by Stan Mason
The change from a Government laboratory to an insurance company had been completed in just a few hours. As soon as it was done, the Chief Scientist and all the boffins were herded into two of the vehicles to carry them away. Ratcliffe had advised them to go home and stay there until ordered otherwise. He also advised them, in the strongest terms, not to contact, mention or discuss anything about the programme with anyone else.
The next morning, according to Jordan’s plan, television crews arrived at the laboratory at Lytham St. Annes with media personnel carrying cameras and microphones, asking the people who had turned up to demonstrate to comment. The hesitation that the government agent had made, to defer the protest for a week, was a bridge too far. Thousands of protestors now stood outside the laboratory with an element of confusion for it seemed that they were standing in front of the offices of an insurance company. Nonetheless, they made their feelings felt by shouting at the tops of their voices until a man emerged from inside the building with a puzzled expression on his face, telling them that they had the wrong location. He advised them to move as they were disturbing the peace and disrupting the work of the employees. Quite clearly, the delay in arranging for the demonstration to take place turned out to be anathema for the government agent and, to some extent, he had lost the battle.
Indeed, when the crowd of protestors arrived, there was confusion when they found themselves outside a commercial building instead of a Government laboratory. Jordan move to the head of them and entered the building, shocked to enter a hall with a receptionist behind a counter.
‘What happened to the laboratory?’ he asked with a puzzled expression on his face.
‘What laboratory?’ enquired the receptionist coolly. ‘If you want some life insurance, I can get Mr. Wallace to discuss it with you.’
‘Look I’ve been here in this Government laboratory, so don’t tell me it’s an insurance company,’ growled Jordan as fury ranged within him.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ returned the receptionist politely, ‘but you’ve made a mistake. This is an insurance company,’
The government agent turned on his heel defeated. There was no way he was going to win. He knew what had happened and he had been outwitted. Instead of showing the demonstrators the cubicles and explaining in detail what the Government was doing, he was left with nothing. However, the material transference programme would never surface again of that he was certain. He may have lost the battle but he had won the war. Although he felt defeated, he should have been triumphant for he had achieved what he wanted. The Government would never dare to operate the programme again either at Lytham St. Annes or anywhere else for that matter.
He went outside to explain the duplicity of the Government but the crowd were unwilling to accept his feeble explanation, that it had been a laboratory for the body exchange programme but that the Government had changed it overnight into an insurance company. It didn’t hold true
... even though it was. The demonstrators refused to be deterred and began to issue threats as they resorted to anger and tentative violence, some of them fighting each other with frustration. They had come to demonstrate against the Government and now believed it to have been a prank. In due course, a posse of police arrived in an attempt to quell the riot. Such issues were regarded seriously. They were not there to make fools of people. Regardless of the situation, the demonstrators demanded the right to have their day but it had been denied them. Eventually, with great reluctance, for some had travelled long distances to get there, they melted away and Jordan was left on his own in police custody for causing a riot. He had been the catalyst for the Government to cease its action with the programme but, to his surprise, when he returned to the House of Commons, he was summoned to the office of the Prime Minister. At first he thought that he would be given his marching orders for his part in organising the demonstration, however the Leader failed to mention anything about it as though it had never happened.
‘There’s been a change in your status,’ he told the subordinate firmly. ‘I’m informing you of your appointment as Vehicle Speed Controller under the Minister of Transport.’
‘Vehicle Speed Controller,’ repeated Jordan woodenly, wondering what his duties would be in the new post.
‘I’m not exactly sure what you were doing when you were with the Minister of Science but you’ve been moved to Transport. I’d like to wish you good fortune in your new appointment.’ He held out his hand which Jordan shook limply.
‘I’ll be honest with you, sir. I was in control of the material transference programme,’ he related calmly.
‘Never heard of it,’ came the dismissive response. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy your new role.’
Without further ado, he walked to the door quickly and opened it for his subordinate to leave. Jordan stood outside with his blood singing in his ears. Everyone seemed to have ignored the demonstration shown on television although he knew that wasn’t true. They had kept him on the staff with a Government post merely to ensure that he didn’t tell anyone about the programme. Either that or they ignored his efforts to close down the body exchange programme. It was highly likely that they considered it had played its role. So many prisoners serving life sentences were no longer having to be looked after by the Home Office.
Some prisons were quite empty of inmates and a number of mentally disturbed patients were either gone or pretty close to death. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to kow-tow to Ratcliff any more. That was a distinct advantage. He felt like leaping in the air with joy as he sauntered down the corridor assessing what he might be doing in his new appointment, when he almost bumped into the Minister of Science who was coming from the other direction.
‘Minister!’ he called out mischievously. ‘What happened to the laboratory at Lytham St. Annes. It seems to have vanished overnight. It’s been turned into insurance offices.’
‘A laboratory at Lytham St. Annes’ repeated Ratcliffe smartly. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.’
Without another word, he disappeared around the corner the building leaving Jordan gasping in disbelief. As far as the politicians at Westminster were concerned, the programme had never been in operation. Al the dying and dead people, whether prisoners serving life sentences, mentally disturbed patients, or those receiving younger bodies, were truly expendable where the Government was concerned... and those who perpetrated such acts were gong to get away with blue murder.
Later that evening, he was watching the news on television when the face of Jeremy Ratcliffe appeared on the screen. He was asked point-blank about the material transference programme by the newsreader as well as details about people who had died from being exposed to it. The Minister was as cool as a cucumber after being challenged and he answered the questions as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
‘I deny all knowledge of such a programme,’ he lied blatantly to the public. ‘There is no body exchange programme to my knowledge and I have no idea why the Government is being challenged on this issue. In my opinion, a group of people have tried to stain the reputation of the Government with stories which are not true. An investigation is taking place to ascertain the number of people dying. We believe it’s being caused by a virus from the Continent which has attacked our shores and the medical profession will no doubt deal with it in the future.’
‘You state that a virus is prevalent in the country, Minister,’ continued the newsreader curtly.
‘As I said,’ cut in Ratcliffe confidently, ‘the matter’s under investigation but I assure you that there was no programme to exchange bodies from one person to another. The idea is ludicrous!’
So there it was! The Minister of Science had stood his ground denying all knowledge of the programme, suggesting that some virus from abroad was causing the death of many people. He declared that there was no question that the Government was responsible in any way. It was the means by
which all politicians wiped their hands of their errors at the expense of the voting public. Power was no longer in the hands of the people. It had been taken away by default! The Government was simply making horrid mistakes and pretending to be whiter than white. However one thing was certain... it was definitely the end of the body exchange programme, never to come to light again! It was the end of new leases of life for very old people at the expense of life-serving prisoners, mentally disturbed patients in institutions, the homeless, and anyone who wanted to sell their bodies for money. Yes... the Government was going to get away with it scot free but, at last, it was the end of it all... until they came up with another horrendous invention!
THE END
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