by M. C. Miller
“Killing six billion people is not a compromise!”
“The 3rd Protocol is pure Mass – unrestrained by The Group.”
“Admit it – 3rd Protocol is no surprise to you.”
“The Group always knew the worst-case scenario was possible. But Mass was so worried he wouldn’t live long enough to finish his work, The Group thought his pursuit of life extension had kept him fully occupied. It was always wishful thinking on their part. As years went by, it became easier to believe.”
“So what are the Protocols?”
“I told you. Phased Population Reduction. They’re targeted changes to the human genome to stop the world’s population from doubling every fifty years. That trend is clearly unsustainable.”
“What kind of targeted changes?”
Knockout Mouse clutched the washrag one last time then tossed it in the sink. “Gradual. Explainable. Acceptable without panic. Natural looking if possible.”
“Such as?”
“It took a lot of think-tank study before anyone felt comfortable giving the green light to anything. Mass hated the endless analysis. In the end, The Group agreed the safest way was to target young and old first. People in the prime of life had the clout and awareness to resist – even when it was for their own good.”
“Young and old. I don’t understand.”
“Attack the problem from both ends. Delay fertility in the young and put a cap on lifespan for the old. 1st Protocol would delay fertility until age 25. The 2nd Protocol would cap lifespan at 70.”
“Unbelievable! How could they take it on themselves to do such a thing! Who do they think they are?”
“The voice of reason. The answer to the Tragedy of the Commons. The wise ones who have chartered a course between animal ethics and Armageddon.”
“They think it’s reasonable to limit a human life to 70 years?”
Knockout Mouse shrugged. “It was that or go with Mass and do it his way.”
“There are other choices!”
“Oh, really? What? Mess with people’s cherished reproductive rights? Hand out condoms to the Third World? Teach abstinence to poor people in countries with high infant mortality rates, people who reproduce like rabbits because they’re worried there won’t be anyone to take care of them in their old age? Mass got fed up with half measures.”
“What about The Group?”
“In their plan, the 2nd Protocol would be reversible – once the world’s population reduced to its optimum level.”
“And who gets to set that?”
“The Group believes reason and logic should determine it. There have been many studies of MVP, the Minimum Viable Population size. A lot has to be considered. What is critical mass to ensure the common welfare and exclude inequality? What level preserves cultural and bio-diversity? What standard of living should be expected? At what average per-capital energy use would human society and the natural planet both be able to thrive?”
“It’s as simple as that, huh? Crunch the numbers, come up with a formula, dispense the logical remedy. No qualms. No debate.”
“When your jet is going down, don’t quibble over the shape of your parachute.”
“So what MVP did they come up with?”
“The Group never agreed on a number. For Mass, it was five hundred million.”
Under her blanket, Janis shivered. “Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature…the first principle on the Georgia Guidestones.”
“Whatever. Like minds come to similar conclusions. University professors have published articles saying the same thing.”
A wave of deep feeling swept through Janis. It was a grief-like sinkhole of pain for all that could happen. She had to retreat to the main room and sit on the couch.
“Just the thought that someone could plan all of this…”
Knockout Mouse followed her. “Oh, they did more than plan it.”
A dagger of disbelief pinned Janis in place. “They went through with it?”
A nod from Knockout Mouse. “1st Protocol’s complete.”
Janis’ mind raced into denial. “But there’s no sign of it.”
“Funny you should say that. Shadow research funded by The Group is about to be released from independent sources in Japan and Germany. Didn’t you know that animal studies have confirmed that a cocktail of chemicals in the environment are responsible for the drop in teenage pregnancies around the world?”
“What do you mean, shadow research?”
“The Group knew 15 years ago this day would come. When it did, society would need plausible science to explain and temper the blow. They planned these studies as untraceable yet ready to be released at the proper time. That time is now.”
“Why now?”
“Because 27% of the world’s population is below the age of 15. All of them have parents who were exposed to the 1st Protocol. None of those children will be fertile until the age of 25.”
Janis bolted from the couch. The blanket dropped from her shoulders. She lunged at him. “You mean that’s it! The bastards actually did this?”
Taken back by the power of Janis’ approach, Knockout Mouse could only nod.
“All the children…my Alyssa!” The certainty hit her. He was serious.
Knockout Mouse was stone-cold. “Fait accompli.”
In a fit of shock and rage and a mother’s terror, Janis slapped him across the face. “How dare you! How could you!” She slapped him again and sobbed openly. “This can’t be happening! No! Who in the hell do you people think you are!”
Knockout Mouse stood by, restrained but jittery. Janis paced like a caged animal. She shook her head over and over and searched for answers at her feet. “All of humanity! The future of everything!”
He rubbed away the sting from the side of his face. “It was released fourteen years ago. In all that time, there have been no bad side effects.”
“The whole fucking thing is a bad side effect! It’s nothing but stupidity and somebody’s outrageous arrogance! They probably don’t believe in God but they damned well want to be one, don’t they!” Janis could no longer stand. She sat on the edge of the couch with her knees together, hugging herself. “How does it work?”
“The key change is made in the parents, by viral infection. The process completes before the children are born. Fetal germ cells are modified. From then on, the trait is inherited.”
The final blow hit Janis. She looked up at him with a fatalistic stare. “It’s passed on…to all generations?”
Knockout Mouse was mute and motionless. He could see Janis was on the edge of losing it again. He waited in silence while the full weight of her awareness settled around her. This time he could see a profound sadness overtake her.
“You did it to the children!”
“The children grow up knowing no other way. The parents will live their lives and eventually die off. Affecting the parents would have increased the possibility of public resistance. This way, the Protocols will be in place before anyone realizes what’s happened. It’s the Boiling Frog Syndrome. In The Group’s position papers, it’s referred to as an application of the doctrine of the inevitability of gradualism.”
“The 2nd Protocol. Have they done that too?”
“They’re about to. That’s why I’m here. That’s why you’re so important.”
“Me?” Janis was a limp rag, ready to be grasped.
As Knockout Mouse sat down next to her on the couch, his attitude shifted. A pure and determined sincerity blunted the sarcastic edge. “I was just a kid in college when my father got me a job doing research for this new think tank. Back then I thought we were the vanguard of real change. I remember the first Earth Day and the national contest to come up with a recycling symbol. Everyone now knows what that green triple arrow means. It’s universal. It’s ironic because triple green has always been the go-code for anything done by The Group.”
“So what’s changed?”
“That’s just
it – not much. I thought progress was that simple. The Group did too. A lot has happened, not much of it good. Everyone’s become someone else. Over twenty years my faith in the process drained away. I see it clearly now – The Group is no better than Mass. They’ve stolen GenLET. They’re ready to implement the 2nd Protocol for everyone else, capping the lifespan, while they live 300 years and lead the New Class Order. The only difference between Mass and them is Mass doesn’t hide behind altruistic rhetoric and euphemisms. They are diplomats with a velvet glove and secret timetable. Mass is an insect that knows to abandon the hive when it means survival.”
“Why don’t you leave them?”
“Why don’t people leave bad marriages? Commitment and fear. I know nothing else and I’m afraid of what might happen if I ran off the ranch.”
“They’d kill you if you quit your job?”
“Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a Group decision. One or two of the more paranoid ones would meet in a corner; they’d want to be sure. Leave no loose ends. Who knows. It’s more likely than not. I definitely know too much about them and what they’ve done.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Whatever happens, I have a sense it’s all coming to an end. Whether that applies personally or globally, I don’t know. Face it, humanity is the Incredible Wobbly Tower. We all suspect it’s about to fall. It’s too far gone to stop it, but there are still things we can do to soften the blow.”
“How?”
“I can get you the base to the 2nd Protocol – before they release it. You may be able to devise a way to inoculate humanity against it and any future phases.”
“What future phases? I thought you didn’t know about the 3rd Protocol.”
“That’s right, but The Group left the door open. They have other ideas. Nothing as formalized as the 2nd Protocol – the one you must stop.”
“That’s crazy! You’re asking me to genetically engineer something and release it on the world. If I did that, I’d be no better than them.”
“A bullet has no morality, only the person using it. You’d be stopping them.”
“It’s out of the question. Why not just expose The Group and their plan?”
“Be real. They’re too well insulated. They maneuver within layers of disinformation. They buy influence and create cover stories that become the history books used in schools. I could never pin them down. I’d be shuffled out the side door with the media clowns and conspiracy bloggers.”
Facts and opinions cascaded across Janis’ mind. She had to stand and walk away from him. Knockout Mouse leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the couch.
“If Mass is using the same base, maybe you can stop them both.”
“Are the 1st and 2nd Protocols based on GenLET?”
“No.”
Janis paced. “Then he isn’t using the same thing.”
Knockout Mouse raised up. “He based 3rd Protocol on life extension? How does he collapse the population with life extension? That doesn’t make sense.”
“As best as I can tell from what Riya discovered, he’s harnessed apoptosis – programmed cell death. By using metagenomic techniques, the 3rd Protocol convinces the body’s immune system that all body cells have severe DNA damage. The body naturally views DNA-damaged cells as prone to becoming cancerous. In effect, the body sees its own DNA as a cancer and triggers apoptosis in all cells. In a convoluted way, he’s used GenLET to craft a cancer of DNA.”
“Insidious little fucker, isn’t he.”
Taken with a new angle, Janis turned back to face him. “What about the government – is the government involved in this? Are they partners in any way?”
“Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“Good and bad come in all shades. Some people have been planted in key places, many others co-opted, many more bought off with grants, tenure, or a civil service paycheck. Most don’t know the master they serve.”
“If you have to dance around the answer, you must be lying.”
“There is no yes-or-no answer to some questions. As far as the government is concerned, Mass and The Group feel the same way. Governments are too dimwitted, lethargic, corrupt, and self-serving for something like this. Elected officials are the intellectually and morally bankrupt reflections of the populaces they serve.”
As long as Knockout Mouse was being so talkative, Janis went to the next question on her list. “Did you steal a GAMA from a Navy lab years ago and give it to the Friends of the Ocean?”
His eyes widened at the non sequitur. “Ah, that’s close to the truth. I had someone else steal it for me and I sold it – I didn’t give it to LALO. The whole thing was a stunt to provide cover for the 1st Protocol. LALO didn’t know they were being used. They enjoyed the publicity. Meanwhile, the suicide gene from the GAMA was put into the 1st Protocol Base.”
“And you got blackmailed.”
“It was a sensitive time between me and The Group. I couldn’t afford a screw-up, especially one with exposure that came so close to them. As time passed, the blackmail perpetuated itself. The things I had to divulge to keep the original secret only forced the deception deeper.”
“You must really want to bring them down. Why else would you tell me all of this? You couldn’t be setting me up for something, could you?”
“Only wingbats and moon-nuts would be so foolish.” He checked his watch. “Hey, I’ve got to go. I’m not used to being out from behind the wall this long.” He put on his coat and shoes.
“Just like that you’re out of here?”
“You know how to reach me. Think about what I said.” He opened the door to leave. “You are important. You could be the lynchpin that blows this whole fucking thing wide open. You know what’s going on, you know GenLET, and I can get you the 2nd Protocol. Imagine it – there’s no one else in the world like you…” He smiled a wicked smile. “…and there’s seven billion fuckers out there – and counting!”
He shut the door and scurried off down to the shore. Janis stood at the window and watched him hurry along the water’s edge until out of sight.
She turned and faced the empty boathouse. The smell of overheated coffee filled the air. Then it hit her – they hadn’t poured a single cup. She switched the brewer off but couldn’t bring herself to dump it out.
On pins and needles, she rambled back and forth. Her ears rang as if she had heard a loud noise before abrupt silence. It was all too much to know what to do. Without another plan, she went through the motions. She retrieved the laptop from the pocket door wall, gathered up her research, then headed back to the main house. There wasn’t time to tell Sara what had happened, who she had met, if indeed he was who he said he was.
Janis left the tin of Calissons d'Aix almond candy with a note to her mother on her bed. The note was more of an apology than an explanation. She hoped her mother would take it as it was intended – an act of love.
Sara would find it later – when Janis was in the air, on her way to Marseille.
Chapter 17
Hotel Azalai Independence, Ouagadougou
Burkina Faso, Africa
The beat-up Peugeot 505 skidded to a stop at the hotel entrance. Curtis Labon climbed out of the bush-taxi’s front seat and squinted into a dry wind. A fog-like haze moved through the city. The gritty Harmattan had been blowing steadily out of the north for two days, a rare occurrence at this time of year. Flights were grounded. His one-day visit to attend a World Health Organization symposium had become an unexpected detour into a sub-Saharan alternate universe for the marooned.
Only two things were good about being stranded.
Temperatures had dropped and he had met Djamila Baye.
The taxi roared off, leaving Curtis holding onto hope tempered by a growing sense of being unsettled. If it wasn’t for his chance meeting with Djamila and their unlikely conversation, he wouldn’t have learned what he did. If he hadn’t been able to speak fluent French, their connection would
have been impossible. So many things had aligned. Most importantly, if he hadn’t convinced her there was a legitimate reason to keep their liaison secret, he wouldn’t have taken the chance at whatever she might bring him today.
Djamila was a local health worker. She was also a part-time researcher, employed by a multilateral development bank. Her job with the MDB was just as much a demonstration of the bank’s commitment to the Maputo Protocol, the African charter on women’s rights, as it was of interest to their Analytic and Advisory Services Division. Unlike most Burkinabè, Djamila possessed a key qualification. She was literate. No doubt her unique contribution was highlighted on their website.
Curtis hurried inside the hotel lobby and dodged the reservation desk. A pathway off to one side led to doors that opened onto the pool area. He paused there, sickened yet invigorated with the clandestine way he had to proceed. He was taking a big chance. If only the instinct to follow through wasn’t so strong.
A gust of wind rippled the surface of the water at the deep end. The movement reinforced a feeling. He should have been long gone from here. After one more conference in another country, he would have been heading home by now.
Ever since the dust storm arrived and departure time came and went, it felt like he was living a parallel reality. Another possible pathway into the future had been struck for the world. Priorities had shifted. There was no going back.
For all mortals, time moved in one direction only. Where it was going was anyone’s guess, but everyone’s destiny. For Curtis, the question remained; how much of that destiny was preordained? How much of it was blind chance? Where was the human element in between? JFK had said, “Our problems are man-made, therefore they can be solved by man. No problem of human destiny is beyond human beings.” Curtis had once championed that quote. Now he was not so sure. Now it seemed there might be some messes that none of us were ever going to clean up.
The pool area was deserted, the lounge chairs abandoned. It was an odd place to meet, given the weather, but it had been the best place he could think of on the spur of the moment. Djamila wanted to meet at some place close to the Ministry of the Economy. He wanted to be sure she wasn’t followed but he was no secret agent. In a crude way, a circuitous route passing through hotel property and then to a nearby restaurant made sense at the time. Now it was lame and needlessly devious.
