Since this treatment would be given to hundreds of thousands of people worldwide, it meant that in several generations, millions of people could have inherited this genetic time bomb. But what was most disconcerting was that these kinds of risks were not being evaluated or picked up by health authorities, since they were only requiring two or three year trials.
Axel wasn’t sure this was what Bhavin was looking for, but he was proud of his find, especially because gene editing wasn’t something Axel was familiar with at the outset.
Axel tried to chase Bhavin down after the meeting to ask about the report, but two other corporate officers managed to maneuver in front of him. So he stood in the executive lineup, waiting for his chance to access Bhavin. By the time the others had finished, Bhavin was halfway out the door.
“Bhavin if I could have a minute—” But Bhavin was already walking away, past the threshold of his personal offices, with his assistant whispering in his ear.
Grant was standing nearby, staring at a tablet. He looked up briefly and said, “Mr. Kelemen, Bhavin will be in your office in ten minutes.” Then Grant returned to his tablet.
Axel walked back to his office and waited. He would have preferred getting the word from Bhavin directly, rather than through his socially awkward intermediary. He wondered if Bhavin would be on time, or come at all.
Bhavin came on time, right to the minute.
Axel was about to speak, but Bhavin held up his hand.
Without any pleasantries, he said, “Thank you for your report. I agree with most of your outline. Your analysis confirmed what we already knew.”
It was the kind of synopsis that preceded “made redundant” communications, so Axel prepared himself for the worst.
Bhavin continued, “and Grant has already initiated the issuance of a computer virus to handle the gene editing concern in Singapore. We had our eye on that one, but you provided us new information that let us see the risk in a new light.”
“A computer virus, sir?”
“You can call me Bhavin, if you like, but sir is fine as well. I know military habits can be hard to break.”
Axel felt it best to not get too informal here, and military habits were good habits as far as he was concerned. “Okay, sir.”
Bhavin smirked and continued. “No need to get into the details with you. You know, need to know and all that. Essentially, we can issue a virus that reveals the nature of the genetic time bomb to the researchers. If they don’t take action to terminate the gene editing program, we wipe their computers and files and alert the health authorities.”
“Oh,” Axel said, again marveling at Nadar Corporation’s cyber capabilities.
If Grant could in fact develop such a virus, the solution sounded reasonable. But Axel was beginning to feel rather impotent. Was he just here to write reports and take no action? “Sir, if there’s a specific area you’re interested in, please let me know, and I can dig deeper. I’m having trouble seeing where I can be of much use.”
Bhavin’s head lurched back, and his eyes squinted. “I don’t think you understand. This report was just a test. Now I see how you think. You’ve shown me you can see things others can’t. You’ve made a rational pitch for assembling your team. You’re ready now, or rather, I am ready to give you your first assignment.”
Axel’s momentary confusion abated. He had passed some rite of passage with Bhavin. It made sense. Why would Bhavin entrust truly dangerous and covert assignments to someone he didn’t know well? This wasn’t unlike Axel working a new asset in a covert operation. Axel would never fully trust an asset until he or she showed their loyalty and competence.
“I guess I’m learning more about you as well, sir,” Axel said.
Bhavin smiled curtly, took a folder from his designer backpack and dropped it on Axel’s desk. “Now let’s get to work,” he said.
Axel opened the file and glanced at the first few pages. He couldn’t help his eyes from widening. He was going to have to brush up on his Russian.
THE PRISONER
The administrative center of Grand Caverns was an impressive array of buildings, several stories tall in places. They had been commissioned two years ago by Chief Darkwind and only recently completed. Although no one would ever speak of it, it didn’t look far removed from Old World building complexes you might see in pre-Detonation times in Staunton or Waynesboro.
Flora walked under the main entrance. The symbol of the cherry blossom tree on top of a voluminous sun was carved into the wood at the top of the archway. It was still unpainted, though—the wood was still raw.
In the main courtyard she veered left into the law enforcement hall. Flora checked her leather frock and patted down her hair to make sure nothing was out of place.
The hall was empty save Finch Coralwood, the main administrative deputy on duty. Finch had a round face and bushy eyebrows that always seemed to be raised in some form of cynical stare. “Figured it would be you again,” he said.
“Sorry I’m late. Reed’s not feeling well again.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. Reed had one of his nights.
“Uh huh,” Finch said, his lips curling slightly. “Well, we have a special assignment for you today.” He pushed keys over to her on his desk. “You are to do the regular letters and filing, but we also need you to watch over a prisoner. This comes directly from Darkwind.”
“We have a prisoner?”
He spoke quietly, “We do, from the Spoke raid. A strange bird, apparently not a Spoke from Seeville, but from some other place. Darkwind’s coming by later to check on her, so be on your toes.”
“I understand,” Flora said. “Any other job postings?”
“Aren’t you at the infirmary?”
“Yeah, but always looking for something better.” The truth was Healer Stormwind had told her she had to go. Stormwind had been merciful, though, giving her a few weeks to transition.
Finch showed a concerned look. “No postings today. Sorry, Flora. I’m sure something will turn up.”
“Thanks anyway. Let me know if you see anything.” She moved over to Reed’s desk and grabbed his stack of files.
“So what’s Reed really doing today?” Finch asked, watching her flip through the folders. He leaned over in her direction and spoke in a harsh whisper. “You know, Flora, you don’t have to keep living like this.”
She just smiled at him and ignored the comment. Finch probably meant well, but she found his tendency to pry into her personal life disconcerting. At some point she would have to figure out how to deal with him. If what he said found its way to Reed’s ears…
Eager to get away, Flora snatched the keys off Finch’s desk and headed back into the holding cells.
The cells were newly minted, made of gleaming iron rods and precisely cut timbers. The room still smelled of pine and sawdust. It was ironic that prisoners were able to have a good roof over their heads when many Essentialists continued to live in makeshift tents that could blow away in a strong storm.
The prisoner had been sleeping on the hard floor. She sat up to watch Flora enter. She was paler than most, with a blue streak in her hair. Her clothes looked to be leather aside from her shirt. Her shirt was made of a collection of small metallic circlets.
Flora dropped the keys and files on a desk opposite the prisoner’s cell. The prisoner’s belongings were stacked on a chair next to the desk. They included a pack containing some food, a knife, a crossbow, and a small metal box.