Panspermia Deorum (21 page)

*

Elise was now
strong enough to enjoy short trips outside the hospital as long as
they weren’t too taxing. She was so keen to see the plot of land
which Julien had donated to her sister. The family gathering was
appropriately marked by opening a magnum of expensive champagne and
raising their glasses to an awesome sunset, with the promise of
celestial drama on such a clear night. Meteor showers were expected
and duly arrived, slightly elusive to the human eye in the fading
half-light.

It was a major
milestone for all of them, but particularly Julien, as the full
impact of banishing any splintering of his loved ones helped to
push other concerns into the background. He would have soldiered on
if he’d lost Elise to kidney failure, but it would have been
extremely difficult if neglect of her condition had been solely
down to his own tunnel vision in dealing with an asteroid. Such
introspection, had to be seen for what it was, a haunting luxury in
the context of ‘life goes on’. It was to be savoured wholesomely,
yet woven into a mosaic of pragmatic reality. A feeling which until
now had eluded him for his entire married life. He experienced a
strong urge to hold Elise tightly, but knew that had to wait, she
was still too fragile.

Part Three:
Confluence

2037

A
s day zero relentlessly approached, there were many
signs of change in the air. The clock was ticking louder as the VB
Aerospace deflection launch was in final countdown phase. The
agonising wait was almost over, but had curiously spawned both hope
and resignation, even within families.

The Soyuz
nuclear arsenal had failed spectacularly and the fallout had been
handled in a less than transparent manner.

Ivan Kolorov
was a born survivor, blessed with an ingenious ability to deflect
culpability, but obviously not asteroids. The official explanation
of the premature detonation of one warhead, and the immediate
blackout of further data transmission, was a convenient means of
self-preservation. He argued that the echelon formation of approach
to the asteroid had never been challenged by so-called experts
before the disaster. The echelon formation had been approved in
order to produce optimal distribution of destruction and deflection
force. The software analysis indicated that the third warhead in
the echelon had been the source of such a monumental mishap.
Independent I.T. experts had been drafted in to begin picking over
the bones of the asteroid’s unhindered progress. Kolorov’s closest
ally, Alexei Bondarenko became a willing sacrificial lamb, and with
his mentor’s help, disappeared to some unknown remote location.

Such an
‘elementary’ error, in the eyes of the uneducated, shifted the odds
of the planet continuing to support any form of life after 2039.
Decades of diminishing religious faith suddenly saw a complete
turnaround. The rush to anarchism, despite frequent atrocities
still being screened on television, saw a significant fall in
recruitment to their ranks. City strongholds were the grateful
benefactors of this adverse publicity, as it fuelled a steady
stream of desperate people, seeking a sense of belonging once more.
Consequently, urban refuges swelled in roughly similar proportion
to anarchic deserters for the first time in a decade. Life within
these city limits was not free from danger, but it was becoming by
far the least threatening option as 2039 inexorably crept closer.
The anarchist influence had come full circle, providing freedom
from authoritarian rule, only to replace it with indiscriminate
slaughter of innocents. The previously magnetic doctrine now
offered little else, especially in the face of there being only
about another seven hundred and thirty days to extinction. The
total collapse of conventional paper currency had also undermined
the recent march to anarchy, as it inadvertently created problems
for an unregulated barter system outside of city society. Within
urban enclaves, in which protection of infrastructure became the
defining difference between the two ideologies, the tenet that all
humans are
not
actually equal was gradually being
rejuvenated. The human race was facing a common threat, and yet its
entire population was dependent on just a few of these
unequal
individuals - conceiving, constructing, and
implementing salvation - whether or not they were chosen by some
omnipotent presence.

Julien
Delacroix was one of them and decided it was the perfect time to
contact Kolorov.

*

The past two
years of finessing the fleet launch had been a mixture of
frustration and patience for Julien in terms of preparing for the
big day. In sharp contrast, his private life had been the happiest
he’d known. Eugene’s research complex was a stunning testament to
Julien’s foresight in authorising genetic analysis on such a scale.
Sophie’s dream house creation became the bedrock of the new family,
and Geraldine’s quirky little cottage provided the final touch.
Sophie’s dedication to these projects had thrown her together with
a multiplicity of construction personnel, one of whom was rather
special. She still struggled with commitment, but conceded that he
could be referred to as a boyfriend.

Elise was now
fully recovered, and the prognosis going forward was positive. The
life-giving kidney transplant had altered her perception of what
was really important. She, more than the rest of the family, looked
upon the next two years as a stay of execution rather than notice
of termination. She had found a new strength to live every day to
the full, often leaving her sister, with whom she spent most of her
time, perennially exhausted. Geraldine did become homesick quite
frequently, but this was offset to some degree by the continual
news bulletins of terrorist acts in cities such as Lyon.

*

“Julien
Delacroix!” exclaimed Kolorov, “I could never have expected to hear
from you again, especially after we played dirty with your Mars
project…well, you know what I mean. To what do I owe the
pleasure?”

“I’m not sure
I’d call it a pleasure, Ivan. But, it is about time those of us
responsible for stopping this damned rock from eating the human
race actually cooperated. Time is short and that is the very least
we owe to the species. I’m sure I could learn from the mistakes
Soyuz made with their attempt. Even if it was indeed a software
error, the language of your explanation didn’t really stack up in
my humble opinion. You were responsible for the mission and yet
here you are, still running things.”

“Aha, now I get
it, you don’t have any evidence to contradict our detailed
findings, and you are shitting yourself in case you make the same
mistake.”

“No, no, listen
very carefully, Ivan. I’m not asking for your help, I’m insisting
that you do as I say before it’s too late to save your lousy
skin.”

“Are you
threatening me? I do not have time for…”

“Shut up and
take your mind back to Volker Brandt’s flight deck. You quite
sensibly asked me to trash the whole system when you left VB
Aerospace, and I agreed. But somehow I never got around to it.”

“Yes you did,
your mission operations director confirmed it to me after you
finished the job. Nice try.”

“I think he
might have told you we had dismantled it and bricked up the office,
but that is only half true. I neglected to dismantle any of it.
That would have been a dangerous move, someone involved could have
discovered exactly what was buried in that system, and we couldn’t
have that, could we, Ivan? So, I just mothballed it…well, until
now.”

The line went
dead and a slow smile spread across Julien’s face.

*

Eugene’s
research had led him to a mixture of expected results and
mind-blowing discoveries. His cross-expertise teams had quickly
ruled out certain project avenues with high work input for marginal
gains, and the ambitious original list of potential targets had
been systematically crunched down to fit the ever-diminishing time
constraint.

He had been
personally involved with the work on project ‘Genetic Scissors’.
Several generations of rats had been studied following the results
of cutting out gene segments and stitching in replacements. The
criteria for judging success or failure was kept simple because of
difficulty in assigning behavioural scores. Subjectivity could not
be wholly factored out; they were dumb animals and didn’t have
opinions, nevertheless differences did emerge. There was a definite
trend, and it was found in those individuals which had the most
seriously aberrant behaviour characteristics prior to the
procedure. Cured was a word which Eugene refused to acknowledge at
this stage; he preferred ‘assisted’ until he could begin tests on
human volunteers. In contrast, within the mini-societies of rats
with untreated individuals, fighting and tension remained
prevalent, impacting group behaviour in a confined space
dramatically, often to the point of killing and cannibalism.

Sophie had been
kept abreast of this work and typically became impatient, insisting
that she should be the first human volunteer.

“All in good
time, sis,” said Eugene, “we have to try to structure balanced but
different groups. This is necessary for the interpretive stage of
the outcome of every mini-society. We can’t expect to harness
humans to little ‘closed’ societies as we did with the rats. The
makeup of the subjects given or not given the treatment is much
more important than with animals. We certainly don’t want to lock a
few of you in cages with a bunch ‘norms’ and tell you all to mind
your manners! The interpretation of results with humans is going to
be difficult simply because they
are
humans. And just think
about it, I can’t warn the others in your group, for example,
otherwise they might become self-harmers!”

“Ha, bloody ha,
Gene. ‘All in good time’ is bullshit, we don’t have the luxury of
time. Like, who is going to care if people get pissed off with
things just a couple of days before we all become nature’s little
atoms again? Get a move on, brother. Otherwise it will all be for
nothing. Just don’t put me in your group, I’d rather go with the
assisted rats.”

*

“Hello,
Julien.” There was resignation in Kolorov’s voice. “I finally
tracked down your former ops director of communications. So, I
suppose I have to listen to you after all. The cretin could only
confirm that Brandt’s flight deck had been bricked up. He could not
comment on whether the equipment had been decommissioned or moved.
My fault for relying on amateurs, however, I need to see the kit
myself before agreeing to anything you have in mind. Don’t take
down the wall until I get there tomorrow, otherwise I will know
this is a bluff. Do we agree?”

“Of course.
You’re the untrustworthy swine in this saga, and I’d anticipated
some response like this. We can break down the wall together. There
is a condition from my side as well. You come alone, and you had
better bring all relevant data from the analysis of the disaster. I
want to see exactly why missile number three detonated. It had
better be good, Ivan. Unless I’m totally satisfied, you’ll be
unemployed. That isn’t a nice prospect in Russia these days, what
with the remains of the mafia and anarchists on your case. The
safest place for you to be is right here. See you tomorrow.”

*

Reuben Alvarez
was born to Mexican parents, both of whom had tragically died in a
high speed train crash which claimed the lives of over one hundred
people. He’d been split up from his siblings at the tender age of
seven. His two elder brothers had been placed in an orphanage, and
his younger sister had been the subject of a painfully long
adoption procedure to an American family. Reuben was taken in by an
uncle, whose own family consisted of four girls and a single boy.
It wasn’t a particularly happy time for him. He was old enough to
feel intense grief at the loss of his mother and father, but too
immature to realise he would never see his sister again. His uncle
also made sure he didn’t visit the orphanage, as he deemed Reuben’s
elder brothers to be a bad influence on the boy. Nevertheless,
Reuben began to feel that he would never really be accepted by the
wife of his uncle, and consequently he was starved of real
love.

As soon as he
was old enough, he left his surrogate family, having qualified as a
junior architect. He’d always dreamed of space travel, aliens, and
UFOs, and his grades were good enough to land a position in the
company Sophie had chosen to build the Delacroix residence. In
sharp contrast to her, he was extremely easy going. Despite this he
exhibited a very keen attention to detail, and this was the forum
in which they met, clashed, and ultimately developed deep mutual
respect. Reuben was a competent rather than a gifted artist and so
they had much to learn from one another. His ability to become a
buffer between the senior architect and Sophie kept the project on
track and avoided many heated arguments. He became adept at heading
off many bitter, entrenched situations of impasse. One particular
debate encapsulated their burgeoning personal bond. A shouting
match had erupted over the colour of a section of the atrium which
was to be rendered. The senior architect insisted that Sophie’s
choice would not be accepted by the planning authority. She was
unmoved, and stated that the planning people were nothing more than
talking rule books. Reuben had noticed that the architect had often
exhibited signs of defective colour vision and suggested all three
of them took a test to determine their scores. Sure that they were
both right, the antagonists agreed. When the architect was declared
blue-green deficient and Sophie was not, the spat was extinguished
amicably. The roots of a special relationship were evident.