Change - ch. 2

That was nearly seven years ago. Since that dreadful day I hadn’t had the chance to see my family. I was given a gag order to even talk about what I am about to say to you. Even by me talking to you now, I could be putting my family’s life in jeopardy. Our government isn’t known for being the most ethical amongst the several.

The executive officer was a Marine in the United States Army. His rank had a shiny bird. He was a Colonel. He flaunted the chicken to the best of his ability. He wasn’t much liked by the civilians who ran his department. If it wasn’t for us “lowly” scientists, there wouldn’t even be a military program. We never would have stepped on the ground on the Moon back in the 60s. Nor would we have landed on Mars 50 years later. No, it was always the civilians that managed the operations but it was always the military that took the forefront in taking the credit.

I had dropped my coffee on his floor but it was the least of the concerns. The world was about to be changed in ways I couldn’t even imagine. A group of astronaughts returned from a lengthy trip to the small space station we had orbiting the planet Mars. Apparently, there was a great discovery that would change every core fundamental principle of our beliefs as humans.

It was imperative that the space crew tell NASA in person for fear that China or other nations among us with prying ears would throw it all out of context. This had happened in the early 1990s when a core sample of rock from Mars was examined and they had found a strange worm-like structure resembling like a carbon based organism. Of course, other civilian science communities denied this fact and ultimately, the sample was still debating on to this day so many years after the fact.

No, things had changed since then and Mariner 6 was on an excavation along the Valles Marineris canyon system. In the industry, we call this geologic phenomena the “The scar of Mars.” Imagine the Grand Canyon. Now imagine the same geologic structure 600 times larger. The canyon spans from California to New York. Science is still formulating how this great canyon had formed. To this day, we don’t have a working theory.

The Mariner 6 science team had pulled out an item that looked quite similar to a capsule. They took this metallic item back to the space station for study. Only then did they realize what they had found. Living organisms within the rocks inside the capsule rose curious eyes among the crew. Had we finally found the answer to our long lost quest for the meaning of life? Maybe we had.

This was the information that braved three of the crew to return immediately back to Earth. Since the late 20th century we have been working a new propulsion system that would allow travel at speeds that we could only imagine. It wasn’t quite light speed or ‘hyper’ drive. No, this was far less than any science in sci-fi. It was faster and more efficient though.

The crew returned late that night before I entered the office on that dreadful day. I was unaware of their return. It was classified as above Top Secret. I guarantee the government wanted to keep a lid on this until they could figure out a PR angle to tell the people, if at all. This was the irony of my job. Even if we had found something remarkable, there would be red tape and crates hiding it from view. Why bother, I’d ask myself.

This was my life…

Scientists immediately took control of the capsule from Mars and it was taken to one of our most secure ‘clean rooms’ in the facility. They began to investigate the subject further and to their disbelief, according to the Executive Office in charge, this was the first signs of life outside of Earth.

Somewhere in the calamity of excitement, someone had lost containment. Something went terribly wrong. Someone was infected. Something was not right. This is where I came into the office. After I had read the Metropolitan section of the paper and finished my boring paper trail of replies on the computer email system, only after I finished several business calls did the craze stir the crowds.

During the time between me sitting down at my desk, and when the crew of Mariner 6 landed late that night, and after the scientists lost containment, only after all of this and only when they found that someone was ‘infected’ did the hazard lights turn on, the quarantine set, and panic rose. Only then did I get up from my desk and go meet with my bosses about what had happened. Only then did I know that we were all screwed.

The Executive Officer told me that the infected scientist’s name was James Orwal. He was a prick from the Carnegie Institute. He thought he was top dog in bio-engineering and he certainly made it a point to patronize me every chance he could. He was young and naïve. He was a zealot in the field of astro-physical biomes and his mission was to find life outside of Earth. Well, he had found it.

He had a full set of black hair and thick black wired frame glasses. He had an athletic build and often tried to wear shirts two sizes too small in order to swoon the ladies in the facility. Unfortunately, his personality made most everyone vomit, but he was far too arrogant to ever get it. He had a light British accent to go along with his savvy appearance and he was always three days in need of a shave.

It was rather ironic that I came to investigate. Apparently my boss had sent one of his aides out to find me. I was the telecommunications supervisor. I was well versed in several Earthling languages. My expertise was needed for once. The red badge came in handy I would say. Doctor Orwal was speaking in tongues. They couldn’t translate it and they figured if anyone in the building could, I would be able to.

I was rushed down to the clean room where the military had locked three scientists in the room. One of them was Doctor Orwal. The other two, well, they weren’t close acquaintances to me. I saw them around the building from time to time, we exchanged small talk, but I rarely actually sat down at lunch with them. All of them in this clean room looked deathly. One of the scientists wasn’t moving at all.
Doctor Orwal appeared to be fine though. Well, as fine as you could be with an alien disease inside your body eating at your flesh. His full set of hair was falling and stuck on his white lab coat. His face was bubbling up if he had a severe burn. His skin was yellow, his eyes were a strange pale yellow. Some sticky substance was smeared all over his skin and every time he went to touch his body, that goo would act like some sticky glue or paste.

The doctor didn’t even recognize me through the glass. I pressed the button on the intercom inside the room and told him my name. There was no response. I looked as the other scientist inched about, she suffered the same reactions of Doctor Orwal, but she wasn’t at all in his state of what I could only examine as euphoria. She was far from it, you could see dread in her eyes, she honestly feared for her life. Weakly from the intercom I could hear her hissing for help.

I gave her a few more hours before whatever was in that capsule to kill her. It sounded, by her voice that she had a pulmonary edema. The same type of symptoms found when you’re more than 24,000 feet above the earth climbing summits of mountains without an oxygen supply. There was nothing we could do for them. If whatever was in that room was airborne, no way we could allow the pathogen to expose to countless others. We would lose containment again. I’d like to see Washington’s PR on that accident.

This was what my life was coming to…

Doctor Orwal looked to the group of us on the other side of the glass and he spoke again. His dialect was not of this earth. I couldn’t even begin to understand it.

I punched some airman on the shoulder and demanded he record everything the dying doctor said. He didn’t argue. He moved with an amazing grace and speed I’d never seen a government employee had. The recording was on, the red light said I was ready to start the show.

“Doctor Orwal, this is Doctor Paul Newhart. You know me. You know who I am, do you not?” I asked him a series of simple questions trying to get a response from him. Maybe somewhere under the yellow skin and sticky paste, there was a shred of humanity left in him.

The bubbling balled death of a man, he speaks back to me, but it wasn’t English. It wasn’t Earthling. I couldn’t understand a thing of it. I watched him curiously and noticed some of the words he spoke would have been impossible for the human vocal chords to produce. Maybe he was changing some how. What was he turning into though?

I did notice that he understood me however. He responded to questions with relative ease, but I couldn’t grasp his responses. This creature of a man, stood up and released a thick grey substance from his mouth. It sprayed on his lab coats. I could only think that it was his lungs. I couldn’t tell, but if what I believed was happening, this display was plausible.

This alien, by now, there was no other word for it, he, it, turned around and scooped some of the grey chunks of whatever from his coat and began drawing symbols on the wall opposite of us. This alien continued this process for a great length of time before finishing.

The symbols and images made even less sense than the creature’s dialect. It would have to be further studied and the video feed was instantly sent to whatever department handled this sort of thing. As if there was someone on this planet capable of handling this problem.

It was then I realized that I wasn’t going home for dinner that night.

This was my life now…