by L. L. Fine
Zomy 17: The solution is simple, brilliant.
Columbus: It's so ingenious. It's so simple.
Columbus: I am really impressed.
Zomy 17: It’s nothing to be impressed about, but who am I to reject your compliments?
Zomy 17: Thanks.
Columbus: And how do you plan to do this?
Zomy 17: What?
Columbus: The change itself.
Zomy 17: A virus.
Columbus: A virus again?
Zomy 17: There is no other way.
Zomy 17: But it's a lot of work.
Columbus: I'm sure. I also know that you will succeed. You are a talented pair.
Zomy 17: You think so?
*
"Yes."
Lia looked at Zomy in surprise. She was mumbling something inconclusive to Keshny, to obfuscate it, change the subject. But he was ahead of her.
Did he upset her?
No, she decided. Not exactly. Actually, she was not sure what she was feeling. This pregnancy, all the recent events, it was all weird. As if it were not actually happening. And she, so accustomed to making all her own decisions, controlling her own life, being fully in control - felt like someone was taking away every vestige of control she ever had over her life.
Suddenly things happened to her. Unwelcome, muddling things. Suddenly her career, which until now was her focus, the center of her life - it suddenly became irrelevant. Suddenly she felt nauseous and had to give up her morning runs, the holiest thing she had. Her body suddenly changed. Everything had changed.
Even this affair with Zomy (and was it really an affair? She didn't really know, even at that moment) was not clear. How had she arrived in this situation with him? What happened? She did not plan to fall in love, certainly not to this lean, strange man, she hadn't even noticed at first. He was not her type.
So why did she feel what she felt? She didn't really know. And pregnancy. Again, pregnancy. Her, Lia, with an unplanned pregnancy? Some malfunction? After all, it was incomprehensible, this whole story. True, she was no longer a child. And true, her biological clock was ticking. But it didn't justify her recklessness.
She refused to blame her subconscious. No, she insisted to herself, she had no hidden wish to have children. She did not want children, and she was sure. She had the time, and she knew she was attractive, and would have no problem getting men. Certainly not in the coming years. So why try to attract men? And certainly not Zomy, God forbid.
And the secret trips to New York, and underground experiments, and all this crazy vortex of illegal and obviously dangerous things she did... this was simply not Lia being herself! When did she become a risk-taker? And how exactly did she become a rebel against her managers, the establishment, all that she believed in? What had brought her to this madness?
She briefly entertained the logical thought - so reasonable - to simply go to Keshny's office, and start telling the truth. Spill everything, throw in everything, let out all she could about the past few months, their secret experiments, the lies, half-truths, sneaking down the hall, adventures in New York. To spill out everything she had to say about Zomy's mysterious illness, on the…
But it was only for a brief moment, and it went quickly. Mainly because - she had to admit – she didn't really felt the need to run and admit anything. What happened to her was not a burden. She did not feel like lying, cheating, hiding facts. On the contrary. She did all she did wholeheartedly - if she felt it was true to herself, then it was right. Essential.
So what if the system did not know anything about it, and wouldn't confirm it even if it did? The Institute - as any such organization would do - would take the case from her. And Zomy's life.
And what positive results could be gained from such an act, going to tell Keshny? Nothing, she knew. The Institute was not known as a warmhearted employer, humane, understanding. It was just the opposite. Secret, dark, air conditioned too. Inflated with self-importance.
And it was mainly like Keshny. Efficient, cold and manipulative. A place run by intelligence agents could not be otherwise.
And now Zomy had proposed to her. Set a decision before her, once again. She should marry. What if she did not want to? And she did not want to.
"Is that true?"
A harsh voice, Keshny's cutting voice, pulled her back into the room with a bang. She noticed, suddenly frightened, how much he was concentrating on her. Trying to read her, probably succeeding. A bit.
She hesitated, and looked openly at Zomy. She could see only his eyes, and they were warm, steady, but also seeking mercy. Begging.
"Lia, is it true?" Keshny asked the question again.
"Yes," she finally let out. "This isn’t something we wanted to get out, you know. Not so soon."
"Hey ... relax. It's just me," he smiled at her. "I'm like your father here. Unless you tell me, who will you tell?"
Lia shrugged.
*
Columbus: Look, you made it once. You’ll succeed again.
Zomy 17: I hope so.
Columbus: Wait, I have a question.
Columbus: After all, this business with the closing mechanism, it's not just you.
Columbus: I mean the genetic stopwatch.
Columbus: The deal with chains that connect and then reproduction fails after several generations.
Columbus: So, I mean, your solution can’t be directed only to you, right?
Columbus: It must be for everyone.
Columbus: Such as Omri and Gilad and I etc.
Columbus: Are you there?
Columbus: Zomy?
Columbus: Heloooooooooooo.
Columbus: Now what?
Columbus: Well, bye.
08/12/01 Email to Zomy
Hi Zomy,
Somehow, you disappeared. I hope everything is fine, nothing’s happened.
Give me a sign of life.
08/13/01 Email
Alive, alive, yes, I'm still alive.
08/13/01 Email to Zomy
Hi Zomy,
I was glad to get a quick response from you. I'm not used to you disappearing in the middle of chats, but I guess you’re busy. Everything all right? Your girl? Your little one? Tell me.
Beyond that, there’s another question I need to ask you but it’s bothering me. You talked about this racial extermination mechanism (I don't have another term for it), and that's the point: is this really racial destruction?
My question is, what can be done about it? I understand that you’re developing a shot like you did in the past, to solve this problem for yourself. But what about me? What about the rest of us?
Or maybe this is a kind of Noah’s ark?
If so, will you please send me a shot by mail? I really want to have a future.
Come on, come back with an answer.
Yours,
L.
BTW
This new feature you’ve set up so I can email you via this icon is very nice. Couldn't you have thought of this before?
08/14/01 Email
Let's start at the end: I was busy.
And about your question: she is smart, selfish, and where she should be. Thanks for the comment, I'll see what I can do.
Yours,
Noah
*
"Would you like a Corona?"
There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. They were lit up. In general, the last days had been better. She had allowed herself to smile, finally.
He also allowed himself to feel a little more comfortable. Maybe they had made the right move after all. It is impossible to keep such secrets over time, if it’s just eating you from the inside. And lo and behold, since they told Keshny the secret of their pregnancy, they both felt significantly relieved. There was nothing more to hide, and it was wonderful. Suddenly they felt free to confide in public. Enter each other's rooms, speak softly, to be 'secretive' - without hiding their secrecy.
Like a magic wand, everything became easier. Keshny accepted with a smile (
a Keshny smile, let's not exaggerate) the fact that they were together more and more, during breaks, in the dining room, outside. Not only Keshny began to understand them. The others smiled at them more, opened conversations with them, showed sympathy, like confidantes.
*
"Do you think they know?" he asked her once.
"It’s a small place," she shrugged. "And as for Keshny’s confidentiality - my ass!"
"Anyway, I'm glad it came out. And I see that you feel better."
"Oh, it's because I’m out of the sicky period."
"What, you had morning sickness?"
*
She looked at him incredulously. But that was, of course, in another conversation - ages ago. Or maybe two days.
Right now, in the current conversation, she had a mischievous twinkle in her eye, a sweet smile on her lips and an unequivocal passion building up.
"I'm more a Carlsberg type," he replied with a smile of his own, surprised at her offering him a beer. "But if you want, we can go and get a drink this evening.”
"Not beer, sweetie. Virus.”
08/16/01 Walla chat
Sweetcute: What virus? Corona?
Noah: It turns out that it’s also a kind of virus.
Sweetcute: Mexican virus? LOL!
Noah: I also thought it strange, but it turns out that it’s not named after the beer.
Sweetcute: But?
Noah: It's very simple. Both it and the beer, are named after something else entirely - a crown.
Sweetcute: Oh, right ... corona is Swedish for a crown or something.
Noah: Latin.
Sweetcute: Latin. So, it is a virus with a crown?
Noah: This is a virus in the form of a crown. It has spikes on the outer shell, looks like a crown.
Sweetcute: I think I’d prefer the beer.
*
"Here, look," she cleared the screen. Zomy looked at the view from the electron microscope.
"It looks like a sea urchin."
"A bit, yes. Meet Corona, Zomy. Zomy, Corona."
Zomy looked at his new friend doubtfully.
"I’ve never seen anything like it."
Lia smiled.
"They’re very small but quite common, actually. This isn’t a small family of viruses. They have the potential for very high adhesion. They attack mammals in general."
"Can you die from it?"
"No, they’re not fatal. They mainly cause colds, respiratory diseases, some intestinal diseases. Nothing to write home about."
"How do you catch it?"
"Sneezing."
“Basically, it’s very difficult to grow them in the laboratory. Only one type is easy to grow in a controlled laboratory, and here it is, here."
"We used them for something once?"
"No ... but we have all their genetic sequence decoded. Roughly thirty thousand nucleotides."
"A short DNA."
"RNA in this case."
"Well, what do we do?"
*
Noah: There's a beer that resembles our corona. It works the opposite way to beer.
Sweetcute: I don’t understand.
Noah: There are lots of kinds of beers, right?
Sweetcute: Also a lot of viruses.
Noah: But Corona beer will always taste of Corona. And Amstel will always taste like Amstel. And Leffe will have the taste of Leffe, this year, ten years ago or ten years hence.
Sweetcute: I like Leffe Brown.
Noah: But our corona has another pretty special quality.
Sweetcute: It's blonde?
Noah: It’s rapidly changing, constantly metamorphosing.
Noah: The corona of today is not tomorrow's corona.
Sweetcute: So what's the point of engineering it?
Noah: Oh, not at this level. When we engineer it, the engineered part will remain unchanged.
Noah: But the outer shell of the virus changes all the time. That's why it’s so difficult to develop a vaccine against it.
Noah: This is the reason that we haven't released it.
Sweetcute: ???
Sweetcute: You didn't release it? Have you released other viruses?
Noah: You sound very surprised, it makes me laugh.
Sweetcute: Got it. You’re releasing engineered viruses into the air all the time.
Noah: Not all the time, but there are certainly occasional controlled distributions.
Sweetcute: For what purpose, may I ask?
Noah: Guess.
Sweetcute: I don’t want to guess. For what purpose?
Noah: Biological warfare experiments. We're in the Middle East, you know.
Sweetcute: These are our experiments? Israel’s?
Noah: Better ours than theirs.
Sweetcute: And how do we know it won’t hurt us, this virus? After all, they do what they want! We'll be infected as well!
Noah: Not exactly. Jews, just so you know, have a very specific genetic structure.
Sweetcute: You're not serious.
Noah: There are genetic diseases that are typical to Jews. You probably know this as you’re a father.
Sweetcute: Tay-Sachs?
Noah: Among other things.
Sweetcute: But isn’t it Ashkenazis that usually get Tay-Sachs?
Noah: And there are other, more general racial traits.
Sweetcute: I'm just shocked by what you’re telling me.
Noah: Viruses are very smart bombs, if engineered right.
Sweetcute: So, presumably, you also have viruses that harm only non-Jews?
Noah: The percentage of accuracy is very good.
Noah: Of course, there are still problems with Mizrahi Jews.
Noah: And many Kurds and Georgians.
Noah: And the Ethiopians, yes.
Noah: But the idea is the same and we’ve been working on it for quite some time.
Sweetcute: Working on a virus will attack only people from a certain sect?
Noah: Having a particular gene, yes.
Sweetcute: And you succeeded?
Noah: Of course.
Sweetcute: Never heard of epidemics by sect…
Noah: We didn't “arm” them. Just checked infection capacity.
Sweetcute: "We didn't arm them." I'm just in shock…
Noah: Hey, don’t be naive. They don't invest millions in an institution like ours for nothing.
Sweetcute: I'm not naive, but hey…
Sweetcute: !!!
Sweetcute: !!
Sweetcute: It's not just nasty, it's racist!
Sweetcute: It isn’t human in my opinion.
Noah: And Sarin gas is?
Noah: And the atomic bomb on Hiroshima was OK?
Noah: Not that I defend something, but this is war.
Sweetcute: Leave it.
Sweetcute: I'm just a bit gutted. A virus that attacks people by certain racial affiliation, a certain sect?
Sweetcute: It's hard to digest.
Noah: Just so you know, this is how the Spaniards conquered South America.
*
"The Cortez Effect is what we have here."
"You didn't leave, I see. Fernando Cortez is drinking Corona?"
"Hernando Cortez was his name. And he didn’t drink corona, he distributed it.
Zomy was amused by both the breakthrough she made, and the fact that she was in a good mood, even with all that had happened recently.
"Cortez conquered Mexico, overcoming the Aztecs with some guns and impersonating God. Is that also our plan?"
"Cortez conquered Mexico, it's true. But it turns out you don’t really know how. True, not many people know this."
"Tell me."
"His real weapon was smallpox."
"Biological weapons?"
"Not on purpose, that's true. In fact, all Europeans of the fifteenth century were naturally immune to smallpox, but they still spread viruses. The Aztecs were not immune to it, so the viruses struck and they died. Tens of thousands of Aztecs died this way, and so
they conquered South America."
Zomy raised his eyebrows and nodded.
"The English, by the way," added Lia, "did the same, two hundred years later, but they did it deliberately. They gave the Indians in North America some beautiful quilts as gifts that 'by chance' were smallpox carriers. Half the native American population died of the plague."
"Well ... we don’t want to kill anyone in this case, Lia."
"What does not kill, vaccinates?"
"Exactly," he chuckled.
*
Sweetcute: Are you planning to start an epidemic?
Noah: A positive epidemic.
Sweetcute: An upside down Oppenheimer.
Noah: I'm sorry?
Sweetcute: Oppenheimer developed the US nuclear technology.
Sweetcute: Only he didn’t think it would be a bomb, only nuclear reactor. Developed for peaceful purposes, it emerged as a weapon of mass destruction.
Noah: And I'm the opposite, eh?
Sweetcute: You're the opposite.
Noah: Opposite is good.
Sweetcute: Just succeed. You’re playing with very dangerous toys here.
Noah: Tell me about it (he said as he cleared his wrecked lungs).
Sweetcute: LOL! Yes, you all need to realize that it’s a dangerous game you’re playing.
Noah: I'm afraid I have to do it.
Noah: You know how much I've been thinking about this?
Sweetcute: You don’t have to, you know. There’s another sixteen generations before you. It will be discovered again.
Noah: And if not?
Noah: And if not???
Noah: Are you going to take responsibility for it?
Sweetcute: I don’t know.
Noah: And what if something else happens? If the technology takes a completely different direction?
Noah: I can’t help but think that this could be a unique opportunity.
Noah: If I won't do something, no one will.
Sweetcute: That's why you call yourself Noah?
Noah: Yes, that's why I chose the name.
Sweetcute: Symbolic. Righteous.
Noah: Far from it. You know Noah wasn’t considered a great saint?
