Beast Machine (32 page)

“
After asking him that
question, he got right to the point. He came there to make me an
offer, yes, but an offer of employment. An offer that would, as he
put it, ‘Leave me set for life financially.’ I was interested
immediately since I couldn’t find a suitable job for myself as a
soon-to-be doctor of climatology. You see, climatology was not an
equal-opportunity scientific field back then, and the only option
for women interested in climate was to be a weathergirl at the
local news station.” Doctor Borehole fingered her reddish birthmark
on her cheek, the only mark on her body she was ashamed of it
seemed.

“
I wasn’t going to be
relegated to being a simpleton weathergirl, so I took up Malthus’
offer immediately. I regret it now, but at the time it was the only
choice I had to have a career.”

“
What was it?” Gora asked.
Albeit Gora was tired of Doctor Borehole’s story, she began to
become intrigued by this mysterious Malthus figure.

“
It was simple: I come up
with believable studies refuting the idea that humans were the
cause of Ozone depletion, among other pollution claims, and I get
paid handsomely. I was to keep my mouth shut, too, about our
meeting.” Gora fidgeted slightly, adjusting her posture. “It was an
absurd idea at the time, of course, because there were few critics
of manmade climate change, let alone climate change activists. So
it was relatively easy to sway the public on the idea that the
Earth was simply going through a natural phase and that there was
nothing we could do to stop it. Malthus somehow knew that
scientists would eventually catch the public up with what humans
were doing to the environment. The general public is so gullible,
though; I remember Malthus telling me that and not believing it at
the time, but that Malthus with the wonderfully bleak eyes knew
that the American public was full of ignoramuses.”

“
You’ve been suppressing
the idea – the very
real
idea – of manmade climate change for over three
decades? You should be ashamed of yourself!” Gora’s sympathy for
Doctor Borehole’s situation began to wane. “You are one of the
primary humans, no, one of the primary causes that have led to the
extreme deterioration of this planet! Just look at the damn
icecaps!”

Doctor Borehole turned
toward Gora and began talking with her hands, a typical action for
Doctor Borehole when she was around a large gathering of people.
Gora had seen Doctor Borehole
talk
with her hands many times when Doctor Borehole was
ridiculing Gora on various subjects at ASH meetings or when
presenting her anti-science crap in front of everyone.

“
I am ashamed, Gora! Don’t
you see? I want to change all of this,
all
of this, but I can’t be neglectful
toward the opportunity of finding a gargantuan natural source of
carbon-dioxide. It could prove that Malthus was right all along!
That the work I’ve been doing all these years has been more or less
correct, even if my colleagues and I have cooked the books. Who
knows, this source of carbon-dioxide could lead to a tremendous
book deal and it would be sweet vindication for me and my
colleagues. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Doctor Borehole’s brown eyes,
still straight forward, gleamed at the thought of redeeming her
career that had been based on lies and faulty government
grants.

Gora shook her head
furiously and sped up the rental car. She wanted to reach their
destination as soon as possible as Doctor Borehole was beginning to
annoy Gora with each and every word.

To Gora, all she heard from
Doctor Borehole now was, “Blah blah blerg! Global blerg-blah beep
blah, mush mush blah – carbon footprint – blah blah blah!” It just
kept getting worse and worse, more and more irritating the more
Doctor Borehole opened up her bore-hole. Gora wanted to kill her
right there more than ever before.

“
Do it! Kill this phony
right now!” thought Gora. “Yes! Just do it now. It’ll be much more
satisfying. Oh, so much more satisfying! Who cares if I get all
bloody like last time? It’ll be so wonderful to see her struggle!
To see her breathe her last breath!”

Then Gora pondered to
herself, “Wait, calm down. Calm down! I can’t just kill her right
here, you’ve already thought about this! I should let her talk and
talk because then I lose any of the pity I briefly had for her.
Just control your anger and wait to do it in the woods!”

“
Yes!” shouted Gora loudly,
unknowingly interrupting Doctor Borehole. “Oh, sorry, Bridget,
please continue!” Gora plastered a large, plastic smile on her
face; she looked ridiculous, but Doctor Borehole paid no mind to
Gora’s physical movements.

“
Yes, as I was saying,”
continued Doctor Borehole, “there are plenty of natural causes
behind the acidification of the oceans.” Doctor Borehole pulled her
hair behind her ears once again. “Acidification is commonly known
as the ‘evil twin brother’ of climate change, though I’m not
supposed to even recognize climate change as a real thing. Anyhow,
acidification is harming the oceans and killing off organisms much
quicker than any manmade pollution!”

“
UH HUH, UH HUH!” shouted
Gora encouragingly, still with the plastic smile on her face, while
nodding her head up and down furiously. Normally a person would
pick up on the sarcasm from Gora’s tone and her strange nodding,
but Doctor Borehole just wanted to hear herself talk. “Could you
explain acidification more!? I want to know soooo much more,
Bridget!”

“
Love the enthusiasm,
Gora!” Doctor Borehole reached out her left hand and touched Gora’s
shoulder, all while keeping her eyes forward. “I love your
enthusiasm so much that I’m not even upset that you haven’t been
calling me doctor!”

The women laughed, one a
hysterically fake cackle and the other a genuine guffaw of
happiness.

“
But acidification is a
real thing, and much more damaging – in my professional opinion –
in the short AND long term for humans than this silly climate
change. Nearly one third of water creatures have died due to the ph
of seawater dropping into ultra acidic levels. The levels aren’t
acidic enough to affect us, or even larger organisms, yet but it
kills medium to microscopic organisms, Gora! Kills them almost like
that!” She snapped her fingers loudly twice
snap-snap
, causing Gora to swerve
slightly.

Gora quietly said under her
breath, “Fucking psycho, Jesus Christ.”

“
I could delve more into
it, but I can tell I’m boring you with the trivial details of the
imminent collapse of our ocean’s sea creatures. You never cared
much for other organisms, though.”

“
Um,” Gora
paused.

“
I didn’t mean it to come
out like that, lovely!” as Doctor Borehole tried to salvage her
petty remark, “I just meant that your work never consisted of
helping living creatures survive!”

Gora, holding it together
as best as she could, sighed and grimaced. She so dearly wanted to
kill this inane, self-serving, ecosystem-destroying cunt, but
didn’t want to be caught and lose her beasts. She had had enough of
Doctor Borehole’s talking and didn’t want to make herself any
angrier than she already had been during the drive.

“
We’re only twenty minutes
away, let’s be quiet and take in the view,” Gora said politely.
“Please.”

Doctor Borehole nodded in
agreement as the pair looked about the dusky sky.

“
I do have one more
question,” said Gora.

“
Sure, what is
it?”

“
How do you get your
employees to keep quiet if they don’t believe in denying climate
change?”

Doctor Borehole smiled,
“Oh, most of them do truly believe in this stuff, but I have them
sign NDAs before beginning work at BIOME. None of them will open
their mouths about anything! Even if I die.”

Chapter 30

Spilling Secrets

McCarthy was still upset
over being treated like an unruly subordinate, something he had not
experienced since his teenage years at boot camp.

“
Boy, I hate this shit,”
thought McCarthy. “Being yelled at, being told what to do – I’m the
one that should be yelling at people, I’m the one that should be
telling people what to do!”

McCarthy couldn’t do much
about his predicament though. If he reached out to The Flagship, he
would be killed by Chairman Obelis or The Flagship. But if he
stayed the course and gave Chairman Obelis all the necessary
information, what would stop Chairman Obelis from killing
him?

There was seemingly no hope
for him to ever get out of this situation alive. It appeared
hopeless. He was going to die after being squeezed for all the
information he held.

Jeffrey had walked into the
sunroom, where McCarthy had been sitting, contemplating.

“
Oh, didn’t realize anyone
was in here,” said Jeffrey. “I can lea –”

“
No, stay,” replied
McCarthy. He motioned for Jeffrey to sit. “I could use some
company. Been a while since I’ve had a non-political conversation.
Been a
long
while
if you count the time lost in that damned box asleep. Sit,
sit!”

Jeffrey smiled at the old
man and gingerly sat down on the loveseat, catty-cornered from
McCarthy. Jeffrey held a royal-purple colored mug containing a
light brown liquid. Coffee with an intense amount of creamer and
sugar.

“
It’s lovely in here, isn’t
it?” asked Jeffrey just before sipping his milky spiked
coffee.

“
I wouldn’t say
lovely
, but it is fucking
delightful in here,” replied McCarthy. He stared blankly out one of
the many windows that helped make the room effervescent. “I haven’t
seen the sun much since I’ve been brought back into this world.”
McCarthy thought the windows in the sunroom were peculiar. None of
the windows were similar sized and each window was a various shape.
Rectangular, square, oval and triangular windows were found on the
walls. The entire ceiling was a Plexiglas window that let sunshine
rain through, but forest debris currently covered most of
it.

The sunroom, which Jeffrey
kept trying to get everyone to call the solarium, was a dainty
all-white room filled with a white sofa, a white loveseat and three
white sitting chairs with cushions. In the center of the sunroom
laid the only non-white item in the room: a glass coffee table that
was supported by the stump from an exceptionally large oak tree.
Malachite and various minerals could be seen through the glass
portion of the table into the stump. It was a marvelous looking
piece.

McCarthy had his socked
feet atop the marvelous coffee table, making Jeffrey twitch
slightly.

Suppressing the urge to
shove McCarthy’s feet off the coffee table, Jeffrey asked, “What
would you like to talk about then, Senator McCarthy?”

“
Pussy, beer or sports,”
said McCarthy quickly, wiggling his toes.

“
Ah, well,” said
Jeffrey.

“
But you’re not really
interested in those? I know,” said McCarthy cutting over Jeffrey’s
reply. “I’ve known that you two are faggots.”

Jeffrey wasn’t quite ready
to come out to anyone other than Chairman Obelis, whom obviously
already knew. Jeffrey, like Chairman Obelis, was an extremely
private person. He only let personal details out when he deemed it
necessary, or he trusted the person. “Well, no, we’re not fa-” said
Jeffrey.

McCarthy cut off Jeffrey
again, “There’s nothing wrong with being faggots, though. I
seriously have no problem with it. It’s your business about
whatever you two stick up your rectums!” McCarthy giggled
immaturely. “Seriously, it doesn’t matter to me. You two can do
whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want.”

“
Please don’t say
faggot
, though. It’s just
unnecessary and offensive.” Jeffrey sipped his coffee quickly;
McCarthy was rubbing him the wrong way with this talk. “How would
you like it if I called you a geriatric slobber knocker?” Jeffrey
wasn’t good at calling people names.

“
Well, first, I’d laugh,”
replied McCarthy. He stuck his finger up in the air and then
laughed heartily. He lowered his finger. “Then, I’d be over it
already.”

“
That may be your take on
it, but let’s cease this
faggot
talk? Not everyone is as thick-skinned as
you.”

“
Hmm. Fine. Sure.” McCarthy
removed his feet from the coffee table and looked about the room.
“I’ll stop saying
faggot
if you listen to a few stories of mine. I haven’t
talked to anyone about this before and I’m sure you’ll find some of
it interesting or some pussy shit like that.” McCarthy decided he
may as well take his chance with Chairman Obelis over The
Flagship.

“
I’ve got time to kill, old
man, so sure,” said Jeffrey. He crossed his legs and readied his
listening skills. Eyes wide open and ears perked up.

“
Thank you, Jeffrey,” said
McCarthy. He placed his feet back on the coffee table and leaned
back on the couch into a comfortable position. “Before I begin, is
there anything you’d like to know about me or about my
past?”