“I wasn’t born yet in the seventies, but I don’t disagree about the situation now.”
“So you get it? Governments don’t like admitting to their populations that they’re a bunch of crooks, so the politicians close ranks and their media parrots the party line, and the truth gets buried. That’s the world we live in. I doubt you’ve read one true thing in your entire life if it was in the paper. And TV is even worse.”
“Back to the cows. Do you have anything to support your theory?” Jeffrey asked, wanting to steer the subject away from tangents.
“I had, and it went missing when I lost my job. Just disappeared. Of course the university claimed that it was all an administrative SNAFU and that it would be found in time, but that, like so many other promises, was never fulfilled. Years of careful research confiscated, literally overnight, and a career in ruins — all because I took on the wrong people. After I exhausted my savings I found work where I could, and became a pretty fair carpenter, which is honest labor and a real craft, unlike moving integers around in cyber-space or teaching propaganda to students in order to advance in the pecking order. I now live in harmony with nature, nobody bothers me, and the outside world can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. My job isn’t to save it.”
“Back to your hypothesis… Not that I’m uninterested in how crooked the media is, but my brother thought you had a key piece of information I needed to know—”
“Then you now know it,” Sam interrupted. “The military was experimenting on livestock in the early seventies to advance its biological weapons program, in secret, while denying everything and planting red herrings in the press to keep it quiet. I believe they were injecting animals with something ugly, and I mean really ugly, and then going back and pulling organ and blood samples for analysis. If you look at a significant number of the suspect animals I isolated, they had a remarkable incidence of bovine leukemia and unexplainable levels of chemicals that aren’t naturally occurring. I speculated that the government was testing viral agents that could be used to infect humans, using cows as hosts. Within weeks of proposing that, I was being accused, baselessly, I might add, of sexual misconduct, and shortly thereafter had been effectively blacklisted from academia.”
Sam ran out of steam and shook his head. “That was my claim to fame, and I proved it, and it cost me everything. And nothing about it was ever covered by any news agency. So don’t expect anything out of the media. The media is a prostitute, diseased and crooked under its glossy exterior, and it went along with the lies, as it has with most of the big ones during your lifetime. And it worked. To this day, God help us all, it worked.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The End of the Story
The afternoon wore on, Sam rambling over the minutiae of his battle against the accusations that had poisoned his promising career, Jeffrey allowing him to talk and recount whatever seemed important to him, much as he was sure his brother had.
Eventually Sam stopped talking, lost in the labyrinth of his memories, fighting unwinnable battles against long-dead adversaries over issues nobody remembered or cared about. Kaycee rounded the garage and came back to the porch, her stride confident and unassuming; a graceful dancer’s glide, Jeffrey thought. He watched as she mounted the stairs, brushing a lock of unruly hair from her eyes, and then fixed Jeffrey with a disapproving stare.
“He tires easily. The medications do that. It’s time for him to rest now. I hope you got what you came for, because the meeting’s over,” she said, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a pair of work gloves.
Sam returned from whatever internal neverland he’d retreated to and waved her off with a feeble hand.
“Don’t be rude, Kaycee. Our guest was patiently entertaining my stories and asking some questions. This is the brother of the young man I spoke to when you were out buying supplies… what was that, a month and a half ago? I told you I’d had a visitor.”
“That was right after the accident, so almost two months,” she said.
“We were just talking about the past. Ghosts in the machine. The end of an era,” Sam said cryptically, finishing his last glass of tea, the pitcher now drained as the day had drifted past them.
Jeffrey edged forward in his seat. “Is there anything else you can tell me? Anything my brother seemed particularly interested in?” he tried, hoping for more from Sam before he got preempted for good.
Kaycee gave him a dark glare, annoyed that Jeffrey hadn’t taken her hint. “Why don’t you just ask him and leave my grandfather in peace?” she demanded, her tone still neutral but her eyes flashing with annoyance that he hadn’t stood and left yet.
“Be hard to do, Kaycee. He passed on. So have some respect for the dead,” Sam chided, his voice low.
She blinked twice, as though not registering the words, and then shook her head. “I’m sorry. Obviously, I didn’t know. But I have to insist on you winding this up. He really isn’t in any shape for a lengthy interrogation.”
“Nonsense. We’re sitting on the porch having a drink. There isn’t even any booze in it. How much harm can it do?” Sam grumbled.
“The doctor said you weren’t to exert yourself.”
“I’m seated, not pole dancing,” Sam said.
Jeffrey regarded them both. “Sam… Kaycee. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to meddle or disrupt anything here. I’m just looking for answers, and hoping to learn why my brother was so obsessed with the same topic that interested your grandfather years ago. Sam, if you’ve told me everything, I won’t keep you any longer.” He pushed back on his seat and rose, regarding the professor with resignation. “Then that’s the entirety of what you two discussed? Your theory about the livestock mutilation?”
Kaycee’s mouth hardened into a determined line, and she took a step toward him. “That’s what you’re talking about?” she asked.
“Don’t go off half-cocked, Kaycee. I don’t mind. It’s just a question, only words.” Sam turned his attention back to Jeffrey. “I wish I could remember anything more about that afternoon, but it was so soon after the fall, and I was on a lot of meds. I think that’s everything we covered. He seemed quite attentive about the detail — he was a very bright young fellow.”
“Then he’s told you everything,” Kaycee said, obviously hoping to end the conversation. “There’s nothing more for you here.”
Jeffrey nodded, and after a split second of internal battle, extended his hand to Sam, who was still seated, rocking slightly in his chair. “It was a real pleasure meeting you, Sam. Thanks for taking the time with me.” His brow furrowed. “Is there any way to get in touch with you if any more questions occur to me?”
Sam scowled. “Don’t have a phone. No T.V., either. Don’t need ’em. Waste of money, if you ask me. Had a cell phone, but the service expired last month and I haven’t gotten around to paying for more. Unnecessary with Kaycee here. But on my to-do list…”
Jeffrey turned to Kaycee, half afraid she was going to slap him. “Would it be possible to get your number?”
She exhaled with exasperation, then turned and hopped from the porch to the ground, ignoring the stairs. “I’ll give it to you on the way to the car,” she called over her shoulder as she started down the path toward the gate. “You coming?”