by Purple Hazel
“I’m fine. Seriously this time,” he claimed. “And I’m not just sayin’ it, neither. A little weak, sure, but I think I’m gonna be okay. You go ahead and put the movie back on.” When he said this, Shamiso grinned happily and quickly grabbed the controller. “Thanks, love!” she said, as she hit the on button. “Bollocks!” she then exclaimed. The broadcast had gone to commercial. “Oh well, it’s all advertisements now. We’ll have to wait a few minutes I’m afraid.”
But what they saw next was even more intriguing! Lively music began as a video faded in, showing a man riding a horse along a beach from a great distance. Then the camera quickly zoomed in on him to show the man galloping through the sand riding bareback, surf splashing around the horse’s hooves. When the camera got closer, the motion slowed to allow the viewer to get a good look at him. He was shirtless, slender, sinewy, with bushy hair, wearing slacks—and barefoot. He was also Asian.
An announcer’s voice then came on. It was yet another ad for Enimen. Ozzie had never seen them before. Shamiso hadn’t either, even though they’d been running for months in Britain. Neither ever had time to watch Ultravision, so neither had any idea these absurd ads had been airing regularly.
“Woh! Darlin’, I’m still a little blurry ’n all, but...ain’t that Young-Min Jo?” Shamiso said, “Hmmmph. Bugger...sure looks like ’im.” The announcer had just stated it was “Kwang-Min Jo, CEO of Min-Pharma Corporation” and that he was not only head of the corporation—but also a proud user of its exciting new product:
“Enimen…the first pill made for people who truly want to get their youth back,” the pitchman proclaimed in a North American accent. “No matter what you’ve tried before...Enimen works. You’ll be amazed with the results!”
The “commercial” then showed an older photo of Kwang-Min Jo, side-by-side with that of a younger, fitter looking version of himself. They almost had to laugh! Anyone who knew Kwang-Min had a twin brother would have known better and seen through this little ruse. On screen was then shown a supposed time-lapse film of the man transforming, with the time period shown advancing on the top of the screen. It was like a video of a man aging backward over a twenty-year period, until the two photos matched. Yet the time given for this process? Nineteen weeks!
“Bollocks! They’re talkin’ codswallop!” exclaimed Shamiso. “You’re right Ozzie, that’s Young-Min Jo posing as his brother durin’ that video. They just switched ’em out during the shot, don’t you see?”
Ozzie was way ahead of her. “I know it, Meeso. That’s real fucked up let me tell ya’,” he observed, “Just what in the hell does he think he’s doin’?”
The irony however was not lost on his lover. Shamiso began to think privately, “Well, same as us I guess, when you get right down to it.” However, she didn’t speak those words. Somehow, this fraud their old friend was perpetrating on consumers seemed so much more dastardly than posing as a rock star...or as a famous Megaballer. It just felt sleazier in a way.
The music then rose once more while the scenes skipped around showing the man—supposedly Kwang-Min Jo—fencing in a competition, ballroom dancing with a beautiful redhead, and arm-wrestling a big muscly fellow in what looked like a London pub. The announcer made a few more comments and medical disclaimers, then the ad came to its conclusion.
“Try once daily Enimen,” said the announcer in closing. The camera view then switched to a close-up of a clearly slimmed-down and healthy ‘Kwang-Min Jo’ smiling confidently for the camera. “Get out there. Get your life back!” he exclaimed, as if exhorting people to pursue an active lifestyle. And as the view expanded and seemed to pull back from him, Shamiso and Ozzie could now see two rather attractive women, both clearly under thirty, both Jamaican or African, bracketing him like ebony bookends. Each were wearing brightly colored bikinis, and soon the viewer could see the man was commandeering a sailing yacht—still shirtless...naturally.
The scene then closed with the name ENIMEN splayed across the screen in block letters. The phrase, “Stay active!” was spelled out in cursive below it. Then after another second passed the music reached a crescendo as the view continued to pull away until the yacht was a mere speck on the surface of the glistening Caribbean Sea.
Having seen quite enough, Shamiso reached over to grab the controller, and without even a moment’s hesitation, shut off the video screen. Ozzie didn’t argue. He was devastated, too. It was hitting him all at once. “Oh my God, Meeso,” he said, realizing what this meant. Shamiso was already thinking it, too. One of them merely needed to say it.
He then dropped his voice into a low whisper—almost imperceptible when he spoke next. “What a mess we’ve made of this, you know? What the hell have we done to ourselves?” he lamented. Then after a pause, he shook his head in disgust. “I mean...look what we’ve become.”
PART FOUR
FRIENDS AND FUGITIVES
Chapter 12
Lofty Expectations
“(If) it’s too good for true, honey, it’s too good for true” (from Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn”, 1884)
It was now Monday Morning, and Monika Steckel was once again sitting at her desk. Her father had always been an avid reader—loved reading books from Mark Twain to her. What’s more, he read them in English, when she was a young girl studying it in school. Helped her understand the complicated language from a very early age, and this was a quote she suddenly recalled. It fit in perfectly with what she was thinking right now, reading through the electronic file from Space Programme she’d been given the previous Friday.
Enimen, and basically all that was being touted about the drug, was an outright fraud being perpetrated on consumers, confirmed the report. Just like she’d suspected, Min-Pharma and its notorious CEO were, once again, pulling the wool over the public’s eyes. Enimen was just a cheap, synthetic compound of Human Growth Hormone (also known as somatotropin). The drug samples submitted to the GU’s health administration were fakes. What was actually being distributed through channels on a limited basis, did not contain the same active ingredients claimed by the company. In reality, Min-Pharma was attempting something far more sinister than she had imagined.
“Organs in the human body work in harmony with one another, complementing the overall processes of one’s biological system. Unless otherwise influenced by outside forces, in the case of foreign invasion by bacteria, virus, influenza, or trauma...or internal maladies such as deterioration and disease, these systems continue to function, with nothing else required besides proper rest and nutrition,” read the report on Enimen. Sounded almost like one of Monika’s old college textbooks back at Fresenius University near Wiesbaden.
“That being said, with Enimen,” continued the report, “there is a significant risk of Type 2 Diabetes and—very likely—cancer risk to the colon or prostate glands, perhaps even Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This could eventually require chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and stem cell transplant. These infirmities may develop over a ten to fifteen-year period, perhaps even sooner, with prolonged usage.”
No doubt about it, Min-Pharma was knowingly committing a crime by claiming things in their advertisements that were largely impossible with the ingredients said to be included in their product. Worse, they were selling to consumers an over-the-counter drug that had the potential for devastating long-term side effects.
To Monika this meant two things. First of all, the government would soon be moving swiftly to shut down the company’s operations, perhaps even jail its top executives. Secondly, it could only mean great danger to the future of a rather valuable asset to Space Programme, Ensign Young-Min Jo. Only problem was, what action could she take to protect him?
On the one hand, there was little she could do to warn him without divulging top-secret Space Programme intelligence. This information she was reading, was given to her in the strictest confidence. If she tipped him off to what was surely to befall his brother’s company—assuming she could even reach the young man that is—he might feel c
ompelled to reveal these threats, and thus compel Kwang-Min Jo to go into hiding. A man like that—with all the places he could go—and knowing just how to disappear—might prove quite difficult to bring to justice.
On the other hand, she couldn’t just let him swing for this, right along with every other higher-up at Min-Pharma Corp. Young-Min Jo was far too important to Space Programme. Her own career was certainly on the line if she risked it, but in her own conscience, she knew she had to do something.
This had haunted her all weekend. To make matters worse, she couldn’t discuss it with anyone, even her own husband, in an effort to seek counsel. Even her superiors were of no use. To them the issue was only what was best for the masses of people already purchasing the dangerous drug. Millions of pills had already been sold worldwide. In ten or twenty years, thousands of those people would be dead or dying. The G.U. would never tolerate such an enormous threat to its citizens the world over.
When she looked at it that way, it seemed she’d be wiser to let the whole thing resolve itself naturally. Let Young-Min suffer the consequences of having collaborated with his unethical twin brother. After all, hadn’t he made the decision to do so, without verifying things were on the up-and-up? He was a bright young man wasn’t he? Good chemist. Educated. Poor judgment at times, sure. But...shouldn’t he have known by now that his brother’s company was merely attempting a worldwide bait and switch?
If only she could reach him. If only she could ask him, “Hey, don’t you realize what they’re doing?” Or even better, “Passt du auf?” Because as a scientist, he would have to suspect something by this point. With as much information as Space Programme Security had been feeding her, she had to figure Young-Min knew at least as much as they did.
Or did he?
“He’s been out there, working out...exercising on the grounds inside Min-Pharma’s corporate compound,” said Monika privately, “his brother right there with him. And that woman we see them with so often—she’s with them every time. Kwang-Min probably decided to undergo an aggressive fitness program just to get himself slimmed down a bit, then Young-Min was inserted...to create this illusion they use in their advertisements.”
She lowered her voice, for fear of neighbors in adjoining cubicles listening in. “Es wundert mich,” she continued in German, “was denkt er, was er tut.” And truly, the young man’s motivations to participate in such a scandal were baffling to say the least. Could it be he really didn’t know the truth?
There was only one way to find out. Yet there was no direct way to achieve this—not without asking the young man personally. She’d never get inside Min-Pharma corporate headquarters to do this. Not in person anyway. She had to think of a way to get someone else in there. Someone who had a connection with him. Someone who might be admitted into the compound. A friend. A person, or persons, whom Young-Min would welcome a visit from. Moreover, it had to be people he’d listen to.
But they had to be trustworthy, too. She must utilize personnel who would never betray Space Programme’s or the G.U.’s intentions. People who would never divulge secrets, nor ruin the government’s investigation and thus the case they were building against the young man’s brother. Who could she contact? Who would fit the bill?
* * * *
Young-Min Jo accompanied Zero back to their hotel room after filming yet another commercial for Enimen. It was nearly 14:00 hours on that broiling hot Monday afternoon. Lunch had been provided on-set. They’d been filming since just after dawn, before oiled-up tourists invaded with their beach towels and umbrellas, clogging up the area.
This time, the higher-ups back at marketing department had devised yet another thirty-second commercial that would be shot on location. The beaches of Mallorca, a popular tourist destination for Germans, had been chosen and this gave the two an opportunity to show off their physiques. Zero even got to be in one of the shots as an extra, sporting a black bikini and rock-solid muscles. It stirred emotions within both of them that influenced their growing attraction to one another.
Of course, Zero’s first and only love was still Kwang-Min Jo. There was no replacing that within her heart. He’d been the knight in shining armor who had saved her one night in Bangkok when she’d been most vulnerable. It had been the worst night of her entire life—and that was certainly saying something given her past! Thus, her affections for Young-Min were essentially nothing more than a displacement of her feelings for his (nearly) identical twin.
But for Young-Min, it was much more than that. He was—for all intents and purposes—sincerely and completely in love with her. Helplessly in fact. He’d fallen for her like a giddy teenager experiencing his first “crush”. It pervaded his soul as though he’d been inspired by thoughts long suppressed...thoughts which merely confused him now, like the characters of some ancient language engraved on the side of a ruined monument.
He’d never really known lust before. Attraction, whenever he’d experienced it, only made him uncomfortable. He’d been in space for twenty-four Earth years and all that time, everyone was so much older than him. Even when he grew into a young man, those women he knew onboard—including the ones who’d expressed an interest in him—it simply couldn’t work. He’d experimented, sure. But it was just too creepy. Those female crewmembers were already “grown-ups” when he’d met them as a child. About all he’d been completely sure of, was that he clearly wasn’t gay.
Despite his inexperience though, there was something about his mentality that had now evolved instinctually. His attitude, his self-confidence, and for that matter his sexual identity as a man had changed. It was almost as if natural processes were on autopilot the very moment he’d laid eyes on Zero. He knew he wanted her. His body yearned for her. Even if she’d playfully rejected him, he’d have pursued relations with her anyway. That however, she didn’t do. Zero couldn’t have resisted her attraction to him even if she’d wanted to. It was the next best thing to being with the man she truly loved. It was only a matter of time before she and Young-Min were sleeping together.
“You tired, Zero?” he asked her, as they stood waiting for their elevator in the hotel. She didn’t look at him, just grinned slyly. Even if his words didn’t give it away, the vibe he gave off was that of a young man fumbling for a chat-up line to try and seduce her. That’s why she was smiling now. He was just so cute, the way he’d been acting toward her the past several months. He was smitten with her, like a teenage boy wooing her carefully and delicately—as if trying not to rush her. It was something she’d missed out on as a young girl.
However, despite her checkered past, making the first move was quite out of the question for Zero. She was having too much fun waiting for the handsome officer from Space Programme to muster the courage to try and win her favors. And besides, she could tell today was the day he’d make his move. As far as she knew, no one was around to see what they did or where they went together. Kwang-Min had sent them off to Mallorca together with two bodyguards...and those big Samoans were still out on the beach enjoying the sights of colorful bikinis and bronzed, topless sunbathers.
“Nope,” she replied, waiting for his next, more obvious question—assuming he was bold enough to pose it. If he did, she wouldn’t have held back any longer. “Yes” or a “fuck yeah, let’s go” would be her immediate answer. Only problem was, Young-Min had no intention of being blunt or vulgar. He had to feel like he was being polite, had to feel like he was being respectful. Neither of those were necessary with a girl like Zero, but it seemed important enough to him that he took a more circuitous approach to his attempts at seduction.
“Me neither,” he commented, looking down at the tiled floor of the hotel lobby. Maybe he needed to see if the elevator doors opened to an empty car before he continued. He wasn’t quite sure. But he, too, assumed today was the perfect time to propose having sex together. There was little reason for him to doubt he’d be successful…
At the pool the night before, the two had gotten very close. Swam up to
each other, chatting about the upcoming shoot, then gradually found themselves embracing beneath the surface while Zero rested against the wall of the pool. He’d swam up to her after she’d kicked some water at him. Then his expanding erection had grazed her thigh when he’d moved closer. She didn’t even flinch. Her eyes and expression transformed into a sultry, peaceful look as if to invite him right in.
Of course, he didn’t try and close the deal. Not yet. He merely recoiled and swam to her side where he could hide his boner while facing the wall of the pool. She by way of comparison seemed not to care—like there was absolutely nothing wrong with his arousal—like he had nothing to be ashamed of. It was like she would have gone along with it if he’d asked right then and there, yet didn’t mind if he wasn’t quite ready. Either way, she was perfectly content. This amazed and impressed the young man.
Could she possibly be more wonderful? His first ever lover? So patient, so beautiful, so warm and welcoming? Had it been different, he might never have pursued it with anyone else...not for years. It was like that for him. He’d set his sights on this one girl. Spurned, he’d likely never seek companionship again...not for a very long time. In a way, this almost left him feeling free and daring. It also gave him another day of working on the set, with Zero nearby smiling at him encouragingly, and Young-Min imagining a possible scenario where he might invite her back to his room for hot sex.
“So, uh...if you’re not doing anything...I mean...for a little while,” he continued; just then, the bell chimed on the elevator, announcing the car had arrived. Young-Min paused for a moment to see if it was empty when the doors opened. It wasn’t.
