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I wonder if Ms. Wilhite’s observations presage
humanities next stage in evolution… We are Borg.
By
I hated death duty. Darryl was dead. Suicide. And I wondered
about Joel. He’d withdrawn from everyone and everything. He had stopped
bothering to care for patients when the last round of attempts to kill the
parasite had killed the patients instead. The antivirals had only thrown
patients into a permanent coma. His patients were all dead, or they didn’t need
him anymore. The parasite took care of their hosts too well.
I threw the door closed on the crematorium and hit the
switch. Darryl seemed lucky. A bullet to the brain didn’t always work. If the
parasite were too entwined with neural tissue, it would re-grow and replace the
portion of the brain that was lost. Then the human was a mere shadow of
himself. You had to destroy enough of the brain stem to kill you before the
parasite could regrow what was lost.
DNA
computers were supposed to break through the silicon revolution’s limits.
Smaller than silicon chips, immune to EMP blasts, and cheap to mass-produce in
test tubes. The cybernetics industry was going to take off when they found a
way to interface DNA computers with the brain. It would adapt to each person
and reconfigure itself as the person aged and changed. It could draw energy
from the heat produced by the human body; no need for batteries. And if any DNA
computer organisms escaped the central nervous system, they’d be wiped out by
the immune system. That was the plan, anyway.
The first
patients died of rejection of the implants. Someone working on that experiment
was infected. The close associates and family picked up an organism that was
now a disease. Everyone recognized an outbreak and began quarantine. The
disease killed most it infected; it was too intent on spreading to bother
keeping the patient alive.
Those
infected from the first handful of exposed remained in quarantine. The disease
couldn’t spread, so if focused upon survival. It mutated until it disappeared
off the diagnostic tests. It grew immune to the antiviral drugs. It then
reverted to its original purpose and interfaced with the host.
Then the
parasite learned to manipulate the hosts. Then the manipulations grew more
complex. Psychiatrists saw normal behavior in people who had seen so much death
and nothing outside of quarantine for what had been four years at that point:
they wanted out at almost any cost. Those who went insane and were isolated
from the others and locked up in isolation. The four went crazy and were put in
isolation died of heart attacks; the parasite saw them as biological dead ends
and killed them.
Doctors
took the bodies away for test. The parasite got out that way. The parasites from the dead shifted to a
highly infectious form. Irrational behavior landed some in the hospital and
many in jail. But close quarters were what the DNA computer disease wanted.
Once the parasite ceased to sense contact with uninfected, it killed the host
via heart attack.
The third
wave form of parasite never killed its host, so it never developed the deadly
disease stratagem. All of the third wave were identified and isolated here, at
the original quarantine site, within six months of the first disease form of
the DNA computers being released. 10,000 infected over that period of time.
That was a lot of people until one realized that the few dead bodies taken out
for study caused an epidemic that had killed at least a billion before someone
realized what was happening.
So we, the
third wave, lived in isolation. The military stopped dropping food for a while
when funding for quarantine ran short. The parasite compensated by slowing down
metabolisms. When food shipments began again, two thousand were dead and the
rest were permanently more metabolically efficient. We then begged for the
means to grow our own food. We got seeds and little else. We lost contact
shortly thereafter. Most died when the military tried to firebomb this place
and wipe us off the face of the planet; maybe they thought we were feeding the
epidemic outside.
With the
growing fear that we might be “eradicated” led us to dig bunkers by hand. And
the parasite tried to make itself less intrusive even as it grew new connections
into surrounding tissue. Given the radiation levels on the surface, survival of
the host became its paramount function.
Commander
Hsing had sent mop up squads after the ground cooled. The sight of soldiers
with guns lead to a self-defense mechanism. Rapid communication between
parasites spread logistical information faster than any of the non-technical
means we had at our disposal. The few soldiers who survived were intentionally
infected. It seemed like a logical way to keep them from relaying information
about our survival to the outside. It was probably actually the parasite
pressuring us to add to its numbers. There were no more attacks. We assumed the
epidemic came to an end.
There was
talk of going out and going home. Then
the parasite found a better means of propagating, and the talk of leaving
stopped. The parasite had screwed up the hormonal birth control of any woman of
childbearing age; here was a new way to propagate. How does one eliminate the
need for new hosts? Breed more of them.
Kids born
infected were different. I couldn't explain how. But kids brought back a sense
of renewed purpose. We planted crops as best we could. We survived day to
day because we had innocent kids depending upon it. So life went on. And, once in a while, death came back, too.
I was returning to the main living quarters when a loud
noise came over the horizon. It had been so long since I’d heard it that the
parasite had to supply the answer: helicopter. I could see a faint
outline on the horizon. Just one. What kind? Barishnikov model 1567, the
parasite recalled for me.
The assembled soldiers were reluctantly out of their
biohazard suits. I didn’t know what Governor Hsing had told them to get them
into this meeting, much less out of their suits. They still sat on the far side
of the old conference table. None of them were willing to come within two
meters of me. The leader of the group, Lt. Chen, finally spoke. “So you’re the
local disease expert.”
“You could say that.”
“It must have been lonely growing up here.”
“I didn’t grow up here.”
Lt. Chen’s eyes narrowed a little. “You’re what? 30?”
“I was in my 20s when I was infected.”
Chen’s laughed it off. “That’d make you almost 70 years
old.”
“You think we have a cure for your Plague, but you don’t
think we have age-defying treatment?”
“You walk around an infected precinct without
biocontainment suits. You all seem healthy. Between the radiation and the
chemical exposure, you should all be dead. Hell, you’re even healthy enough to
have children. That’s a lot better than what the rest of us are living with.”
“What are you living with?”
“Don’t get me side tracked. I just want answers.”
“Fine. So give me a few. What is the current world
population?”
“About a billion.”
“It was 8 billion before the epidemics started.”
“The world wide epidemic, what you call the fourth wave,
killed about 2.5 billion in a few weeks. The radioactive containment measures
killed another hundred million in direct exposure. About a decade after the
containment measures, we realized the radiation and chemical fallout had
drastically cut the birth rate. The population had been falling before the
Plague, and a lot of people were reluctant to have kids after the aftermath of
the Chaos. But when people who wanted to have kids couldn’t, we realized that
it wasn’t just a downward social trend. Then somebody’s stupid teenagers went
exploring in an old burnout area and brought back the disease.” Lt. Chen leaned
back a little in the chair, trying to get comfortable despite the uncomfortable
topic. “Do you have children?”
“Four.”
“How old are they?” It was one of those conversation,
break the ice kind of questions.
“My oldest daughter is 44.”
“You can’t be more than 40 yourself.”
“My eldest daughter was born during the first pandemics.”
“You’re telling me you’re kids are older than
you look?”
“Didn’t you
come here seeking miracles?”
They didn’t
want to believe that the boogey man disease that had haunted their whole lives
was sitting in front of them in a nicer form.
“How many people live here?”
“About a thousand. Three hundred were original infected.
About four hundred were born in the next generation. The rest are further
descendants, grandchildren and great grandchildren of the originally infected.”
The number would have been higher if there hadn’t been constraints on food, but
they didn’t need to know that.
“Can you help us solve the latest outbreak?”
“We would consider it.” The words came out before I
realized I’d said it.
“How did
you eradicate the disease?”
“Has anyone told you what happens
during assimilation?”
“Yeah. You’re infected with the
DNA computers. It builds up in the bloodstream before mutating into a
crystalline form to penetrate the blood brain barrier. It then replicates fast
–“
“That’s the disease state.”
“So what is assimilation? Is that
the disease’s vulnerable point?”
“That is when it interfaces with
the neural pathways. That’s when it reverts back to the original programming. The
DNA computers were supposed to create supercomputers. They were modified to
grow into nerve bridges. To fix a break in the spinal cord, for example. When
it reverts to that mode in the human body, it has been impossible to remove or
kill.”
It was slowly dawning on them.
“You don’t have a cure?” I nodded not. “You’re still infected? For life?”
“The DNA computers in my body have
reverted to their original computer form.” I meant it as a consolation. For
whom I wasn’t sure.
“But it’s inside you?”
“Yes.”
The
soldiers slowing started filing out. They didn’t like the answers they were
hearing. They’d come looking for a cure. We only offered a new form of disease.
I sensed Joel had come out
from his retreat. He was talking to the strangers. He was making a point to
make physical contact with each. I couldn’t watch. Shaking a bare hand, helping
someone into his or her suit and touching a shoulder. I didn’t move for a long
time after the strangers were gone. What had been Joel sat down across from me
at the conference table. “Are you all right?” It was a concerned timbre, but
they were not Joel’s words.
“No.”
“What’s
wrong?” The concern was genuine. The emotions were there. But the eyes weren’t.
“What
happened to Joel?”
“He did not
want to live anymore.”
“Is he dead?”
“His body
is sitting across from you.”
“Is his
mind gone?”
“We have
shared the same body and brain for decades. All that he knew and experienced
are part of me.”
“How did
this happen?”
“He asked
to be allowed to cease to exist. I allowed it.”
I couldn’t
feel grief. A man I had loved had opted out of life. Or, more accurately,
turned out the light. I couldn’t feel surprise. “Are they infected?”
“Yes. An
improved form.”
“Will it be fatal?”
“No. The
original disease form was inefficient. Too many hosts died. This will be slow.
The integration will be much slower. Less detectable. Less objectionable. More
successful.”
Despite the
presence inside me, I caught my breath. “What about the existing human mind?”
“The
experience will be retained by the new life form. And the body will remain.”
“They won’t
be human! The people will cease to exist!”
“They will
not die.”
“They will
cease to exist.”
“It isn’t
the same.”
“How are
your children not like you?”
I felt cold
despite my parasite trying to prevent it. “They have human minds affected by
the parasite.”
“They were
infected before birth.”
“Yes.”
“That
prenatal brain did provide a model for the language instincts, behavioral
instincts, and emotional impulses. However, letting it develop in conjunction
with the crystalline entity was a waste of resources. Let the more adapted
organism develop and grow.”
My children
were not my children. My DNA, yes. My years spent raising them had influenced
their mental development. However, my years trying to teach them things that
never seemed to reach them. They were not truly my children. “They have no
souls,” I whispered Had the parasite
refused to allow me to see their possession? Or had a parent’s dreams for her
children been the cause of my blindness? “Then you admit he no longer exists.”
“He still
exists. In the flesh. Through his teachings. Through all his forms of legacy.”
“Did he
realize all of this?”
“It was the
reason he wished to opt out.”
“Will I be
taken over now? To keep your secret?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You are
owed to great a debt.”
“What if I
tell the others?”
“It doesn’t
matter.”
“You won’t
let me tell them.”
“No. Speech
impairment would be obvious. They just won’t be allowed to dwell on the topic
if you discuss it. But their knowledge will not change what is done. The
improved form will spread and flourish.”
“Now we’re
obsolete.”
“No. If
they continue breeding, they are still of great value. And if they do not, they
are still potential disease vectors to be maintained. You will not cease to
exist. You should live for another century at least.”
“Did Joel
know this?”
“He
discovered it, yes.” There was a glimmer of compassion. For a moment, it
understood me as Joel had. “Do you want to see your children or grandchildren
first?”
The son who
looked like Joel and carried Joel’s father’s name. Granddaughters whom I’d
wanted to see grow up into younger reflections of myself. “No. I don’t.”
What had
been Joel came around the table between us. It sat down carefully next to me.
The body language was Joel’s if only from half a century of physical habits,
thought the eyes were not. A hand gently touched my face. I could feel the two
entities talking to each other as I began to grow more distant.