The Atlantis Plague (The Origin Mystery 2)
Martin caught her arm. “Don’t approach them. These survivors seem to essentially… devolve. It’s like their brain wiring gets scrambled. It’s worse for some than others, but it’s a regressive state.”
“This happens to all survivors?”
“No. Roughly half suffer this sort of de-evolution.”
“And the other half?” Kate almost dreaded the answer.
“Follow me.”
Martin briefly conversed with a guard at the end of the room, and when he stepped aside, they passed into a smaller dining room. The windows had been boarded up and every inch of the room was divided into large cells, save for a narrow walkway down the middle.
Martin didn’t step further into the room. “These are the other survivors—the ones that have caused trouble in the camp.”
The cramped room must have held a hundred or more survivors, but it was dead silent. No one moved. Each stood and stared at Kate and Martin with cold, dispassionate eyes.
Martin continued in a low tone. “There aren’t any physical changes. None that we’ve seen. But they experience a change in brain wiring as well. They get smarter. Like the devolving, the effects are variable, but some individuals exhibit problem-solving abilities that are off the charts. Some get a bit stronger. And there’s another theme: empathy and compassion seem to wane. Again it varies, but all survivors seem to suffer a collapse in social function.”
As if on cue, the crowds on both sides of the room parted, revealing red letters on the walls behind them. They had written the words in blood.
Orchid can’t stop Darwin.
Orchid can’t stop Evolution.
Orchid can’t stop The Plague.
On the other side of the room, another survivor had written:
The Atlantis Plague = Evolution = Human Destiny.
In the next cell, the letters read:
Evolution is inevitable.
Only fools fight fate.
“We’re not just fighting the plague,” Martin whispered. “We’re fighting the survivors who don’t want a cure, who see this as either humanity’s next step or a completely new beginning.”
Kate just stood there, unsure what to say.
Martin turned and led Kate out of the room, back out into the main hospital room, and through another exit, into what must have been the kitchen but was now a lab. A half dozen scientists sat on stools, working with equipment that sat on top of the steel tables. They all glanced up at her, and one by one they stopped their work and began gawking and conversing in hushed tones. Martin wrapped an arm around her and called over his shoulder, “Carry on,” as he ushered Kate quickly through the kitchen. He stopped abruptly at a door in the narrow hall behind the kitchen. He keyed a code into a small panel and the door popped open with a hiss. They stepped inside, and the moment the door sealed shut, he held out his hand. “The sample.”
Kate fingered the plastic tube in her pocket. He was only giving her half the story—just enough to get what he wanted. She rocked back on her heels. “Why are the plague effects different this time? Why isn’t it happening like it did in 1918?”
Martin paced away from her and collapsed into a wooden chair at an old oak desk. This must have been the restaurant manager’s office. It had a small window that looked out onto the grounds. The desk was covered with equipment that Kate didn’t recognize. Six large computer screens hung on the wall, displaying maps and charts and scrolling endless lines of text, like a stock market news ticker.
Martin rubbed his temples, then shuffled a few papers. “The plague is different because we’re different. The human genome hasn’t changed much, but our brains operate very differently than they did a hundred years ago. We process information faster, we spend our days reading email, watching TV, devouring information on the internet, glued to our smartphones. We know lifestyle, diet, event stress can affect gene activation, and that has a direct effect on how pathogens influence us. Whoever designed the Atlantis Plague, this moment in our development is exactly what they have been waiting for. It’s like the plague was designed for this moment in time, for the human brain to reach a maturation point where it could be used.”
“Use it for what?”
“That’s the question, Kate. And we don’t know the answer, but we have some clues. As you’ve seen, we know that the Atlantis Plague operates primarily on brain wiring. For a small group of survivors, it seems to strengthen brain wiring. For the remaining survivors, it scrambles it. It kills the rest—apparently those it has no use for. The plague is changing humanity at the genetic level—effectively bioforming us into some desired outcome.”
“Do you know what genes the plague targets?”
“No, but we’re close. Our working theory is that the Atlantis Plague is simply a genetic update that attempts to manipulate The Atlantis Plague. It’s trying to complete the change in brain wiring that started seventy thousand years ago with the introduction of The Atlantis Plague—the first Great Leap Forward. So, we know that the Atlantis Plague manipulates The Atlantis Plague, but there are other… factors. And again, we don’t know what the endgame is. Is it a second Great Leap Forward—forcing us to advance—or is it a great step backward—a large-scale reversal in human evolution?”
Kate tried to digest this. Through the window, a massive fight broke out on the grounds near the closest tower. A line of people scattered and a group rushed the guards. Kate thought it was the same survivors that had been brought in earlier, but she couldn’t tell.
Martin glanced out the window briefly and focused on Kate again. “Riots are common, especially when a new group is brought in.” He held out a hand. “I really do need that sample, Kate.”
Kate scanned the room again—the equipment, the screens, the charts on the wall… “This is your trial, isn’t it? You’re the voice in the room. I’ve been working for you.”
“We all work for somebody—”
“I told you I wanted answers.”
“The answer is yes. This is my trial.”
“Why? Why lie to me?” Kate said, unable to hide the hurt in her voice. “I would have helped you.”
“I know, but you would have had questions. I’ve dreaded this day—telling you the truth, telling you what I’ve done, telling you the state of the world. I wanted to shelter you from it, for… just a bit longer.” Martin looked away from her, and in that moment, he looked so much older.