Patient Documentation
GMO 36738 (TABITHA MADUT THIIK)
Day: 465
Note: Prof. Dr. Henry Thandros
Among the wretched souls living like rats in the Lincoln Tunnel, she’s revered as a saint for her kindness and willingness to help. In that tunnel (which these fanatics call the PROMISED LAND) some even believe she has... healing powers.
But what truth is there to the legend of Tabitha Madut?
We’ve asked ourselves whether this subject carries something of our Creators within her, something that has randomly awakened in her genes while remaining dormant in the rest of us. Something beyond our understanding that we attribute to religious belief.
Is it possible to make kindness and compassion accessible to others?
We conducted a biopsy on Tabitha Madut (T.M.) and used her cellular material to perform NGS (Next Generation Sequencing). Through whole genome sequencing, we mapped all her genes. What’s particularly interesting are mutations in certain gene sequences that appear either rarely or not at all in other individuals. These so-called polymorphisms are the minute differences that set us apart. After many unsuccessful experiments to isolate these sequences and modify them in our subjects using CRISPR/Cas9 technology, we developed a groundbreaking method to clone identical character traits—and, thanks to CRISPR kits, make them commercially available.
Gene regulation is a complex interaction between internal and external factors, with epigenetic regulation playing a key role in activating or silencing specific gene regions, including those linked to character expression. In T.M., various DNA-modulating enzymes are expressed and activated in ways significantly different from all other test subjects we’ve previously studied.
Now, using CRISPR/Cas combined with epigenetically active enzymes, we can produce gene modulation tailored to achieve, with extreme accuracy (p<0.001), identical behavioral and emotional patterns in other subjects.
The masterpiece of our current research (achieved thanks to T.M.) is the identification and replication of the expression pattern associated with kindness. We call this technique MimikGene.
Our first subject for testing:
GMO: 25700 (Billy Jones)
----------------------------------------
"Henry Thandros, as in Henry Thandros, the CEO of the Thandros Corporation? Impossible... He's supposed to be the researcher in a secret lab conducting human experiments? As far as I know, the CEO of our former employer isn’t even a professor. Not even a doctor. Just a slave driver."
Billy quickly closed the top-secret holo to avoid facing the truth any longer. He couldn’t understand, couldn’t grasp the connections behind the horrors laid out in front of him. Such terrifying things might happen in the darkest thrillers, but now the nightmare was creeping into his own life. The more he searched for answers, the more twisted the events became—and the worse the discoveries. Reluctantly, he switched the holo-projector back on and flipped to the letter J.
I've been missing for a week… which could mean that…
…and there, at the end of the digital file, was his own name. Billy took a deep breath to suppress the rising panic before he looked at the document.
----------------------------------------
Name: GMO 25700 (Jones, Billy; ASPIRANT)
Age: 26
Date: 12/24/2050
Symptoms: ASPIRANT suffers from severe stomach cramps and frequently vomits in his sleep. Physical examinations and diagnoses ruled out chronic inflammation of the stomach lining and ulcers. Additionally, ASPIRANT exhibits no aggressive behavior, which would otherwise be understandable given his condition and symptoms. Instead, he shows understanding and gentleness. His eyes have taken on a cloudy hue, and his breathing is labored. Physical changes are observed that indicate a successful metamorphosis.
I will attempt to find a pain medication for him that does not interfere with our investigations.
Dr. Emilia Steinbach
----------------------------------------
Billy emerged from the hologram, shaking his head vigorously, as if rejecting reality itself. He didn’t know if every woman had a hidden actress within, but Emilia had played her part extraordinarily well, just like Vivian. But unlike a stage play, where all plotlines resolve with the main character’s death, Emilia’s story only raised countless new questions.
Billy flipped to the next entry:
Name: GMO 25700 (Jones, Billy; ASPIRANT)
Age: 26
Symptoms: ASPIRANT continues to show marked changes in behavior patterns. ASPIRANT exhibits significantly fewer pathological changes to his organs compared to most other test subjects.
ASPIRANT is viable.
However, an ulcer was detected in the wall of the duodenum, spreading into deeper tissue layers. No additional tumors have been found, and it remains uncertain when or where new ones might develop.
If no further changes occur, I will initiate Phase II of the experiment on Day 7, 12/28/2050. Until then, the experiment is handed over to Dr. Emilia Steinbach, who will document additional details on the field experiment setup.
Prof. Dr. Henry Thandros
----------------------------------------
"They took my wife? What the hell did they do to her? A human… experiment?" Isaac stood up, dirty snow crumbling from his pants, which were soaked through at the seat.
"As long as there’s even a small chance, you’ve got to stay positive," said Billy. And somehow, it felt wrong to say that, because he was in the same horrible situation and couldn’t think that way himself. "We don’t know what they did to your wife. Hopefully, she’s okay. I don’t know what these maniacs are aiming for, but they seem to be treating her differently from the others."
"Those bastards," Isaac spat on the ground, but then he dropped his tough act, showing a moment of weakness. He sighed, leaned back against the wall, and stared at a small patch of bleak night sky. His teeth chattered from the cold and fear.
"You know what’s strange?" he said, completely serious and nothing like the shallow, loudmouth guy Billy remembered.
"When I first saw you, I immediately thought of Tabitha. Even though you don’t look like her at all, something about you reminded me of her. Didn’t one of those reports say something about them giving you a piece of her?"
"Her kindness," Billy whispered, looking at Isaac seriously and shrugging.
"They developed a technique to transfer personality traits to other people."
"I barely understood a word of their babble," he admitted, "but one thing I know now: you and I have the same goal."
"Looks like it," Isaac replied. Then he added, "Kind of weird, huh?"
"Yeah, everything."
"I mean... Pope Zodiac wanted the data so he could blackmail the people behind all this," he said. "I was going to give it to him, just so he’d finally tell me where Tabitha is. Ironically, I already know that now because of him."
"So... what does that mean?"
"It means I don’t need him anymore," Isaac said. "It’s our move now. We can blackmail the people responsible for your fate and Tabitha’s disappearance."
"We just have to find them."
"Yeah."
Suddenly, Billy laughed. It was a short, choppy sound, more like a snort. "The crazy little pope is gonna lose it," he said, reaching out a hand to Isaac—not as a friendly gesture, but simply because he was too weak to stand on his own. He felt deathly ill, feverish, and unbearably cold.
"Man, Billyboy, if the Thandros Corporation really is behind all this, can you imagine how they’ll react when they realize we have evidence that could bring down their whole empire? Their source of power. What do you think they’ll do to us?"
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"They’ll kill us," Billy replied. As he got to his feet, he brushed the snow off his pants and searched for his blister pack of pills—the kind he was now pretty sure couldn’t be bought with any prescription.
He had just one pill left.
That might give me another ten hours before I can’t move from the pain.
"So, what do we do now?" Billy asked. Back when he worked in the solar cell factory, he’d never have dreamed of asking that question to Number X-143, of all people.
Isaac pulled a researcher’s ID card from his pocket. "This Emilia Steinbach stole the research data from a facility somewhere in Central Park, which is Thandros Corporation’s headquarters. That means we’ve got to get behind the district walls to pull Tabitha out and get you some answers."
Billy snorted. This time, it wasn’t a laugh. It was a sound of despair. "The corporate headquarters are better guarded than any high-security prison in the world. Whatever’s going on in there is more protected than Google’s or Amazon’s data fortresses. What do you think we’ll find behind those walls?"
"The crème de la crème of society, of course," Isaac said. "And they don’t want trash like us anywhere near them. That’s why Thandros put up those huge palisades around Central Park—to protect the world’s elite."
Billy clicked his tongue. "Not a single reporter has ever gotten inside. No one’s ever seen what it’s like in there, behind those Paradise Walls."
"And that’s how it stays: the corporation’s set up a no-fly zone over all of Central Park. Satellite images are censored. The only thing we’ll ever see of that place is the Thandros Tower, and that’s just because it rises above everything else in the city. To watch us."
"We don’t know that," Billy countered.
Isaac held up the researcher’s ID, showing Billy the picture of the factory worker—his great love—who had actually been a researcher in the secret lab somewhere in the TC headquarters and was now dead.
"Call it fate, Billyboy. I know this area pretty well from my early days here as a Stranded. I know someone close by who runs a low-key locksmith business. Among us outcasts, he’s pretty important. He makes his money forging IDs. People here spend all they have just so he’ll give them an identity. A home built on lies."
Billy was tired, scared, and miserably sick, which might’ve been why he couldn’t quite follow where Isaac was going with this.
"I mean, if this locksmith can use that ID to make us a couple of our own, then…"
"… we could pass as TC scientists and get into the secret research facility."
Isaac shrugged. "Go with the flow," he said.
"Go with the flow? What’s that supposed to mean?"
"The things happening to us, they fit together like puzzle pieces," Isaac said. "I’ve been searching for Tabitha for years, but ever since you saved me from that fat pig at the factory, fate’s taken over, and now here I am with a lead on where to find her. What I’m saying is: trust in fate. It’s guiding us."
"It’s guiding us?" Billy waved him off. "Fine, we’ll go see this locksmith and ask him. But I’m guessing he’s not going to do it for free, or are you about to tell me that fate arranged it so this guy just happens to owe you a favor?"
"Not quite," Isaac replied. "He’ll want money. A lot of it, actually, but we’ll—"
Just then, a deafening explosion rocked the air. The ground trembled under their feet, and a shockwave pushed warm air like an avalanche through the maze of buildings.
They froze in fear, tense, glancing at each other.
"Another terrorist attack?"
"That was my first thought too."
The explosion had thrown everything into chaos. Dogs barked dully from various apartments. Vermin scurried from one trash heap to another, and on the main streets, people screamed in panic.
"We’re getting paranoid, Billy."
"With good reason," he said thoughtfully. Then: "Let’s get out of here and find this locksmith."
Before they reached the next intersection in the labyrinth of buildings, they saw the flash of blue lights from far off, flickering over the walls across from them. Fire trucks sped past, sirens blaring. The blast had happened just a few blocks away.
Not a terrorist attack, Billy thought, as he looked through the alley toward a thick plume of smoke rising beyond the residential buildings.
The explosion must’ve come from X-3-19’s apartment, he realized, and then: "It was them. They’re destroying all the evidence."
"Yeah," Isaac said thoughtfully. "Like the dead alien in the shower, which must’ve actually been… one of their experiments."
They avoided the main road at all costs, heading straight through the filthy maze of alleys so desolate that barely anyone else was around. Here and there, they saw junkies crouched in dark corners. Maybe dead.
"If we take the next left and follow the path, we should end up at a subway station," Isaac said as Billy, completely lost, tried to keep up. From there, we can get to Manhattan and find a burger joint first."
"A burger joint?"
"I can’t remember the last time I ate," Isaac said.
"We don’t have time to eat. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last," said Billy, feeling sicker with every passing hour. "They’re after us. And as soon as I take the last painkiller, you’re going to have to admit me to a hospital. Isaac?"
The young, dark-skinned man had stopped in the middle of the alley. Isaac was staring tensely ahead. Billy traced his gaze to the far end, where fog clung to the ground and a stranger waded through the white haze.
A hulking figure.
A silhouette.
A cop? Billy thought at first. Then he remembered that no cop would set foot in this neighborhood anymore.
Unless this cop happens to be an android.
The figure was gaunt and wore a sweater far too large, with the hood pulled low over his face. A sinister aura surrounded him, as though he weren’t even human, but rather misfortune itself, rushing straight toward them.
"Stop right there," the figure suddenly croaked. "You, there, stop! I need your help."
Billy hesitated, casting a quick glance at his partner. "Should we wait?"
"Are you nuts?" Isaac hissed back.
"What if he actually needs help?"
"No way. People who need help in this neighborhood don’t usually get the chance to ask for it. Just like us, if we don’t get out of here now. Let’s go!!!"
Billy took a long look at the stranger’s face, dimly lit by a flickering bulb. It was worn, hardened by tough times, with nothing trustworthy in it. His dark eyes held a foreign world. Suddenly, the man in the fog whipped out an extendable baton and started after them.
"Run!" yelled Billy, but Isaac had already taken off ahead of him.
As they sprinted through the narrow alleys, scraps of old newspapers, wrappers, soggy tissues, and crumpled cups swirled around them. The wind howled through the tight streets. A main road loomed at the end, and Isaac was running a little faster than Billy would have liked. If it were up to him, they’d sit down and surrender to whatever fate had in store. But Isaac had grabbed his wrist and didn’t let go, even when he had to pull him like a tugboat dragging a cargo ship out of harbor.
"I… I can’t keep up," Billy panted.
"All right," said Isaac, equally out of breath. "I think… I think we’ve lost him."
Billy didn’t have it in him to run again. He’d already used up all his energy escaping from Conrad Blake and his gang at Luna Park.
They moved down a side alley from the main district and could already see the flashing lights of the main road. But just as they reached it, the back door of a shop flew open, and another shady figure stepped out, followed by a whole gang of thugs.
Billy and Isaac froze.
"Damn it. I thought we’d be safe in the alleys!"
"Yeah, me too. Guess we were wrong."
They took a few steps back, then turned around, only to see a black van rolling up to block the alleyway’s exit like a wall. The van must have driven right up onto the sidewalk. The side door slid open, and even more thugs jumped out. Big guys, some bulky, some lean, shouting something in their language, either at them or at the guy chasing behind them. The men closed in on Billy and Isaac, tightening the trap.
Isaac ground his teeth. "They’re going to rob us."
Billy didn’t respond. He felt icy fear crawl up his spine, his blood roaring in his ears like a waterfall.
"They won’t get much if we just give them what they want first."
"That’s your brilliant idea?"
"I’d rather walk out of here broke than be carried out in a body bag. Do you still have your wallet?"
Billy patted his back pockets. "Yeah."
"Then toss it to them. Now!"
Billy was just about to throw his wallet into the misty alley when the man coming toward them crossed his arms in an X. "Keep," he said with a thick accent. "We want no money.”
"So, what do you want?"
No answer.
Of course not.
Billy and Isaac ran to a back door tucked between trash bins that led into a restaurant on the main street. Billy rattled the handle.
Locked.
He hammered on the door with his fist.
"Help!" he shouted.
But though he heard voices on the other side, no one opened the door. When he turned back to Isaac, he saw exactly what he’d feared was coming: Isaac screaming and swinging desperately as the thugs grabbed him, beating him down. His face was already smeared with blood as his cries for help faded.
In that moment, one of the thugs yanked a black bag over Isaac’s head and cinched it tight around his neck. Billy’s eyes widened in terror as he watched, and suddenly a smaller man behind him pulled a bag over his head too.
Panicked, Billy fought to pull the stinking fabric off, but as he tore it down, several shadowy figures closed in around him. One of them punched him in the gut with full force. Billy let out a gasp of pain and doubled over. Another guy struck him in the side, as if tenderizing his kidneys.
The pain stole his breath.
Then everything went dark again.
The bag was fastened tightly around his neck, and the inside reeked of chemical dye.
Through the coarse fabric, he could barely make out light and dark shifts.
"Help!" he shouted, but suddenly a sharp pain rattled his head, silencing him.
They loaded him into the black van.
He heard the side door slide shut.
The criminals said nothing.
Who were they? What did they want?
Billy wanted to pass out, but he didn’t.
The van sped off with a squeal of tires.