That endeavour took a beating last month when his prized 8400C Research Paper crashed and burned in the space of just a few minutes. Having peaked with genetic manipulation way beyond their imagination or configuration, upon testing the cell sample it was immediately in vain – the proverbial lab rat suffered an instant brain haemorrhage upon injection with the sample. Having been caught up in the moment, neither Professor Smith nor Dr. Johnson had made duplicate specimens; progress on the project died with the animal it had been administered into.
In doing so, they broke all protocols and set the project back what could have been several weeks of progress. Prof. Smith was devastated, truly gutted by the setback. He resented his own folly in getting caught up in the moment and hastily progressing with the live test and to an extent, he harboured frustration that he did so under undue pressure from his great friend Carla. It revived the insecurities of his darkest hours just last year and left him crushed by the defeat. Carla had been so important to his recovery, such a crutch for his occasional emotional openings over a petri dish or a glass of wine and a great mind for him to bounce ideas against, that it pained him now that he had such new feelings of frustration toward her. He knew it would take days, if not weeks, to get back to that level. Moreover, he knew he would have to get over any feelings of resentment, toward himself or otherwise, very quickly; he was an intelligent, rational man and he knew those frustrations were unfounded. In the moment, however, they were so very raw.
Chapter 5. Taking the strain
The Gloucester Bunker and its staff had never been one to shy away from a challenge, but the facility had found itself engulfed in a political game of chess in recent months as it railed against pressure exerted from authorities above.
By October, Research Paper 8400C was just one of a number of scientific research studies in progress at The Bunker as projects – and tensions – had intensified in recent months. Not only had project commissions ramped up since September, including a critical body of research into antibiotic resistance and new antibiotic pharmaceuticals, but loose lips threatened to sink the proverbial ships with disastrous consequences. Word had somehow got out about the 8400C research paper and the lost progress, with a leak to Whitehall soon becoming evident. Within just days, the very same authorities above paid a personal visit to The Bunker to leverage what pressure they could to force its executives into taking on the ‘dirty’ work it had previously been ‘offered’ and declined. They saw an opportunity to exploit a costly mistake and pounce while the facility and its team were overloaded and vulnerable. The facility’s status and staffing budgets were at threat of being downgraded unless they were more cooperative towards ‘encouraged’ projects.
Reluctantly, executives agreed to take on a leading role in a controversial bio-chemical weaponry project, aptly nicknamed ‘The Strain’. The study had been put to the site on four previous occasions, each of which it had dismissed without question; it’s reputation preceded the project in the classified scientific community. Few had any desire to have any involvement in such dirty science, as they perceived it, while others only entertained the idea if serious sums were applied, opting to be a veritable gun for hire. But these were costly and at time times unreliable exercises, while in the 21st century Government could not be seen to ever disclose projects of this nature as being in-house. As a result, the requirement existed to assign them to satellite stations for scientific research, under the guise of fanciful working titles and considerable layers of red tape. At the fifth time of asking and in a position of unforeseen weakness, The Bunker became the satellite station of choice.
It meant the facility now had no less than six critical studies underway, all with clear deliverables and deadlines, as well as a queue of background activities that required attention. Its top-level research staff of eight would be completely stretched by such a high number of core projects, while its second and third levels of staff were already pushed to breaking point across five other, lower priority studies. They couldn’t even put those lesser projects on ice; such scientific endeavours can’t simply be frozen in time or abandoned temporarily, they have a theoretical shelf life during which they have to be active and monitored. A dormant study is a wasted study was the facility’s motto.
But that standard bearer brought with it a pressure now to deliver against so many crucial clinical stories and, unofficially, deliver successes. The Bunker was being pushed to its physical and mental limits; proud staff that were tired and borderline exhausted would never condone cutting corners, but could now be distracted or prone to error through no fault of their own. The facility was taking the strain and was a pressure cooker of tension as the year entered its final quarter.
5th October 2016
Dear Evelyn
Sorry, it’s been several weeks, indeed months, since I last wrote here. We’ve been enduring something of an arduous time here in ‘The Bunker’ as we affectionately refer to it. There’s been a series of events onsite and subsequent investigations that have somehow managed to put everyone on edge. We’re a calm, calculated and analytical bunch by nature, but almost every one of us seems to have been spooked on some level by these erroneous and, at times questionable, incidents and their ramifications.
Personally, I am less spooked than I am saddened and perturbed. We have always maintained a Zero Ambition at this facility and this level of study, an objective of zero mistake or incident – an ambition that we have successfully adhered to for so long. We are not foolish enough to believe that you will make zero failures: innovation and study is disruptive and imperfect by its very nature, it cannot be without near constant refining dear Evelyn, but those failures are the accepted path to progression. Failure is almost by design, it is part of the journey and the successes of that journey. But mistakes? We do not design mistakes. We do not tolerate mistakes. In fact, one might say that our Zero Ambition is essentially a zero tolerance of mistakes.
So I find it entirely bemusing to have succeeded for so long and to now be subjected to so many inaccuracies or lapses. It doesn’t make sense. To the analytical minds that we are, it simply does not compute. It has led me to question whether ‘mistake’ is the correct term, or whether we are in fact talking about ‘misdemeanours’.
I certainly have cause to think privately that the incident involving Kyle Richards, our enigmatic young Bio-Scientist, was something of a misdemeanour. Moreover, I am less than happy about the apparent subordination that followed, either. Kyle has always been as confident as he is complex; he’s The Bunker’s gifted, dynamic research fellow, boasting the devilish hair and good looks to match his natural aptitude and, at just 35 years of age, he’s very much the young stallion of the group. That has always struck me as coming with an equally brash, immature temperament too, while his confidence knows no bounds. I always think he’s more ready, fire, aim than ready, aim, fire. I shouldn’t wonder if he has his own projects running parallel to his official work here too.
That is where the accusations seem to have centred of late, though as a collective research group we have of course rallied around Kyle and encircled to protect the pack. I just don’t know if I was right to be party to that. The inference is that a number of credible samples were discovered, demonstrating that a highly instable serum of some kind was being developed, presumably for very lucrative commercial reasons, but which at its current stage showed signs only of causing potentially hazardous damage to an individual’s nervous system. Whatever the motive, in its present guise, it represented more of a weapon than a cure, it was said. It was also argued that various compelling evidence had been accumulated. If you knew the full parameters and logistics of our work here, you would understand my scepticism at this particular claim. Nonetheless, the enquiry was brought about from somewhere and Kyle was demonstrably childish in his response, which suggested – to me at least – a shred of truth in the allegation. The investigation is still in progress in the corridors of power, pending a full report, which leaves a cloud
of suspicion hanging over the facility.
There’s also been a careless spill of key tissues and samples (Lord knows how) in Section A in recent weeks, which drew a lot of unwanted attention from above. Whatever happened, and I still am not in full possession of the facts myself, a highly valuable project sample was allowed to spill out from the test station and seep into an air filtration duct. From what I can gather it could have had devastating consequences and so, a full clean-up and inerting operation had to be carried out – which required senior clearance for an outside team of specialists to come in and clear up. Not only did that compromise weeks of invaluable work on the project, it entailed significant downtime and put the facility under further undue pressure.
And perhaps worst of all, we suffered a serious malware hack of the systems 11 days ago. They wouldn’t want me to tell you this Evelyn, for fear that it might get out into the public, but it seems the secure servers and systems that we depend upon every minute or every day are increasingly vulnerable to attack. Not just here, but in research facilities and potentially critical public-sector services too.
Our systems here were among 10,000 across the country that fell victim to the spread of a ‘ransomware’ hack due to one or two terminals not having updates installed – once the vicious virus was onto one computer, one network, it rapidly spread throughout all the machines in that network. It locked up the files and encrypted them in such a way that us mere mortals could not access them anymore. The attackers were after a huge ransom, I understand, but imagine if the kind of classified data we work upon fell into the wrong hands? What if it was made known to the public? Worse still, what if a public serve like the NHS was affected? It beggars belief.
They’ve typically turned the situation on its head with the hackers, like some kind of classic double play straight out of an espionage fiction thriller. They’ve basically paid a handsome retainer to a group of ‘ethical hackers’ I believe they call them, to not only protect against cyber attacks but to scan the system themselves, find weaknesses and pre-empt future hacks. In fact, this might surprise you Evelyn, but I’m actually in favour of this switch-up – it’s just like a medical strategy. It’s just like giving a vaccination; administering a light dose of a virus that’s within our control, to build up the defences and protect against future attack. And if it keeps us safe and functioning here too, doing the things we love to do to keep us all safe and healthy in the future, then that has to be a good thing. As long as these ethical hackers really are as morally sound as they claim.
All of these events have left a sour taste in the mouths of everyone here, a sourness that was heightened further when an unofficial comment was passed to the effect that the facility might be forced to ‘re-think the scope of activities it is willing to undertake’. According to well-informed rumour, it was inferred that The Bunker might have to accept a role in a controversial and highly-instable bio-chemical weaponry project or face closure. It’s a field of work we are broadly aware of, though we do not know anything of its intricacies, and have steadfastly refused to engage in. Eyes-only, it cannot officially be discussed nor documented, and so we have been able to rebuff previous overtures. But the narrative has moved from overtures to intimidation in the weeks and months of these incidents and I fear for the facility’s future under such duress.
All of which feels like an assault on my personal and professional integrity. Accidents happen, of course. But from the egotistical mistakes of others to the unreasonable duress we seem to be being placed under to carry out morally indefensible deeds, I cannot abide by the other activities going on here of late. I did spend my life working damn hard, and sometimes at the detriment of my family life, to be subjected to this.
Given our curriculum vitae’s, our achievements and our studious nature, and perhaps even our pay scales for all I know, we’re generally a relatively self-governing team. We are seldom monitored or micro-managed, and we have to submit reports on a daily or weekly basis depending on our projects, so our ultimate superiors are always fully up-to-speed on our activities. It would be very difficult to circumvent those reports and do anything other than we are tasked to. Yet in the last few weeks and months the site has been under regular surveillance and cross-checking; it’s had to be, to a degree. It’s been a very alien to us to be under such scrutiny and, though ultimately from on high, that scrutiny has been applied from those far less educated or principled as us, if I might say so. So it’s been a tough pill to swallow of late.
So you can see my dear, it has been a terribly troubling and intense few weeks and I have not even thought to unwind and pen my thoughts to you here. I am so sorry my dear Evie. One day, whenever I finally upload these musings to you (I promise I will take some time off soon), you will understand. For now, I have only to conclude by telling you how very much I love and miss you all.
Love father x
Chapter 6. A study too far
As November began, The Bunker was subject to yet more coercion from above to take on new eyes-only projects. The month was just one day young when pressure ramped up on the site and its staff. The apparently egotistical nature of Doctor Kyle Richards had not been lost on senior Government officials, who had been receiving a steady stream of intelligence regarding the young virtuoso’s activities in the facility – and his perceived predilection for maverick projects. It was a flaw or vulnerability that they sought to take advantage of, sending a departmental insider into The Bunker to pay Dr. Richards a very visible visit and apply some easily exerted pressure.
The official’s visit, flown in by private helicopter no less, did little to dampen the sense of tension within the facility. Rumours immediately began to circulate, first for the future of Kyle and in time, about a mysterious project that they were about to undertake. Chinese whispers built upon Chinese whispers; within just a few hours, colleagues speculated over everything from Kyle’s next career move to the future of the facility as a whole.
It had the desired effect. Officials saw Dr. Richards’ evident maverick streak not as his weakness but as his team’s weakness. Their motive quickly became clear – to put fear into executives and senior researchers that Dr. Richards might just revel in the flattery and take up the baton of the project, forcing their hand into passing the controversial project onto more stable, senior colleagues. Ultimately, it would force the facility to accept the study.
The research in question concerned a pilot pathogen project designed to bring about political means to an end. In essence, it was to be another lethal pawn in 21st century political games of brinkmanship; non-nuclear in nature, but arguably just as deadly, if not worse. Just like nerve gas or other biochemical weaponry, it had the potential to fall into the wrong hands and cause mass devastation. At this level of pathogenicity, that devastation also had the potential to be unchecked if not handled responsibly.
Enough was enough. It was a study too far for The Bunker’s executives and scientists alike, the former not even reading beyond the textured brown front cover of the Spook-like research folder. The wording of the title and project synopsis was enough for executives to read between the lines – they had seen such careful phraseology before and were more than wise to it. Despite the duress they were clearly under, the project was steadfastly refused and the government official sent figuratively scurrying back to his chopper to Whitehall. Humiliated governors even issued an all-staff memo to outline their collective stance on the project and ensure all researchers were under no illusions, including the enigmatic Dr. Richards and any colleagues that might observe his studies from time-to-time.
5th November 2016
Dear diary
I want you to know that we turned down a somewhat sinister project in the last few days. One by one, every lab or research facility across the UK, public or classified, has turned down this pilot pathogen project. I know that for a fact.
Little is known about its origin, who devised the theoretical template or why. No-one knows where the proposal came f
rom – it's not even classified, it's far beyond that. In all likelihood, only two people in this world have any idea who that person is – and they are one of them. There will be layer upon layer upon layer of code name and deception, so deep that even those in the know will not actually know what they are aware of and aren't.
I want you to know that we have not had any part in this whatsoever, that we refused to even read beyond the basic précis, because whatever that is has a very dark, dangerous potential. I am not a man for exaggeration or hyperbole as you know Evelyn, so believe when I say this is a scary concept of a project indeed. What effect on the human body this project could have the capability for is a complete step into the unknown, like no other.
When I sit out to follow a path in science and medicine, and ultimately research, I did not so because I wanted to play around when DNA. I did so because I wanted to understand the science behind mankind and help to iron out some of its destructive creases. I wanted to help people. I wanted to sustain life and understand some of the diseases that threaten it. I wanted to learn from pathogens and biology, not make a playground out of it.
I don't think such a thing as this will ever see the light of day, but I want you to know that I – nor my learned colleague – had any part in it, if it were to come to light. Besides, we have more than enough on our plate with this PNT project I had written to you about some months ago. It continues to dominate our time, seemingly morning, noon and night.
Chapter 7. On the brink
Unlike many other jobs or walks of life, scientific research on this level – specifically the kind involving genetic codes and cell manipulation – does not allow for any periods of procrastination whatsoever. There are no real in-between moments; no pauses to contemplate what activity to start next or what prioritised item to begin for the last hour of the day. There are no moments where it’s acceptable or passable for the mind to wander; when studying a sample through microscopic lens, you have to study every minutiae of every second of it. Blink, and you missed it. There are seldom email trials or chat windows to get lost in for half an hour, or social media breaks to watch videos or message friends.
The Pestilence Collection [Books 1-3] Page 3
