jefflong.yearzero-第33部分

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ve　what　you　see　in　me。　I　know　you　have。　But　you　keep　ing　back　to　this　crippled　little　freak　in　a　chair。　It's　very　politically　incorrect。　But　we　all　do　it；　we　see　what　we　have　been　programmed　to　see。　Fairy　tales。　Evil　as　a　flaw　in　nature。　That's　our　bias。　In　a　way；　it's　our　redemption。　We　want　to　believe　in　the　good。　Evil　is　monstrous。　Crooked。　Misshapen。　Yes？〃
　〃Are　you　finished？〃　said　Golding。
　He　cocked　his　head。　〃How　old　are　you；　Elise？　Seventy…something？　A　good；　full　life；　wouldn't　you　say？　Rich　with　acplishments。　Desires。〃　He　smiled。　〃I'll　never　see　thirty…two。　I'm　in　pain。　My　hands　jump　around　like　fish　in　a　pond。　My　spine　twists。　Against　my　will。〃
　〃I'm　sorry　about　that；　Edward。〃
　〃No；　please；　don't　mistake　me。　No　self…pity　here。　Only　an　explanation。　Since　I　was　old　enough　to　think；　I've　been　driven　by　one　realization。　What　is　happening　to　me　doesn't　need　to　happen　to　anyone　else。　That's　why　I　pursued　genetics。　To　spare　the　innocents　from　my　fate。　Now　I　am　placed　in　the　path　of　this　other　disease；　and　I　can　help。　I　want　to　be　part　of　the　solution；　too。〃
　Golding　wanted　to　change　her　mind　about　him。　And　yet　he　had　retracted　nothing。　He　meant　for　the　human　experimentation　to　go　on。　〃The　end　does　not　justify　the　means；〃　she　stated。
　〃I　thought　it　might　e　to　this；〃　Cavendish　said。　He　tapped　a　key　on　his　console。　A　moment　later；　his　phone　rang。　He　picked　it　up。　〃Yes；〃　he　replied。　He　looked　at　Golding。　〃Someone　wants　to　see　you。〃
　She　caught　Abbot's　surprised　frown。　They　were　going　off　script　here。
　〃I　told　you　to　leave　Miranda　out　of　this；〃　she　said。　Who　else　could　it　be？
　〃It's　not　Miranda；〃　Cavendish　said。　〃This　won't　take　long。〃
　Someone　knocked　at　the　door。
　〃e；〃　spoke　Cavendish。　The　door　opened。　There　was　a　noise；　wheels　rolling。
　Golding　didn't　turn　to　see　the　visitor。　She　kept　her　head　high。　To　her　side；　Abbot　pivoted　in　his　chair。　She　saw　confusion　in　his　eyes；　then　shock。
　〃Elise？〃　a　voice　called。
　She　grew　very　still。　Her　heart　squeezed。　She　didn't　want　to　turn。　She　didn't　want　to　know。　She　turned。
　〃Victor；〃　she　whispered。
　Her　husband；　the　father　of　her　children；　lay　on　the　gurney；　too　feeble　to　move。　It　wasn't　just　gravity's　weight。　They　had　fished　him　from　the　tank　and　docked　his　hair　and　clipped　his　nails。　But　already　his　hair　was　creeping　onto　the　pillow。　His　nails　were　coiling　outwards。　What　entered　had　been　a　young　man。　Already　he　was　fifty。　The　aging　was　so　rapid　his　body　quivered　with　the　metamorphosis。
　〃Where　am　I？〃　he　whispered。
　She　stroked　his　head　and　the　hair　pulled　out　in　her　fingers。　Sixty。　Liver　spots　blossomed　on　his　hands。　Seventy。　His　face　was　hollowing　out。　Ninety。　He　blinked；　utterly　disoriented。　〃You're　with　me；〃　she　said；　and　kissed　his　forehead。
　〃I　don't　understand；〃　he　said　with　a　birdlike　voice。
　〃It's　okay；　Victor。　I　do；〃　she　whispered。　〃I　love　you　so　much。〃
　〃Is　this　a　dream？〃
　He　died。
　Even　then　the　accelerated　genes　did　not　slow。　The　metabolism　had　momentum。　He　lost　flesh。　His　eyes。。。。
　She　felt　her　heart　go。　She　draped　herself　across　the　body；　holding　on　to　the　far　edge　of　the　gurney。
　〃What　have　you　done？〃　she　heard　Abbot　shouting　at　Cavendish。　His　voice　was　so　far　away。
　〃We　obtained　all　the　proper　permits　to　exhume　the　body；〃　Cavendish　said。　〃A　few　cells；　that's　all　we　needed。〃
　〃I　won't　be　implicated　in　this；〃　Abbot　was　shouting。
　She　listened。　Such　horror。　Her　grip　failed。　She　slid　to　the　floor。
　〃Elise！〃　Abbot　knelt　over　her。　He　was　trying　to　cradle　her。　〃Call　for　help；〃　he　demanded。
　With　the　last　of　her　strength；　she　pushed　him　away。
　
　10
　Pornography
　
　FEBRUARY
　It　felt　to　Miranda　as　if　she　had　lost　her　mother　all　over　again。　But　mourning　had　fallen　from　fashion；　and　so　she　did　not　cry。
　Nearly　everyone　at　Los　Alamos　had　lost　someone　by　now；　either　to　the　pandemic　directly…especially　the　foreign　scientists…or　to　the　circumstances　surrounding　it。　The　plague　had　still　not　muscled　its　way　onto　American　shores。　But　as　medical　stockpiles　dwindled　and　physicians　were　sent　off　to　various　〃beachheads〃　along　the　seaboards　and　Mexican　border；　other　diseases　were　beginning　to　prey　on　the　population。　Tuberculosis　had　made　a　major　eback。　Polio　was　rearing　its　head。　There　were　cholera　outbreaks　up　and　down　the　Florida　peninsula。　Mortality　was　said　to　be　soaring　among　the　very　old　and　very　young。　Health　care　was　in　such　collapse　that　people　were　dying　out　there　from　dog　bites；　rusty　nails；　and　broken　bones。　Curiously　all　of　the　suffering；　death；　and　chaos　had　e　to　be　lumped　together。　In　one　way　or　another；　every　random　event　was　driven　by　the　same　single　mechanism。　That　was　their　definition　of　the　plague。　You　only　had　to　say　the　word；　and　it　explained　any　misery；　any　misfortune。　Even　the　death　of　an　old　woman　from　her　second　heart　attack。
　Elise　had　toppled　into　the　mass　grave　in　their　minds。　Los　Alamos　had　lost　its　leader；　but　gained　a　new　one　in　Cavendish。　Miranda　made　her　grief　invisible。　As　a　courtesy　to　others；　you　were　expected　to　bear　up　and　carry　on。　There　was　work　to　be　done。　She　did　her　work。　In　the　face　of　death；　she　threw　herself　into　creating　new　life　in　the　cloning　works　of　Alpha　Lab。　Sometimes　her　sadness　could　not　be　forgotten；　though。　That　was　how　she　came　to　begin　surfing　the　plague。
　It　had　bee　a　minor　obsession　for　many　of　them；　a　form　of　recreation；　surfing　the　plague；　as　they　called　their　electronic　hitchhiking；　watching　the　world　unravel。　Miranda　thought　of　it　as　a　long…distance　death　watch；　and　had　avoided　it　for　months。　But　now　she　felt　drawn　to　know　what　was　ing。
　From　the　safety　of　their　mesa　top；　equipped　with　the　latest　munication　technology；　surfers　tapped　into　the　storm　of　dispatches；　pleas；　rumors；　and　broadcasts　being　launched　by　victims　around　the　world　like　messages　in　bottles。　One　only　had　to　dial　in。　With　a　few　keystrokes；　Miranda　could　patch　into　security　cameras　mounted　in　Swiss　or　Argentine　stores　or　banks；　peer　through　television　cameras　fixed　to　the　masts　of　legendary　skyscrapers；　revive　phantom　signals　lingering　in　distant　puters；　or　download　imagery　from　satellites。　There　were　eyes　everywhere。　The　sky　was　filled　with　voices。　All　you　had　to　do　was　choose　what　you　wanted　to　see；　who　you　wanted　to　listen　to。
　People　collected　their　finds　like　souvenirs；　taping　or　downloading　them；　swapping　them　or　jealously　hoarding　them；　making　websites；　talking　about　their　latest　spectacle　over　coffee。　Everyone　had　their　own　tastes；　their　personal　thresholds。　Some　described　muning　for　weeks　with　desperate　strangers　in　the　deep　of　night　twelve　time　zones　away。　Others　went　for　grand；　epic　views　of　whole　cities　going　still。　One　woman　was　conducting　a　cyber…romance　with　an　astronaut　in　the　space　station。　Clubs　formed　to　reconstruct　dead　cities　from　their　electronic　relics；　patching　together　images　of　empty　streets；　finding　glimpses　of　buildings　reflected　in　mirrors　or　store　windows；　entering　apartments；　viewing　books　on　bedstands；　the　remnants　of　last　meals；　even　the　final　videos　watched　by　occupants。　Some　people　made　a　hobby　of　collecting　the　lives　of　victims。
　Miranda　started　by　going　where　they　had　gone。　She　toured　their　cities；　eavesdropped　on　their　chat　rooms；　sampled　their　plague　biographies；　replayed　images　that　were　months　old。　She　followed　the　exoduses　from　foreign　metropolises　into　the　red　sands　of　the　Rajasthan　Desert；　into　the　Australian　outback；　over　the　Atlas　Range　and　into　the　Sahara；　and　along　the　railways　into　the　great　forests　of　northern　Russia。　From　geosynchronous　orbit；　the　halted　trains　and　traffic　looked　like　dead　serpents。　She　tracked　fifty…mile…long　columns　of　refugees　turned　back　by　armies　in　the　middle　of　nowhere；　at　borders　that　were　no　more　than　lines　on　maps；　the　last　vestiges　of　the　nation…state。　Bloody　food　riots　in　Sao　Paulo；　London；　and　Berlin；　the　burning　of　Vienna；　street　orgies　in　Rio　de　Janero：　With　unbelievable　speed；　the　plague　had　mushroomed　into　a　tidal　wave　and　sent　panic　ahead　of　itself。　The　order　of　things　did　not　decay　so　much　as　vanish。　Old　rivals　barely　had　time　to　swarm　across　borders；　declare　revolutions；　or　machete　each　other；　before　the　virus　swept　them　under。
　Miranda　traveled　through　the　horrors　and　went　on；　searching　for　something