Using a long metal forceps, Ivanov puts the capsule over the flame of a Bunsen burner. The blood heats up, begins to smoke, then sizzles, turning into a brownish coal lump. A sickening stench, typical of burnt flesh, spreads in the laboratory.
“So you think this proves that the boy isn’t infected?” asks Moore with a hint of sarcasm.
“Well, this test worked for some time, in the first period of our research. Nonetheless, as I already mentioned, the creature evolves, it learned to… sacrifice – so to say – a part of itself, just to ensure that the most of its body has a chance to survive. For greater certainty, we will take another test. Tell me doctor, do we have something like a taser or some device that generates a violent electrical discharge?”
“Not that I know…”, replies the woman. Her gaze meets for a moment that of Juan Vasquez. The soldier left by Macready to attend to the woman’s orders stays a few meters away, his arms are folded and he is leaning with his shoulder against the wall. As his eyes meet those of the woman he makes an imperceptible negative sign with his head. She goes on. “…anyway I’m afraid that, given the circumstances, this is out of the question, Dr. Ivanov.”
The man raises his eyebrows, a look that is a mixture of exasperation and disapproval. “I understand. In this case I guess we’ll have to improvise with what is available here. At the present state of my knowledge, the best test is to subject a tissue sample to a non-lethal electrical discharge, but still strong and prolonged. This – so to say – jams something in that remote and unfathomable part of the organism that dictates its behavioral syntax. Its mind, although I believe that the meaning that we usually give to this term is overly simplistic in this case.
However there’s another way, though personally I think it’s another barbaric solution against a being endowed with a certain intelligence. You see, the fire acts violently, burning a large number of cells at the same time because the high heat also kills the deep layers of tissue. Death is relatively quick.”
Seeing the puzzled look of Moore, Ivanov clarifies his thoughts: “How to say… One thing is to withstand extreme pain that lasts a few seconds and kills you. Another is to resist such an intense and prolonged pain that wears you down without destroying you quickly. The creatures are somehow connected between them, and I believe th at this is what also provides their ability to retain DNA information gathered from so many different species. The mother organism, that is, the one from which the sample was drawn, perceives everything. In the three decades spent studying the creature, we conducted an incredible number of tests to be absolutely certain of this. Increased heart rate, sweating, dilated pupils… It, however, evolved quickly, and learned how to resist and keep control of itself, although this depends very much on the size, animal species, and finally on the character and nature of the treated and replicated subject.”
“Character and nature?”, intervenes Moore. “Do you mean that you made tests on human beings?”
The man sighs, as if to suppress a painful memory. “Not willingly. After seeing what the creature is able to do with simple laboratory animals, and how dangerous and difficult their containment is, no one would ever want to deal with a mass greater than that of an infected lab-mice, believe me. Let alone a human being. Anyway, fate decided otherwise…”
Ivanov doesn’t wait for an answer, he begins to work with several bottles of chemicals. Moore however is not inclined to miss the chance to learn more. “What happened?”
He raises an eyebrow, looking up from the containers with which he is working. Their eyes meet. “We made an error. The same one that claimed the life of the men and women of the Norwegian camp… The one that sealed the fate of the American expedition, thirty years ago, and the same you all will make today as well… We underestimated it.”
The man turns to mix different reagents, as if to imply that the conversation is over. However, there are several things on which Moore has been brooding since their last meeting.
“Is there any way to prepare a vaccine or a cure?”
The scientist shakes his head, unsure. “I don’t know yet, Dr. Moore. I can tell you that there is a kind of treatment that has initially yielded some encouraging results. But like I said, the creature learns quickly and I can’t rule o ut that it will resist also this new procedure.”
The man notes her questioning look , a silent encouragement to continue. “Ever since I realized the real power of the creature, I started to regularly take a quantity of a modified molecule of potassium cyanide developed in our laboratories. In small doses, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t be here talking about it. Over time, by increasing the amount taken periodically I developed some resistance, up to levels that would kill instantly another human being. I know that the creature can perfectly replicate the DN A. This however isn’t altered by the procedure, and my DNA doesn’t include natural resistance to high doses of poison, the same way that in the DNA of a child there isn’t any information about calluses or scars that he may develop if, when adult, he was to be a blacksmith, or the muscles that he will build taking anabolic steroids and doing body-building, although the underlying DNA is still mostly uncharted territory. The individual cells of the creature are sensitive to this venom. Experimenting with laboratory animals we saw that, in the presence of this substance, the creature immediately cease assimilation, however it needs just a single cell to have the whole DNA information of its prey and if necessary it’ll be able to replicate it. In any case, this treatment won’t ensure immunity from the most violent dynamics of the assimilation process.”
Ivanov notices the suspicious gaze of the woman.
Understandably, no one believes until he sees it with his very eyes…
“I know, it’s a desperate solution, but believe me, Dr. Moore, if only you had seen at least one small part of what I have seen in all those years… I’d rather be unaware of all this. There’s not a single day in which I wished the Norwegians had never found the specimen.”
“The last time we talked you mentioned something about the origins of the organism of which we’re speaking, I remember you used the word creators. What did you mean by that?”
The man lets out a half-smile, as he looks at the petite woman beside him. His hawk eyes take a mild look for a moment or two. He feels empathy for what could be his perfect daughter, and he sees in her spirit his own thirst for knowledge. “You don’t miss anything… I wouldn’t share this information, normally. At least not with someone who hasn’t an access level beyond top secret. You see… society, economy, power, are based on some main structures, first of all the history of mankind and of the planet that hosts us. You are different from most of the people I have met. I can see that you are a pure soul, devoted to science.”
The shy nerd dormant in the heart of Emily Moore takes the upper hand for a moment, and the woman perceives the hated feeling that precedes the blush on her cheeks, so she looks away, focusing on arranging the glassware on the bench in front of them. Ivanov pushes a switch that turns on a fume hood, then he proceeds to mix substances in a two-liter flask, a few drops at a time, causing a slight effervescence. After some seconds, the Russian resumes talking to her. “The implications of what I am about to say may undermine the very foundations of the world that you know… But I am getting old, and some weights are too big to carry on your shoulders alone.”
“Please, go a head”, she says.
The man sighs, but seems convinced. “Well, I have already made you aware that the paleontologist we found died of hypothermia. She mentioned the wreckage of an alien ship found in the ice. In the following years we tried to find it, but our attempts were fruitless. Previously, however – I mean a few years before finding the body of the paleontologist – we made another important discovery. Something far beyond imagination. At that time one of our expeditions was set in a very cold and remote area in Antarctica. It was a mountainous plateau at about 4000 meters: the Dome Argus. In some places the ice sheet covering the continent was thinner, so our men managed to dig tunnels to reach the underlying rocky layer, to collect samples. During one of the perforations, a big piece of ice gave way suddenly, causing a landslide and the death of two men who were never found. There, however, we found that a large section of the underlying rocky surface had been freed, and at that point there was a cave. At first the explorers thought that the shape of the opening, an almost perfect triangle, was an oddity of nature, but when they reached it, they found that it had an artificial origin. I was immediately contacted and sent to verify the eventual presence of traces of life forms dating back to very ancient times. I won’t bore you with the details of the perfectly smooth structure or the spectacular dimensions. I’ll tell you that we went inside the cave. It was a triangular shaped corridor that went deep into the heart of the mountains. As we proceeded we had to remove odd ice obstructions, each time older. After a distance that we estimated at about six miles, the tunnel opened into what at first sight looked like a huge underground cave. Later we found that it was not a natural cavity, but a cuboid room. The size was colossal and its sides in perfect proportion to the first three square numbers.”