The Harvest

by K. Makansi

  “Violating—” she begins to protest.

  “Your cooperation,” I add quickly, “will help us put this unfortunate occasion behind you, and you can be back at work in your laboratory first thing in the morning.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Answer the question.” Eli’s hand tightens around the grip of the Bolt, and his voice loses all pretense of polite conversation. As if it had any before.

  Moriana swallows hard. Her hands play nervously with the clasp on her bag. She’s not convinced, but I can tell she sees no way out.

  “Perhaps it will allay your misgivings if I told you this conversation is being recorded for your personnel file,” I say. “Our superiors will review the recording, as well as our notes on this meeting, as soon as we complete this part of our investigation.” I’m not lying completely. Demeter is recording, and we’ll report to the Director as soon as we’re back.

  “All right,” she says. “Here’s what I know. Once ingested, the parasite attacks the brain, but it does no permanent damage.” She pauses.

  “Go on,” I command.

  “It’s a modified version of the Old World parasite Naegleria fowleri, an amoeboflagellate that inhabits both soil and water. The parasite in its natural form causes a range of neurological symptoms, from headaches and nausea to fevers, lack of attention, confusion, and eventually hallucinations and seizures. Ultimately, it leads to death. However, our modified version is incapable of killing a human patient by itself, going only so far as to render him or her comatose.” She continues for a few minutes in this vein. I can tell Eli is trying not to look as though he’s lapping up her every word. Finally she stops and looks up at us expectantly.

  “What else?”

  “That’s all I know! I swear I didn’t tell anyone. I never said a word.”

  “You’re not off the hook yet, Ms. Nair,” I say, glancing out the window to get my bearings. By my estimate we’re about five minutes from the rendezvous point.

  “We are well aware,” I continue, “that you know more than you’re letting on. It will go better for you, if you keep talking.”

  “So River 1 does no permanent damage. How can you be so sure of that?” Eli demands.

  “Because it’s not some dangerous disease. It’s a diversion!”

  A diversion? What the hell does that mean? I avoid Eli’s eyes, trying to appear unaffected.

  “Is that what you told your friends in the Resistance?” he says. “‘Don’t worry, the little bug won’t hurt you, it’s just a diversion’.”

  “My friends in the Resistance? Are you joking?” Moriana practically spits the word. “I have no friends in the Resistance. I didn’t tell anybody anything.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true,” I say quietly. There are people in the Resistance who love you.

  Eli leans toward her. “You say it isn’t dangerous, that it’s just a diversion. Then you know why Corine made her special broadcast yesterday. Did you tell your friends about the broadcast? Are you the source of the OAC leak?”

  “No! I swear by all that’s green and growing that I didn’t say a word!” A sheen of sweat has broken out on her smooth brow. I can smell her fear. “No one would understand anyway,” she says with growing desperation, “because no one knows why it was designed in the first place.”

  Designed. This whole disguise and kidnap scheme was a gamble, but we’re about to win big. Moriana’s going to spill everything.

  “But you know.” Eli’s voice is deep, dangerous. Menacing. He picks up the Bolt and flips it to KILL, then places it back on his lap, his finger tapping at the trigger. It’s a damn good thing it’s not fully charged. “You are one of the few scientists who knows exactly why River 1 was designed. And you know the OAC cannot afford to have employees who can’t keep their mouths shut.” Eli’s voice drops to a growl. “I’m losing patience, Ms. Nair. I’ll give you one more opportunity to tell us exactly what you know about this program or your employer is going to lose faith in you.”

  Eli and I exchange a glance.

  “I told you! I never … I swear—”

  Soren glances backward. “Almost there,” he says. I feel the hovercar slow, see the dappled light filtering through the branches of the hundreds of Gingko trees dotting the rolling landscape. I’ve always loved this park. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eli slip the syringe out of his pocket.

  “Almost where? What is going on?” Moriana’s voice rises, panicked as I lean toward her. “I need to speak to—” She presses her back into the seat, shrinking from me. “Corine will vouch for me. I swear it.”

  Dropping any pretense of disguise, I speak normally.

  “Moriana, please.” She leans in, staring at me.

  “Vale?” she asks, astonished.

  “Thousands of people are sick. The symptoms are spreading like wildfire. How can it not be dangerous? What do you mean it’s a diversion?”

  “I’m not telling you a thing. Let me out!” She starts to struggle, lashing out at me and scrambling for the door. Eli strikes, plunging the syringe into her thigh. Her eyes grow wide at the sting, and she stops fighting, turning to look at me, pure venom in her eyes.

  “You want to know the truth, Vale? It’s not about some stupid parasite! It’s never been about the disease. It’s about the cure.”

  “What about the cure?” I try to stay calm, but the look in her eyes has unnerved me.

  “The whole program is about delivering the individualized nanoparticles to make MealPak modifications permanent,” she says. “The parasite is simply a diversion.”

  Dread washes through me. “What are you saying?”

  She shakes her head at me as if I’m dense. “It’s about locking in the genetic programing. It’s about finally creating a world where everyone knows their place. No war. No conflict. No fucking resistance.”

  I stare across her at Eli, whose face mirrors the shock on my own. I thought I knew how far my mother would go for power. I thought I knew how much she would sacrifice. But this? How could I have known?

  “I don’t believe it.” The words come out as a whisper.

  “Why not? It’s what Corine’s been working on for years.” Her words are already starting to slur. “Permanent modifications. If it’s good enough for you, why not for everyone?”

  Eli looks at me, his eyes wide, questioning. I haven’t even told Remy what my parents did to me. How they changed who I am without asking, just assuming their idea of making permanent modifications to my DNA would be something I would welcome. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about how they kept me in a drug-induced coma to monitor and evaluate the changes. And now they want to do that to every citizen in the Sector?

  “What about free will?” I say, ignoring the look for now. “An individual’s right to self-determination?”

  “You’re creating a society of slaves.” Eli sounds like he’s about to choke on the words.

  “Slaves?” Moriana sneers. “What are you talking about? We’re not enslaving anyone. We’re improving everyone. And once people see how bad the disease is, everyone will want the cure. Everyone will want to be protected.”

  I lean forward and turn her face toward me, trying to keep her alert. “What are you saying?”

  “How could you do this, Vale? How could you do this to me?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Eli growls.

  “Eli,” Soren warns from the front seat. He doesn’t need to say anything else. Eli shakes his head in disgust and looks out the window as if he can’t even stand the sight of Moriana.

  She turns toward him. “Elijah Tawfiq?”

  I cup her chin so she’s forced to look at me. “What about the cure? What are you planning to do?”

  “It’s not … not finished yet. I was missing the key, the translation key. Brinn Alexander. Neural cell epigenetics. Her research.” Eli’s eyes narrow at the mention of Brinn’s name. “Each dose contains a—a virus that makes DNA modifications to stem cells—�
� Her words slide into each other. She licks her lips slowly, blinks to keep her eyes open. “—which propagate throughout the rest of the body. Stem cells can be programmed to do anything, within the confines of existing chemical and biological processes, as long as you give them the right code.”

  I shake my head. “How do you make modifications to the brain? Stem cells won’t propagate to neural cells.”

  Moriana looks at me like a professor wondering how such a stupid student ended up in her class. “We build new ones.” Her head slumps down onto her chest.

  “How?” Eli asks.

  “She’s out.” I lay her back against the seat.

  Soren stops the car and turns around. He looks from Eli to me. “What did she mean, ‘If it’s good enough for you—’?”

  I don’t let him finish. “We’ve got to move,” I say, trying to keep my mind on what needs to be done. There’s no time to explain everything now. “Demeter,” I command, “Transmit this recording to the Director.”

  Snake, who had been waiting with Zeke’s car, opens my door and, in the cool shade of a giant gingko, I step out. My boots sink into the grass, soft from last night’s rain, and the pebbly gingko seeds grind into the earth beneath my soles. I drag Moriana’s limp body from the car as Soren takes her feet, and we carry her to Zeke’s sleek vehicle. Eli plants his palm on the locking panel to deactivate the cloaking and open the doors. I deposit Moriana into the back and slide in next to her as Eli takes the nav pane and Soren sits beside him.

  “I need to hustle,” Snake says. “Gotta return the car I borrowed. You’re programmed to go out through side streets.” He points at the state-of-the-art navigation panel. “Don’t touch it until you’re past the last POD station unless something goes wrong.”

  Eli grunts, nodding.

  “We’ll get word to you,” I say. “You’re not going to believe—”

  Eli’s already initiated the powerful rotors, and I can feel the hoverblades thrumming beneath me as the tripod withdraws, and the car lifts smoothly off the ground. With a gentle tilt, we move forward, out of this little copse of wood, out of the park, out of the city.

  As we head back to Kanaan’s, my mind races, thoughts tumbling one after another like boulders down a hill as I sort through the implications of my mother’s pet project. Soren pivots in his seat, and I want to turn away, fearing he’s going to press the question about my modifications. But he doesn’t. He looks down at Moriana’s unconscious figure, drool hanging unceremoniously from her lips, her head resting on my thigh like she’s napping, and then meets my gaze. “Jeremiah,” Soren whispers. “He’ll be heartbroken.”

  18 - VALE

  Spring 91, Sector Annum 106, 22h37

  Gregorian Calendar: June 18

  Miah is waiting in the yard when we pull up. He yanks open the back door of the hovercar and peers in. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” I say, stepping aside to give him room as he reaches in and scoops her into his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. “She’ll be out for at least an hour. Probably more.”

  He stares at her for a long second before turning to me, uncertainty scrawled across his face. Soren joins us but Eli stalks off, motioning for Remy, who was standing by the doorway, to follow him. Best he tell her about the OAC using her mother’s research.

  “Was she …?” Miah starts. Soren and I look at each other. We both know what he’s trying to say, what he can’t bring himself to ask. Was she cooperative? Is she on our side?

  Soren puts a comforting arm on Miah’s shoulder.

  “Be there when she wakes up. Just the two of you. Then we’ll see what happens next.”

  Miah’s eyes cloud and he drops his gaze to Moriana’s face, unwilling to give up.

  “I’ll talk to her,” he says stubbornly. He turns to carry her indoors, and Soren and I follow, for once, connected in our misery.

  “How’d it go?” Saara walks toward us, passing Miah on his way into the house.

  “Not good.” Soren shakes his head. “You’re not going to believe—”

  “Fill me in when I get back,” she says, gesturing to Zeke’s hovercar. “I’m going in to check on a patient. We got word there’s a man refusing to be admitted, refusing to let any Sector doctors or medics touch him. I’m going in to see what we can find out, if there’s anything we can do.”

  “Wait, this is important,” I say, trying to stop her. “The parasite isn’t as important as we thought. It’s a harmless diversion. It won’t kill anybody.”

  “What do you mean? It’s killed people already.”

  “Not by itself, it hasn’t,” Soren responds. “Only when people get so paranoid they go off and get themselves killed.”

  “They’re using the parasite as an excuse to inoculate people with their ‘cure,’ which is the real danger.”

  “Permanent genetic modifications,” Soren finishes for me. “Locks in MealPak effects.”

  Saara gasps, puts a hand over her mouth. “What do we do now?” she asks.

  “No idea.”

  “Go,” I say. “Take care of your patient. But get back here as soon as you can.”

  Saara turns to leave, heading toward Zeke’s hovercar, and I follow Soren inside. At the table, Osprey is studying a plasma with what appears to be a 3D topographic map of the whole Sector displayed in hologram. There are thin white lines running between the Farms, the corporate factory towns, and the capital.

  “Transport lines?” Soren asks, sitting down next to her. She nods.

  “I’m mapping out the best possible routes for Bear and his marchers,” she says. “We don’t want everyone on the trains. We’ll need to mobilize all our airships and possibly find some waterways to use as well.”

  “Good thinking,” Soren says.

  “Where’s Remy and Eli?” I ask.

  Osprey points down the hall. “Eli looks like hell. What happened?”

  “Soren will fill you in,” I say. “Any word on our acorns? Have you been able to contact Chan-Yu?”

  Osprey brightens. “I got a leaf delivered. He’ll be here sometime tonight. I assume that means he has an idea.”

  I pat my chest where the two acorn pendants hang, a habit I’ve fallen into since I slipped Meera’s around my neck to wear alongside the one Chan-Yu gave me when he freed Remy and Soren. My allegiance lies outside the Sector, he said that night. At the time I had little idea what he meant. Now, I can only hope his knowledge of things outside the Sector will lead us to an understanding of Meera’s final message.

  Follow the acorns to the tree.

  “The Director radioed in,” Osprey adds. “She listened to the recording Demeter sent to her. Said to contact her when our guest wakes up.” She puts her hand on Soren’s arm and pulls him toward her. “So what happened?”

  That’s my signal to go find Remy and Eli.

  An hour later, Eli grumbles as he picks at a plate of bread and cheese. “Saara said the drugs would knock Moriana out for an hour tops. How much longer is she gonna sleep?”

  “I’ll go check—” Soren says, starting to push up from his chair.

  “Don’t bother,” Miah says, rounding the corner, cutting Soren off, his words seeming to scrape against the back of his throat. “She’s still out cold.”

  Miah sinks into a chair, letting his head fall back. Staring at the ceiling, he draws in a long breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

  There’s no easy way, so I plow ahead. Eli doesn’t say a word while Soren adds a few details here and there. Finally, Miah gets up and pours himself a glass of water, then sits back down.

  “So this disease is a fiction.” His face is haggard as he stares into his glass. “The parasite they’re using is just setting the stage, an invention to scare people into running back to the OAC with their tails between their legs, desperate for a cure.”

  “A cure customized for each individual, programmed just like their MealPaks to dehumanize them. But the cure won’t wea
r off. It doesn’t have to be ingested every day to remain effective. It turns everyone into robots.” Eli’s voice is as hard as an iron fist. “We’ll be locked in like automatons while the OAC has the power to decide who has a modicum of self-determination and who gets to live like livestock, shuffled here and there at the whim of their keepers.”

  A hush settles around the table. No one looks up, and the room, growing dim in the early evening shadows, feels more funerary than last week’s vigil.

  “So what do we do?” Miah looks like he’s aged ten years since yesterday.

  “Look,” I interject, trying to add some fuel to a fire that seems to be burning down to embers, “this is not over. Right before she went under, Moriana said it’s not ready yet. It sounds like they’re working on one last piece. Until she gets that in place, we still have time. I think your success in infiltrating their supply lines, in getting people to defect to our cause, and in causing trouble on the Farms has forced her hand. She’s moving before she’s ready. That gives us an opening. It gives us time.”

  “Time for what?” Soren snaps. “How are we going to convince anyone it’s not the Resistance who disseminated this damn bug? The OAC planted it perfectly. And anyone who listened to her broadcast—which is everyone in the Sector—will believe it was let loose on the population as an act of bioterrorism—”

  “Which it was,” Remy interrupts.

  “—perpetrated by us!” Soren stands as if he’s had a sudden brainstorm, only to start pacing around the room, kicking furniture as he goes. “The brilliant thing is, one of the symptoms is paranoia. So not only is Corine telling everyone the Resistance took an Old World parasite and modified it, those who get infected will also start thinking we’re after them. So they run right to Corine for the cure!”

  “You heard what Bear said.” Osprey grabs Soren’s hand as he passes her chair. “It isn’t turning everyone away from the cause.”