Extinction Level Event (24 page)

"Where would you build this strip? We'll have to move
many people, regardless of where it is built. And then, we are
still just the FAO. The government will have to mandate it, and
that will be nearly impossible to get them to do as they listen to
us at their discretion." "I'll do it myself if I have to." Mohammed
laughs, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Fine",
Mohammed's smile disappears again, "In the meantime, I will be
trying to implement a more feasible plan." "It is feasible. Can't
you see?" Mohammed signs deeply, thinking it through. Finally,
after a minute he asks, "Two kilometer swath?" "Two kilometer
swath", is Manjak's answer. "Perhaps it is do-able", consents
Mohammed, "At least more do-able than your proposition to
aero-spray the entire area. No Aerosol is worth it- not even
anti-bacterial agents. Every herbicide used in history, even for
supposedly beneficial purposes- always resulted problems. Most
infamously being the case of Dichlorodiphenyl-trichloroethane, or
DDT, in the States." "Decontaminating the rivers would mean putting
huge quantities of antibacterial agents. Plus, I think it is an
impossible task to do in the time we have. Ditches, dikes, and
walls by themselves won't do squat against a plague. But if there
is no living material there, it should be exactly that-an
impassable wall. We need to talk to the government. In person.
Now.", Manjak states firmly, standing up as the plan quickly
forming in his head. "Now? We should outline the plan first",
protests Mohammed. Manjak catches himself in his hurry, sitting
himself back down. "Right. Let's see. . . . "

Four hours of screen time later, Manjak, Mohammed,
and the rest of the FAO personnel had put together a preliminary
plan. Mohammed had to call several personal acquaintances of his to
the office in order to better plan the route of the proposed dead
zone. Zafir had managed to snag an environmental engineer, a
geologist, and an ecologist from other work and rushed in to
cooperate. Now, even though all five agreed that the plan was
simply preliminary, nonetheless it was imperative that it be
presented to the government as fast as possible. The route would
cut through the eastern section of the main part of the country,
encompassing the cities of Lakshan and Comila as it cut northwards
through dense alluvial jungle towards the Himalaya mountain range.
The drafted burn line would turn into the Brahputra river where it
would be left at the Indian border. Again, it would be part of
Manjak's responsibility to try to convince the Indian government to
go along with his plan as well.

After packing his laptop Manjak along with Mohammed
leaves the FAO building and enters an older grey Toyota, which
Mohammed quickly explains is his personal vehicle.
No government
subsidized transit this day
. Mohammed starts the engine and
they speed down the road, slowing down to avoid intersecting
traffic consisting of a mix of the usual mopeds, automobiles,
motorized rickshaws and buses. Multitudes of pedestrians dressed in
Bangladeshi dress, which in Dhaka is a mix from traditional
sarongs
to western street fashion, crowd the sidewalks and
crosswalks. The dense patterns of commotion limits Mohammed's
movement through the traffic. Eventually he manages to steer the
car through the steel and concrete jungle onto Kamruzzaman Road, a
larger two-lane avenue that runs east-west through the city. Once
out of the smaller dense side streets, the vista expands to the
center of old Dhaka- complete with lush gardens and British Raj era
administrative and ceremonial buildings, which are now used by the
Bangladeshi government for the same purpose. "Over there to the
west you can see the Bangabhaban- our presidential palace",
explains Mohammed as he weaves through the moderate traffic. Manjak
nods as he silently observes the grey-yellow Victorian building in
the hazy distance. Mohammed guns the engine and manages to fly the
car between two city buses , making a sharp turn before squeezing
the car into a makeshift parking space between several other mopeds
and nearby fruit stands. "Its a short walk,” reassures Mohammed,
"-to the Ministry of Health and Agriculture." The hot, humid, and
mildly suffocating air engulfs Manjak as he steps out of the air
-conditioned comfort of car and onto the sidewalk. As they walk
along, Manjak, being quite obviously a foreigner, receives many
curious yet strong stares from passerby - which justas quickly die
out as people take notice of his suit, briefcase, and Zafir walking
alongside him.

The ten minute walk through crowds, street venders,
and Army guards eventually lands the FAO officials in the Ministry,
housed in a old Raj-era building similar to the Bangabhaban
Presidential Palace. It becomes quickly apparent to Manjak that
Mohammed is well-known amongst the officials and employees in the
Ministry, as many greet him- most with a surprising degree of
cordiality.
He must be well liked here
. . . Manjak jokes to
himself. There is no doubt, however, that the requirements of his
post, as outlined by Manjak himself, makes it Mohammed's job to
have good relations with the Ministries in his country. The
Minister himself soon appears, and the men sit down at a polished
glass table in the Ministry hall to talk. Manjak is quickly left
out of the conversation as Mohammed rapid-fires in Bengali, whether
because the Minister doesn't speak English or because they are more
used to Bengali doesn't matter to Manjak. He listens to the words
between the two for ten minutes, the Minister seemingly getting a
negative image of the plan as he reacts icily to some of Mohammed's
words. The Minister then leaves.

Manjak is left with Mohammed in the ornately
designed, yet spartan meeting room. "Where did he go?" "He's agreed
at least that the President will have to approve the plan. I've
explained that we have no choice in the matter. Especially as you
predicted that we will get afflicted in two weeks with the virus
EWK." "Will this be a presidential cabinet meeting or just the
President?" "Most likely the entire cabinet" replies Mohammed.

However, it turned out that the President cancelled
several other functions to arrive just two hours later at the
Ministry. Now late evening, Mohammed, the Minister, and the
President turn into a midnight haggle over the intricacies and
simplicity of the proposed plan. Manjak is forced to butt in on two
occasions, when asked by Mohammed, to voice his opinions. He also
learns that both government officials are very understanding of
English, but his hopes of using it for the remainder of the
conversation are quickly dashed as they revert to Bengali. After
another hour, the President, flanked by two guards, shakes hands
with everyone and leaves. Mohammed leans over to Manjak and states
in English, "Your small victory, Trip. They've agreed to try it.
Mostly because of the timetable concerns." Manjak smiles grimly at
the statement. "Then it will be up to us to see to it done right",
he surmises prophetically.

Baja California

McCarthy and Rodriguez had taken the first AeroMexico
flight out of Mexico City to Los Angeles that they could get their
hands on. After the meeting with Ortega, Rodriguez wasn't sure what
or how the Mexican government's response would be- would they
listen or not; after all, the two were merely acting as emissaries
of the State Department due to their knowledge and expertise in the
area. Now, LaJoy wanted them back in LA in order to organize the
FEMA's and USDA response to the widening crisis. As they exit the
airport and head for Rodriguez's parked car, McCarthy's cell
explodes to life.

"Hello?", asks McCarthy into the receiver. "Hello?
Hello yourself!", replies a snappy and highly irritated female
voice. "Just when did you think you were going to call!? You were
supposed to pick Jake up two days ago! Where were you?!" McCarthy
immediately realizes that its Stefanie, his ex-wife, and just as
quickly recognizes that his feet are in very hot water.
Damn,
why did I forget to call her yesterday!?Next time remember,
Brain-dead!
The only way around was to turn onto the offensive,
quickly, or else he would be metaphorically boiled, again. "Hey, I
know I know. I'm very sorry, I should have let you know. My bad.
But the phones weren't really working.", he explains softly into
the phone. The excuse sounds lame even to him.

Rodriguez throws an inquiring glance at him as he
opens the door to his Jeep Grand Cherokee, trying to figure out his
colleague's dilemma. "I was out on a business trip, and it was hard
to get a working phone." "Where could you possibly be without cell
phone coverage, Mike? This is so like you." "Mexico. Important
stuff going on there, haven't you been watching the news?" "No.
I've got enough to take care of as it is, with Jake here all
weekend as well? And you think I have time for news?!" "Listen, I
know, I know. But he's big, he should be able to take care of his
stuff." "And wash his clothes? Drive him around weekends too?!"
"Hey, Stef, I know I'm just being my bad self again here. Look, I
really will need to ask you a favor. I was wondering if you could
keep him for the whole next week." "What? What are you on?! Why?"
"Turn on the news for a minute, you'll see why. Please?", McCarthy
begs, something that he would usually never do.

Rodriguez starts the engine, and within five minutes
they are on their way from LAX racing towards east downtown. The
air whooshes across McCarthy's face from the open windows as he
focuses on the conversation with his ex-wife, Gonzalo pushing the
Jeep to 70mph. Stefanie answers, "You're really pushing it." "Come
on, I almost never ask for favors! Just this one time, Stef! This
problem at the job is way harder than anything I've seen before,
and I don't even think the Feds can fix it." "Its that bad?", asks
Stefanie incredulously. "Yes, it is. You really should at least
take a quick look at the news- even
Yahoo!News
should have
it", Mike drolls on, "I need you to take care of Jake for the time
being. Chances are this should be over in a week", Mike says,
knowing he is lying through his teeth. However, the last thing he
needed now was to be taking care of Jake in the middle of this
hectic mess. "All right, you always were such a liar. I'll do it.",
she replies exasperated over the phone. "But you better start
getting your act together and tell these things ahead of time. And
the news better be real." "Thanks so much, honey.", answers Mike,
truly grateful for her cooperation. "Yours truly, signing off. And
watch the news." "Bye. take care of yourself." "I will. Bye.",
McCarthy shuts off the phone.

"What was that all about?", asks Rodriguez, over the
din of speeding traffic through the completely opened windows.
"Ahh, my ex. I forgot to call her like, two days ago. Our kid, he's
eleven, lives at her place. Comes over to mine on the weekends.
Obviously can't keep him around this weekend, as I'm pretty sure I
won't have one." "I see." Rodriguez keeps staring at the road,
swerving in and out of traffic expertly, yet keeping McCarthy
clutching at the edge of his seat. Once traffic turns very dense in
the city center Rodriguez slows down. A half hour later they make
it to the USDA regional headquarters on 360 East 2nd Street.

LaJoy is in his office when they enter. "New plan,
doctors", he announces as McCarthy and Rodriguez walk in the door.
"Governor has asked for FEMA and declared state of emergency while
you were away, so, they're showing up to help us quarantine, start
controlling the city food supply and distribution, and every other
preparation that we will need in the next month. You-", LaJoy
points at McCarthy, "will be serving as my executive officer of
quarantine. You are familiar with alien organisms, preventive
spread of diseases on agricultural land, so forth- apply that to
the city. You've got a field promotion, thanks to your work these
past three weeks."

"Thank you sir." "My pleasure. The plague has spread
itself across the East Asian continent, including China and Korea
from what I hear, and there are fears that it will spread further.
If we are any example, such attempts seem ill-fated. Your job,
gentlemen, will be to prepare the city and the state for the worst.
Dr. Rodriguez, everyone has read your reports and it seems that you
are the best qualified expert we have on the subject of worm
ecology. You'll help FEMA prepare." "I'm a scientist, not an
emergency planner. I can predict consequences, sir, I cannot plan
for their contingencies." "Yeah? Well, whatever.", LaJoy coughs,
taking a napkin to cover his mouth. "You're officially an advisor
now, so you're going to figure out ways to deal with this
-ecologically- in the long scale. We've been allowed to move into
the City Hall and set up a command headquarters for the emergency
mobilization efforts. I suggest you get yourselves over there as
soon as possible, and set up. You've both got new offices as of
today." "Got it, sir", replies McCarthy. The two men walk out of
the USDA building and head back out onto the sidewalk. "City Hall
is right across the street", states Rodriguez nonchalantly. The
large white cubical building housing the USDA offices is
overshadowed by its taller, pointed neighbor, which houses the
offices of the City government in over forty stories of office
spaces. McCarthy and Rodriguez cross the street separating the two
constructions before entering City Hall, wondering how they would
settle in their new office environment as quickly as LaJoy would
like them to.

Only five kilometers away on UCLA's main campus,
Krishnan hurries down a flight of stairs. In the middle of
meticulous work on the earthworm species' genomes with Miyazaki,
Konovalov called and told him to get down to his lab- and fast. So
Krishnan hurriedly told Miyazaki to continue without him and sprang
towards lab 204, where Konovalov had set himself up. Krishnan walks
into Konovalov's lab to see Viktor running the DNA sequencer while
looking down the Auger Electron microscope eyepiece. Konovalov
looks up at the sound of Krishnan's footsteps. "Viktor, what is
this? You said you needed to see me right away?" "Yes, I did",
replied Konovalov sternly. "The virus, EWK-1, where did it come
from?" he asks Krishnan. Krishnan, puzzled by Konovalov's rather
rhetorical question, answers, "I think that is something I would
like to know as well. I believe that it is a mutant strain formed
from a Stomatitus virus." Konovalov frowns, "It has been documented
that Vesicular Stomatitus virus can leap from worm to worm, but
those experiments used microscopic
C. elegans
. VSV is
related to rabies as well as foot-and-mouth disease." "We've had a
case of food-and-mouth disease documented; at a farm near
Bakersfield had a case of foot-and-mouth several years ago-
unfortunately the farmer conveniently forgot to report that to us
until we ran a thorough background check on the history of farm and
agriculture virulence in the region." "Hmm.", Konovalov thinks,
"Interesting. You suspect it may be possible that a Stomatitus
virus mixed with some leftover, partially dead strain of the mad
cow. But encephalopathy is caused by a prion, not a virus. I've run
tests for foreign protein admixtures, nothing has come up. Also,
encephalopathy symptoms, such as physical and mental degeneration,
holes in the brain- none of the earthworms specimens have that.
Rather, we seem to have a degenerative immune response. Similar to
symptoms of AIDS, not quite however." Konovalov motions with his
hands towards his head.