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Lonely Corridor - 2 (MF, Tv-parody)
by Demara (dforest@weir.net)
(c) 1997
Chapter 2
"... as an information researcher, you
are responsible for directing the client to their objective. At no point
in time should you become personally involved in the narrowing or expanding
of a topic. That is the client's responsibility. Do all of you understand
this?" Several people in the class nodded their heads. "Does
anyone have any questions?"
"Yes, how can we direct a client to
their objective if we are not involved?" A teenage girl in second
row asked.
"The involvement is emotional. You as
the researcher must always be detatched, above emotions. The client can
break down and cry over the little girl who was murdered or they can feel
rage for the loss. You as the researcher can not, may not. That girl is
just another story. She is a piece of information. That is all for today.
Everyone read the next two chapters."
The room emptied quickly as the students
hurried out of the room to enjoy the upcoming weekend. Once all the student's
had left the instructor sat down and began gathering her materials into
a large leather bag. Her mouse-brown hair was drawn into a braid that ran
down her back and the lines on her face showed a strain not usually found
on a woman in her late-twenties.
She looked up quickly as she heard the sweep
of cloth brushing against a chair. Her eyes landed on a tall, dark-haired
woman wearing dark glasses and all black clothing. She was walking toward
her. "How may I help you?" The instuctor asked sharply. The day
had already been long and she really didn't want to deal with a vampire
wannabee. This lady actually gave her the creeps.
"Ms. Flemming. I was wondering if I
may have a brief word with you. It concerns a report you compiled concerning
medical malpractice at Queen of Angels hospital last year. Specifically,
the references you made to a source that you quoted."
Ms. Flemming sat back into her chair and
thought, "Why today?" She stayed silent for a long period of
time and openly studied the woman standing in front of her. Her nervous
system slowly calmed down and she realized her reaction was in response
to the absolute silence that surrounded this lady. After several minutes,
she sighed and motioned for the lady to pull up a chair.
"You already know my name. What is yours?"
"Krystal Forest." She said after
a brief pause.
"What can I tell you about the report?
But, before we start, I want you to know that I know very little about
the gentleman I quoted. He just appeared out of no where and disappeared
as quickly."
"Was this the man?" She held a
picture of Jarod out to Ms. Flemming.
"Yes, that's him."
"What can you tell me about him? What
was his name?"
"Jarod Russell. His credentials listed
him as having completed his training at Johns Hopkins Hospital. He was
ranked at the top of his class. An excellent addition to any hospital;
especially, one like Queen of Angels."
"Why was he such an excellent addition
to Queen of Angels?"
"With his credentials, he could have
had his choice of hospitals. He could have stayed at Johns Hopkins or chosen
any other top-ranked hospital; instead, he came to Queen of Angels. Most
doctors would avoid an inner-city hospital with numerous cases of malpractice
against it. He didn't. He came and touched the patient's lives and saved
many as well."
"What can you tell me about him....
his personality, appearance, bearing?"
Ms. Flemming quickly looked at the woman's
hands, "aren't you taking notes?"
"Yes."
"How? Do you have a tape recorder?"
"No. I have a photographic memory. I
will transcribe our conversation verbatem once I am home."
Her eyebrows raised and she looked at the
woman in astonishment. "Well, what ever. You asked about his appearance.
He was tall over six foot and well proportioned, brown hair and eyes, well
dressed. The only noticeable characteristic I saw was a small mole at the
corner of his right eye." She paused briefly. "His bearing....
He was confident; yet, vulnerable. He immediately put you at ease with
the way he spoke with you. He never acted as if he was better than anyone.
Actually, he didn't act like a doctor at all. He was willing to work with
the patient; within their wishes." She paused again. "I'm not
sure what else I can tell you about him. I only spoke to him for a brief
time. Most of the impressions I got about him were from his patients and
the hospital staff. Have you spoken to them yet?"
"Yes, I have spoken to them. They were
unable to give me much additional information. I was hoping that as a researcher
you may have seen something that an untrained observer would not have seen."
"Such as..."
"I do not know. That is why I came to
you. What about his personality?"
Ms. Flemming looked at the desk-top as she
thought about Doctor Russell and how she could describe him. "He was
professional, caring. Seemed somewhat ill-at-ease at discussing himself,
his personal life. I really didn't have enough time to determine his personality."
She shook her head as she realized just how little she really knew about
her source.
"Did he say where he was going?"
"No. In fact, I didn't realize he was
gone until I attempted to contact him about the article. I wanted to get
his opinion on it." She turned toward her leather bag and started
shuffling through its pockets. "I have his phone number here somewhere.
Here it is." She tore the page from the notepad. "I won't need
it."
"Thank you." Krystal folded the
little piece of paper and slipped it into her jacket pocket. "Do you
think he came to this hospital just to help that little boy?"
"I don't know. But, if that was his
only intention, he ended up helping many more people than just Kevin Bailey."
Krystal stood and reached out her hand, "thank
you for your time. I am certain you want to go home to your husband and
your children. And, I have kept you here far too long." She smiled
as she shook Ms. Flemming's hand. "If anything else comes to mind
please give me a call." She handed her a business card with her name
and cell-phone number typed on it in her customary black and gold.
"May I give you a small piece of advice?"
Ms. Flemming asked as Krystal turned to leave the room.
"Yes." Krystal turned back to face
her.
"Try not to be so quiet. That silence
can frightened people."
"As it frightened you. I will try not
to be so quiet." Krystal smiled slightly as she turned to leave.
Krystal moved through the school building
and exited from a side door. Harvard's campus stretched away from the building
in all directions. Students were walking over the grassy areas and sitting
at the tables dotting the campus. This unusally warm day in February was
a wonderful time to study out-of-doors, something she had never been able
to do. She smiled as she set off for the street were she had left her car.
Once at the car, Krystal looked back at the
campus and wondered what her life would have been like if she had been
able to come to a place such as this as a child. She unlocked the driver's
side door and slipped into the driver's seat. Her lap-top computer was
on the floor in front of the passenger's seat and she quickly reached down
and picked it up. After opening the case, she turned on the power and watched
as her customized main screen appeared. She locked the doors and turned
the key listening to the purr of the car's engine. This was her first car
a twin to the one she had driven in Oregon were she had met a woman who
had caught Jarod's eye.
Slowly she pulled into the road and started
back to her home. Reaching over to the lap-top, she turned on the voice
recognition feature on which she had been working. "Hello, Krystal.
What are we working on today?" A synthesized voice asked.
"Hello. I will be updating Jarod, Case
3 - Queen of Angels Hospital." The computer quickly brought up the
required folder and displayed the information on the screen. "Computer
make a quick note in my to-do file: Create a screen mirroring option for
displaying lap-top contents on the front window while I am driving. Note:
Option should be voice controllable and not noticable from outside the
vehicle."
"Quick note has been added to your to-do
file. I have returned to Jarod, Case 3 - Queen of Angels Hospital."
She related the interview she had just conducted with Ms. Flemming and
added her thoughts and reactions to the new information. "Computer
close file. Computer have there been any updates from home?"
"Yes. There are two pieces of mail waiting
in mailbox 1 - Forest. Three pieces of mail are waiting in mailbox 2 -
Krystal. And, one hundred thirty-five pieces of mail are waiting in mailbox
3 - Centre. Would you like me to begin reading them to you?"
"No. I will read them myself once I
am home. Thank you. Please close all programs and begin powerdown."
She closed the computer and turned on the radio. It was tuned to a classical
music station and they were featuring a wonderful group of young musicians
from a school in the area. The miles drifted by quickly as she lost herself
in the sweet voices.
About halfway to her destination, her cell-phone
rang. "Hello." She said as she answered it.
"Krystal, it's Ms. Flemming. I thought
of something you might want to know about. While Jarod was at the hospital
he had a blood test battery performed on a sample; but, that sample was
not traced to any of his patients. I wonder if it could have been his own?"
She paused. "Also, I wonder why he was having a test battery done
on his own blood. By the way, it did not include a DNA test."
"Thank you Ms. Flemming, I do not know
the answers to your questions; but, it does give me another avenue to travel.
Thank you again; and, if you think of anything else please call."
"Of course I will. Come back to visit
anytime. I really enjoyed talking to you."
"Thank you. The next time I am in town
I will stop. I enjoyed talking to you as well. Have a good day." With
that Krystal touched the phone off and hung it up on its rest. She reached
for the computer and opened it automatically thumbing on the power.
"Hello, Krystal. What are we working
on today?"
"I need to update the Jarod, Case 3
- Queen of Angels Hospital file." She waited as the file was pulled
up and displayed on the screen. "Ready."
"I just received a phone call from Ms.
Flemming." Krystal started. She recited the conversation and the computer
quickly entered the data. "Computer close file."
"What are we working on next?"
"Computer initiate search on the Queen
of Angels Hospital blood analysis records. Search parameters will include
Doctor - Jarod Russell, Patient - Blank, and Date range - concurrent with
dates from the file Jarod, Case 3. Start search."
Krystal drove rapidly toward home as the
computer initiate a modem link with the hospital and downloaded the laboratory
records for the necessary time period. The sounds of the hard drive and
the faint purr of the wheels were the only sounds for fifteen minutes.
"Data download complete. Initiating search using entered parameters.
The search should take approximately four minutes."
"Search complete. One record was located,
parameter match one hundred percent. Would you like me to read the file
summary to you now?"
"Yes."
"Doctor - Jarod Russell. There is no
patient listed. The blood sample was brought to the laboratory without
additional documentation. Nurse Nicole identified Dr. Russell as the individual
requesting the information. Also noted was a rush request for the test
results. Results of the test were blood type, evident blood diseases, and
genetic anomalies."
"Computer compare test results with
Jarod's known blood characteristics."
"Completed."
"What are the results?"
"The test results match."
"Computer compare the results from Jarod's
test to the results of the individual's identified to him as his parents
- Mr. and Mrs. Russell."
"Completed."
"What are the results?"
"Conclusive that these individuals could
not have been this person's parents. Percentage of error is plus or minus
two percent. Percentage of result is ninety-eight percent."
"Computer shutdown all programs and
downgrade to standby mode."
She reached over and closed the computer,
patting it slightly. "Well, Jarod. You did not trust the information
they gave you. You found the answers for yourself. It must have been quite
a shock to realize the truth. It must have been very disturbing as well."
Krystal whispered.
About thirty minutes later she pulled into
the private garage of her apartment building. After parking her car and
gathering the computer and portable DSA reader into her arms, she made
her way to the elevator that would take her to her apartment. During the
quiet ride up, she relaxed against the backwall and closed her eyes just
for a moment. When her eyes opened she was no longer in the elevator and
no longer alone, there were people everywhere and a lady was in a wheelchair
being pushed by a man. She strode purposefully through the rush of humanity
listening to the lady speak in Greek. "She says she doesn't want to
be cut open. She doesn't trust doctors. I don't blame her."
She shook her head and she was suddenly back
in the elevator looking at the open doors. She stepped off the elevator
quickly and hurried into her apartment. She dropped everything onto the
chair as she entered and walked to the large, wing-backed chair. She sat
down heavily into it and leaned forward her head in her hands. "I'm
losing it." She whispered as she sat back and leaned against the chair.
"Markam said I could do it - Pretend.
This feels like I'm losing myself." She settled back into the chair
and drifted off to sleep. Visions of the hospital and the patients drifted
through her dreams. Echoes of Greek were in her ears.
Chapter 3
Krystal wakes to sunlight streaming through
the wide living-room window. At some point through the night she had fallen
from the chair in which she had fallen asleep. She struggled to her feet
and wandered into the kitchen. Beautifully equipped it had the look of
never having been used. She reached for a small brown bottle filled with
liquid and opened it. She placed a dropperful of the headache remedy in
a glass and filled it with water. After drinking the mixture, she sat down
at the island, bowed her head into her hands and stayed that way for several
long minutes.
Her dreams were flooding back into her conscious
mind now and they were filled with strange, disturbing images. Memories
that were not hers mingled with long-forgotten thoughts from The Centre.
She raised her head and reached for one of her cellular phones and quickly
dialed Markam's number. He picked up on the second ring.
"Yes. This is Markam."
"Hello. It's me." Krystal whispered
in a broken voice.
"It is wonderful to hear your voice.
How are you?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "are you
alright? Please Krystal speak to me."
"I think I am going crazy; but, I'm
fine, physically." She said finally.
"What happened."
"I think I know why I was never allowed
around other people. You were able to prevent me from becoming emotionally
connected to your pain while I was young. You buffered me from myself,
in a way. You were there and I could understand you without ever touching
you. Out here I come in contact with hundreds of people everyday and they
do not buffer me from their emotions their thoughts. I am overwhelmed.
I become connected."
"Well... You do have the emotive skills
to be a pretender and that is exactly what you seem to be experiencing.
You are becoming a mirror of the people you come in contact with. Is that
all that is happening?"
"No. I'm becoming more than a mirror.
It is far beyond that. It is almost as if I can see what they are seeing,
hear what they are hearing, and experience everything from their perspective.
Sydney's pretender, Jarod? I have been researching him. According to his
file, he was trained for this from the first day he started at The Centre.
He was prepared to handle the emotional, sensory overload that is associated
with being a pretender. I never was. You trained me to think through problems,
solve issues. I was never supposed to be a pretender." She paused
as she thought about how next to proceed. "How can I do this and not
lose myself?"
"Krystal. What have I done? I never
ment for you to become a pretender. Although, you are a pretender by genetics,
Jarod was not. He had to be trained to do what he does. Naturally born
pretenders usually become too emotionally involved in the victims point
of view; they breakdown under the pain, suffering. That was one of the
reasons why you were not trained as a pretender. We, no I thought that
it would cause you less pain."
"Markam! What is done is done. What
I need to know is how can I maintain control while I am pretending to be
someone."
He did not reply immediately and after a
deep sigh he started, "I don't know. One trait of a pretender is the
ability to lose themselves completely in the personality of the individual
they are becoming. I do not think there is a way to resolve the issue of
control and the issue of truly pretending. The only person who might know
how to resolve it is Jarod... or maybe Jacob."
"Sydney's brother. But, he has been
in a coma for almost thirty years, Markam."
"I know. But, he had an I for choosing
the right child for the pretender program."
"He originally chose me for the pretender
program. He wanted Sydney to have me; but, Jarod had already been chosen."
"How do you know this?"
"I have my original DSA interview. The
one where I was tested and placed with you, instead of Sydney. I will make
a copy of it and send it to you. It is very interesting." Krystal
paused as she slowly traced an infinity symbol on the fine wooden table-top.
"Short of finding Jarod, I cannot find my answers." She paused
again. "And, to find Jarod, I must become him."
"I'm sorry, I don't have the answers."
"It is alright. I did not expect you
to have the answers." She drew in a deep breath and let it out as
a sigh.
"What else is wrong, Krystal?"
"I fell into a very deep sleep last
night. I dreamed about Jarod's Case number three, Queen of Angels Hospital.
I literally was Jarod in the dream. I followed him from when he started
at the hospital all the way through how he trapped the doctor in the operating
room. Every surgery, every research, even when he tried ice cream for the
first time. It was as if I was reliving his actions. I don't think that
is just pretending; because, I would bet that everything I saw and did
was accurate, absolutely accurate."
"No one understands people like you.
You are right that what you experienced was far beyond pretending. Most
people would describe it as reading resonances; emotions, actions, sensory
traces stored in objects. Remember we did a project in the middle sixties
where you touched a series of objects and told me the first things that
came to you mind? Each of those objects had been handled in a specific
way to leave one emotion or idea on it. You told me the answers correctly
each time. You even took the test a step further and described the appearance
of the each person involved. Think back, what did you touch that Jarod
also touched that would have given you such a precise link to him?"
"Nothing; but, a woman I spoke to yesterday
gave me his phone number from while he was in New York City."
"Did he write it?"
"No. The writing was identical to that
which she had written in her class."
"Perhaps it was something else. Or perhaps
you are exhausted and your dreaming was a way of informing you."
Krystal yawned at the phone at that last
remark. "I am tired; but, I believe my dreams are the reason."
"Dreams? What else is bothering you,
Krystal?"
"I have been having flashbacks."
She paused a long time before continuing. "I met a person yesterday
that is hiv positive. She has a husband and three beautiful children. She
is dying because of what I created."
"Oh, God. Krystal. You warned them about
it. You are not responsible for the epidemic, you warned everyone what
would happen if a virus like your was released."
"Markam! It was my virus that was released!"
"What? That's impossible. You destroyed
all the samples. No one could have duplicated your research."
"Look at the DSA of the meeting. No
one turned the camera off after you left the room. Mr. Raines said that
it was exactly what the Agency was looking for when they requisitioned
the project. He gave it to them."
"Who is the Agency?"
"The CIA."
"How much would have they needed to
start this?"
"Less than one cc." She said simply,
remembering the project as if she had performed it today.
"I'm going to go watch that DSA. Are
you going to be all right?"
"Yes. I will be fine." She looked
down at the tabletop where her contant tracing of infinity had worn itself
into the wax coating protecting it. "My table might not be; but, I
will be."
"I just thought of something; can The
Centre trace your phone?"
"No. I'm using a cellular with GPS.
I specially modified it to give them faulty readings. This one will tell
them I am in the Ukraine."
"Haha. You think of everything. Are
you going to play with The Centre like Jarod has been? Two people torturing
their misfits; that would be interesting."
"I'm not going to get caught, Markam.
If what it takes is to send the misfits to the Ukraine that is what I will
do. Well, I guess what I should say is . And, until we meet again, be well."
"What did you say? I do not know Russian."
" - farewell."
"Farewell." Krystal thumbed the
phone off and set it down on the counter.
She stands up and walks to the computer room.
She knows she has mail to read and work to do; but, first she wants to
look at some history. She sits down at the DSA reader. Carefully she chooses
a disk from a case and inserts it into the reader. A colour picture comes
into full view showing a young woman working in a laboratory. She is dressed
in a full chemical suit with only her face showing through the window in
the helmet. The DSA date is 15-7-70 and the For Centre Use Only disclaimer
is shown in the lower left-hand corner.
A tap is heard on the glass separating
the lab from the full room and the camera pulls out for a full view of
the lab. On the other side of the glass is Markam.
"Give us a report now." A man's
voice says over the intercom system. The woman nods in response and carefully
places the petri dishes she was working on in their carrying case, sealing
them inside. She walks over to the washer door and presses a button. The
room is filled with a chemical spray washing any contaminants down the
drain; next a strong breeze is blown in by a powerful fan drying off the
suit. The outer door seals release and the door swings open.
"May I change into some clothes and
bring the report to you in the conference room?" This directed toward
the man who had tapped on the window. "I still need to print up my
latest findings."
"Yes. Also, there will be several
other people there. Everyone is very interested in your work." He
gave her a brief smile and then turned to go to the conference room. She
continued into the changing room. Here a different camera captured her
changing from her lab suit into plain black pants and a white shirt; over
this went a black vest and a lab coat.
Within ten minutes she had changed and
printed and bound her report for the conference team. With two copies in
hand she walked to the conference room. "Ahh. Finally, the results
we have been waiting for," a man at the head of the table said.
"Give us a brief overview of the
project and then give us the test results. If we need to ask questions
answer them to the best of your abilities. If you do not know an answer
tell us." Markam said.
"First, the purpose of this project
is to determine if a virus can be developed that meets and can be spread
only using specific criteria. These criteria are as follows:
The disease must focus on the body's immune
system. Disrupting it allowing the other diseases to more severely affect
the individual. For instance, a person with the engineered virus would
be susceptible to the common cold or the flu. Each disease would quickly
intensify into pneumonia. Thus, making common diseases which would normally
be a nuisance into a life threatened problem.
The disease must be undetectable by current
screening and should only be detectable using sophisticated lab test by
people who know exactly for what they are look. Even in these cases the
virus should be relatively unnoticed.
The disease must be able to survive without
a host for a minimum of twenty-four hours but not more than forty-eight.
Once it inhabits an host it should be able to rapidly multiply spreading
itself throughout the body. Common breeding places should include the blood,
lymphatic system, and respiratory tract.
The disease should be spreadable by fluid
contacts only, including sexual contacts.
I have been able to determine that a virus
meeting these criteria can be developed.
Second, it is to be determined if such
a virus can be developed, can it be used as a biological weapon. If this
can be used as a weapon, what would be the means of distribution. The virus
I have in the laboratory could easily be used as a biological weapon. Possible
methods of initial distribution could be easy enough. A simple scratch
from a contaminated needle, knife, or other instrument would introduce
the infection to an individual. Once a small group of people are infected
their normal activities would perpetuate the spread of the disease.
For instance, if a foreign power would
want to infect the United States the most likely locations for starting
an infection would be large cities such as New York, Los Angeles, or Chicago.
Likely groups for infection would be groups involving needle use - IV drug
users and diabetics. Our blood supply could easily be infected by placing
small amounts of infected blood into the bags. Other means of spreading
the infection include normal sexual activities and mixing of blood through
blood to blood contact."
"Stop. Blood to blood contact? What
exactly would that mean?" A blond haired man asked.
"An example of blood to blood contact
would be if an infected individual was injured and bleeding and a doctor
or nurse with an open wound came in contact with that blood, it would be
possible for the doctor/nurse to become infected." He still looked
confused. "Look at it this way, if the blood is infected it can carry
the virus into the blood of the other person." He gave a little nod
of understanding.
"Third, if the first two conditions
were found to be accurate, what steps could be taken to defend or protect
against the biological weapon. I have not found a means of defending against
this virus. The only possible means of prevention would be to stop all
use of needles, all sexual activities, and all blood transfusions. Needless
to say this is not possible. Much of our medical establishment depends
on treatments which require the drawing of blood and the administering
of medications using needles. Without blood transfusion most life saving
surgeries would be impossible. The only one I can see that we could actually
eliminate would be sexual activity; it could easily be replaced with artificial
insemination."
Several of the individuals looked at each
other with astonished looks. Markam stood, "Are there any questions?
Comments?" He chuckled softly.
"If a virus like the one that she
created in our laboratory were released into say - Africa what would be
the ramifications?"
"Deadly. In a highly populated area
with poor health care facilities, the disease could spread uncontrollably.
Eventually a disease released in one country will reach this country. Here
it would effect the populations least able to fight against it, the old,
young, sick."
"An estimate of deaths?"
"It would depend on the rate of spread,
the initial numbers of infection, the amount of dangerous activities. There
are so many variables. The numbers could range from a few hundred to millions."
She was shaking her head just thinking about it.
"Could it be cured? The virus you
created could it be cured or vaccinated against?"
"I was not asked to find a cure or
a vaccination. But... with time I am certain I could find both a cure and
a vaccination."
"Thank you. You may leave."
Markam pointed toward the door and nodded his head. The girl left obediently.
"Well? Will this satisfy the Agency?"
"Markam, you may leave as well."
Markam glanced at the man at the head of the table who had addressed him.
"Wait. You said that I would be kept
in the loop with her simulations." Several guards were waved in and
escorted Markam out to the corridor.
"Are you going to give the virus
to the Agency?"
"Yes. It is exactly what they ordered."
A puff of blue smoke wafted across the table. "This girl is worth
millions." An evil laugh escaped his lips as he opened the report.
"Go. We are finished here."
The woman's hand reaches for the DSA controls
and freezes the picture with the man surrounded by blue smoke. A minute
later she had a print-out of the evil looking man. She captured pictures
of each of the others in the conference and placed them in a folder labeled
Centre Simulation - 1258. She turned off the DSA reader and placed
the disk again in its case.
A deep sigh escaped her lips as she settled
her head back into her hands. She knew that Jarod had performed simulations
that resulted in the deaths of people how had he handled it. What could
he tell her, teach her about surviving guilt. She knew that she could become
him; she could pretend. "Do I have the courage to lose myself in someone
elses personality? Will I come back as myself?" She whispers to herself.
"Do I have a choice? I want answers. No! I need answers." She
stands up and strides to the living room where she had left her lap-top
computer. "Time to get some answers."
On
to the Next Part
Demara
dforest@weir.net
© 1997