by R. K. Sidler
The remainder of the broadcast went unheard by many as the buzz of emotion enveloped those listening, especially the women. There was to be a new maternity ward built next to the existing dispensary. Its completion date was in time for the first expected deliveries. Rations would be increased accordingly with special supplements provided to the children. For those who were single, this was still good news. It meant they were one step closer to walking, once again, on the surface of their planet. It would also add an element of normalcy having young children around. The couples started calling in appointment times to schedule their physicals immediately.
―
The ninth wedding anniversary for the middle-aged computer programmer, and his wife, who happened to be ten years his junior, was in three weeks. They had taken their physical examinations required to start their family. When filling out his questionnaire, one question asked if he had any previous children, and another if he had ever tried to father them. He answered no to the first, and yes to the second. When it came time for the physical itself, he was asked to provide a sperm sample. He learned five days later that it was impossible for him to have children. They said that his sperm count was such that he was for all ‘intents and purposes,’ sterile. He was upset and did not want to break the news to his wife just yet. He decided he would wait until sometime after their anniversary.
It was another six weeks following their anniversary when his wife broke the news that she was pregnant. He had not yet told her about his test results, and shared in her excitement. His excitement was not quite as enthusiastic as his wife’s, as he was torn between doubt and speculation. Maybe they were wrong, he said to himself. He wanted to believe that. He had to believe that. However, there was still suspicion in the back of his mind.
One morning when he was heading off to one of his classes, prior to work, he decided to delay in hopes of quieting his fears. He kissed his wife goodbye, and said he would see her at dinner. They both finished their day’s work at the same time. He walked out of their small apartment, and down the same sterile looking corridor he did every day. He continued for another minute then he turned to retrace his steps. When he was sure nobody else was in the area, he stepped into a supply room and closed the door until he was just able to see the door to his apartment.
After a few minutes, which seemed much longer being alone in the dark room, he was beginning to feel foolish. “Maybe I should visit the doc again and see if there may have been a mistake,” he said to himself in a low voice.
Then he saw, and heard, someone coming. It was from the opposite direction. He closed the door as far as he could while maintaining a view of his apartment door. It was a coworker of his wife’s. He was a young handsome man about her same age. He stopped and knocked on their apartment door. A moment later, the door was opened and he went inside. A stream of thoughts passed through his mind while not one of them registered in any meaningful way. He was standing in the hallway now not even realizing he had left the security of the storage room. He set down his briefcase, and walked to his door. As he swiped his card to gain entrance, he did not know what to think or what to say. Maybe it wasn’t what he thought. Maybe it was just a coincidence.
The apartment only had two rooms with a small bathroom. They were not in the kitchen-living room. He heard them in the bedroom and the sounds were unmistakable. Without a conscious thought in doing so, he picked up one of the glass and metal lamps off an end table, unplugging it as he did. He walked into the room quietly noticing the young man on top of his wife with his back to him. When he was directly behind him, still unnoticed, he swung the lamp, using both hands, connecting with the back of his skull. The man rolled over onto the bed alongside his wife, stunned by the blow. Before his wife could react in any way, he moved alongside the bed and continued to assault the semi-conscious man until he stopped moving. He was still alive so he grabbed the base of the lamp and stabbed the broken glass end directly into his neck. Blood was all over the bed now as it was obvious he had cut through the man’s carotid artery.
His wife had been screaming for him to stop, reaching for his arms in the process, but he did not take notice until he was finished. When he did, and for reasons he could not at the time explain, this infuriated him even more. He grabbed her by the neck and forced her down into the bed. At first, she was fighting him; kicking and grabbing for his arms to break free from his grip until she eventually lay motionless. He still did not relinquish his hold on her. “Why did you do this to me….why…..why?” he said to her repeatedly, shaking her each time he said it.
When he finally let her go, it was obvious that both his wife, and her lover, were dead. He felt nothing, no remorse, no sorrow, no pain, no loss. He was numb. He went into the bathroom and cleaned himself absentmindedly. When he was finished, he walked out of their bedroom not bothering to look at the gruesome scene on the bed. He went to a cupboard and took out a bottle of wine they were saving to celebrate the birth of their baby. He uncorked it, and poured himself a glass. When that was finished, he poured another and dialed the number for security.
―
Crime could not be tolerated in their closed society. However, there was still a system in place to determine the appropriate punishments. The investigation office of the security forces handled all complaints of theft, assault, destruction of property, and so forth. When their reports were finished, a copy was forwarded to the board of directors who determined the penalties. For minor infractions, anything from extra duty, to a loss of rations could be imposed. For more serious offenses, four cells were maintained in the security force department where people could be confined for a set period. In the most severe cases, individuals were sentenced to banishment. This, in effect, was a death sentence.
There were several tunnels large enough to accommodate foot traffic and small utility vehicles, which lead toward the surface. They varied in direction. One of these was reserved for this purpose, as there was no known surface population in the vicinity. There was a two-door sally port built in the tunnel, with a vacuum, which allowed for the area between them to be pressurized and afforded a measure of protection from the outside.
Inspector Gibbs saw it as his duty to carry out the expulsion. He and his men escorted the man to the sally port, and closed the door behind him. They gave him no supplies of any kind. Once the outer door opened, the man walked through it willingly to accept his fate. The tunnel was cool and the air felt fresh. It was something he had not experienced in the years inside. The tunnel wound its way another thousand yards before he came to its opening. He looked at the horizon noticing the broken clouds in the skies, and several rays of sunlight. The air was warm, and there was a slight breeze. It was beautiful, he thought, but it was also death. This he knew.
He made his way down through the rocky slope, and through the foothills. Even though his life had changed in ways he never expected, and he had done things he could never have imagined doing, he was at peace, not a peace of contentment and tranquility, but a peace of finality.
Several more days passed as he noticed the signs of water depravation. The air was dry, and he no longer produced any sweat. He thought about moving only at night, but it seemed pointless. There were more trees the further he traveled from the mountain, so he knew water was available. He also started seeing telltale signs of animal life. Tracks were visible in the loose ground and an occasional set of bones lay bare. He found a small pool of water in the shade of a large boulder. He used both of his hands, cupped together, to drink his fill. In the process of doing so, he scrapped his right forearm causing a small flow of blood. He ignored this as he slowly drank until he was completely satisfied. He washed and cleaned his cut while drying it with the sleeve of his shirt.
The night was very pleasant, and he was feeling the restorative effects of being re-hydrated. In the morning, he decided he would make a serious attempt to find food, hunting it if necessary. What he did not realize was that there were already hunters in the vicinity,
and they, too, were hungry. The trace amounts of blood on his sleeve were as noticeable to a Ravener as smoke from a fire was to a normal human. It did not take them long to locate their prey. Once they did, only the night could hear his screams, as he was eaten alive suffering a death too horrifying even for a nightmare.
FIVE
They met together twice every month. Once, as two thirds of the board of directors meeting, and another time when it was just the two of them. They started this journey together many years before. While they gave the impression of promoting a common goal among those they served, they in fact left nothing to chance and were quite skilled at manipulating matters to develop as they designed. They were approaching one such stage now.
“Have you been able to duplicate the serum Martin,” Frank Bishop asked.
“No. It seems that using genes from live planaria is the only way. Trying to duplicate the results from treated hosts does not have the same affect.”
“How much do you have left?”
“Not enough,” Martin Maddow stated pointedly, “If you want to move forward, I suggest we start now. I will be able to treat one person, as it is, maybe two. But I would like to make sure the first one takes before attempting another.”
“I thought you were going to keep more in reserve,” Mr. Bishop said accusingly.
“We only need one. Just make it the ’right’ one,” he replied evenly.
The two men looked at each other understanding that there was no point in argument, or unnecessary diversions. They each played their part, and they would continue to do so until they had achieved their ultimate goal.
“Keith,” Mr. Bishop said.
“Is that because he is your son, or the right person for the task,” Maddow asked.
“Both. He has always been able to overcome anything he was faced with. He is also someone I can control. As long as his wife is happy, he is happy. And as long as his wife is safe, he will do what is asked of him.”
Dr. Maddow nodded his head in understanding. “I suggest you tell him as little as possible. I’ll keep his wife busy while he is undergoing treatment. Let me know when he is ready.”
“Tomorrow morning. If there is a problem, then I’ll select someone else and have them ready. But this needs to be done now.”
─
The problem with humanity was aging. Man could learn a wealth of information during his life, only to pass on a limited amount of that knowledge to the successive generations. Even with that vast amount of accumulated knowledge, it still takes years of dedicated study to understand everything that preceded them, giving them less time to add to it.
The government financed their scientific researchers to undertake unprecedented, and even unethical, steps to develop a modern ‘fountain of youth.’ Dr. Martin Maddow, molecular biologist, and clinical director for project F.O.Y. spent more than thirty years with some of the nation’s top scientists attempting to manipulate the genes that control cellular activity.
Cellular multiplication had to be kept from degenerating with time and age. Also, genetic and health factors had to be self-adjusting in order to limit the effects of environment and heredity. In a perfect state of existence, free of disease and environmental stress, a body should be able to regenerate itself in perpetuity. Since it was impossible to achieve the necessary control over the environment, focus turned within. The determination was made to target two biological aspects: cellular regeneration, and the lymphatic system. It was theorized that if cellular regeneration could continue without interruption, or decrease, in an environment free of disease and internal stressors, then the body would continue to not only live, but live in the same condition that existed at the time of treatment. In other words, a man treated at the age of twenty-five would continue to look, feel, and have the same abilities and traits of that twenty-five year old regardless of what age he lived to be; possibly to infinity.
Each scientist worked independently with only Dr. Maddow being aware of the cumulative results. They were released from duty after each advancement that they made, and replaced to keep the integrity of the project intact. In some instances, Dr. Maddow himself furthered the work so as not to allow sensitive information to find its way into university labs and other independent facilities that provided their talented members. The closer he came to achieving his goals, the more reclusive and silent he was when it came time to report to his superiors, save one. He was working with only a few assistants, none of which was from outside organizations, by the time congressional oversight had all but pulled the plug on financing the program. It did not matter to him as he had achieved what they all thought was impossible.
He chemically spliced a planarian gene with a similar human gene. When this was introduced with a human stem cell, it resulted in daughter cells, which replicated the properties of regeneration found in the planaria. With this ability, he was able genetically to reengineer human DNA. By doing so, he eliminated the natural errors within normal DNA replication and the effects they produced. Not only was continuous, error free DNA replication possible, but also the regeneration of damaged cells, eliminating the decay and aging of organs and body tissue.
The second phase of this process was introducing the planarian gene with a hematopoietic cell. This success culminated in an intra-osseous infusion. By having such regenerative abilities within the bone marrow, the host would be virtually disease free, and have an immune system capable of fighting any form of known infection or other intrusion. When he was sure of the results, he became the first test subject. The one person who had discovered sufficient details about his work, not by his own understanding of genetics, but rather by being shrewd enough to have a spy amongst his staff, was a lieutenant colonel named Frank Bishop who, in time, became the second subject. Together they officially shut down project F.O.Y. They had remained in close professional contact ever since.
―
Keith’s father called earlier in the day and asked him to come by his apartment when he was through. It had been relatively quiet, for the security department, ever since the killings and the subsequent expulsion of someone many of them had known. It was a reminder of the consequences that had to be paid for such actions. Keith did not disagree with the punishment; it was however, an indicator of the significance in the role he and his men played. At least people didn’t have guns in here, he thought. When he reached his father’s apartment, the door was opened before he could signal his presence, probably a security camera.
“Hello son,” he said extending his hand, “Come on in.”
Son, not Keith; he must want something.
“Have a seat, I’ll be right with you,” he said as he turned to leave the room.
His father’s apartment was only slightly larger than his own. Keith did not concern himself about such things, and probably would not have even noticed this difference if it was not for Terri commenting on it the last time they were there. Things like that mattered to her. His father returned with two glasses filled to about an inch deep with an amber colored liquid Keith assumed was Scotch whiskey. He handed one to Keith and took a seat. They both took a sip enjoying the warmth of the highly controlled, and hard to come by, liquid.
“Okay. I got the Scotch, and the friendly welcome. What is it you want dad,” Keith said directly.
His father smiled and said, “We need someone to undergo some important treatments before we can safely return to the outside.”
“Who’s we?”
“The board of directors of course; but in a sense, everyone inside.”
“I assume you have me in mind for this job. Why me?”
“I can’t think of anyone more capable or trustworthy.”
Keith was not exactly buying that line, but his father was not known for flattery either. “What do you need me to do?”
“Go outside,” his father said evenly.
Keith raised his eyes in surprise, “Isn’t that a little bit dangerous, in fact suicidal?”
“I
n the condition you are in now, yes.”
“Condition; what do you mean ‘condition‘?”
“I don’t plan on sacrificing you son. In fact, just the opposite; you would undergo a procedure which would make the environmental factors outside harmless to you.”
“Why don’t you just treat everyone and we can all leave,” Keith responded.
“Because we can only do one treatment, otherwise we would. An element to the procedure must be obtained from outside. To do this, we not only need someone to go out there, we also need him to come back.”
“How sure are you that this will work?”
“One-hundred percent.”
Keith raised his eyes in question, “What makes you so certain?”
Frank Bishop took another sip from his glass, and considered his next words before replying. “How old do you think Dr. Maddow is,” he asked his son.
“I don’t know. I’d guess a few years older than you. Why,” he said wondering where the conversation was going.
“He is seventy-five.”
“He sure looks good for his age.”
“It is more than looks Keith. I’ve known Martin for almost twenty-five years. He looks the same now, as he did when I first met him. He is as healthy now as he was then. The man is a genius. And I mean that in a literal way.”
“Okay. So what you’re telling me is that somehow your friend has found a way to continue to look younger than he is and to stay healthy―so what?”
“It is more than that Keith,” his father said annoyed slightly by his son’s flippancy. “He can do things; you’ll have to ask him for the technical terms, to make your system immune to the conditions on the surface. He can then do the same for everyone else if you are successful in obtaining what he needs to achieve that.”
Keith thought about that statement, and the whole conversation. He knew his father would not want him simply to do something that would cause his death. He also knew his father might not tell him everything, but he had never before told him an outright lie. “What does this treatment involve, and what is it I would need to find?”
