The Project (I)
Created | Updated Sep 24, 2008
Deep within a long, low, windowless building, of a military laboratory in the South of England, a scientist packs up for the day. He runs his eye over a bank of screens that display various scenes outside his lab and outside the building. On the monitor showing the western end of the facility, he sees a soldier patrolling inside the triple security fence, with a German shepherd. The soldier disappears out of range of that swivelling camera and reappears on the next monitor. The dog stops to sniff at the base of the flood-lit expanse of razor-wire. A rabbit burrow. Another monitor shows him that the front desk security guard's head has lolled forward. There is no other sign of life outside. It's late.
Seeing that the coast is clear, the scientist removes a box from a refrigerator, places it in his briefcase and leaves, locking the door behind him. He walks down the corridor to another laboratory and punches in a security code to unlock it. The room is in darkness. Everybody left hours ago. He doesn't bother to switch on the light but walks briskly to the refrigerator, that also requires a security code for access. By its light, he takes the box from his briefcase, removes two vials, then takes another box from the fridge and swaps his vials for two from this box. His hands are shaking and his heart rate has doubled since he entered the lab. With the lethal vials safely in the cold box inside his briefcase, he takes a deep breath and tries to slow his racing heart. He can't afford any slip-ups.
At the front desk, he eases past the sedated guard and sabotages the video recording for the biosafety level 4 laboratory building. It will look like a technical fault. No-one will suspect. Then he takes the coffee cup containing the barbiturate, bags it in polythene, places it in his briefcase and replaces it with an innocent one.
With three weeks holiday ahead of him, all the loose ends of his work projects tied and tidy, and the last few materials he requires for his personal project harvested, he leaves the premises.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a laboratory occupying the space below his garage and utility room, the scientist carries out a few finishing touches to his creation. He is dressed from head to toe in a protective suit because, even at this stage, it is a delicate, hazardous operation. It has taken over eight years of painstaking, diligent work - mostly in his own time - to design and create his own disease. He is a savant - a genius. If he had not been working for the military ever since he qualified, he would certainly have received some recognition by now. It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter because nobody will be left to remember.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At a crowded market in the Midlands, the closely packed shoppers ooze slowly around the stalls. The scientist avoids this area and goes straight to the livestock pens. He has some treats for the pigs. A couple of farmers are haggling on one side of the pig pens, so he goes to the other side and walks slowly up the row, throwing a few small cakes into each pen. When all the cakes have gone he strolls to the market and mingles with the shoppers. He doesn't look well.
People try to make a space around him as he pushes his way through the press of bodies, coughing and spluttering. It takes him a couple of hours to go round the whole market. By the end, he's stumbling and coughing up blood. When he finally collapses, there's a smile on his face despite the pain. It looks like a bloody, grinning death mask. His work is done.
From his earliest days as a university student, he has meticulously planned every step towards this end and the end of man-kind. He will not be present to witness the final result of his work, but he knows how it will end. People and pigs will leave this central place an go all over the country and all over the world. Some may have a few mild, short-lived symptoms. The people will go on holiday. The animals will go to farms, markets and abattoirs. Some will be exported. The disease will spread all over the planet.
He is not carrying any form of identification. All traces of his work have been cleaned from his home laboratory and it will look like an ordinary basement store room to anyone who examines it. By the time they suspect anything at all, it will be far too late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The disease is a real slow-burner. He has taken sections of DNA from adeno and avian viruses, ebola, small-pox (which everyone supposed had been completely destroyed - every last virion) and foot and mouth, and spliced them together into something new and virulent: a patient, selective stalker, a psychopathic misanthrope, that can be carried by almost any species of animal, but will destroy just one species. Its first serious symptom, irreversible damage to the reproductive organs and infertility, will not be recognised for what it is. Only in a matter of years, when most of the human population has succumbed to the later and more dramatically lethal effects of the disease, might the truth be recognised. By then, the population will be too small and sick to sustain itself.
That is the plan.
Diseases mutate of course. So only time can tell whether the plan will succeed.
Seeing that the coast is clear, the scientist removes a box from a refrigerator, places it in his briefcase and leaves, locking the door behind him. He walks down the corridor to another laboratory and punches in a security code to unlock it. The room is in darkness. Everybody left hours ago. He doesn't bother to switch on the light but walks briskly to the refrigerator, that also requires a security code for access. By its light, he takes the box from his briefcase, removes two vials, then takes another box from the fridge and swaps his vials for two from this box. His hands are shaking and his heart rate has doubled since he entered the lab. With the lethal vials safely in the cold box inside his briefcase, he takes a deep breath and tries to slow his racing heart. He can't afford any slip-ups.
At the front desk, he eases past the sedated guard and sabotages the video recording for the biosafety level 4 laboratory building. It will look like a technical fault. No-one will suspect. Then he takes the coffee cup containing the barbiturate, bags it in polythene, places it in his briefcase and replaces it with an innocent one.
With three weeks holiday ahead of him, all the loose ends of his work projects tied and tidy, and the last few materials he requires for his personal project harvested, he leaves the premises.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a laboratory occupying the space below his garage and utility room, the scientist carries out a few finishing touches to his creation. He is dressed from head to toe in a protective suit because, even at this stage, it is a delicate, hazardous operation. It has taken over eight years of painstaking, diligent work - mostly in his own time - to design and create his own disease. He is a savant - a genius. If he had not been working for the military ever since he qualified, he would certainly have received some recognition by now. It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter because nobody will be left to remember.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At a crowded market in the Midlands, the closely packed shoppers ooze slowly around the stalls. The scientist avoids this area and goes straight to the livestock pens. He has some treats for the pigs. A couple of farmers are haggling on one side of the pig pens, so he goes to the other side and walks slowly up the row, throwing a few small cakes into each pen. When all the cakes have gone he strolls to the market and mingles with the shoppers. He doesn't look well.
People try to make a space around him as he pushes his way through the press of bodies, coughing and spluttering. It takes him a couple of hours to go round the whole market. By the end, he's stumbling and coughing up blood. When he finally collapses, there's a smile on his face despite the pain. It looks like a bloody, grinning death mask. His work is done.
From his earliest days as a university student, he has meticulously planned every step towards this end and the end of man-kind. He will not be present to witness the final result of his work, but he knows how it will end. People and pigs will leave this central place an go all over the country and all over the world. Some may have a few mild, short-lived symptoms. The people will go on holiday. The animals will go to farms, markets and abattoirs. Some will be exported. The disease will spread all over the planet.
He is not carrying any form of identification. All traces of his work have been cleaned from his home laboratory and it will look like an ordinary basement store room to anyone who examines it. By the time they suspect anything at all, it will be far too late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The disease is a real slow-burner. He has taken sections of DNA from adeno and avian viruses, ebola, small-pox (which everyone supposed had been completely destroyed - every last virion) and foot and mouth, and spliced them together into something new and virulent: a patient, selective stalker, a psychopathic misanthrope, that can be carried by almost any species of animal, but will destroy just one species. Its first serious symptom, irreversible damage to the reproductive organs and infertility, will not be recognised for what it is. Only in a matter of years, when most of the human population has succumbed to the later and more dramatically lethal effects of the disease, might the truth be recognised. By then, the population will be too small and sick to sustain itself.
That is the plan.
Diseases mutate of course. So only time can tell whether the plan will succeed.
