Silos of Man

Chapter 9 - The Morning After Quill

Last night was wonderful and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves thoroughly – except for the occasional emotional-landmine conversation like animal farming and neo-Nazis, that we wondered into.  Given Ryann's heightened emotional state last night, brought on by conversations of suffering at the hands of humanity, we skipped the sex and cuddled ourselves to sleep in each other's arms.  Sometimes that's as nice, especially after a lot of heavy adrenaline like last night.  I awoke to find her lying in the crook of my shoulder. 

As we lay together on the cloudy morning, dozily waking-up, she nuzzles me and the fun begins.  I trace my hand gently down the hourglass of her figure, starting just above her breast and slipping off her front and along her side.  I enjoy the feeling of the curvature of her breast as it balances over her ribcage and bulges a little over the side.  I see her nipples harden and I know I'm in.  The 'sangering' adrenaline has receded.  I love that word she uses when she becomes saddened and angry at the same time.  Being a highly empathetic person, she experiences that emotion, her emotion, 'sangry', fairly often.  In all honesty, I regularly get shivers to think what would have become of her had she lived in the pre-ethical era, where she wouldn't have been able to make even a dent in the suffering.  The world is a much kinder place than it ever has been, and I secretly think that she needs to toughen-up a little in order to enjoy life a little more.   Just so that she wouldn't be so deeply affected by the suffering, or even the serious discomfort of others, but then she wouldn't be this incredible force of nature that I'm just about to ravage.

Wonderfully satisfied, we make our way to the kitchen and set out breakfast.  Over our, morning coffee, fresh cherries, bagels and cashew cheese we both catch-up on the news and latest buzz within our respective fields, over the Global Information and Media Network.  We both love the Global Feed, as it's universally known, as our one-stop shop for frivolous-free information and latest professional buzz.  Unlike some of the private newsfeeds, that focus on social gossip, and the private media streams stuffed with silly dance videos or memes, the GIMN only has verified and or peer-reviewed information, and the media feeds accurately offer a temperature on social issues, priorities and initiatives. 

The GIMN is typically accessed by Category Threes or Fours, whereas the other private sights with predominantly frivolous content are regularly enjoyed by Category Ones and Twos.  Studies have shown, that some people are just less motivated and spend a lot of their productivity time staring at inconsequential images or the creativity of others.  A few Ones and Twos actually make their living through posting videos if they can show the World Media Management System that it brings wanted, and therefore valued, entertainment or some other valid benefit.  They can then get moved into a Category Three on rare occasion for producing it, and will earn more from it if it begets advertisements for products, the purchase of which would benefit commercial productivity. Category Ones and Twos who regularly apply to the WMMS with their media content for income, are sent university and other post-secondary material in conjunction with leads to the NWG's full financial support for post-secondary opportunities.

I started accessing the GIMN when I was five and a half – well before most of my peers could even read.  I was getting university brochures by the time I was ten, and I had my path planned by 14.  At 17 I won not only my school's science fair, but theorized a general vaccine mechanism that could be effective against all viral infections, both annoying and deadly.

My idea of a 'manmade micro-virus that is absorbed by and stays dormant in the cells of the human system, only being activated when the cell is infected by another pathology-causing virus, made waves in the virology community.  As soon as a second invader cell enters in the human system, the dormant manmade virus is signalled into action where it invades the new virus, destroying its RNA by depositing decoy amino acids.  These amino acids attract the RNA and renders it intransmissible.  It was never done because it was never thought of.  After my thesis we seem to be only a decade or so away from the idea of a permanent one-stop-shop for anti-viral agents. 

I realize that I've got a stupid proud smile on my face as I say the words silently to myself, 'Dany Piper's biochemistry is impeccable and demonstrates more foresight into the extrapolated results of scientific, outside-the-box thinking than any adult researcher I have ever known.  What incredible potential!  This was Joan's comment on my high school science paper – long before I ever met her.   I have the whole analysis memorized and say that line, my favourite line, to myself whenever I'm feeling inadequate.

"What the fuck!?"  Ryann's shocked voice brings me back to the present.  I look at her over my device.  Her eyes dart between me and her device while her mouth slowly becomes more agape by the second.  "NASA", is all she manages to say.  I reach over and gently take the device from in front of her and read it.  Those fuckers!  They announced her project.  How can they do that?!  She sees the questions in my eyes and just shakes her head and echoes my inner-thought, "Those fuckers.  They fight us on these tests for months and then when they finally relent and realize we're on to something, suddenly it becomes their project!?  Are they fucking kidding me right now!?!"  Her eyes were starting to blaze and I could see her hands starting to shake. 

My mind frantically darts around in a futile attempt to find something comforting to say and I've got nothing!  My stupor is mercifully ended when her phone rings.  She glances down at it and informs me, "George".  She answers it and walks to our home office.  I pace outside the closed door trying to decipher her current situation, but all I can gather is that George is as stunned and pissed as Ryann, and that they were off to an emergency meeting with their research group at 7pm.  They start breaking down the NASA article to establish a presentable timeline of facts to share at the meeting.

The current time is 3:30pm, so she has three and a half hours to be there.  As I hear her very distraught voice working through the facts with her equally distraught colleague, I make her a very light dinner because I know that her stomach will be churning.  She'll try to fight me on eating it but I know that if I don't get food into her, she'll go without it for way too long.  I've seen her go more than 24 hours with nothing but water, just because she's too busy or stressed to consume.  Not on my watch.  We haven't yet discussed a Domestic Union Ceremony, but when she starts considering it, she'll see that I'm ready.  For better or worse, in sickness and in health, 'till death do us part, baby!  I'm ready to take the plunge together, I'm just waiting on signs of readiness from her.

She emerges from the office looking like she just pulled an all-nighter.  The fire is there in her eyes still though, so she isn't tired.  She sees the dinner, smiles with thankful resignation and quietly takes her seat.  We eat in practical silence, although she does manage to share that the discovery of the energy Ryann's research group is theorizing belongs to the soul, has been credited to NASA, by NASA, and her Research Leads are mobilizing to ensure that the NWG has the fullness of information about when, where, why and how this research project came into existence.  It's going to be like guerilla warfare, because the standard global-party-line, is that the discoveries and accomplishments of one, are the accomplishments of the whole and so seeking credit looks bad.  Okay, less like guerilla warfare and more like a tango then.  Either way, it's going to take a lot of effort and intelligence to get this project back on their track now that NASA has tried to reroute it.  She's going to be ensnarled in this for weeks.  I start panicking about our trip when I remind myself that I'm not this self-centred, and refocus on bringing her comfort.

I can smell the anxiety on her when she leans in to kiss me goodbye.  It's a sweet and spicy scent that makes me want to both protect and undress her.  She grabs her car keys that Blake returned last night and swung her backpack over her shoulder.  "Wish us luck", she exhales as she rolls her eyes and heads out the door.

The room echoes with the silence of her absence, and for a second, I feel winded.  Just as I regain my emotional composure after her departure I look toward the kitchen and get another blow.  Ah yes, my canary!  I sit staring at the fridge for much longer than I realize because by the time I decide to go through with it, it's dark outside.  Last Thursday night revealed that Joan must have people informing her when I access the lab, so I call Tom and ask to go for coffee.  I hear the concern in the acceptance on the other end of the phone.  Now I have to figure out how to deliver my dilemma to Tom.  Knowing that Ryann will be out well into tomorrow, my window for this, whatever this is that I'm about to do, is wide open into Sunday evening.  I grab the specimen vile from the mug at the back of my crisper, and head over to Section 28.  This time it was a 119-kilometer drive that I remember none of.