Contaminated
The consequences of Steve Heaton's experiments are having a wider impact than he ever imagined.
Written for the March Madness writing challenge. Come and join us!
“These birds are contaminated with some kind of radioactive substance, but I can't tell what it is yet.” The man in the hazmat suit turned to face the screen, his face obscured by the reflective surface of his visor.
Governor Newton Gabbin sucked his lips in and pressed them together. “What do we do, Professor?”
“There's nothing else for it,” the professor replied. “You'll have to authorize an aerial survey using drones equipped with high-sensitivity gamma detectors to determine which areas are affected. Follow up with soil and water sampling, checking all bioindicators. If this stuff gets into the food chain, there's no saying what could happen.”
“And you don't know what the stuff is yet?”
“Not without further tests, no. It's some kind of nuclear waste mixed with other toxins. Low-level gamma radiation has preserved the ATP…”
“Say what, now?”
“Whoever did this used radiation to preserve the stuff that gives us the energy to live,” the professor said, as if he was forcing himself to be patient. “But autolysis has occurred…”
“In English, please…”
The Professor's head shifted slightly, as if he was taking in a deep breath to calm himself before he responded in the kind of tone used on a particularly obtuse five-year-old. “The birds were dead. Then they received this stuff while there was still enough… energy chemical inside of them to preserve. This makes their bodies behave as if they were alive, even though they're dead.”
The Governor nodded as if he understood what he was being told. “So someone has either accidentally dumped a load of radioactive poison that creates zom—I mean, post-vivants—if they come into contact with it, or is deliberately creating them?”
The professor nodded. “Precisely.”
“And you want us to do a sweep of the area around San Junipero to see how far this radioactive goop has spread?”
“Indeed.”
“And what might be spreading it.”
“Yes.”
“I've got to authorise the expenditure.” Panic rose, bringing bile up with it. “State legislature just got shut down over the ‘Z’ word.”
The professor put his hooded head on one side. “Can't you declare a state of emergency?”
Panic tightened its grip on the Governor. “Are you kidding? They'll eat me alive!”
“Who?”
“The public.”
“They're not all affected by this.”
“You haven't seen my approval ratings.”
*****
Meanwhile, at Granny Staines's house, Granny was getting used to her upgrade. “Boys, I've made some blueberry muffins for you. Sorry, Mr. Ventriss, I don't think… actually, I suppose you could taste them, but that depends on how well the serum has preserved your olfactory receptors…”
“I’d sure love to try one, Mrs. Staines,” Bobby replied. “I haven't tried any food since my accident.”
Granny didn't bother to ask him about it; as soon as she thought about it, the information flooded her mind. Then more information. “Mr. Heaton, are you aware of the incident with the birds at the detention center?”
*****
“Claire, have you seen this?”
Claire moved away as her colleague Mandy thrust her phone into her face.
Mandy moved it closer, forcing Claire back in her seat until she took the phone and held it, staring hard at Mandy until she let it go. The news report showed flag-waving protesters outside a burning building.
“They've destroyed the zombies they were trying to protect and are blaming the authorities for it. Is this fiction?”
“You can't call them that, Claire. Have you been under a rock for the past week? They're post-vivants. Humans, just like us. Have you even met one before?”
Claire put her head on one side. “We both did, at Salvini's, Mandy. Then you went to Steve's place and got surrounded, and I found you clinging to the rafters in the lab and got you out of there.”
Mandy took her phone back. “I went on a date that didn't work out,” she said shortly.
Claire kept her tone even and calm despite the provocation. “From which I had to rescue you after warning you against it.”
“I don't remember it that way.”
“Girl,” said Claire, looking straight at her, “the way you carried on that day, I can't blame you.”
Mandy flounced away in the highest of dudgeon, leaving Claire pursing her lips and wondering what her colleague had been smoking. She was speaking to the team leader, looking at Claire, then back again.
Selena looked bored, cast a glance at Claire, who had the good sense to make herself look busy, then walked over, leaving Mandy behind. “Claire, I need you to come with me to the small meeting room.”
Claire followed her in.
“I'm moving Mandy away from this bench because she just came out to me as a demi-post-vivant-aroace and has made a complaint that you make her feel unsafe.”
“Okaaaayyyy…”
“I need to write this up and get you to sign it. You're a good worker, Claire. Don't throw your job away because of this. We all need to live and work together.”
Claire sighed. “This is stupid.”
Selena signed a piece of paper and pushed it towards her. “Sign, please.”
I have been advised by my team leader that I have said and/or done things concerning a colleague's identity that made them feel unsafe in the working environment. I hereby agree to undertake diversity and inclusion training to learn how my words and actions impact on other people.
Claire looked Selena in the eye and saw herself reflected back; small, a little hunched, and completely lost.
This story follows Stoned, The Crows. Read the sequel, History's Actors.