No…this won’t be the end for me.
Chapter 12:
The Man Behind the Curtain
No…this won’t be the end for me.
A bright holo of a female newscaster shined in the office.
“Breaking news from W-E-N-O Twelve. Oceanic Laboratories, the world’s leading provider of digenetics research, was found liable of gross negligence in the handling of the care of their very first human patient. The ruling came down from the Eighth district court on Wednesday, and law experts are predicting that the damages awarded could be record-breaking.
“Amanda Robinson had opted for an experimental procedure known as a ‘neural transfer’ where her mind would be digitally relocated into a new body known as a ‘host.’ Mrs. Robinson agreed to be part of the procedure because she suffered from Holt Oram, a rare genetic condition that caused her to be born without arms. While the exact nature of the gross negligence is unknown, Mrs. Robinson, who was a highly intelligent, functional adult beforehand, was reduced to a vegetative state afterwards.
“Mrs. Robinson’s husband, Don Robinson, was the plaintiff on the suit. He stated, ‘We’ve lost the foundation of our family, and the world has lost a star. Signing waivers for a procedure is not tantamount to signing away someone’s livelihood. There’s still a responsibility on the part of the service provider to act in good faith. Oceanic Laboratories did nothing of the sort, and it’s a small, but gratifying victory that Judge Foster felt the same.’
“In a move that has shocked many, Dr. Joshua Arlington, a senior member of Oceanic Laboratories’ board, commented on the ruling. ‘It’s unfortunate that Judge Foster ignored historical precedent in this case to rule in favor of the plaintiff, but OL will not be appealing. Since the incident, we have always felt for the Robinson family, and we hope that ending the court battle and settling the damages brings them peace.’
“The controversial ruling can be added to the long list of bizarre and bad news for Oceanic Laboratories. Three of their lab assistants, Philip Gingrich, Armando Martinez, and Jamal Fahad, were killed while assisting with Mrs. Robinson’s procedure. Their two top scientists, Dr. Rex Martin and Dr. Jessica Campbell, and one lab assistant, Cindy Little, are still missing in a case that has baffled investigators from the beginning. Authorities have no leads on Ms. Little, but have pieced together that Dr. Martin and Dr. Campbell were likely involved in a romantic relationship that was secret to everyone, including their employer. Whether their relationship played into their disappearances is still unclear.
“When asked about how the settlement and the turmoil with their employees will impact the company’s bottom line, Dr. Arlington had no comment. Yet, economists haven’t been shy, stating that the company will undoubtedly go bankrupt. Since the ruling this morning, OL shares have already dropped by more than seventy-five percent and are expected to reach junk stock status by the end of the week. What all of this means for the digenetics industry as a whole remains to be seen.
“That’s all for now, folks. Remember that at W-E-N-O, we know the news you want before anyone else. Karen Winslow signing off.
Alone in his office, a man tapped a button on his netphone, and the news hologram closed. The room was tinted bronze by the sun, and he couldn’t help but wonder the time. With two virtual clocks and three digital ones in his view, he ignored them as he always did and instead reached into his gray suit jacket. Digging farther, his hand made its way into the pocket of his black vest. He fished out a shiny gold pocket watch, and with pride, pulled it up to his face, revealing the golden chain connecting him to the timepiece. He popped it open and watched the mechanical arms tick slowly, nodding before putting the watch back in its place. Then, he tapped his netphone twice.
Ring.
Ring.
The hologram of a confident man’s face appeared, and he offered no greeting. “It was almost too easy. I think we’re good.”
“Better than good. I’ll be speaking with the other members tonight, but consider project Gaia green.”
“Hell yes! When will be begin production?” The man’s exuberance was palpable.
“We can’t afford to be sloppy this time. It’ll take at least a year to onboard a new entity, and then we’ll see from there.”
The hologram’s grin faded. “That’s getting pretty close to the shift from cash to credits.”
“Obviously. But that might not be such a bad thing. Let’s talk about it next week.”
“Fine. In the meantime, do we have a status on Project Indemnity? My clients are getting anxious.”
“Indemnity is yellow. It was harder than we thought to resume activities with our…errand boy gone. We should be on target for shipments and deliveries to resume within sixty days. Maybe less. I’ll check with my contact shortly.”
The voice huffed. “Why can’t we sell direct? We’ve got enough people in our—”
“I told you,” the man said calmly to his illuminated counterpart, “the minute we get sloppy is the minute we lose everything. I’ll be in touch.”
He tapped his netphone and the hologram disappeared. He put the device in his pocket and stood up. He was of average height and build, and despite his best efforts, his age and occupation had made it difficult to keep from getting soft around the midsection. He was bald on top of his head with a neat white crown wrapping around the base. The stereotypical male-pattern baldness. His gray three-piece was luxurious, and he had gotten in early on the magnetic buttoned dress shirt fad. They were so elegant a vest was all that was needed to look prestigious. Ties had been out of style for a while anyway.
He stepped to the office window and peered down to confirm that rush hour was coming to an end. Even after he was satisfied, he continued to stare at the troves of people flocking home for the day. As usual, a slight nausea set in and his stare transitioned into a daydream, a daydream that most would consider a nightmare. As his thoughts ran their course, the queasiness subsided enough for him to break the scenery’s hold on him, and he made his way out of the office.
He walked down the hallway, and on principle, passed up the elevator in favor of the stairs. He had always thought of elevators as small, moving prisons that made people weak, and he avoided them like the plague. He opened the heavy steel door, and as always, appreciated the echo that the stairwell offered. It was unbiased in the sounds it projected, and should another soul be going up or down, he would know instantly.
His black designer shoes clicked loudly down each of the steps, and after ten flights, he came to a sign labeled B3 and opened the adjacent steel door. Entering the lowest basement, he was presented with a concrete corridor that was completely black except for the three meters lit up by the overhead light.
He began walking into the dark, and a ceiling light popped on every seven meters. After several lights, the ones behind him would turn off, and he began passing doors with code pads next to each of them. Backup Generators, Backup Net Connection, and Backup Sewage. Finally, he came to the Backup Supplies door and typed in a password. With a beep, the door popped open, and he let himself in.
Another automatic light revealed a maze of shelves stocked with office supplies, large water jugs, and other various items. He moved through the labyrinth, making his way to the back of the room where he placed his hand on the concrete wall. He felt around for a moment, then pressed hard on a particular spot. The ground beneath rumbled, and the sound of industrial gears turning filled the room. A rectangular section of the wall started to slide to the right and dust emanated out. The man steadfastly waited for the process to finish as the powdery mist floated into his face. Once clear, a steel door was revealed with no obvious means to open it. Instead, there were a series of electronics protruding chest-high from the center, and the man began manipulating them. He stepped in close, so that his eyes were even with a pair of glass circles, and placed both thumbs into two metal slots. Holding the pose for a mo
ment, a tiny click could be heard as an instrument shaped like a microphone popped out and extended just in front of the man’s lips.
“The bud of a rose. The feather of a bird.”
This time, a series of clicks ratcheted out followed by a deep clank. A compartment opened on the left side of the door revealing a metal handle. The man gripped the handle and shut his eyes tightly. He took a breath, pushed down, and leaned in.
A crease of bright light flashed onto the man and flooded the room behind him as he opened the door more and more. He stepped inside the bright space, and the door closed behind him as he stood unmoving with his eyes shut. He took another breath and his nostrils were filled with a sterile aroma. He waited for his eyes to adjust as little they could behind their lids before fluttering them open.
“Welcome, Mr. Grant. Follow me.” Standing before him was a pale-skinned man in green medical scrubs. His paper mask was lowered to his neck. Without response, Grant complied with the man’s request, and they walked the only way possible, down a brightly-lit, white hallway with barren walls. The scent of rubbing alcohol intensified the farther they went, and a slight nausea took hold of Grant as they reached the end of the corridor. A right turn was all they could make, and they came to steel double-doors. The man in scrubs pressed a button on the wall, and the doors opened to reveal a long room lined with large, glass medical tubes and medical equipment that provided a soft din to the room. The men walked into the room, and Grant ogled the contents of the tubes with a muted glee. Red, pulsating organs were suspending in clear liquid inside.
“As you can see, Mr. Grant,” the doctor professed, “the sedative that was provided months ago has made it easier and easier to extract the finest products from our guests. Additionally, the cure we developed for SL has allowed us to quadruple our supply of those products.”
Grant nodded.
The doctor continued. “My only concern is timing, as always. We can maintain our supply with little to no degradation of quality for sixty-two days maximum. Any longer, and we risk lowering our grade to B, and frankly, I’m not willing to put my name on anything like that.”
“Our distribution interruption is being remedied as we speak. Keep up the good work, doctor. We’ll be in touch.”
Grant gave one last look at the products he was financing and smiled. Then, he strode toward the only exit. Back in the stairwell, he ascended to LL and leaned into the exit door to the parking garage. As if he’d mentally willed it, a full-sized, black luxury sedan pulled up right as he opened the door. The car had barely stopped when two men dressed in black jumped out. One raced to Mr. Grant and extended a holo-board to him. The other opened the car door.
Grant got into the back seat, which was divided from the front by thick glass. The door was shut behind him, and he quickly went to work on the holo-board, bringing up a projection of numbers, graphs, and charts. He manipulated some of the visuals with his hand, and the numbers changed correspondingly. When he got to a point where he was pleased, he tapped a button and the hologram closed. He sat in silence for a few moments as they drove into the sunset.
After twenty minutes, they parked behind an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. All the men got out of the car and went into the dark building. They walked for several minutes toward the center of the expansive, dim space where the only light source was a lantern on a table. As the men got closer, ghostly profiles were visible behind the light. Grant and his men stopped about four meters away. Sniffling could be heard from behind the lantern.
The silhouettes slowly moved with the screeching sound of something dragging along the concrete floor. The dull moan resonated throughout the warehouse. The legs of a wooden chair appeared with something tied to them. The more the chair came into the light, the more it was clear. A man in jeans and a sweat-soaked t-shirt was being held captive. His face had been bloodied, and he was trembling fiercely.
“Tell me about the plans of Douglas and Guerrero.” Mr. Grant was dry and stern.
One of the men behind the chair ripped the tape off the man’s mouth.
“Ah!” His scream echoed, and his breathing was increasingly erratic. With a stutter, he tried to respond. “I…don’t know much. They made sure the doctors and staff made it to the main building. Then, they had us find three people from the area, sedate them, and bring them back. Me and the other guys thought it was just another job.”
Grant squinted and talked through his teeth. “Someone asks you to kidnap random people, and you think it’s normal?”
The man was still shaking nervously when he spit some blood from his mouth. “We just do as we’re told. You didn’t hire us to be critical thinkers.”
Grant rolled his eyes. The man had a point. “Fine. From there you went to the old community center building in Westville. What happened?”
The man took a deep breath. “They had us set up a bunch of equipment and get the people into place. It was calm for a couple days, then the ventilation system exploded, and everything went to hell. We all thought we were under attack and ran that way. When we realized what had happened, we made our way back to our posts and found that the doctors were gone along with one of the patients. We caught them trying to escape.”
“Escaping.” Mr. Grant was losing what little patience he had. “They weren’t trying. They did.”
The man nodded anxiously. “Right. Yes, sir. We messed up.”
“Were you able to follow the escapees?”
The man finally caught his breath, and he swallowed hard. “One of the doctor’s locked us in. It took us ten minutes to realize that we had to blow the door. By the time we got outside, they were nowhere in sight. We followed their tracks to the creek southwest of the building. One, maybe two kilometers. Then, the trail went cold.”
Grant tipped his head forward. “And when you got back?”
“The other patients were gone along with the guard that volunteered to stay behind.”
“The guard’s name?”
“Jones. He went by Jones. But I had no idea he was dirty.”
“Thank you, Mr. Anthony. My last question. Why did you go into hiding for all these months? What were you so afraid of?”
Anthony’s chaotic breathing, shaking, and stammering intensified. “I…I…I…knew I screwed up. I…knew there would be consequences. I’m sorry. I truly am sorry. I mean, I got kids, you know.”
Grant exhaled softly. “It’s alright, Mr. Anthony. You’ve given us all we need.”
Anthony sighed hard in relief. “Thank you so much.”
Grant reached into his suit jacket, pulled out a silenced Glock, and shot the prisoner right between the eyes. The darting sound of the bullet was still reverberating in the building when Mr. Grant and the men with whom he came went back to the car.
On the drive into the city, Grant was quietly thinking about the implications of Mr. Anthony’s confessions when his netphone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, and a hologram appeared.
“Daddy! Daddy! I wanted to say goodnight to you!” The little boy kissed toward the hologram, making Grant smile. The boy backed up with wide eyes. “I love you! Here’s Mommy!”
A young woman appeared on the screen with a giant grin across her face. “You should have told me you’d have another late night, Michael. I would have sent dinner.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth. With all the craziness at the office, I haven’t had much of an appetite. I should be home by midnight. Don’t wait up, though.”
The woman scoffed, “You’ve been working there for thirty years, and you still get butterflies? Come on! Handle it like a man. Now, good night.”
“You’re right, honey. I love you. Good night.” The back seat went dark.
They steadily drove another ten kilometers before turning into the parking garage of another skyscraper. Grant exited the car, and it pulled away. He found the stairwell, and s
lowly and laboriously walked up the twenty-two flights to his destination. He entered the office hallway out of breath, with a bit of sweat on his brow, then made his way to a conference room. When he walked in, five men and two women wearing expensive suits were seated around a table. As rich and professional as their appearances projected, there was also something else. They looked overwhelming old and tired in their bodies. They sat statuesque, without speaking until Grant took a seat nearest the door.
The woman across the table from Mr. Grant started things off. “I hereby call this meeting to order with all members in attendance. Our opening topic will be Project Gaia. Mr. Grant, please provide a status update and any details pertaining to old business.”
Grant looked around for a moment, then smiled. “Ladies. Gentlemen. After seven years in the making, I’m proud to say that Project Gaia is finally green.”
The gray room suddenly lit up with excitement as everyone cheered, laughed, and exchanged high-fives. After a moment, the din settled, and the members composed themselves.
Grant cleared his throat. “We recovered virtually all of the computer data from the OL main building as well as the makeshift site. Two of the three unsanctioned procedures were initially successful at one-hundred percent, something we never saw in the early trials. Additionally, we calculated that each had a sustained success rate of over ninety-five percent. The third was initially successful at seventy-eight percent, resulting in a nasty physical side effect—paralysis from the waist down. Regardless, the sustained success rate for that procedure was calculated at just over ninety-two percent. All of this means that we’re more than safe to turn the Project to green.” He paused, admiring the grins around the room. “Let the countdown for our decrepit vessels begin.”
Between Two Minds: Revelation Page 20
