L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future 34

by L. Ron Hubbard

  Lien turned in shock. Tuan? Without thinking, she dropped the pipette on the counter and raced to her lab partner. “I thought they weren’t releasing you until tomorrow,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. He stiffened.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. He seemed worried about something. It couldn’t be bad news about his condition, or they wouldn’t have released him. Right?

  “Umm … actually … I spent the last twenty minutes in the hall trying to plan this conversation. It was going to be beautifully profound. Something about life being short, and how facing death changes everything. But now that I’m here I can’t quite remember the details.”

  Lien felt confused. What was he babbling about? Then, suddenly, he leaned forward, dodged her goggles, and went for a kiss.

  Lien’s first thought was that he shouldn’t be in the prep room without his own goggles. Lien’s second thought was that she really didn’t care.

  PART II

  Kansas City Star

  Editorial, 17 April 2055

  Travel Restrictions Are Not the Solution to the Kunming Crisis

  On Friday the World Health Organization announced the Kunming death count had passed one thousand, intensifying debates over international travel sanctions. Those who believe locking our borders will protect us are ignoring the facts. In the two years since the moth’s discovery, it has repeatedly been shown that physical proximity to other victims does not increase one’s own chances of infection. This polarizing debate is a waste of resources. Rather than adding more layers to airport security, we should be channeling our funding toward research.

  Lien finished reading the editorial, then lifted Bao to her shoulder and waited for a burp. Tuan snored loudly from his side of the bed. Normally she would love an argument that ended with spending more money on research, but this article hit a raw spot. The world had already been pouring money into this black hole, and there was almost nothing to show for it. Wasn’t the universe supposed to follow basic laws? So how did this moth manage to defy them all? Except for gravity, as Tuan had pointed out.

  She scanned through a variety of other headlines, reading all that was wrong with the world she had brought Bao into. She held her son close, and hoped they would find answers soon.

  Lien grabbed a bottle of cola from the stash she kept under her work desk. It hadn’t been a bad night, but even so she needed the caffeine.

  “Okay, let’s start at the beginning,” she said to the man on the phone. “You own a snake shop called ‘The Garden of Eden,’ and your feeder rats are dying.”

  “Yeah. At first it was just one. So I threw it out. Figured it must have died a few days earlier, and I just didn’t notice. Now they’re all dying, and worms are everywhere. I think it’s that Kunming thing. What should I do?”

  Lien considered. A dead rat probably had maggots in it, and now a paranoid shopkeeper was overreacting. As far as she knew there were no cases of the moth infecting nonhumans. “I’ll send someone over to collect samples.” Almost as an afterthought, she added, “Where did you get the rats from? Have they reported anything strange?”

  “That’s why I called your office. These are the rats I got from you guys.”

  Lien had to process this for a second. “You … bought rats from us?”

  “Yeah, my friend at your office said you had extras you needed to get rid of, so I took them.”

  Lien would definitely have to look into that. It was a major violation of office protocol.

  “I’ll be over this afternoon to collect them myself.”

  15 May 1889

  Nepal

  Today the villagers prepared their fields for planting. I offered to help, but was told (although commanded might be closer to the truth) that my leg was not ready for work. And so I watched instead. I noticed tasks were split by gender and marriage status. As a single woman, Nyima fetched water and tended young children. I was surprised to see another woman, clearly past her teenage years, carrying water as well. I asked Nyima why the woman had not yet married. She told me the girl was too young to have children.

  I asked Nyima how old a woman should be. And, like so many things in this strange valley, the answer came back to Mara. I was told all children are born in Mara’s shadow. And they live in Mara’s shadow until their thirtieth summer. Only then are they allowed to marry and start families. I’m amazed the valley can sustain its population with such rules in place.

  I told Nyima that in my country, most women marry by their twentieth year. She did not believe me, asking repeatedly about the “cursed children.” I assured Nyima that Mara’s daughters do not bother our children. At last she conceded Austria might be so far away Mara does not know of it.

  17 April 2055

  Viet Nam

  So then the idiot decided he could make a few extra Yuan selling the rats to a snake shop.” Lien was back home ranting to Tuan, who was making ridiculous faces as he bounced Bao on his knees.

  “Why were we getting rid of rats in the first place?” he asked, then blew a raspberry.

  “A few weeks after China shut us down, a lot of rats in the main tank got sick so they ‘destroyed’ the whole group.” Lien had been so deep into the water weevil project by then, she had never known.

  “But that means the symptoms we observed in our moth rats had nothing to do with the bites.”

  Lien shook her head. “Or it means that whatever the moths did to our rats was contagious. If it was airborne it could easily have gotten back to the main tank. Then those rats were sold to a snake shop, and now they’re producing Kunming larvae.”

  “But that was over a year ago. Why did the larvae not show up until now?”

  “What makes it even odder is which rats are dying. The shop owner still has a few breeder rats from the original generation. They’re fine. It only seems to be killing offspring five or six generations down.”

  Bao started wailing. Tuan had become so absorbed in the conversation he had stopped bouncing. Lien held out her arms. The baby reached for her, and she scooped him up.

  “But what I can’t understand,” Lien said, settling Bao on her hip, “is how the parents are transmitting the virus to their offspring. Maybe when the blood mixes at birth?”

  “But Lien,” Tuan said, “parents pass things down to their offspring all the time.” He pointed to Bao. “That kid looks just like you.”

  Lien didn’t like where this was heading. “You think it’s in their DNA.”

  10 June 1889

  Nepal

  I have continued interviewing villagers regarding marriage traditions. When a girl is born, her marriage is arranged immediately. Nyima has always known who her husbands will be. I asked if she was bothered about having no choice in the matter. She said there was no reason to reject them. I asked who she would marry if she could choose. She blushed and refused to answer.

  Nyima was astounded when I told her that in my country marriage is between one woman and one man, and they choose for themselves. She said that Austria must be a very large valley to hold so many farms and so many babies. It is hard for me to remember sometimes that this tiny valley is the only world she has ever known.

  Svenska Dagbladet (Swedish Daily News)

  22 April 2055

  Kunming Moth Strikes Sibling of Peder Fridell

  Tora Fridell, a younger sister of the first Kunming victim, has fallen to the same disease. Tora is the second case of an infected sibling, leading medical experts to speculate that susceptibility to the parasites may have a genetic link. However, little progress has been made on identifying what that link is.

  The death of Tora Fridell hardened Lien’s resolve.

  “Are you sure about this?” Tuan asked, leaning back in his favorite recliner. “You could lose your job. Or worse.”

  “Tuan, you were bitten. If there is any possibility this thing c
an be passed down to offspring, then Bao is at risk. You remember what happened last time. Once they learn we have a lead, they’ll take everything away from us. We’ll be cut out entirely.”

  Tuan sighed. “But can’t you do the research here?”

  “We don’t have access to a genome sequencer. If the moth virus really is meddling with our DNA, I’m going to need one. I have connections in Singapore. Besides, if we do find something big, I’m not sure I want to hand it over to Big Brother.” She still blamed the government for Tuan’s bite.

  “One week,” he said at last.

  “Deal,” Lien said. “I already packed my bags.”

  It was strange to see the blue flag of the Southern Union hanging below Singapore’s own flag of red and white. Lien had grown accustomed to the Chinese star. Her taxi pulled up in front of the Yong Loo Lin School of Medicine, and the driver helped unload, grumbling about how heavy the cooler was. She wondered how he would react if he knew it was packed with dead rats.

  As the taxi drove away, the glass doors to the school slid open, and a professor emerged. Lien recognized her cousin’s husband, Naresh Kapoor. Without bothering to say hello, he opened the cooler and pulled a vacuum-sealed rat out of the ice.

  “Just keep my name out of reports,” Lien said, “and they’re all yours.”

  Naresh bobbed his head sideways in an Indian nod of assent. “We will start analyzing them immediately.”

  16 June 1889

  Nepal

  Today I was given my first goat. I offered much thanks, but insisted I did not need one. My protests were in vain. I was told that now I had a hut of my own, I would need a goat to keep me warm this winter. I teased Nyima that my goat was not as ugly as hers, and asked if she wanted to trade. She seemed offended by the jest. She said her goat had seen almost as many summers as she had, as if being unusually old made it more valuable. Perhaps after a long winter together, my goat and I will also be good friends. I hope Mara stays far away.

  25 April 2055

  Singapore

  Lien could feel Naresh hovering over her shoulder as she pulled up the magnified images.

  “There,” she pointed to the left side of the screen. “All the monkeys from Group A deactivated the virus immediately, but the monkeys in Group B went into viral replication.”

  Naresh stroked his beard. “It makes sense. Group A were the monkeys I exposed to moths last year, so they have built an immunity.”

  Lien shook her head. “No. I don’t think that is what’s happening.” She took a deep breath. This next part was just a theory, but the implications were sinister. “I think the virus is shutting down because the cell is already infected.”

  “You think the cell receptors that deactivate the virus are coded for by foreign DNA? Interesting. We all assumed they were an immune defense.”

  “Think about it,” said Lien. “If this is a retrovirus, then going through the effort to infect a host that already has the viral DNA would be a total waste.”

  Naresh thought for a moment. “But, we’ve tested the virus on dozens of human tissue samples. It deactivates every time. We assumed most humans were immune. But this would mean …”

  He trailed off, so Lien finished for him. “Most humans are already infected.”

  Ninety-eight percent?” Tuan asked. Lien was in her hotel room video-chatting with her husband.

  “Yeah. That’s how many of our human samples tested positive.”

  “So if your theory is correct …”

  “Then this is a much bigger problem than we realized. We still haven’t finished analyzing the data from the genome sequencer. Hopefully we’ll learn something useful.”

  “When I was bitten,” Tuan said, “the virus deactivated. That means I have it too.”

  Lien nodded. “You and 98% of the planet.”

  “But how did we get it?”

  She sighed. “If the rats are any indication, that is a question for our great-great-grandparents.”

  21 June 1889

  Nepal

  Yesterday was the summer solstice, which the village calls the “day of light.” Two women, who had reached their thirtieth summers, were given crowns of flowers. Nyima said these women will marry before the summer has ended.

  It seems the “day of light” marks when a woman leaves Mara’s shadow and the curse is lifted. Each time I ask Nyima to explain, she grows quiet. She sincerely believes talking about it will bring Mara’s attention to her. I do not wish to make her uncomfortable, but these fears make it difficult to gather solid information. So instead I questioned her grandmother. She told me that Mara’s daughters feed on many things. Yaks. Goats. Even people.

  When a child is born, Mara plants her seed inside. The seed takes many years to grow. Animals must be eaten before the seed sprouts. But people are different. Their spirit struggles to overcome the evil seed. If their spirit is strong, they will reach their day of light, and the seed will die. But if their spirit is weak, the seed will grow, and when it blooms, Mara’s daughters will appear. If a woman has a child before her day of light, the child will carry the seed of both itself and its mother, making it twice as difficult to escape Mara’s shadow.

  I asked Nyima if she had ever witnessed a human death from Mara’s daughters. She said no. I feel great pity for this village. So bound by fear. I keep hinting to Nyima that perhaps Mara is not as powerful as they suppose. Who knows, my seeds of doubt may yet sprout and help lead this village out of the shadow of superstition.

  Singapore Medical Journal

  26 April 2055

  Genetic Vector Identified as Possible Transfer Mechanism of Kunming Moth

  ABSTRACT

  Genetic profiling of Kunming moth venom reveals eight unique retroviral strands. When entering a somatic cell, the virus replicates, then invades neighboring cells. When entering a germ line cell, the virus fragments and enters the nucleus, passing the foreign DNA on to future offspring.

  Lien’s pen scribbled quickly across the back side of the abstract. The high-speed train would have her home in only a few hours, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the new discoveries. What we know. She wrote across the top of the page, then made a bulleted list.

  When generation zero is first exposed, the virus replicates and spreads. Airborne. The baculovirus could only be transmitted through a direct bite. But once bitten, the host body produced an airborne version that was species specific. But when had the human version appeared and spread? A hundred years ago? Two hundred?

  There are eight distinct retroviruses. It was not unusual for a virus to display minor mutations. But when they ran the second venom sample it had given a completely different profile than the first. After sequencing dozens of venom samples there appeared to be eight unique viruses. Each moth produced only one.

  Infected persons and their offspring cannot be infected again. Usually a virus was obsessed with replicating no matter what. But these viruses seemed to respect each other’s territory. If an animal had already been infected with Strand A, then Strand B refused to activate, even from a direct moth bite. Maybe this mechanism had evolved to prevent the virus from proliferating too quickly? If the host population went extinct then the virus would too.

  The train took a fast turn, and Lien’s box of Pocky Sticks slid off her seat and onto the floor. She bent to pick it up, then looked out the window. She could see the high-rise profile of Kuala Lumpur in the distance.

  The viral DNA is passed down to all future offspring. In regular body cells, the virus had pumped out replications as quickly as possible. But when the virus entered reproductive cells it splintered into tiny fragments and entered the nucleus. Viruses that entered the DNA and were passed to children were rare, but not unheard of. But why did the virus splinter? Why not just insert itself as a single piece? Maybe the virus used dispersion to protect itself from extraction. />
  Children inherit viral strands from both parents. We suspect larvae cannot form unless all eight strands are present. This explained the multigenerational lapse. If the father was infected with Strand A and the mother was infected with Strand B, then the child would inherit both. Assuming all eight strands were necessary for larvae to appear, it would take at least four generations for the first death to occur. Random mating meant a lot of redundancy would occur, with both parents passing on the same strands. And yet the rats had shown that four or five generations was plenty.

  Currently, there is no way to test individuals for which strands they carry. Ironically, the rat samples Lien had brought with her had proved useless. Because the virus scattered into segments when it entered the DNA, it was difficult for genetic sequencing to determine with certainty whether a specific viral strand had entered your DNA or not. Lien was sure they would find unique markers eventually, but it would take time. It drove her crazy knowing she carried the virus, but not having any idea how many strands she had accumulated. Six? Eight? Was she already dead? And whenever she thought about Bao she felt sick. He would have the combination of both Tuan and herself, putting him at a significantly higher risk. She hoped they developed genetic tests soon.

  20 September 1889

  Nepal

  The first morning frosts have shifted the valley into harvest mode. I helped with the winnowing of the barley, a task usually reserved for women. The injury to my leg still prevents me from the heavier labors. It provided me a good opportunity to chat with several of the married women. Apparently Nyima has been spreading my tales of Austria to anyone that will listen. They seem incredulous that our women marry so young and bear so many children. One woman kept referring to my accounts as “story lies,” their term for a tall tale. This same woman warned Nyima not to fill her head with my strange customs. But Nyima told the woman that one day she hoped to travel to my valley and see for herself if what I said was true.

  26 April 2055

  Viet Nam

  Even so, the genes accumulate faster than models predict,” said Lien. “It’s like the universe wants them to come together.” She had only been home for twenty minutes and poor Tuan was trying to digest all the new information.