Adams’ Apples
8 Men in Black
I WALKED INTO ED’S OFFICE and felt the big man’s ever-present shadow fall over me. My story was lying on the editor’s desk.
“You have genuine sources to back this up?”
“Yes. They’ve asked to remain out of the picture until the story is picked up elsewhere. There’s a real fear out there that the government is quashing the real story and the people who would tell it,” I said.
“Aren’t you worried?”
“I just work in your shadow.”
“This story isn’t enough. We need to know how and when this virus was distributed. What do you have?”
“Boom.” I made that explosive motion toward the sky the guy in the bar made.
“What does that mean?”
“I didn’t know, but being with the doctors today as they explored my prostate, I got to thinking back. Existing pregnancies weren’t affected by the sterilization. Adjusting for differing lengths of pregnancy and a less than uniform spread around the world, babies may have kept being conceived for about two more months, according to the chart Ulman gave me showing births at Orlando General. Then nothing. So, I started exploring events from ten to twelve months ago. Boom.” I made the gesture again.
“The laser light show in the sky when military satellites destroyed each other,” Ed nodded.
“Relax. We’re not at war,” I quoted the president. “The war was over in a couple of hours but it didn’t stay in space. One or more of those satellites had biological weapons on it. Probably targeted toward a specific country. But the explosions 120 miles up, scattered the virus around the globe and it descended on all men, not just the targeted population.”
“It’s a lot of speculation. But it all fits together. Especially, the government coverup. Get on the phone and get comments from Homeland Security, NASA, and the Joint Fucking Chiefs of Staff. While you’re doing that, we’ll send this out over the wire and let the world pick up the news. I want it in as many hands as possible before they try to stop the story from spreading. This is bigger than our newspaper, Ramsey. It’s bigger than both of us.” Of course, there was no wire to send things over these days. The story went by way of the internet to the AP news desk. From there it was emailed to editors around the globe as the story took top position on the website.
My follow-up story on the biological weapons used to spread the disease from space along with denials and ‘no comment’ from various spokespeople hit the wire fifteen minutes later. By then, I was pretty sure the phones at Homeland Security and the Pentagon were ringing off the proverbial hook.
“Senator, you sit on the Armed Services Committee. Did you know about the biological weapons pointed at earth?” I finally reached the office of Florida Senator Tom Truman and wasn’t wasting time getting right to the point. One of the reasons the senator has served so long is that he always keeps the press on his side.
“Ramsey, I know the common opinion is that we’re supposed to know everything. We’ve known the satellite battle must have had something to do with the sterilization for some time. But honestly, we don’t know who started it all nor when those antique satellites were launched,” the senator said seriously.
“It seems like multiple treaties against the use of biological weapons and the weaponization of space have been violated. Wouldn’t you agree?” I pressed.
“These satellites might have all been up there before any treaties were signed,” Truman sighed. “Of course, by today’s standards we’re appalled that anyone would contemplate putting such devastating weapons of mass destruction in earth’s orbit. But we can’t judge people of the past by standards of the present. I’m sure whoever did this was only thinking of protecting their people.”
“So, you don’t think anyone is to blame for this?”
“I am certainly not going to assign blame. Not unless there is incontrovertible evidence. Do you have that?”
“No.”
“Then don’t spread unfounded stories.” The senator’s voice was stern.
“We have to print the news. Everyone has a right to know.”
“It’s the continuation of your personal rights I’m concerned with.” Truman let the statement hang in the air. Was that a threat? “I think we’re finished here. Have a good day, Ramsey.”
Any sane man would have taken that as a warning to back off, but there are few sane reporters. I had a new bone to chew. Someone had poisoned the atmosphere and sterilized all men. I planned to find out who.
There was an alert on my phone and I called up the latest ‘official bulletin’ from the government. They were wasting no time looking like they were responding to the national emergency. It had only been a year since the explosions.
Recognizing the need for quick action in this national emergency, the Department of Health and Human Servicing has announced the creation of the National Repopulation Project. The agency, created weeks ago, is well underway with a staff of top grade scientists and doctors to research a way to advance the goal of starting repopulation of our country.
The first act of the NRP has been to confiscate all existing stores of banked sperm in the US and its territories. Sperm banks had previously been closed by the agency in order to ensure their safety and avoid a run on the sperm banks. Now all stores of banked sperm have been moved to an isolation facility in Kentucky. We are investigating the best ways in which to utilize the banked sperm for research bent on discovering the biological effect of the sterilization and how to reverse it.
All available resources have been diverted to this project which will be led by Chief Scientist Dr. Joe Mangeler. Dr. Mangeler addressed the NRP briefly while being sworn in.
“We have a grave responsibility,” Mangeler said. “We need to study the genetic makeup of the sperm currently banked and the applications of those applying for in vitro fertilization to ensure that our finest traits are passed down to future generations. We will experiment only on inferior sperm to discover how to snap them back to life. We encourage every American female to submit an application for in vitro fertilization. The application will appear on our official website as soon as possible. After screening applications, we will request a DNA test to be sure the selected applicants have no damaging DNA markers that might be passed down. We are certain that with the research we have undertaken, we will be able to begin repopulation within a year or two.”
The NRP will presently share unused facilities at the CDC until a specialized research facility can be built and staffed.
Which, I figured, means it’s up to us to find our own way back. Now that it was an official government office, we could assume nothing would happen in the near future and when it does only a few ‘qualified candidates’ will be able to afford it. That won’t fly with the lovely Dr. Smith, waiting for me at home in Smith Stadium.
The story of the NRP broke nationally on Tuesday but by Friday the next week, I was ready to break the next story. The virus had been released the day of the Star Wars battle above. No one expected that announcement.
“Smith!” bellowed Ed. I hurried to the big man’s shadow. I’d long since learned not to delay when he bellowed.
“What’s up, Ed?”
“There’s a nine a.m. teleconference from the World Health Organization tomorrow morning. I want you registered and on it. They’re going to fess up apparently.”
“Nine? Awfully early.”
“Yes. That’s Geneva time. UTC +1. For you, that should make it roughly four in the morning. Make sure you’re logged on and press for answers.”
“Four? In the morning? I might as well not go to bed.”
Nonetheless, I had a cup of coffee in my hand and was logged into the teleconference before it started.
“After an exhaustive investigation by the World Health Organization (WHO), we have determined the path of entry and approximate source of the Novel Testevirus 15. In order to explain what happened, I need to give a quick recap of health developments over the past hundred years.” I sat back to listen to the General Director of WHO, Dr. Graham Peterson. If he was giving a history lesson, there must not be much of interest for him to report.
“Health organizations, doctors, and researchers have identified many viruses over the years. Polio, tuberculosis, smallpox, and many other infectious diseases have been eliminated from the earth. However, it has always been prudent to retain and maintain a reservoir of said cultures in order to rapidly respond to a sudden new outbreak. It was deemed too risky to maintain those reservoirs on earth, so several countries took it upon themselves to store these in space. This practice was abandoned some years ago as it became prohibitively expensive to arrange space flights and satellites.”
Hmm. I wonder if he’s leading up to telling us we’re all going to get smallpox next. A hack would lead with that idea. I’m an investigative journalist. I tapped out and cued up my question for the good doctor.
“Among the items stored were certain man-made viruses that had been created before the banning of biological warfare in 1972. I’m afraid many of these toxins had been forgotten until the unfortunate events of September just over a year ago.” He wasn’t saying something. The wording was far too careful for the severity of what had happened.
“We are happy to announce at this time that all traces of the virus have been eradicated. It has run its course and died out.” He shuffled his papers, tapping the edges on the podium and then looked up at the teleconference screen that represented the pandemonium of reporters trying to get attention to ask a question. Mine hit the top of the screen since I already had it keyed in and sent before the formal address ended. I figured my question was the same as everyone else’s and Dr. Peterson took the question.
“Dr. Peterson, when you say the virus has run its course, does that mean men will start becoming fertile again?” I asked “When can we expect that to happen?”
“Um… No, actually. The virus itself has been extinguished, however, the damage it did is not presently reversible. We have yet to discover whether small children and babies in utero were affected as sexual organs were not yet well developed. It is possible that puberty will find these children fertile.”
There were more follow-up questions, some asking if research into restoring fertility was under way or whether the sperm in various sperm banks around the world had been confiscated because they were affected. I had enough and logged out of the conference.
Dr. Peterson failed to mention the effect of the mutated virus on the male body. That virus appears to still be living and changing men. Named Novel Testevirus 16, the new strain is increasing the output of semen and the strength of orgasms. Men are producing more semen but no sperm as this insidious virus develops in the seminal vesicle. Pharmaceutical companies have already noted a decrease in sales of erectile disfunction drugs.
The headline in The Enquirer had read “Smallpox Plague is Likely According to WHO.”
“How did you get this information?” I sat at my desk pinned between two black suits with dark glasses. They hadn’t let me call Elizabeth to let her know there was a meatloaf ready to pop in the oven. The men in black had arrived just before five, consulted with Ed, and blocked me in. They refused to identify themselves as anything other than ‘Smith.’
“You know what irritates me? Why is Smith used as an anonymous pseudonym for anyone to go undercover. As a card-carrying member of an actual Smith clan, I’m going to research this phenomenon and file a protest.”
“The source of your information,” Ms. Smith MIB growled. Yes, even with the gravelly voice, this one was definitely female.
“It must be around somewhere. We originally broke that story a couple of weeks ago. I’m sure every doctor and researcher in the world has been working on it by now.”
“You leaked sensitive information that could be used against us by enemies of the United States. We plan to plug that leak.”
“Now!” I got that in MIB Stereo.
“Isn’t one of you supposed to be the good cop? My sources are confidential and protected under both first and fifth amendment rights. I will tell you that they did not leak any government secrets, but rather reported the results of their own research. Forcing me to reveal which of the thousand or so doctors I’ve interviewed in the past month and a half gave me the information would shut down the research of every one of those doctors. Or force them all to reveal all their data at once on the internet.” The MIB looked at each other and Mr. Smith MIB softened his probe a bit.
“How did you happen to get on the track of increased semen production in the first place?” he asked casually. “Having a lot of hard-ons lately?”
“I noticed an increase in libido but credited that to my extraordinary wife. I can’t tell you an exact name for the source of information because we were never really introduced by name. I just bought him a drink at Mother’s where he was extolling his success rate with young women. I remember the name now. Micah Johnson. Around sixty years old, bald, and using increased production and stamina to get girls going. He suggested that by now, people wouldn’t be getting as much action because they’d discover every man was producing more and lasting longer. He was cleaning up on it while he could,” I said. I didn’t mind throwing Micah under the bus. Dirty old man.
“We’ll check him out,” Mr. Smith MIB said.
“We’re not getting anywhere with this lump. He just got lucky with a guess,” Ms. Smith MIB said. She leaned down and got in my face. “We’ve got an eye on you, hotshot. You’re writing too much headline news. Somewhere in there is a traitor and we’ll find him.”
So much for Homeland Security.
They left. I shoved my phone in my pocket and hurried home, watching over my shoulder the whole time.
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