossed the ball onto his hospital-style bed. “I’m just lazy. Imagine if I processed all the emotional angst of dying a young and horrible death, and then it didn’t happen? Total waste of energy.”
Lien felt surprised. Her own approach to life was the complete opposite. Prepare for the worst—just in case. It was the only way she could feel safe.
“Any news?” he asked.
“Still no sign of parasites in your blood or tissue samples. Although, I have noticed some interesting activity around the bite itself.”
“Interesting how?”
“There was a high concentration of baculoviruses.”
“That’s not unusual for insects.”
“True, but the moth venom must have been loaded with the stuff, because it was all over your bite zone.”
Tuan looked down reflexively at the scab on his arm. “Maybe it’s some bizarre form of moth ovum, you know? An egg, without a shell.”
“Oh no. A virus doesn’t contain nearly enough DNA to code for an insect. And we watched your cells closely for any sign of viral activation, just in case. Everything looked … fine.” Lien hoped he hadn’t noticed the pause.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Great. She really hadn’t wanted to bring this up until she knew more. “Well, the odd thing was the viruses attached themselves to glycoproteins in your cell membrane. And then self-destructed.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Yes. Except glycoproteins are very specific, like a lock and key. So how did these glycoproteins recognize the virus and then successfully deactivate it, unless your cells have encountered the virus before?”
“So a new species of moth appears and bites me. But my body’s immune response indicates I may have been bitten before?”
“Or at least that you have encountered the virus before.”
Tuan fell silent for a while. “It’s too bad China took all our samples. I wonder if the rats showed a similar response.”
Lien smiled. “When you say all our samples, that’s a bit of an overstatement.”
Tuan walked toward the wall screen, clearly interested. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I may have accidentally forgotten to tell the friendly visiting officials about the blood samples in the centrifuge.”
Now it was Tuan’s turn to smile. “Really? I’m impressed. Have you considered a life of crime? It probably pays better.” Then he was suddenly serious again. “And what did you find?”
“Remember the two rats that died? The antibody counts were abnormally high. Which indicates their immune system was fighting something. When I ran the samples using a much finer resolution I found our little friend the baculovirus.”
10 May 1889
Nepal
Almost overnight, the valley has thawed. Unfortunately, that means it is now a muddy bog from one end to the other. Although my leg is doing well, I am more clumsy than I used to be. Even when walking carefully, I find my clothing is a filthy mess at the end of each day.
This morning I encountered an odd village tradition. A young man had burned his hand, and Nyima was helping treat the injury. It was clear from Nyima’s giggles and chatter that she was enamored. Afterward I teased her, saying that if the man’s brothers were as handsome as he, then she would be a lucky girl. I expected embarrassment or even irritation from such a jest. But instead she seemed shocked and confused. She told me she could not marry the man and his brothers because they were, “the wrong color.”
At first I thought she must be referring to some shade of hair or skin that I had not perceived. She found this idea humorous, saying that the color of a person’s body did not matter when choosing husbands. She was surprised to learn that people from my country do not all share my pale hair and blue eyes.
I eventually learned that Nyima was referring to the color of the man’s belt. The village is divided into two major clans. In physical features and cultural traditions, they are impossible to distinguish, at least to my foreign eyes. Yet, intermarriage between the two clans is strictly prohibited. One clan weaves strands of blue into their clothing, whereas the other uses yellow. They weave so many colorful patterns with such a wide variety of hues that I did not notice it on my own. But now I cannot stop seeing it in every person I encounter. Stripes of blue. Stripes of yellow. But never both.
I can detect no tension between the groups. They work and live alongside each other in relative peace. But marriage is forbidden by strong taboos. Infidelity within a clan is met with disapproval. But infidelity between clans is a crime punishable by death.
When I asked Nyima why the marriage rule existed, she told me the man in the story, who angered Mara, came from the blue clan. His wife was yellow. In her jealousy, Mara cursed their love. If blue and yellow mix it will bring her daughters.
March 2053
&
nbsp; Colorado State University: “Insect Parasitic Nematodes”
by P.R. Knutson & S. Anderson
By fighting fire with fire, ingested parasites may be able to target Kunming larvae and destroy them before they harm the human host. Insect parasitic nematodes have been used for decades as effective biotic pesticides. They are harmless to birds, mammals, and plants, and offer an intriguing possibility for the prevention of Kunming deaths.
Lien read the article on her office tablet with interest. Fighting one parasite with another seemed like an odd form of cosmic justice. Although convincing people to swallow a pill of living roundworms wouldn’t be easy.
Yawning, she stretched her arms toward the ceiling and heard a satisfying pop. It had been nine days since Tuan’s bite. The first few days had been pure hell. But after he passed the one-week mark symptom free, she had started to calm.
Lien stood, and walked to the prep room. She needed to prepare another dilution series for her water weevil case. Before entering she donned a pair of safety goggles. She found her mind wandering back to the Kunming moths.
The number of confirmed deaths was up to four. And police in Perth were examining a case from last year that might be related. Not enough deaths to incite global panic, but enough to interest entomologists the world over. So far, the transmission vector was the biggest mystery of all. The victims didn’t seem to share any common link. When the moth struck, it struck fast. People were fine one day, and wriggling corpses the next. Was someone testing a new bio weapon? Who? And why out in the open like this?
Lien heard a door open behind her, but she was focused on the micropipette in her hand. If they needed something, they would ask.
“You know,” a nervous voice said, “you never did say thank you.”
L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future 34 Page 19
