by Anne Harris

In a near-future Detroit, the living polymer industry has the city in its grip. While vat-divers struggle to organize, the GeneSys Corporation works on making human workers obsolete. An escaped mutant, a con-artist and a techno-geek team up to unravel corporate blackmail, deceit and murder. One thing is certain: the city and the world will never be the same once the latest R&D development is unleashed.

Chapter 14 — The GeneSys Man

O’Grady’s tea room in Detroit’s historic Bricktown was a small room with upholstered chairs and lace curtained windows. Colin Slatermeyer clenched his sweat damp fists and walked across the room to where Nathan Graham sat waiting for him at an inlaid wood table.

“I took the liberty of ordering,” said Graham as Colin sat down. “I hope you like Earl Grey.”

On the table a ceramic tea pot littered with rosebuds sat on a handmade doily. There was also a silver tray of scones accompanied by strawberry jam and clotted cream. Graham poured tea for them both and offered him a scone.

Mechanically Colin went through the motions of splitting the scone and spreading it with cream and jam, but he wasn’t hungry. His stomach was tied in knots, his eyes fixed on Graham — watching him inhale the steam from his cup and sip at the amber brown tea. “Ah,” he said, and bit into a scone, sending crumbs scattering across the table. Graham chewed thoughtfully for a moment, swallowed, and fixed his gaze on Colin. “Now,” he said, “I want you to tell me about the day the tetras threw you and your colleagues out of the vat room.”

Colin fussed with his tea for a moment, adding sugar and lemon. He sipped it, but it did little to alleviate the dryness in his mouth. “There’s not much to tell, really,” he said. “It was just like any other day down there, at least to start with. Greenfield and I were doing spectral analysis and cell imaging on agule and polymer samples. Neither of us had been up to the diving platform to check on the tetras, but everything seemed more or less normal. It wasn’t until Dr. Martin came in that things started to go awry.”

“What happened?”

Colin stared at his hands encircling the cup, felt the warmth of the tea spreading through his fingers, and tried to think of the least damaging way to describe what had happened. His reverie was interrupted by a scalding splash of tea on his clasped fingers. He looked up to see Graham with the tea pot, topping off his cup. Graham glanced at him sideways. “Sorry.” he said with utter calm, “I’m so clumsy.” He set the teapot down and stared at Colin with complete serenity. “Go on.”

“He suited up and went to talk to Lilith right away,” Colin blurted, reaching for a napkin to blot his burned fingers. “He didn’t say anything to us, but he was back down again a few minutes later. His suit was wet. He said that Lilith had splashed him. There was a lot more activity in the vats all of a sudden. We could hear the tetras swimming around up there. Suddenly there just seemed to be this tense atmosphere in the place.”

“You said he went to talk to Lilith. How do you know that if he didn’t speak to you?”

Colin was aware of his own eyes widening. “Just because that’s what he always did, in the morning, he’d check in with her,” he managed.

“I see. What did they talk about that morning, then?”

Colin shook his head. Graham leaned forward, giving him the full effect of his glare. “You heard them. What did they say?”

Colin swallowed, his eyes fluttering away from Graham’s like frightened birds. “She told him to get out of there,” he said stiffly.

Graham cocked his head, “Why did she do that?”

“She- she said he stank of her. She said there could only be one queen in a nest, and that he no longer belonged here.”

“She said he stank of her? Of who?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What did Martin do?”

“He tried to calm her. He told her that she didn’t have to worry. He said-” Colin broke off.

“He said what?” Graham prompted impatiently

“That she wouldn’t be back.” Colin gulped.

“Who?”

“I don’t know!” Colin shouted. People at other tables turned and looked.

Graham poured himself more tea. “What did Martin say when he came back down?”

“He told us to continue what we were doing.”

“Didn’t you ask him what they were talking about?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I see. And when you discussed it later, what did he say then?”

Colin set his jaw. “We didn’t discuss it. We never did.”

“You don’t have any idea what they might have been talking about? Do you have any idea how much money you owe ALIVE!? I do.”

Colin shook his head. “Look, I really don’t know. All I can think of is she might have been talking about the egg.”

“What? What egg?”

Colin closed his eyes. It was too late now, Graham had him. “Lilith laid another egg, a single, about six months after the drones hatched.”

“Yes?”

“She wouldn’t let anyone near it. The drones would mob us any time we got close.”

“It hatched.”

Colin's jaw worked. “There’s no way of knowing for sure. The tetras wouldn’t let us dive in to examine it. We had to rely on radar to detect its presence, and we didn’t get around to it, that day. Since then, it’s been impossible to determine what happened to it. The tetras destroyed the transceivers, after they kicked us out.”

“So you have no proof, but that is the hypothesis which fits the facts. We’ll go with it. What happened after Martin came back down?”

I was doing protein imaging on a polymer sample, and I looked up, and I saw the tetras climbing over the edge of the vat. They came at us, jumping off the platform and landing on the equipment. Dr. Martin yelled for us to get out of there. He didn’t have to tell me twice, they were dripping with growth medium. Greenfield and I got out ahead of them, but Dr. Martin, they picked him up, and threw him out the door.”

“Very interesting.” Graham dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I can see I need to have a talk with Martin, but first, I want you to procure a couple of dive suits. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I guess so.” Colin wrinkled his brow. “But why?”

“I want you to take me there,” he said, “to the facility. I want to meet this Lilith for myself.”

oOo

“I’m really not sure about this. It’s not safe,” said Slatermeyer at the door to the vat room.“I think you should reconsider.”

“I’m not going to reconsider,” said Graham, “and as far as it being dangerous is concerned, I’m prepared for that,” he patted the tranquilizer gun at his hip

“I wouldn’t take a weapon in there if I were you. They won’t like it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t care if they like it or not. If they attack us, I won’t be defenseless.”

“But you can’t get all of them with that thing.”

“So? You said they all follow Lilith, that she’s their queen. If I take her out, they won’t know what to do.”

“If you take her out, they may panic, there’s no telling what they’ll do.”

“Stop being a nelly, I don’t have all night. I’m supposed to meet some important people for dinner tonight.”

Slatermeyer pulled the hood of the divesuit over his head, tucking in stray wisps of hair. “Well, I hope you make it to that dinner, Mr. Graham.” He took a key out of the pouch slung around his hips, and unlocked the door.

They were in a long stretch of tiled corridor. Graham gagged on the steamy, pungent air. “Christ, what’s that smell?”

“It’s the vats, you get used to it,” whispered Slatermeyer, “now be quiet, please.”

They crept along the corridor, the air getting warmer and damper and more redolent with the yeasty odor of fermentation and rot. Graham tried to breathe through his mouth, but it was no use. The smell seemed to seep right through his pores. He was starting to sweat inside the divesuit, its rubber lining becoming slick against his skin. No wonder those vatdivers were always bitching about something, they were uncomfortable all the time. Well, screw them, anyway. They didn’t have to take the job, they could have started out in a mail room somewhere, barely making enough to eat once a day, and spent the next twenty years of their lives clawing their way up to a position of status and wealth.

By the time they reached the end of the corridor, the walls were dripping with condensation, and they could only see about three feet in front of them because of the thick clouds of fog. The temperature had to be at least a hundred degrees. When he breathed he felt as if his lungs were filling with water. Slatermeyer tapped him on the arm, and motioned for him to put on his face mask and mouthpiece. He had a point. There was no telling what this mist was actually made of.

Suiting up had its advantages. He could take long, deep breaths of air without being hampered either by the smell of the vats or the humidity, and he and Slatermeyer could communicate with each other over the built-in shortwaves in their face masks.

“It wasn’t like this when we were in here, they must have done something to the climate controls,” said Slatermeyer.

“They can do that?”

“I’m not sure about the others, but Lilith can, I have no doubt.”

Graham waved impatiently at the billowing clouds of steam, “We can’t see shit. They could be anywhere.”

“Yeah, they probably know we’re here by now. They may even be watching us.”

“Watching? Who could see in this?”

“I don’t know, they see really well through the growth medium.”

“Shit,” said Graham.

“Having second thoughts? We could go back, they might even let us leave.”

“No, look.” Figures emerged from the mist all around them, moving slowly and quietly. They were all naked, and they all had four arms. They weren’t very big, about five foot four and slender. They had long dark hair, and from beneath their lips emerged white, curving fangs. About their waists and necks some of them wore pulpy garlands of a substance he couldn’t immediately identify.

They advanced on them with silent, almost placid deliberation. Graham backed away and then glanced behind him, but there were more in the hallway. They were surrounded. In panic he looked at Slatermeyer. “Relax, and go with the flow,” said the voice in his ear. “You’re fully suited, you’ll be alright.” But there was a tenseness in Slatermeyer’s voice that was far from reassuring.

The creatures closed in on them. He saw one grab Slatermeyer by the forearm, and then the upper arm, and by the time she’d grasped his leg, Graham felt a hand on his shoulder.

He saw four of them pick Slatermeyer up and carry him away, their bodies curling about him as they all disappeared in the billowing, engulfing mist. The rest of them surrounded him, but they did not pick him up. Thirty two hands — on his neck, his shoulders, his arms and back — gently but firmly guided him through the clouds.

His face mask was misted over, and all he could see was what could be glimpsed through the undulating tracks of droplets that streamed across the lucite. He couldn’t make out more than a curl of vapor or a curving arm, a shoulder, a breast. But palms and fingertips directed him, shepherding him up a ladder. At the top they allowed him to wipe at the condensation with his gloved hands. He was only partially successful, instead of a blank wall of moisture he now had a confusion of streaks. He shrank back as one of them reared towards his face with her mouth open, but the others tightened their grip and held him still while she got ever closer to his face, finally opening her mouth wider, giving him a mist-shattered view of her teeth as she extended her tongue and licked the surface of his face mask. When she was done, it was clean, and no new condensation formed. Graham allowed himself to exhale, and looked around. The air up here was clearer, the mist dispersing upwards towards the ceiling above. He was on a walkway that ran just above and between the two vats. In the center it widened, forming a diving platform for both of them. It was here that they took him, carefully positioning him in its center before withdrawing to stand two deep in front of the walkway on either side of him. The message was clear, he could either stay put, or take a dip.

Graham was well aware of the acceptable levels of dive suit safety. He wasn’t going in there if he could avoid it. As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Out of the vat in front of him came a woman, a creature, four armed, like the others, but taller by a head, and visibly stronger. Her hair was long and black, too, her face identical to the identical faces he’d seen, although the look in her eyes as she gazed at him was anything but passive.

“What are you and why have you come to us?” She demanded. She spoke loudly and distinctly. He could hear her even through the hood of his dive suit.

He opened his mouth to say something. What, he wasn’t certain, and then he realized that the radio in his face mask was on direct transmission. He fumbled at the latex sheathed controls by his ear, his damp, gloved fingers slipping over them. After a deafening parade of squeals he got it to broadcast. “I’m Nathan Graham,” he said, “chief administrator of research and development for GeneSys.”

She nodded slowly, “Nathan Graham. You are the one Hector is afraid of. He confuses you with GeneSys. He says you are a danger to us, but you have been useful in the past. What sent you here, GeneSys or a brain?”

“Ah, I came to ask you a few questions.”

“Questions for who? For GeneSys?”

“For myself. I’ve heard a lot about you and the goings on in these vats. I wanted to know, why did you kick the researchers out?”

“We drove Hector away because he would have contaminated the nest. The others fled because they feared us.”

“I see. Why would Hector contaminate your... nest?”

She looked at him closely. “You say you ask these questions for yourself, but it is GeneSys you are asking for. This is none of GeneSys’ affair.”

“But it is, you are a project of the company’s research and development department. I manage the department. I am intimately concerned with your well being.”

“Concerned perhaps, but for GeneSys’ well being, not ours.”

“For all of us.”

She laughed, throwing her head back, her teeth flashing. “That is impossible, and you should know it.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You have come here looking for secrets to use against us.”

“I came here because I was concerned. There was an egg. What happened to it?”

“What happens to all eggs.”

“That’s why you kicked Martin out of here, isn’t it? Slatermeyer told me — he said you told Hector that he stank of her. You were talking about the — the hatchling, weren’t you?”

Lilith narrowed her eyes. “It seems to me you know too much already. You are a bright man, Nathan Graham, but GeneSys should have told you.”

“Told me what?”

She spread her arms to indicate herself and the other tetras, “That we are not a project. We are the enemy.”

Graham stared, his mouth opened. “The enemy,” he echoed.

“And you have delivered yourself into our hands.” She nodded at the other tetras, and they began to close in on him again.

“Wait,” he cried, “What are you going to do?”

“Keep you,” he heard her say as the tetras surrounded him. Panic clutched at his throat and he grabbed the tranquilizer gun at his hip. “Stop!” he shouted, brandishing it at them, but they did not react. He felt their hands on him, and he fired. He heard high pitched shrieking and several of the tetras abandoned him to surround their stricken comrade. He fired again and again, emptying the clip of its pellets. The tetras fell away from him amid screams of pain and confusion, as those who were not hit comforted those who were. All except one: Lilith. She alone stood among the pile of bodies, unconscious or condolent, and Graham took one look at her; at her flashing eyes and her teeth bared in rage, and he ran like hell.

She must have been hampered by her daughters, because he made it to the floor of the vat room unhindered. He ran in the direction of the hallway, blinded by clouds of mist. Something caught him at knee level, sending him crashing to the floor. A folding chair, he discovered, as he freed himself from its molded biopolymer legs. He stood, only to see Lilith looming out of the fog, her arms spread wide. He picked up the chair, threw it at her, and ran again. He reached the wall of the vat room, and veered to the right, hoping that was the direction of the hallway to the outside. Lilith caught up to him at the archway, grasping him around his waist and chest and squeezing. He kicked her shins and flailed at her with his fists, but she didn’t let go. His vision was fading, not from the mists but because he was blacking out from lack of oxygen. He fumbled for his useless stun pistol, grappling with the holster for painful moments as the air was squeezed from his body, and then he had it free, and raised it to her head. She didn’t let go, but she did stop squeezing him. “Let me go, or I’ll do to you what I did to them,” he said, his breath returning. The pistol was empty — he’d foolishly spent all the pellets on the little tetras — but apparently she didn’t know that; didn’t know, either, that it was only a stun weapon. She released him, and he backed away from her; down the hallway and out the door.

Graham slammed the door and stared at it. Its plain metal surface gave no indication of the nightmare behind it. He pulled off his face mask and took huge gulps of clean, cool air. It was easy to take things like that for granted; good air, a rational order to the universe, until they were stripped away and you found yourself lost in someone else’s world, totally unequipped to deal with it.

As he stripped off the divesuit, his transceiver rang. Swearing, Graham pulled his legs from the rubbery grasp of the suit, and retrieved the transceiver from his pants pocket.

“Yes, what is it?” he blurted before the holograph had a chance to resolve in front of him. It was Brea Jeffries, from personnel.

“Christ, Brea, what are you using my personal number for? Why are you calling me at all, for that matter?”

“It’s about that new diver.”

“What, the one you sent me that letter about? You’ve got the wrong department. I’m in r&d, you want production. Wait! You are production! What are you talking to me for?”

“I’m talking to you because you preempted review, approved her application, and sequestered her medical records. That was bad enough, but I figured you were doing somebody a favor — although why you couldn’t find her something better than diving is beyond me. But now you’ve gone too far. Countermanding a request for dismissal after an obvious act of negligence; it’s just too much. The other divers won’t stand for it. They’re touchy enough about us hiring sports in the first place. I’m surprised at you, Graham. When you were in production you never would have done anything this obvious.”

“Wait a minute, why are you saying I did all this?”

“Because all the pertinent documents carry your security code.”

Graham was silent a moment. He was remembering something Lilith had said, before the tetras attacked him. You have been useful in the past. That was what she said.

“What’s this divers name?”

“Oh come on, like you don’t know.”

“Humor me.”

“Alright. Her name is Helix Martin.”

“She’s a sport, you said.”

“That’s right. Real obvious mutations too.”

“Four arms and big teeth, right?”

“I guess it’s coming back to you now. We know that much just from the initial application, but we don’t know any more because we can’t get hold of her lab test results. You saw to that.”

“What did she do that got her fired?”

“I don’t know what you think this innocent act is going to get you, Graham. I can tell you right now, I’m not buying it.”

“Just tell me what she did.”

“She deliberately took her suit off in the vats.”

“Alright, Brea. Obviously there’s been a mistake. If you get any more documents with my code on them, call me. You can use this number. In the meantime, I’ll cancel that countermand.”

“It’s too late. I didn’t catch it until after approval. We’ll have to start all over again with a new dismissal request. It’s going to take a few days.”

“Do it. I’ll be in touch.” Graham signed off and dialed another number — the personal access code of someone in Vattown, a vatdiver who’d been useful to him in the past.

To his surprise, his call was answered right away. The holograph was blacked out, but he recognized the voice. “I’ve been wondering when you’d call. Get a load of this.” The transceiver was moved so that what had been a dull roar in the background became the sound of numerous voices shouting “Strike!” over and over again. “That’s the sound of a strike about to happen, buddy.”

“Where are you?”

“Josa’s, and they’re standing on the tables down here. Where’ve you been, anyway?”

“I’m not in production anymore.”

“Lucky for you. This is just a social call, then?”

“No. I’m looking for someone. You’ve probably noticed her. She has four arms.”

“Helix?”

“Yeah, that’s her name. Helix Martin.”

The voice laughed, “Shit boyo, that’s what these good folk are all riled up about down here. She got hired in about a month and a half ago, under the new genetic stability guidelines. She’s nuts, she took her suit off in the vats. Me and a few of my pals had to haul her out of there naked. She struggled when we got her to the surface, but I really don’t think she wanted to hurt anybody, she just wanted... to stay in there, apparently.”

“Fascinating.”

“Yeah, well, if you say so. Everybody figured that with the soak she’d taken, she’d be dead in a few days, but no. I have it on good authority that she suffered a toxic reaction to the biocide that was used on her, but once she got it off, she was fine. Now to top it all off, she didn’t get fired. Personnel just notified her she could come back to work tomorrow.”

“And that’s why they’re striking.”

“Yep, basically.”

“Well, I’ll see to it that she’s fired, like she should have been in the first place. It’ll take a few days though. When are they planning to strike?”

“Probably tomorrow morning. People are still filtering in here from the late shift. But I don’t know if getting her fired is going to help, anymore. There’s people here who see this as a rallying point to get the movement rolling again.”

“Chichelski’s old crowd.”

“Exactly. I have a feeling that once they’re through, they’ll be asking for a lot more than one sport’s dismissal.”

Shit, shit, shit. If word of a strike reached Anna, or even Kent, with his name attached to the unorthodox hiring practices that instigated it, no amount of explanations or finger pointing would save his hide. “Oh well,” he said grimly, “Let’s see what can be done. Does she have a lot of friends?”

“Well, everybody knows who she is, now, but no, she doesn’t have a lot of friends. Just a few sports.”

“Where is she staying?”

“At the home of Hyperion Baker. She’s living with him and Chango Chichelski.”

“Chichelski?”

“Ada’s kid sister, a sport.”

“She work for the company?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Hmm. If she’s anything like her sister, she wouldn’t take this Helix’s disappearance quietly.”

“No. In fact she’s got her doubts about Ada’s accident, and voices them frequently.”

“Anybody listen?”

“Not really, it’s the same shit she’s been spouting for years, with no proof. Basically it just serves to alienate her from most people, especially vatdivers. Even her little sport friends don’t pay any attention any more.”

“Good, at least those bones are staying in the closet. Now, about this strike, any chance at all of stopping it?”

“A snowball’s in hell.”

“Okay, then we’ll have to use it. How much would it take to turn this strike into a riot?”

“Not much. If Helix shows up and tries to get through the line, it probably will be one.”

“Fine. How well do you know Helix?’

“Pretty well, actually.”

“Good, talk to her, let her know you’re on her side. Encourage her to go to the vat yard tomorrow and be as belligerent as possible to the strikers. And make sure they’re in an ugly mood and there’s plenty of weapons at hand. And if there’s anything left of her when they’re through, get rid of it.”