by Kevin George
“This is a mistake,” Samuel said, his throat tightening. “Without another injection, the villagers will be doomed to—”
“Regress, yes, we know,” Martin said with a roll of the eyes. “We listened to your argument, the same one—might I add—that you made after the effects of the second and third and fourth injections didn’t last as long as the first. A small majority of The Board. . .”—his eyes turned accusingly to a few of the men and women sitting around the table—“. . . were suckered into consenting for more injections, but we’ve all smartened up this time. Let’s face it, the villagers are becoming increasingly immune to the Blast. It won’t be long until they figure it out and rebel against the guards sent out with the injections.”
“And you’re qualified to make such scientific assessments?” Samuel asked.
Martin grinned, tipping his head slightly to one side, before turning to Dr. Weller at the far end of the table.
“Doctor, will the effects of the Hybrid Blast improve with more doses?” Martin asked.
“They might,” Weller said, but frowned and shook his head. “But it’s unlikely. The first round of injections lost its potency after a year. The second injection last less than that, and the third and fourth injections only lasted a few months apiece. A fifth injection probably wouldn’t last that long.”
“Then your expert opinion for continued injections would be. . .?”
Weller turned his head, the only way to stop from looking at Samuel. “Not worth it,” he said quietly.
“There we have it, the final decision has been made,” Martin said with a wide grin, standing in triumph. “Let the record show The Board tried to save ISU-Ville and our generosity with the Blast gave them a few more years of life. But all we can do now is allow nature to take its course, whatever that course might be.”
“Whatever that course might be is surely a death sentence,” Samuel snapped, turning to the empty corner where his son had once observed these meetings.
“I speak for the rest of The Board when I say we don’t take pleasure in the suffering of former One Corp. employees,” Betty Van Horn said with fake empathy. “But I’m afraid the Blast isn’t working and we’ve already decided against giving them the stronger version. There’s nothing else we can do.”
Members of The Board shared frowns and nods. Without waiting for an official adjournment of the meeting, Martin stood and started toward the door. The others followed suit and Samuel watched helplessly as all hopes for ISU-Ville—and all hopes to regain his son’s trust—slowly walked away. He glanced toward Nigel, glad the doctor wasn’t looking his way. He had no doubt Nigel would’ve read his mind and stopped him from saying the next words that came out of his mouth.
“What about the Aviary Blast?” Samuel called out before the first Board members left. “If the villagers are doomed anyway, we can test the Aviary on them.”
Betty Van Horn hurried back to her seat and the others did the same. Martin returned last, his eyes narrowing on Samuel despite the half-grin crossing his lips. In Samuel’s peripheral vision, he could sense Weller looking at him, subtly shaking his head. Samuel had protected the Aviary project for years—and every part of his mind told him this was a bad idea—but he couldn’t face Horace again without doing everything possible to help the villagers.
It’s what my father would’ve done. . .
“We were told the Aviary Blast wasn’t advancing as expected,” Betty said. “Isn’t that true?”
“Unfortunately,” Weller said. “My test subjects haven’t quite turned out the way I’d hoped.”
Samuel finally looked at the doctor, their eyes locking. With security constantly watching them both, Samuel hadn’t had many opportunities to speak with Weller during the last year. Samuel hadn’t dared send another email and had gone so far as to delete his account to avoid being hacked. Moretti even accompanied Samuel to the lab for any blood donations, though months had passed since the last time he’d done that. Samuel still couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or a bad one.
“I’ve found much greater success for the updated Hybrid Blast. I refer to it as 2.0,” Dr. Weller continued. “I’ve strengthened it by adding more animal DNA into the sequence. This will add fat layers beneath the skin, increase hair growth and create more strength, all of which will help create the most weather-resistant humans to ever walk the Earth.”
“You’ve tested this new version?” Martin asked.
Weller shook his head. “Of course not. I’d never bypass Board approval, which I now humbly request.”
“And you’re certain it will work?” Betty Van Horn asked.
“As certain as I was that the Blast would work on the villagers,” Weller said. “But the changes I’ve made should also ensure—at least in theory—that a single injection of 2.0 is all a human will need to survive in this world.”
“Have you produced any of this 2.0 yet?” Martin asked. Weller nodded. “We’d sure like to see it.”
Weller looked from one Board member to the next, eventually ending on Samuel.
“Subjects and testing are usually performed in my lab,” the doctor said, surprised by the unexpected request. “And neither has begun yet, not for 2.0, not without first receiving permission from—”
“No, we mean an actual dosage of it,” Martin said. “An actual dosage of what could create the world’s most impressive human.”
“Like. . . now?” Dr. Weller asked.
Martin nodded and looked to the others, all of whom nodded in turn. His brow furrowed in confusion, Dr. Weller swept out of the room, not before insisting he would be back shortly. When he opened the door to leave, Moretti stuck his head into the room and made eye contact with Martin, who waved a finger for him to follow Weller. Moretti turned and hurried away as the door closed.
Betty was the first to speak excitedly about the Hybrid 2.0 and the room buzzed in anticipation. Nobody said a word to Samuel or glanced in his direction. His foot tapped over and over, anger swelling in him as he watched these giddy morons wait eagerly for Weller’s return. Nobody seemed to care that they’d just voted to doom an entire village of people—their people—that were relying on them for survival. Samuel wanted to yell or stomp out or punch Martin in the face, but he did none of those things, his own curiosity winning out. He’d had no idea Weller completed adjustments to the Hybrid 2.0 and wondered if the doctor had been lying to The Board. . .
“There must be something we can do for the villagers,” he said once the conversations fell into a lull. “Even if it’s just some of them.”
“Oh,” Martin said. “Didn’t realize you were still here. Unpleasant business with the village, but I see no need to rehash decisions that have already been made.”
Samuel looked to the others, hoping to find a single look of sympathy within the group. He was surprised to find that only Betty Van Horn’s eyes were creased at the edges, though she quickly looked away from him.
“Please, all of you knew my father. You know he would’ve found some way to grant mercy to those poor people,” Samuel said. “We could open up The Mountain, even if we set up cots for them in the hangar bay, anything to save them from the prison of their ISUs.”
“Prison?” Martin asked. “Nothing is keeping the villagers where they are. They’re free to leave at any moment, they always have been.”
“And go where?” Samuel asked with a tilt of the head.
“Anywhere they want,” Martin said. “They wouldn’t be the first to leave our lands and head toward Billings. . . though I suppose they’d be the first to try that of their own accord.”
Samuel’s cheeks burned with shame. He still had nightmares about the people he’d sent away, regardless of that decision ultimately saving valuable resources for personnel deemed more loyal to Samuel.
“For all we know—for all the villagers know—Billings may no longer exist,” Samuel said. “Nothing may exist any longer, so you can’t very well expect them to leave and die out in the s
nowy nothingness.”
“They could head for the Dome,” Martin said with a shrug. “Or the City Below.”
“The Dome was a hypothetical project. I know the groundwork was laid for a bigger, better outdoor society, but we stopped receiving updates about its construction long ago,” Samuel said. “The same can be said for the City Below. For all we know, that place could’ve collapsed and all of the laborers could be dead.”
“Or they could be thriving,” Martin said.
“Thriving in a glorified supply bunker? Surviving possibly, thriving. . . highly doubtful. They never finished the energy project that was supposed to power The Mountain. Even my father—the eternal optimist when it came to his visions—gave up on the bunker’s potential after scientists told him that diverting the volcano’s lava for steam energy would make the entire structure and its tunnels susceptible to collapse. The City Below was the last—and only—hope for so many construction workers, so we let them keep digging to create any possible shelter. But for all we know, the entire place is already flooded with lava.”
“It’s not our fault One Corp.’s other plans weren’t as well-executed as The Mountain,” Martin said. “But we’ve known this all along—you’ve known this all along—yet your attitude has only changed in recent years. Ever since your son returned, your loyalty to The Mountain and its people seems to have changed, and not for the better.”
The rest of The Board nodded in unison, most of them glaring at Samuel the same way, most of them with their arms crossed the same way.
“I found a very interesting addendum in One Corp.’s bylaws about removing a member from The Board if his or her actions are deemed to be contradictory to the well-being and continuation of the company,” Martin continued.
“We’re not talking about the company anymore,” Samuel said. “We’re talking about the survival of humankind.”
“And I speak for the rest of The Board when I say the company and the survival of humankind are one in the same,” Martin said. “We’ll be forever grateful for the guidance from the Jonas family—both presently and from the past—in getting us to where we are today, but the bylaws apply to your family as well. If we don’t see a refocusing of your dedication and loyalty to us, I may have to call for a vote of impeachment.”
Samuel’s face burned, his jaw clenching so tightly that his face ached. He couldn’t imagine this ever happening to his father, so he couldn’t imagine how his father might react. Not that they’ll ever look at me the same way they looked at him. . .
Before Samuel could defend himself, the door opened and Weller hurried in, a syringe filled with bright green liquid in hand. The Board’s focus shifted from anger to awe at what Weller had in his possession. Even Samuel’s rage eased at the sight of the Blast 2.0. He wished he’d had an opportunity to talk to Weller about it.
“How confident do you feel about its viability?” Martin asked, his eyes widening.
Weller looked at the syringe and smiled. Betty Van Horn shifted her chair until it bumped into the Board member sitting next to her. She waved for the doctor to come closer to the table.
“I have no doubt it’ll work, that whoever injects it will survive and become much stronger than any villager injected with four rounds of the earlier Blast,” Weller explained. “I suppose you could say the first person injected with Blast 2.0 will end up being the strongest human ever.”
Jason Nickal, a portly, watery-eyed young man, raised his hand. The youngest member of The Board, he’d taken the place of his father, who’d died several years earlier. He’d also taken over his father’s job of agreeing with whatever the rest of The Board decided. He sat next to Betty Van Horn in every meeting and always took his voting cues from her (not that those cues were ever different from the rest of The Board).
All eyes turned Jason’s way. When he received a tableful of nods, he stood and held out a hand to Dr. Weller. Weller’s eyebrows lowered in confusion but Samuel shook his head right away, knowing exactly what Jason—and the rest of The Board—had in mind. Jason reached for the syringe but Weller pulled it back, looking first to Samuel and then to Martin.
“All in favor of Jason Nickal receiving the first injection?” Martin asked before raising his hand. “Aye.”
“Aye,” the next Board member said.
“I’m not so sure one of you should be the first to receive it,” Weller said. “Maybe it would be better to test it on one of the resource-drainers we put in the cells at the top of the—”
“Aye,” voted another member.
Not a single Board member hesitated to vote ‘aye’ until it was Samuel’s turn to make his choice.
“This is a terrible idea,” Samuel said. “I don’t care what Nigel says about how well 2.0 will work, it’s too risky, especially in this setting. Testing should be conducted in the—”
“Let the record state,” Martin interrupted, “that Samuel Jonas is the lone dissenting voter on this decision. . . a growing trend from him. With that said, the ayes have it and the motion to inject Mr. Nickal with the Hybrid Blast 2.0 has passed. Dr. Weller, please hand him the syringe.”
Weller looked to Samuel again, who continued to shake his head. Weller eventually did as he was told. Samuel stood and started toward Jason when Martin led several Board members into forming a wall to stop him.
“Get out of my way,” Samuel growled at them.
“Should I call Moretti in to ensure The Board’s decision is followed? For that matter, do we need to have another vote on the matter of your loyalty?” Martin asked.
Martin’s lips curled into a smile, daring Samuel to attack. Life as Samuel knew it would certainly be over if he laid his hands on Martin, but he still considered that a risk worth taking if he could knock the smug grin off of his face. The only thing stopping him was the thought of Horace, the worry that any punishment from The Board would be applied to his son as well. Samuel had no idea to whom Weller would be loyal, and he couldn’t take the chance of Horace being chosen as another of the good doctor’s freakish test subjects.
Samuel eyed Jason Nickal, who stared down at the syringe in his hand, the glint of the bright green liquid sparkling in his eyes. Samuel couldn’t tell if he looked awed or frightened or a bit of both. Either way, he uncapped the syringe and pressed the tip to his arm, hesitating to push it through the skin.
“You don’t have to do this, Jason, your father never would’ve wanted this,” Samuel said. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. Your body might not be ready to accept such an injection. We should test it on the villagers first. They need something stronger to survive and they’ve already built up a Blast tolerance so their bodies are readier to accept the 2.0 than—”
“Enough!” snapped Martin. “The Board has already discussed this possibility—”
“I wasn’t part of those discussions,” Samuel interrupted.
“—and we came to a consensus that a Board member should be injected first,” Martin continued.
“How could you have already talked about the Blast 2.0 if Dr. Weller just told you about—”
Samuel stopped midsentence and turned to Weller, his face blooming crimson. Samuel suddenly realized his intuition had been right on the mark about the good doctor. It didn’t help that Martin read the surprise on Samuel’s face perfectly and made no attempt to hide his pleasure.
“Personally, I’d hoped it would be me to try the 2.0,” Martin said. “But we all agreed that Jason’s father did more for The Board and One Corp. than anyone else, so this was the best way to honor his legacy. Jason is also the youngest and strongest of the bunch, and it’s not like there won’t be enough 2.0 for us all. An entire batch has been made, correct?”
Martin looked to Weller, who nodded a single time. When Samuel spoke next, his words seethed between clenched teeth and were meant for Weller as much as Martin and the others.
“I don’t ever remember discussing the production of—”
Martin sighed and broke away fr
om the others, approaching Jason Nickal and pushing the needle into his arm. The young Board member yiped in surprise but pressed the plunger to push the Hybrid Blast 2.0 into his bloodstream.
For a few seconds, the Board room fell into silence. Everyone stared at Jason, who in turn stared at his arm before looking up and shrugging. Samuel’s heart pounded, but with every second that passed, he felt a stronger urge to smile and point out that The Board had failed in its effort to become superhuman. Samuel finally looked toward Weller, whose brow remained furrowed as he stared at his test patient.
Is Nigel just acting? Did he give The Board a dosage of 2.0 or just a placebo to fool them? Samuel thought, wondering if he’d been wrong to ever doubt—
A sharp spasm shot through Jason’s body and a groan escaped his lips. The rest of The Board retreated several steps when Jason collapsed to the floor. He began to convulse, his arms and legs twisting violently. A ripping sound joined Jason’s cries of agony, but it was only his clothes tearing from his body.
“Don’t just stand there!” Betty screamed, fear causing her voice to rise several octaves. “Help him!”
Samuel nearly said he didn’t know what to do when he realized Betty was speaking to Dr. Weller. Weller hesitated a moment before inching closer to Jason, making no move to touch him or do anything to help. Instead, he stared at the young man in rapt fascination, disgust and fear turning into curiosity. Martin and a few other faint-hearted Board members stayed back, but Samuel pushed his way past them, standing beside Betty Van Horn, who clamped a hand over her mouth as she watched Jason.
“There’s nothing I can do,” Weller said. “This is part of the transformation. . . if he survives. . .”
“But you said—”
“I know what I said!” Weller snapped. “But there’s always inherent risk.”
Jason suddenly screamed, high-pitched and pained at first, growing into a deep roaring that sounded unlike any noise a human could make. The ripping sound continued and Jason sprouted tufts of white hair as his body expanded, his arms and legs and torso growing thicker and more muscular with every second. His nose broadened and his lips grew tighter, his mouth opening in another growl, showing his teeth becoming longer and sharper.
