Weslan tapped the final simulation parameters into the computer and hit enter. All he had to do was wait while the program ran. He checked his watch. Two in the morning already? He hadn’t taken a break since breakfast, but he couldn’t sleep. In need of refreshment, he headed to the research lounge, where Julie was making coffee. Were they all becoming night owls?
He returned her tired smile. “Working late too?”
Julie blinked red-rimmed eyes. “Oh, I’d rather work than sleep. I keep having anxiety attacks without my phone.”
Weslan nodded. The security guards had confiscated their devices, and he felt like he had been locked out of the real world. “It does get to you, doesn’t it?” he said. “I sometimes find my hand reaching for it of its own accord.”
Julie chuckled quietly. “Trained dependence. My whole life was on that phone, and now I can’t help but feel terrified that everyone is forgetting I exist.”
“I suppose that’s the downside of classified work. Our reputation won’t come from our school or our friends anymore.”
Julie raised her coffee mug and smiled. “To service. Hopefully not thankless.”
“At least we got a free weekend, at last.”
“Any plans?”
“Oh, I’ll meet some of the old crowd,” Weslan said. “Go see a symposium, like the old days.”
They chatted a little more, but Weslan soon returned to his lab. He would feel guilty if he didn’t organize his notes before leaving. After all, Madam Rayker, the brilliant and passionate lab director, often told them that there was no such thing as free time in the quest for knowledge.
He had been impressed by her exacting standards, though sometimes he got the impression that no matter how hard he worked, he always fell short of her expectations. But these thoughts were obviously a sign of immaturity—there was pressure on all the researchers. Everybody worked hard, and the toll showed in their exhausted faces and painfully brief mealtime conversations.
When the weekend came, their phones were returned, and they were driven off base by the security team. As he re-entered Rackeye, Weslan saw the world through new eyes. For the first time, he understood the purpose of the city—their drive to develop and spread their uplifting Helvetic culture for the betterment of mankind. He teared up. Now he was no longer a student, but a contributing member of that community. He swelled with pride at the thought.
The local Adjudicate office hosted the Symposium at the Opera house. Weslan met his friends early for drinks and they caught up on gossip before finding their seats. The program consisted of a lengthy philosophical discourse, a drama based in a government office, and a short film about the latest colony efforts on an ice planet.
The discourse included extracts from core Adjudicate texts concerning the necessity of elevating the soul through cultural engagement. The speaker spent some time naming and praising some of the important figures on Caldera and nearby systems. Having either financed, or publicly mentioned, the symposium’s organizers and artists, they had to be paid their proper due.
When he began his speech proper, he went on at length about the failures of humanity’s collective spirit. The species, he claimed, was becoming lost to the void, wandering in the vast wilderness of space, and the wisest amongst them were duty bound to steer it back to the righteous path.
Weslan nearly drifted off during the drama. Like so many of the Adjudicate’s plays, it lacked any excitement or passion. The main character showed up to work, scolded a sloppy colleague, behaved correctly, and won a promotion. For Weslan, this was something that everyone experienced, and he didn’t see the point of dramatizing it. He supposed he was experiencing a weakness of spirit in his failure to take interest, but after all the work he had been doing, he was probably due a little indulgence.
The documentary film investigated the construction of a self-sustaining micro fusion plant on Cree. A world frozen over with ice, where conditions were harsh, the colonies there depended on machines which functioned reliably under great environmental stress. Helvetic scientists, in conjunction with Djallen Fusion Industries, had worked tirelessly to deliver the modules under a demanding schedule, and in the numbers required. It had taken an immense effort, and the construction machines required constant maintenance in the extreme temperatures. The film described the difficult conditions of life in this far-flung support post. The interviewed workers all explained that, despite the challenges, they felt fulfilled, and their community had become stronger.
The symposium ended and Weslan joined his friends for dinner, though he struggled to make small talk as his friends drank and laughed. Why didn’t they take their lives more seriously?
“You seem uncharacteristically quiet, Weslan,” Tomasso chided.
Weslan forced a smile. “Oh… sorry—just thinking about work.”
“Don’t get too locked in, my dear,” admonished Fayel. “The inability to separate work from life is an unhealthy habit.”
Weslan’s brow furrowed. “Well, I don’t know. Perhaps work can be life if you’re passionate about it.”
“Oh darling,” Fayel said, with a gleam in her eye. “We need to find you another girlfriend.”
“But what about the film we just watched?” replied Weslan as he sat forward. “Look at those people giving up their lives, making sacrifices for the good of others.”
“Yes, but once they go home, they’ll have some time off and start to relax again—enjoy the things they missed: food, wine, music. I would hope so, anyway. Otherwise, what is the point of it all?”
Weslan blushed. “The point is to make the world a better place.”
Fayel reached up and stroked a lock of hair out of his eye. “I admire your passion, I truly do,” she said, “But I hope your new boss isn’t exploiting it.”
Weslan waved her hand away. “She isn’t like that at all. She’s just like the leader of that outpost from the documentary. Dedicated and driven. She really wants to get the best out of us.”
“Sounds like Weslan has a crush,” Tomasso said with a mischievous grin.
Fayel narrowed her eyes. “A job is just a job, don’t forget. Employers only want to use you for their benefit.”
“No, it’s not like that,” Weslan said. “It’s—well, we’re a family, working for something better. You wouldn’t understand.”
“She’s an attractive woman, I assume,” said Fayel.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“She—I… don’t see what her attractiveness has to do with anything,” Weslan stammered.
“Uh oh—jealousy alert!” Tomasso said, before knocking back his wine.
“You did say that it was Geolox you were working with, didn’t you?” Fayel asked, ignoring the comment.
Weslan nodded.
She raised an eyebrow. “And yet they haven’t announced any offices on Caldera. Or contractors stationed here at all.”
“It’s a confidential project, of course they wouldn’t.”
“Hmm.” Fayel did not look convinced.
Another friend jumped in to steer the conversation to a happier subject. “Weslan, tell us about your father’s plans for the new house. I hear he wants to import old Earth oak?”
The others seized on the subject of interior decorating and wanted to know everything Weslan’s father was doing. As the evening went on, his friends exchanged more news of friends and family, lifting his spirits. The burn in his stomach never left, however, and he couldn’t forget his frustration that they weren’t taking him seriously. The world needed both Allana Rayker’s zeal and his dedication. He yearned to return to the lab; to share his new insights with the rest of the team. At least they understood.
There was something else missing. What about Kayla and Rose, off on their own secret adventure? Rose wouldn’t want to speak to him—he had accepted that—but his messages to Kayla hadn’t even been delivered. It was a shame, because while Kayla didn’t get along with the others, she could certainly be quite charming in her own way. If some of the Academy rumors were true, she was probably in some type of government project, and perhaps they would even end up working together.
After the weekend had finished and the students returned to the lab, Weslan found his computer had printed out the results, and he rushed over to check them. As he read through the data, his heart skipped a beat—total success—and he almost skipped to the office of his project supervisor. Reed gave a cursory look through the data, agreeing that they should present the results immediately to Madam Rayker.
When they knocked on Rayker’s door and entered, they were met with her customary cold glare. Weslan tried not to let it faze him, recalling the advice of other researchers that she looked at everybody in the same way.
“Madam,” Reed began. “As I’m sure you know, Weslan has been working on the problem of organizing hierarchies and behavior in organisms using pheromone signaling.”
Rayker’s glare eased into a thin smile, which did nothing to reassure Weslan.
“Proceed,” she said.
Weslan cleared his throat. “Well-um Madam, I’ve been working with some nematodes, which may appear to be quite simple organisms, but are in fact sophisticated in their behavior. When you observe their social—”
“I don’t care about worms,” Rayker said.
Weslan bowed. “Yes, um, sorry Madam. Well, uh… as you know, a pheromone isn’t really a special kind of ability, it’s just any case of a chemical signal prompting a change in behavior. So, for example, we could say even a hungry person smelling food and salivating is responding to a pheromone, and we shouldn’t let the dictionary definition constrain us from thinking in this way. There are many chemical traces that can very strongly guide an organism’s behavior, even though we wouldn’t traditionally call them pheromones.”
“The point of a pheromone,” Rayker said, “is that it is secreted by a member of the same species. Thus, allowing one individual to alter the behavior of its target.”
“Correct, but we must remember that this isn’t exactly like ‘hacking’ a target—the organism must be a ‘willing victim’ so to speak, because it gains some kind of benefit from allowing itself to be manipulated in this way.”
“That is the main limitation, obviously,” Rayker said as she inspected her fingernails. “We can’t get them to do what they aren’t driven by instinct to do.”
“R-right”, said Weslan, unsure if they were still talking about nematodes. “So, I tried manipulating the genetic code of the worms to to grow new secretion sacks in key locations on their bodies. These implants store the chemical traces associated with other instinctive drives—particularly food, fear, and, um…mating.”
Rayker sat forward, grinning. “Did you get them to cannibalize each other?” she asked with a degree of anticipation that surprised Weslan.
“No. When they investigate the target worm, they don’t find anything they recognize as food, so they lose interest.”
Rayker sat back and looked away, drumming her fingers on the desk.
“Um…” Weslan continued, “but the mechanism itself was quite straightforward. I just had to find out whether I could tune these signals to allow for more sophisticated organization and control. This part was done in simulation, and I’ve had some success with group co-ordination, and uh—as requested—basic hunting tactics.” He wafted the printout in her direction.
Rayker ignored the paper. “You have them marching around in circles and attacking an enemy?”
“Yes!” he beamed. “I am thrilled to announce that the project has met the simulation goals, and—”
“Worms aren’t that useful. What about a larger organism?”
“I’m sorry, Madam?”
“An animal,” Rayker said. “Like me? How would you control me from this data?”
Weslan’s thoughts tripped over themselves. Where was she going with this? “I- I don’t… I’m not sure—”
“The principles are the same. Think it through. I am subject to chemical and hormonal influences which can be injected into the bloodstream. Isn’t that what your research has shown? And now you have demonstrated the ability to provide organizational control of your subjects, so you ought to be able to do the same to me.”
“I… yes, I suppose that does follow.” Was she in her right mind? Or was she making a more subtle point that he wasn’t smart enough to grasp?
“Here’s an easy example.” She got up from her desk and walked over to Reed. “I, a beautiful woman, emit a natural scent from my hair follicles which men find arousing. Not often talked about, but how many times have you seen a young woman playing with her hair around a boy she wants to attract?”
Weslan was suddenly struck by memories of Rose; how she occasionally tossed her hair over her shoulder when she got close to him. “Right,” he said.
Rayker flicked her hair in Reed’s direction and smiled at him. “This, of course, triggers a wave of impulses in weak men, leading to all kinds of irrational behavior: competitive drive, jealousy, and aggression. Is it not so, Reed?”
“In weak-minded individuals, indeed, Madam,” Reed said, his face stoic.
“Doesn’t it feel good, Reed? Seductive, and overpowering?”
Weslan’s cheeks warmed. Where was this conversation going?
“Fortunately, Madam,” Reed replied stiffly. “I am not weak-minded.”
“How fortunate.” She smiled sweetly before turning back to Weslan.
“I think, young man, the time has come to bring you up to the next level of security and show you the true purpose of this project. Reed, you will take him to the animal enclosures and tell him what he needs to know.”
“Yes, Madam,” Reed said.
She returned to her desk and peered at her computer as though they were no longer there. Weslan had the impression he had been switched off like a lightbulb. He hesitated for a moment before following Reed.
Rayker looked up. “Something else?”
“No. Thank you, Madam,” Welsan said, before hurriedly backing out of the office.
Reed led him through the maze of tunnels to the part of the lab marked ‘off limits’. Passing by a pair of guards, Weslan found himself in an enclosure filled with large cages. Unnatural looking animals shrieked and howled as he moved further into the room. They grasped the metal bars with sharp claws, and spikes dotted their armored hides. Weslan shivered. Their guttural calls were nightmarish.
“You’ve heard of the animal attacks across the colonies?” Reed asked him.
Weslan’s eyes went wide. “I thought they were just pests—that most of the accounts were exaggerated or even hoaxes.”
A monster the size of a bear fixed him with the evilest stare he had ever seen from another living thing.
“A pest that kills dozens of colonists every year,” said Reed. “Make no mistake, they’re very dangerous. They are wild and out of control, and no method has yet been found to pacify them. They don’t react to me as strongly because I’ve been feeding them, and they’ve grown used to me. But make no mistake—if one got out of its cage, it wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.”
Weslan went pale, backing away from the cage doors, and the grasping claws.
“This is the real reason you’re here, Weslan. You must find a way to control these creatures so we can eliminate this threat. As Rayker said, they are still animals, and they respond to chemistry like all animals do. We captured these for this experiment, and we can kill a few so you can dissect them. I will assign you a few men to handle them directly when you want to test your results. Any questions?”
Weslan was speechless. The task before him seemed impossible. He should be working with a team of experts in a fully equipped laboratory, not alone in a makeshift installation, in a cave.
“My God…” he stammered. “I don’t know… I need more people, I need—”
“You have sufficient resources,” Reed said. “People are counting on you, Weslan, colonists who are dying every day. Madam Rayker is counting on you. This is your duty to humanity. I’m sure you will succeed.”
Reed smiled and patted him on the back. He turned and walked out, leaving Weslan alone, surrounded by the cacophony of the ravenous monsters.