Emmanuel's Seed

"Well, it's only one experiment, and it would have to be studied for causation and be able to be replicated by other labs, but it is something I thought you people should know about. I am very good at what I do, and I wouldn't waste your or my time if this were just bullshit."

"I bet you are good at what you do," Kevin smiled.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know what I mean too." They laughed.

Kevin told Karen that he thought her discovery was worth mentioning to his boss, the lead attorney in Emmanuel's criminal case and his appellate team, but she had to find some way of duplicating the experiment and confirming that it provided some promise for higher levels of life, e.g., humans.

"If we want the courts to commute his death sentence, we have to have more than "a couple of rodents losing their lesions."

Karen decided not to involve her lab from that point on, since they had made it clear that they had no respect for her or her hypothesis. She asked Kevin to get the remainder of the samples released to his law firm and get Emmanuel to sign permission for Karen to use whatever tissue and blood evidence she could obtain for further experimentation. In order to get additional crime scene blood evidence from the prosecutors, however, Emmanuel and his attorneys had to abandon their appeal of the case in chief, and only pursue the appeal of the death sentence itself.

With everything in place, Karen approached Baylor University Medical School in Houston. Her advisor was impressed with her tentative report on the results of her limited experiments and said that she would take Karen's project to the "powers that be who make this kind of decision."

Karen's first experiment involved aged dogs and cats who had been given to local vets or to the animal shelter for disposal. Some, but not all of the animals had cancer. Many had heart disease or debilitating arthritis. She was assigned three assistants to help her, and a professor to oversee methodology and to write the final report in his name, listing Karen and her assistants in the report. The team divided the animals into variable groups and control groups; Karen and her assistants did not know which animals were in which group. When the results of her initial rat experiment were validated by the cat and dog experiments, her professor arranged for Karen to interview several patients at the Medical Center Hospice.

She selected four patients who volunteered to participate in the experiment. Rather than repeating the double-blind experiment, however, Karen decided to give each of the volunteers the crime-scene serum, with no control group. All four of the patients recovered from their life-threatening illnesses and reported that they were, for the first time in years, pain-free. A biopsy of their tumors showed that the ones that had not shrunk or totally disappeared were no longer malignant. Armed with these data, the professor submitted his paper for publication. Once the proofs of his article came back for the professor's review, Emmanuel's attorneys approached the governor to have Emmanuel's sentence commuted to life-without-parole. The governor granted their petition. Due to the nature of his offenses, Emmanuel was kept separated from the other prisoners, for his own protection.

Part Three

1- Bonnie Dancer entered her password to download her email one summer morning to find a communiqué from her department head informing her that she had been transferred from her Center for Disease Control job in Atlanta to the Department of Homeland Security at Groom Lake, Nevada. The message told her not to discuss her departure with anyone and to take nothing but her personal effects from her office. She left her office, telling her staff that she would be back later, and got in the government car waiting for her in her building's parking garage. She was taken to her apartment where she packed several belongings; the car took her to Reagan National Airport where a helicopter took her to Andrews Air Force Base. Another plane took her to Nevada.

"Dr. Dancer, it's so good to see you again!" The Colonel lied. "I would like you to meet Laura Vade, the CEO of Fitzer-Rheem Pharmaceuticals. Ms Vade has contracted with DHC and the Pentagon to work on developing a vaccine to be administered to U.S. security forces and top-level officials."

"Yes, Colonel, Laura and I have known each other since college. How have you been, Laura?"

"You haven't changed a bit, Bonnie."

"Nor have you," Dancer replied, adding to The Colonel, "Thank you Colonel; we can take it from here."

The two women sat in Fitzer-Rheem's enormous motor home parked inside the empty airplane hanger. Vade explained to Dancer that Fitzer-Rheem had obtained some of Karen Kraft's crime-scene based serum samples and discovered that animals first injected with the serum exhibited a total immunity to even the best toxins the military had in its arsenals. She explained that the idea of a General Immunity Vaccine, or GIV, had eluded researchers, with many of them believing that such a thing could not exist, due to the unique causality mechanisms of various pathogens: Some were bacteria or virus driven, while others attacked the nervous system.

She explained that Fitzer-Rheem had studied Karen Kraft's serum and found that it did not really work as a cure or antidote at all. What the serum did was to trick any cells that came into contact with it to function in their original forms, whether they had mutated or had otherwise become unsound. Were a pathogen to attack a neuron, for example, causing it to no longer transmit signals properly, the damaged neuron would mimic its original configuration and immediately start to function properly while it repaired itself to match its original structure. In some cases, cells reconstruct if they are able and, if they are not able, they replicate themselves, but the replications are of the original configuration, not the damaged or mutated configuration. Rogue cells, like cancer cells, do not match the original DNA configuration so they were identified by the body as an infection to be destroyed by the immune system. Once the immune system has come into contact with a foreign substance it not only destroyed it but remembered the errant configuration and prevented similar cells from reproducing in the future. People who have organs or tissues transplanted from anyone, even an identical twin, may not be exposed to the serum because it will cause an immediate rejection of the non-original cell configuration.

Thus, she continued, the procedure would be to inject combatants, for example, with the serum, wait about eight hours, and then expose them to every known pathogen, such as Anthrax, Smallpox, Influenza, and so on. As for the aging process, they would need to do more studies in that regard, but it looked like the presence of the serum made it difficult for mutant cells to survive in the body, while it forced all subsequent cells to conform to the original (healthy) configuration.

Bonnie blinked. She understood the mechanism perfectly well but was overwhelmed by its implications. "This could eventually spell the end of disease as we know it, in all its forms, for everyone," Bonnie said, almost to herself.

"I'm sure you understand that we can't survive in a world where nobody dies and everybody lives forever, right?. So, Fitzer-Rheem is trying to modify the Karen Kraft serum so that its effective life was limited to, say, four years."

"Right. So people would have to buy booster shots from F-R every four years, right?"

"That was one of the reasons, yes; after all, we do operate a business, not an eleemosynary institution."

"Look, Laura," Bonnie replied, tensing up a bit, "I don't care if you sell each shot for a million bucks or give it away. Our concern here is that the right people, and only the right people get the treatment, and we are perfectly happy if it is permanent, not requiring booster shots."

"That isn't going to happen. There is no way that we will put this stuff out unless we can develop some sort of sunset feature in it; it's just bad business."

"Would you consider two variations on the serum – one for the leadership, of government and industry and another for the military and general population?"

"I'll have to get back to you on that," Laura replied, "Right now our government contract only requires us to make an effective vaccine in reasonably large quantities; it is silent as to its longevity. And anyway, Bonnie, your job is not concerned with the finished product. Your job is to get enough of the raw material for us to work on."

"You mean Emmanuel's blood, right?"

"Well, sort of. Just the right kind of blood from him; his usual samples are not effective at all. We tried to work with them but they are no different from any other person's blood unless he's ..."

"Doing his thing, I know," Bonnie smiled, "I was briefed about that on the plane out. I am responsible only for getting the right kind of samples from the donor."

"Oh!" Laura laughed, "Is that what you call him now? A donor? From psycho-sadistic rapist-murderer to Good Samaritan? That was fast!"

"He has what we want, and he appears to be the only source, so we will be treating him with kid gloves – as long as we need him."

"Won't that be forever, if he is the sole source?"

"Not really. We find that minuscule quantities of what we call his 'good blood' are sufficient to inoculate or cure thousands of people."

"Right. His 'good blood,' Laura smirked, "That's the stuff his body generates when he is raping and torturing people. And I suppose his 'bad blood' would be the normal variety. You people really are highly skilled at turning the world upside down."

"It's what we do best. What can I tell you?"

Both women laughed and began eating their lunch. "So, Bonnie," Laura smiled, "How do you plan to get the 'good blood' from this guy?"

"You don't want to know, Laura; you have always been the squeamish type. I will let you know what I come up with; give me a week or two to set things up."

"No," Laura sighed, no longer smiling, "I don't want to know... ever."

2- Emmanuel studied the relocation agreement, periodically glancing up at Kevin, his new and obviously nervous attorney. "You think I should sign this?" he asked.

"You have no choice, Manny."

"Emmanuel; never "Manny."

"Emmanuel. Sorry. I had a friend named Emmanuel and we called him 'Manny'; it won't happen again. Ummm, yeah, it's sort of your only choice."

"I'm not that guy, you know; I'm not your friend, and I honestly don't see that my choices are all that limited: my sentence has already been commuted by the governor, so I am not under the gun to do anything; nothing to change the status quo. Things aren't bad here. I have my own TV, limited internet access, four hours a week in the exercise yard. I'm okay."

"Do what you want, Emmanuel," Kevin said. "Under the relocation agreement you will have a lot more freedom. They don't see you as an escape risk, and you essentially you would be able to have all your belongings – all the comforts of home, so to speak – out there with you."

"And what is it that I have to do for this."

"It's all right there in the document."

"This thing weighs five pounds. You just tell me what it says, and what it means to say. I ask you again: what do I have to do to get this 'relocation'?"

"You will be housed and protected by the government; you will be under routine surveillance, of course, and you will have to be available for medical testing and research."

"Like some baby pig they burn with blow torches to see if their new ointment works? No thanks. I'm not going to be their lab experiment, their science project."

"No. Nothing like that, Emmanuel. They just want to take your blood. That's all. Like maybe a eight times a year."

"Like going to a medical lab for a blood test?"

"Not exactly." Kevin cleared his throat. "More like going to the blood bank and making a donation – as often as once every six weeks – like giving a pint of blood."

"So, why can't they just come here and do it? Why someplace in the middle of the Nevada desert?" Emmanuel raised one eyebrow and studied the attorney's face.

"The conditions have to be right for the harvesting," Kevin half-whispered.

"Harvesting. Is there some special class you guys take where you learn to call things what they aren't? I'm not a freaking apple tree. I don't need harvesting."

"Sorry. Bad choice of words."

"What?"

"What, what?"

Emmanuel sighed, getting annoyed with the conversation. "What conditions?"

"As a condition of the agreement, you ..."

"Stop it!" Emmanuel shouted, causing some of the sleepy guards to momentarily look the general direction of his cell. "Under what conditions will I be 'harvested'?"

"Just your blood, Manny, not you; just your blood."

"Are you trying to bait me or what?"

"Okay," the lawyer began slowly, "You know how you get, right? Well, the idea is to recreate that sort of thing under controlled circumstances."

"What do you mean? What are you talking about?" Emmanuel was starting to calm down.

"The plan is to try to induce that changes in you that make your blood change."

"How are they planning to do that?" Emmanuel said suspiciously.

"I don't really know," Kevin replied, "That's not my department. I'm just here to show this document to you and see if you want to sign it. It's a good deal for you; it really is."

"And if I don't sign?"

"You sort of have to, like I said," Kevin said softly, signaling to the guard that he was ready to leave.

"And if I don't?"

"These things aren't up to me, of course, but I believe that you would be transferred into the general prison population if you don't agree to relocation."

"When?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"Well, after my car leaves the parking lot."

"Where do I sign?"

3- Emmanuel surveyed his new quarters. The room was essentially a blend of the master bedroom and study from the mansion. His favorite things were there: his books, pipes, pictures, even the spears and slings from his childhood with the tribe. His clothes were neatly organized in his six Eighteenth-Century armoires.

"You look surprised, Emmanuel," Bonnie said, signaling for the guards to remove Emmanuel's shackles. "I even recreated your bathroom; I hope you feel at home here. I'm sorry there are no windows, but there's nothing to see on the other side of these walls but the rest of the building we are in. I'm sure you understand."

"Everything is fine, I guess. Better than my prison cell." Dancer signaled for the guards to leave. They hesitated but then did as she said. "You aren't afraid of me?" Emmanuel said, taking a step toward Bonnie.

"Not in the least, Emmanuel. I am your only friend in this new world of ours and I know what makes you tick," Bonnie said, standing her ground and looking defiantly toward Emmanuel.

"So you don't think that I am a monster?"

"Of course I do! Clearly you are a monster. My job is to harness your monstrosity for the benefit of mankind."

"Mankind. To hell with mankind, and to hell with you too; you're full of shit, Miss..."

"Dancer," Bonnie said.

"You are a dancer?"

"That's my name: Dr. Bonnie Dancer. I am your hostess while you are here with us. If you need anything, just let me know; if it is within my powers, I will see that you get it."

"You figured it out, didn't you?" Emmanuel offered.

"That you only become a predator when you sense fear? Yes, I know that," Bonnie replied.

"It's a smell. As sweet a smell as nature has ever produced. It is a lovely pungent fragrance that words cannot describe."

"I can't smell it, but I understand that you can."

"So, what do we do now, Bonnie?"

"Call me Dr. Dancer."

"Okay, Dr. Dancer."

"Well, you get settled in for a few days, become accustomed to the routine, tell me anything you need – that I might have forgotten, okay."

"Alright," Emmanuel smiled, noticeably relaxing.

4- Norman Colossian, who used the moniker "Brother Normy" in what he called his "ministry," looked out at the vacant faces filling the pews at his Midnight Rescue Mission in downtown Los Angeles. "For all of you have sinned, and you have come up short of the glory of God. You can be justified by His grace through the redemption that is in Him; whom God hath set forth to be an offering through faith in His blood, to declare His righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, through the forbearance of almighty God."

Bonnie looked at Brother Normy with contempt. "You can't even get it straight, can you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Romans 3:23-25. The word is 'propitiation' not 'offering'," Dancer snarled.

"And I'm supposed to be impressed that you can quote the Holy Scripture? We are in the same business, you and I. Anyway, what you want, what you came here for is out back and I don't want to be here when you take them, so don't fuck with me lady; just give me the money."

Dancer handed Brother Normy a briefcase. "Feel free to count it if you want," Dancer offered.

"That won't be necessary," Brother Normy smiled, "If it isn't all straight inside here, there won't be another shipment ready next month."

"It's all there."

"Thanks."

"Oh, and Brother Normy: next month, could you throw in some runaways from Hollywood too?"

"All girls, like the others?" Brother Normy affirmed, starting back toward his tabernacle.

"Yes, only younger next time; that would be just great!" Dancer smiled her phony smile and left through the alley exit. She held up a laser pointer and sent the beam down the alley, across the street to a car parked in the next block. When the car reached her, a young man got out and nodded her direction. The man then signaled the car to drive away. She nodded back and the car drove off.

Dancer handed the man an envelope and a set of keys. "The van is over there," Dancer said, gesturing the direction of a shiny black van with opaque windows. "It's filled with gas; don't speed, and there's a map in case...."

"I know where I'm going," the man interrupted her, "Don't worry." With that, the man walked down the alley to the van, got in, and drove away.

5- "So, what is this place?" First Girl asked nobody in particular, swinging her legs over her bunk bed.

"Must be some kind of mission or halfway house, like Brother Normy said, I guess," First Woman in her mid-twenties opined.

"I wasn't paying attention until he said the part about free food and a place to stay," First Girl said, inspecting the green examination gown. "And they said we would get some new clothes too. I hope this isn't them." She laughed at her own joke. The others ignored the conversation and continued reading, listening to music, or sleeping. They had all arrived very late the night before and, after showering and a cursory health exam, some blood and urine tests, they were given a simple but tasty snack before going to bed. "It's hard to tell when it's night or day in here," First Girl mumbled to herself, "I guess when they turn the lights out it's nighttime."

"He said we would earn money at some sort of job," Blonde Girl announced, looking to the others for validation of what she thought she remembered they were told.

"Telephone calls," Third Girl added, putting down her paperback book. "I think we are going to be those people who call you at supper time to try to sell you stuff."

"I don't care what they want us to do," Second Woman said, not really in reply, "Free food, bowls of fresh fruit everywhere, candy bars and cigarettes in the snack area over there (gesturing with her chin toward one end of the dorm). Now, if they only had some Southern Comfort, I'd be set." Second Woman clearly amused herself with that.

"I heard a couple of the guards, oh that's right, umm, "hosts," saying that once we have been here for a while then they move us one by one to different housing where we will learn something about computers," Fourth Girl perked up, taking the earphones from her head, "You know, like a skill we can really use."