“Fifteen minutes, you two! That’s ten minutes ’til you need to be out of the door!” From the frantic noises emanating from upstairs you’d think that a tornado had made landfall in the hallway. You might also assume that we didn’t tell them last night, and again this morning when we attempted to drag the somnolent vertebrates from their pits, that they would most definitely be taking the bus again today, and would therefore need to actually be ready on-time.
“Lunch is on the counter.” I add at a slightly more relaxed volume, while I quickly clean up and put away the cutting board and the knife. In the quiescent minutes that follow I take a moment to look at my phone. There were a few more messages, increasingly irate, but they stopped rolling in around three am. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Maybe Xavier just went to sleep.
“You didn’t use that weird bread again?” Addy says, startling me out of my reverie. I turn and find her peering dubiously into the paper bags at the end of the kitchen island, having apparently made it down the stairs. “I didn’t like it. It looked weird and it tasted weird. It’s better when Mom C makes us lunch.”
“No, Addy. I haven’t given you the rye bread again. I only gave it to you because we’d run out of regular bread.” It’s not like I thought she’d love it (and it wasn’t even the one with caraway in it) but y’know, sometimes the food that’s in the house is the food that’s in the house. And in truth I’m grateful for the whining. For the morning routine. It’s reassuringly normal, while everything else is falling apart.
“Fiiiiiive Minutes ’til the bus, y’all. Miss it and you’ll be walking to school.” Caitlin’s shout from somewhere else in the house, probably our bedroom, startles Addy into grabbing the bag and dashing for the door.
“And remember, we need you both home on time today, we’ve got something important to discuss.” I say to the sound of the front door slamming.
The clattering thump that follows moments after attests to Ash’s descent to the first floor. She flies round the doorframe — Caitlin had to reattach the trim last year after a particularly enthusiastic swing — shouts, “Thanks Mom!” as she grabs the bag and disappears after her sister hollering, “Hey! Wait up! I saw some fire news last night on my feed… there’s some virus, I bet that’s what Moms—” Oh god.
The house resonates for a while after the door slams.
Which goes well with what’s going on in my head.
I suppose that’s one way for them to find out. And, the news being just out there makes telling them what the hell was going on last night easier.
“So...” Caitlin says, walking into the kitchen in the kids’ wake and scooping up the last few bits of breakfast detritus. She wanders around, seemingly adrift, picking up and putting down objects for a few minutes. “So.” she says, again, more definitively. This time she does it while dropping onto a stool and looking directly at me.
“Yeah.” I sigh.
“I started making a list.” She says. “I know we talked about it — and we both think this is the best the plan — within the limited selection of options. I’m still not sure about the kids going to school today. Pretty sure you aren’t either from the look on your face.”
“Yeah, no. But I don’t want to trigger some stupid AI by breaking our patterns. And they haven’t broken down the door...” I can’t help glancing toward the front door, even if it’s not visible from here.
“…Yet.” Caitlin says, sharply. “You’ve not heard anything from — that woman?”
“Nothing new,” I confirm. I transferred some of my meager savings to the same woman who created my new identity. Well, stole it? Maybe reassigned it is a preferable way to describe the process. It’s not like the former Erika was using it anymore. The woman’d always kept half an eye on it — because of my past — and for a fee, obviously. But, for more of a fee, she’s being more proactive. Actively feeding in misinformation and watching out for anything linking my old life to my new one. She said, where she can, she’ll hack in and delete stuff. And she’ll also look for any unusual activity from anything remotely Neuragene affiliated that looks like it might be related to me, now.
Not exactly a cheap service though.
There should be some sort of tax deduction for using a stolen identity.
According to her, Oaklen is still searching for Dr Shah and so hopefully hasn’t put two and two together. Long may it stay that way. To be fair, It’s not like he was actually that smart. Just rich and had the right friends.
Caitlin sits for a moment digesting the information. “Okay, so, like I said, I’ve started on the go-right-now-list, and I’d like you to look it over too. Then we need to do the more planned departure list, where we actually…get to keep some of our stuff.”
Guilt and self-condemnation fill my thoughts, crowding out pretty much everything else.
“You might have realized this last night, but I didn’t think about it ’til this morning. We also need to work out what we do about my contract. You said… Well, you said the US is screwed in at most six months”
“Yeah…”
“But things are gonna start to get bad pretty quick from here on, if I haven’t misunderstood. Can’t say I slept well.”
“Yeah,” I close my eyes for a moment, steady myself. “Yeah, even if a bunch of infections are rural, if I’m right about the number of people it infects, then it doesn’t really matter that much time wise. Unless the US rolls out a vaccination program which, ha, isn’t gonna happen. Not with this clown show in charge.”
“Right, so we’re gonna need to leave before six months. Things are going to start falling apart way before that. And I bet Miller’ll use it as a way to go harder on every shit policy. Probably curfews and more ICE.
“So…” She pauses. Squints at me momentarily. “Oh yeah, we’re gonna need to move quick — and work out what legal options we have for my contract if we’re going to get Addy some…where…safe.” Her sentence staggers to a stop, with her just staring at me.
“Caitlin?”
“Safe.” She says again, quieter. And quieter still, “Safe.”
I watch as she runs her fingers absently along the edge of the counter. A smaller Addy plus dump truck incident chipped right where she’s sitting. I watch her finger playing with the tiny divot. “You said this virus like, sleeps? It’s sleeping in all those people who got infected off that cop, who got it from you. But then it wakes up later and it can start spreading again. Like — well — like now. With whatever’s happening out there.”
“Yes.” I say, cautiously. Willing the conversation to go somewhere, anywhere else.
“So it’s in you and could wake up whenever?”
“Yes,” I say, hearing the tremor in my own voice.
Please don’t ask.
Please don’t ask.
“So,” She sucks in a breath. I watch her steel herself. “How were you planning to protect Addy — you know, before she—? Well both of them? How were you going to keep our kids safe — from this virus if it’s in you? Please Erika, tell me you had a plan.”
“I — I was trying. I mean…” I close my eyes for a moment, try to formulate my thoughts. “What I did? What I’ve done — I can’t change that. I can’t make it so that the virus isn’t out there. And y’know what? I’m not sure I would. I would make it different, but the way this world treats people like—” I see the look on her face, realize I’m deflecting. Shit.
“No. Sorry. This is not about that.” Another breath. Try again. “I have been working on a vaccine, and treatment options, the whole time. I started thinking about it even before we met, I admit. But I’m pretty sure I’d’ve stopped by now if it weren’t for Addy. Ash should be okay anyway, I think. From what I know. But for Addy — before we knew she was Addy? I kept going.”
“Ironic, really.” I stop, trying to read Caitlin. But she’s withdrawn into herself into a place I can’t even see her. Anxiety wraps its tendrils around me, I feel them tightening and tightening, pushing my words pouring out, increasingly desperately, “When I stay late at work sometimes, when I get a free chunk of time to myself? You always ask me what I’m thinking about when I’m staring off into space, and I say ‘oh, nothing’ but this is what I’m thinking about, what I’m trying to solve. Every spare waking moment. But I made the virus hard to stop. And this sort of thing is normally done by a team; I’m trying to be that entire team. I’m trying to be all the disciplines I’m not. But even if I liked the guys in the lab, even if I could trust them with this, I can’t exactly ask them for help. I can’t say why or even tell them what I’m thinking about.
“Fuck, I even I published papers to get other people interested in like, parts of the problem I hadn’t solved — or had run out of ideas for. Had to be super careful, make everything really theoretical sounding. But it helped — it moved me forward. Brandon was pissed, said he didn’t want anyone looking too hard at Itero, but I said that it’d be weird if a lab of our size never published anything, and that seemed enough to get him off my case. It’s far enough from what we really do, anyway.
“And, I think it should work? The vaccine at least. Treatment’s that actually blocks changes is a bit more… Anyway, I’m like ninety percent of the way there, and like ninety-two percent certain it’ll work as is? Just I worry about the side-effects or something I’ve missed.” Caitlin’s still watching me, her eyes cool. “Problem is I can’t exactly start testing it — can’t run a study or anything. But the in-the-lab stuff? It looks positive.”
I stop as I run out of breath, faith, as fear finally wins.
“So your plan when you came to live with us — with our ‘so great’ kids was that hopefully you’d come up with an answer in time? Before you infected them with this virus that you engineered.”
“Ye-eah” I say. “It doesn’t exactly sound good.”
“And then your plan to fix this was that you, if you could finish it in time, were going to give Addy some untested thing? I mean, before we knew about her?”
“Uh, I mean… It was kinda a last ditch plan. And I wouldn’t have done it without asking you. And Addy.”
“Even if you suddenly realized you’d become infectious again, and exposed her?”
“Uh. Well… I — I guess—”
“Yeah… Yeah,” She drags out the vowels, drags out the whole word, exhaustion from the late night and her anger and whatever else she’s feeling blurring together. She rubs her eyes and then puts her hands flat on the counter, pushes and stands up. “You never have been the Queen of Forward Thinking.” She drags her hands through her hair. Watches me for a few breaths.
“Wow. Just, wow. God I’m pissed at you right now. So pissed. Sorta kinda furious. Sure, yes, ‘Past-Erika’ or ‘fugue-state-you’ or whatever the hell it is you want to call it did something super fucked up. And I guess, at the end of the day, the difference between you being the infector, or some rando out on the street being the infector is probably like six months, maybe, at the outside.
“And now… maybe it’d be a good thing if she caught it — if you can keep her healthy through it… But that doesn’t make it right. Bringing this into their lives — into all our lives without telling me? That wasn’t right. I think… Fuck.
“No. I think I should go to work, and we’ll talk about it when I get back. Because right now I might say something I shouldn’t.” She looks straight at me. Her eyes burning like ice. “And don’t apologize, I can see it on your lips. I know you’re sorry. I know you know you f’d up. And I know the US’s f’d. I know — kids like Addy, they die because of how f’d up it is. And we deserve to have it burn down.
“But that doesn’t mean I wanted our family to be throwing the Molotov cocktail to start the fire.”
#
The remaining clean up doesn’t occupy enough of my brain, or take nearly long enough, to hold off the recriminations. For a while I lose myself, curl up in the corner, back against the cupboard. Try and let some of it out. Slam my hands against the tile, wanting it to crack, wanting it to shatter. Wanting it to be fractured and broken like I apparently still am.
But it just stays there: unyielding and unchanging in the face of my despair.
“Fuuuuck,” I yell into the empty room.
Scream until I can’t scream anymore.
Scream until I taste blood in my throat, all the while, willing something to break with the force of it.
Nothing does.
#
Given Rue’s personal friendship with the president, I’m assuming he’s got privileged access to the neighborhood surveillance, traffic cameras, all the mandatory security cameras businesses are required to share, along with everything else his companies have got their claws in. So, despite my tears, I run upstairs, clean myself up, throw on a basic face, and make it out the door within a few minutes of my usual time.
The neighborhood’s its usual self; the dying remnants of suburbia. Half the lots are empty now, families no longer able to afford them, going for residential employment options. Despite their push for more babies, and the stats that say they’re winning, it doesn’t feel like it out here. I thunk through another new pothole. No gleaming bands of asphalt here. Just crappy old roads that the HOA doesn’t ever fix. I get out, check the tire. Thankfully it’s okay.
Feel a flicker of relief and hop back in the car. I could still make it to work on time.
#
The blue and red strobes kick on as soon as I pull onto the highway. It happens so quick, my blinker’s still on from joining. I flick the stalk across to the other direction and drop onto the shoulder. Taking a second to hit record on the ACLU app, for all the good it’ll do. They’re still fighting being classified as a terrorist organization a few years back, so I imagine defending America’s most wanted tranny is not gonna be high on their list of priorities right now.
“License and registration,” he pauses, taking me in, in all of my definitely not letter-paper-white glory, a sneer developing on his face. “And your immigration papers please.”
I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. It’s. So. Fast. You’d think after so many of these I’d be used to it, but with everything… And it’s been a couple of months. “Um, sorry officer, but I’m a citizen. I was born here, so I don’t — I don’t have immigration papers.”
He stares at me, skeptically. “Fine. License and registration then. And I’ll be checking that.”
I’m pretty sure he mouthed anchor baby at me. Solid start then.
“Of course.” I say, handing over the documents.
“Still on paper, huh.” He says, flapping the insurance document around. For a moment I think he’s going to let the wind take it. I have a spare; we played a round of driving without insurance a couple of years back after a cop ‘didn’t see it before it blew away’.
“Yeah, I’m just old-school like that,” I say, trying a slight smile. A smile that doesn’t say, ‘Like hell am I giving you my unlocked phone’. It’s not like you need a warrant to search it but I ain’t gonna make it that easy.
He walks back to his cruiser. I try and find some oxygen in the airless void that my car’s become. When he returns he looks vaguely disappointed.
“These check out.” He looks at the car in distaste. “Watch yourself, you looked like you were gonna cross the fog line. And Miss Morgen, you should clean this heap of junk up.” He waits a beat. It feels like he wants me to drive off prematurely, an opportunity to shoot the fleeing criminal. Eventually he loses our stand off, “You’re free to go.”
It’s only as I pull into the parking lot that the nausea passes and that my heart rate descends from triple figures. And it’s then that I take a breath, and finally register that Mary-Anne’s sent me a bunch of messages. And tried to call.
Then Caitlin’s tried to call.
Shit.
08:27
:::MA: Hey sweetheart! How’s it going?
:::MA: Proper breakfast today?
:::MA: Sam had some friends staying for the couple days.
:::MA: Needed some extra beds, so I put them up.
:::MA: Had to check none of them was pregnant tho, that rash’s still hanging on in there and if it’s shingles definitely don’t want to spread that.
:::MA: Geez, that thing is hanging on in there.
:::MA: Made them Minnesota Sushi!
:::MA: They’re all off home today tho’
:::MA: Sometimes feels a bit empty in the house.
09:07
:::MA: Hon, are you okay?
09:15
:::MA: This isn’t like you.
:::MA: Are you okay, hon?
09:24
[Missed call – MA]
09:31
[Missed call – CM]
I fire off a quick, hopefully reassuring, message to Mary-Anne. And, phone pressed to my ear, waiting for Caitlin to pick up, dash into the building.
#
“You’re late,” Brandon growls at me. He’s both uncharacteristically outside his office, standing in the hall, and he’s without his usual mug-of-definitely-coffee accessory. “Did you not see the message about the all-hands meeting?”
“Uh, no? I was stopped by the poli—”
“Don’t care. You’re here now. Read this.” He thrusts a tablet into my hand. “I’m gonna get some coffee, get up to speed, get into the conference room. You’ve got ‘til I get back.”
I stare at the screen.
I’ve not even finished the first line before I have to fight the urge to fling the thing and run.
#
2031 – Novel Human Sex-Mutagenic Virus Outbreak (2031-nHSMV)
This is an emerging, rapidly evolving situation and CDC will provide updated information in this document as it becomes available, in addition to updated guidance.
Background:
CDC is currently monitoring an outbreak of a novel (new) mutagenic virus (currently “2031-nHSMV”). Simultaneous outbreaks have occurred in the following regions:
Maricopa County, Arizona
San Francisco County, California
Duval County, Florida
Oklahoma County, Oklahoma
Pottawatomie County, Oklahoma
Deschutes County, Oregon
Spink County, South Dakota
Presidio County, Texas
Lamoille County, Vermont
Pierce County, Washington
Park County, Wyoming
It has not currently been detected outside the United States.
CDC has commenced contact tracing for these individuals but given the widespread distribution it is likely it is already being spread person-to-person, and has potentially been spreading asymptomatically prior to discovery.
Source:
Mutagenic viruses are rare. Accordingly it does appear that this is a synthetic virus with a domestic source. Investigations and examinations are ongoing.
Illness Severity:
The illness affects the biological sexes differently.
It is unclear how biological men are impacted as no biological males have been identified with the virus. Given genetic superiority, it is likely that men carry innate immunity.
Biological women are, as expected, vulnerable and present with a constellation of symptoms which may include any combination of the following:
Joint pain
Nausea
Vomiting
Fever
Chills
Abdominal pain
Rash (similar to that of chicken pox)
Lethargy
Fatigue
Intersex individuals are the most vulnerable and make up the largest cohort of infected individuals. None of the patients had previously identified intersex conditions, but on assessment all affected ‘male’ individuals had abnormally low testosterone levels. Individuals with known intersex conditions should immediately contact their healthcare provider, or for those born after 2013, their court appointed guardian.
Illness Severity:
The complete clinical picture with regard to 2031-nHSMV is still not fully clear. Reported illnesses have ranged from infected people requiring oral rehydration fluids and simple analgesia, to a requirement for sedation for pain management accompanied by significantly elevated caloric demands and hemodynamic and hydration support using intravenous fluids. These more impacted individuals have all been intersex and, at this stage, appear to be in the early stages of sex-linked mutagenic changes of indeterminate extent or severity.
There are ongoing investigations to learn more. This is a rapidly evolving situation and information will be updated as it becomes available.
Risk Assessment:
Outbreaks of novel virus infections among people are an economic health concern. The fiscal impact from these outbreaks depends on characteristics of the virus, including whether and how well it spreads between people, the severity of resulting illness, and the measures available to control the impact of the virus (for example, willingness to avoid proximity to miasma).
At present, while the number of affected areas appear broad it also selectively targets women and a minority population of intersex individuals. Women, while initially unwell, recover function sufficiently to reengage in supportive societal roles.
Intersex individuals (including those with previously undiagnosed intersex conditions) appear at the most risk of severe illness.
Fortunately, at present, the broader, fully biologically male population has not been affected.
Currently this is expected to have minimal fiscal impact although some regional healthcare services may experience minor capacity issues. This is a rapidly evolving situation and this risk assessment will be updated as more data becomes available.
What to Expect:
More cases are likely to be identified in the coming days, including potentially cases outside the United States. Given what has occurred previously with COVID, and Flu-D, it’s likely that person-to-person spread will continue and further regions will be affected.
CDC Response:
CDC has informed the WHO of the situation.
CDC is working with affected states’ Homeland Human Health Services to respond to this potential minor public health threat.
Infected individuals have been isolated and contact tracing is ongoing to minimize risk of further spread.
Should significant further outbreaks occur, CDC will contract with Emergency Outbreak Coordinators to facilitate management and support surrounding 2031-nHSMV.
CDC currently has RFQs ongoing for the development and provision of screening at healthcare facilities, pharmacies and for travel terminuses.
CDC currently has RFQs ongoing for full genomic assessment and evaluation.
CDC is actively working with Homeland Human Health Service departments in the affected states regarding release of the genome sequence for the disease which reportedly contains proprietary sequences[1].
[1] The sequence is currently unavailable due to the ongoing civil suit, Neuragene LLC v GenTechnik Laboratory Equipment. CDC expects release under public health necessity rules shortly.
CDC Recommends:
While the immediate risk of this new virus to the most productive societal members is believed to be low at this time, everyone can help minimize economic harm from this emerging fiscal health threat:
For everyone:
Remember, masks limit your ability to detect miasma. While in many developed states masking has been banned, some sequestered states still allow them to be worn. CDC recommends avoidance of masks.
Good dietary habits support your immune system. Consider as a preventative measure adopting a carnivorous diet.
Be aware of potential symptoms and contact a healthcare provider should you develop the listed symptoms.
For Biological Men:
Testosterone supplements should be considered in advance of infection.
For Biological Women:
Ensure sufficient supplies of oral rehydration fluids are maintained at home.
As a vulnerable group, women should consider avoiding large public gatherings, and avoid any non-essential work.
Intersex Individuals (born prior to 2013):
You should contact your healthcare provider if you develop the listed symptoms.
It is likely you will require treatment with intravenous fluids and nutrition.
In the event of morphological changes, use of colloidal silver or cansema may be required, depending on severity.
Intersex Individuals (born after 2013):
Your court appointed legal guardian will assist you in managing your treatment options and should be informed if you become unwell.
#
Shit. Brandon’s talking. How long’s he been talking? I jog to the conference room, winning another glare from him. He doesn’t stop talking though.
“…apparently they thought women might get infertile afterwards, but so far it looks like that’s okay. So it’s not like we’ve hit the jackpot here, not like a COVID or — God, I wish we’d have been ready for the deluge of contracts for Flu-D.” He looks at the figures on the smart-board for a moment, wistfully. “But we’re ready this time. I know it’s just women — uh, sorry Erika — I know it’s women and those weirdos who’re affected but there’s still billions of dollars in available contracts and most of it’s for absolute bullshit. You could sell these guys a phone with a bluetooth finger-prick sensor that randomly spits out results and they’d probably take it.” He swigs his coffee, downing the end of the cup, then gesturing emphatically with it, continues. “So guys, and uh, girl, we need to put together some watertight proposals for testing equipment or treatment.
“They even said the v-word—”
“Hey-yo! V-word mentioned!” Damian and Adam high-five. Muted laughter travels around the room. Fucking children the lot of them.
“Vaccine you dumb fucks. They didn’t say it on the record — but, if it does start to affect fertility they said they might need to vaccinate women. And that stuff's real-funding money.”
“Um, Brandon?” I say, hesitant to rain on his parade. “We don’t really do novel research here. They’re gonna want something at the end, surely. Something that at least kinda-sorta works.”
“Odd that you, out of all of us, would say that. Because I was sitting there listening to that CDC chump ramble on and on and I thought about those papers you shared. The ones I said you had to publish for the sake of our lab’s reputation.” Impressively, I don’t vault the table scattering mugs and tablets and throw a punch. “I couldn’t remember exactly what they were. But while he was fucking around reading some dumb statistics off I went and found them. All that bullshit you published? It was all novel research — all about some theoretical virus — and how to build vaccines and treatments.
“So I think, obviously we’ll have the guys here as leads, wouldn’t look great having a woman heading up a team.” More fucking laughter. “Buuut you’ll be a great resource for them.” He smiles beatifically.
Why hasn’t a sink hole opened right under me? Or under the rest of them? Now would be the ideal moment.
“Hey, don’t look so glum. We’ll let you put your name on any papers we publish as a lab too. Anyhow, I’ve sent everyone a link to the RFQ guidance for projects. Go read it, understand what they’re looking for and we’ll be rolling in fucking dough. I want you all to come back, at the latest end-of-day tomorrow, with proposals for project submissions. Right, that’s enough me time. Class dismissed.” He laughs, and then heads out of the conference room at speed. Everyone else just sits there, apparently slightly shell-shocked by the idea of having to actually do science.
Mumbled conversations gradually start up.
I doubt anyone in the lab ever expected or wanted to actually do anything particularly novel or exciting. Most of the thinking work’s farmed out to AI models trained to replicate without infringing. ’Most anything it can’t do eventually ends up with me.
Suddenly he sticks his head back in, taps his mug against the door frame, to regain everyone’s focus. “Oh, guys, I’ve sent you all links to Erika’s papers. Yeah, yeah, that’s enough. You guys can laugh it up but, they’re surprisingly good for a girl, and they’re worth reading if we want to get in on this scheme. Erika, I presume you know what’s in them, unless you got some guy to write them for you? No? Cool then.”
Eventually I realize that half the lab are staring at me.
“Hi?” I wave. “Lemmie know if you have questions!”
Shit, I’m meant to be getting a fucking travel permit. This day has already gotten so far away from me and it’s just after ten.
I jog out the door following Brandon’s route, and catch him as he’s topping off his coffee.
“Uh, hey, Brandon?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I know this is shit timing with everything, but my mom — my adoptive mom — she’s starting to struggle and I’m not sure when exactly but I need to go help move her into assisted living.” I mentally beg forgiveness from Mary-Anne for such bold-faced lies.
“I see.” If he were a porcupine I’d be brushing against his quills. I take an involuntary half step back.
“I can keep working on my laptop, remotely, of course. And I’ll be available on chat and Zoom and everything.” I see him relax a little. “The thing is,” I pause to say a mental prayer. “She lives in Oregon.”
“So you’re gonna go to Oregon?”
“Yeah. And I know we partner with some manufacturer over there. I was wondering—”
“Ohhhh. You want me to write you a travel permit.” He says, eyes narrowed. “Because with all this shit going on you’d never get in just to go see good old mom. Even if — maybe especially not if she’s sick.”
“Yeah.”
“Hrm.” He sits on a break room chair for a minute, at first just staring at the table, then drumming his fingers, then he seems to start idly tapping on his tablet. After a while he turns back to me. “And what’s it worth, Erika?”