Essentially, there's a reason why Samurai freak out whenever they discover a rogue lab.
- New New York Botanical Research Director Evan Fry, 2054
“Botanist” as a word has sort of changed its meaning over the years. At one point, at least according to Dad, it was simply someone who dealt with the usual, docile plant life of Earth. Agriculture research, conservation, maybe even working in one of those plant nurseries that went defunct after people realized they were an extremely easy source of biomass.
Nowadays, botany as a field is very much focused on researching and understanding the Antithesis, partially out of necessity but also out of financial incentive. Once people realized those alien bastards were vaguely adjacent to plants, funding in those fields became very easy to acquire.
While the excitement has declined over the decades, that hardly meant they disappeared or that it was a trend or something. No, the field of Antithesis research had only gotten more robust as the aliens’ power and numbers grew in turn. Going into botany was a lucrative career choice, albeit one with a lot of risk. Based on the limited information that Scurvy had divulged about Penelope, her being a botanist made quite a bit of sense. So…maybe Penelope was taken due to what she knew.
Luckily, the answer to the question, “How many Antithesis research facilities are there in Phoenix,” is one. Even more lucky, they did tours.
That next morning, after swinging by the nearest dump to drop off my junk, I found myself staring up at the New Phoenix Botanical Discovery Institute. Apparently it was one of the first of such facilities ever constructed in the former United States, which had to have been the only explanation why it was an angular block of aged white stucco amidst a sea of modern concrete spires. A good amount of traffic flowed to and fro the institute, be it clerks in buttoned up shirts, researchers wearing coats covered with mysterious green fluids, and the random tourist who sauntered around the place with little care in the world.
Currently, I sat in the third category, dressed in shorts, sneakers, a baseball cap, and a graphic tee that said “Here to Kick Gum and Chew Ass”. I didn’t get it. All of my actual ‘Death Punch’ equipment was left in my bike; I still didn’t know how wide this mystery Samurai’s gaze could go, so not all but announcing I was looking into this place with my appearance was the safer play.
“So, the plan,” I mumbled to Cal, in a way that made it look like I was mumbling to myself. “Join the day’s tour, find a decent time to ask about Penelope and see if she may have worked there. If that pulls up nothing, then come back with some stealth tech to sneak into the place and check their servers for the name. If there is anything stored locally about her, then it's possible that such information could have been missed in that Samurai’s sweep.”
And if that second one doesn’t work?
“Then I’ll cry in a corner or something. Maybe go back to the factory for a second pass.” Admittedly, with a night’s rest, my judgement on the location search may have been a touch hasty, but my gut was still saying there was nothing of particular note. Every time I thought about the place, a sense of wrongness crossed my mind, the type that made me not want to go back there.
If I may inquire as to your goal with this entire search? Finding out that Ms. Tucker worked at a lab does little to illuminate who may have taken her.
He was right, but I had worked out why it felt like the right avenue to pursue over the night. “Cal, what was that set of short stories you showed me when we first left Orson? It starred a…Herlock Sholmes?”
You have them reversed.
“Sholmes Herlock?”
Sherlock Holmes.
I clicked my tongue. “Either way, a quote from one of those stories stuck with me. It was something to the effect of…you shouldn’t make assumptions without data, I think.”
“It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data.” Is the quote you are referencing.
“Yeah. And my thought is that we’ve been working off of a bunch of assumptions so far, like that the locational data is accurate or that Penelope was in fact taken five years ago. Maybe we should get something concrete, something that for sure is the truth before looking at everything else. The answer may be staring us right in the face, but I’ll always miss it without knowing what to look for.”
A pair of sliding glass doors opened in my presence, and the view that welcomed me inside was, in a way, breathtaking in its professionalism. White tile floor, freshly waxed and practically gleaming, clean white walls, aug displays that weren’t irritatingly intrusive in their application, and the furniture in the waiting area for the reception even looked decently comfortable. Various researchers passed by in the meantime, but many of them were far too absorbed in their work to spare more than a passing glance to the populace around, including myself.
I approached the front reception counter, and a lady turned to face me, hair tied in a pleasing bun and a shiny smile, albeit not to the point of being fake. The image of my previous interaction with a corporate receptionist, that being the one at Murdock, flashed through my mind, and I unintentionally cracked a smile at the idea that she was still fearful that every layman who walked in was secretly a Samurai in disguise. “Greetings, what can we do for you?”
“I’m here for the tour,” I said.
“Ah, yes, it should be beginning here in just a few minutes. Find a comfortable seat next to the rest of the group, if you could.” She pointed off to a set of couches and recliners in some sort of waiting area, where a collection of faces were gazing off in that way that indicated looking through their augs. The group was diverse, being made up of some elderly, a few bright eyed college students, and a poor couple trying to entertain their little boy whose age couldn’t have cracked the double digits.
I gave a dismissive peace sign to the receptionist and parked myself in a seat, one still close enough to be a part of the group but still far enough for personal space. Instead of surfing the ‘net, I chose to just shut my eyes and listen in to the surrounding ambience, trying my best to block out the more intrusive noises and trying to just…get a feel for the place, and maybe center myself in the meantime. I’d had a lot on my mind recently, so even if this tour wasn’t going to give me anything to work off of with Penelope, it could be a nice little distraction.
“Excuse me! If you are participating in the facility tour, please gather over here!”
My eyes popped back open, and settled on a sir waiting in the middle of the room, dressed in square glasses and white coat. The bags under his eyes and disheveled brown hair didn’t give the greatest first impression, but there was a certain glimmer in his eyes that told of his excitement for the event. That fervor must have rubbed off on the rest, as they began to huddle around him with a bit more energy than their monotonous waiting from earlier.
I joined, and soon we were all clumped up around him. “So, first off, welcome to the New Phoenix Botanical Discovery Institute, if you weren’t already acquainted with this place. I’m Doctor Winslow, and I’ll be leading today’s tour. I assume you guys are all caught up on the rules and etiquette, contained in the confirmation packets you received after purchase?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I blanched, but I must have not been the only one with how the doctor let out a small chuckle. “Don’t worry if you forgot, that thing’s as dry as dust. To keep it brief, take only pictures and leave only footprints. This goes doubly for any room that actually contains Antithesis. Most of our specimens are currently under heavy sedation, so as much as a fluttering eyelid means a full facility lockdown. Related to that, in the case of an emergency please defer to me and my associate for instructions and evacuation protocols.”
He motioned over to his right, and it was only now that I noticed the tall black man kitted out in impressive body armor and cradling a rifle, who then gave a firm if dismissive nod to the group. My experience with PMCs was limited, but something told me whoever was investing into this place was not skimping on the security.
“Don’t worry about him, he’s here more for your protection than mine. So, who's ready to learn?” With little fanfare from the group, Dr. Winslow travelled down the hall and beckoned the rest of us into the facility.
All things considered, what we initially travelled through was really that different from what the lobby looked like. Perhaps a little more slapdash, with large machines of unknown function and wires taped across the floor in blatant disregard of any safety protocol, but otherwise still those same tiled floors, clean white walls, and manically paced workers.
Changes started once the doctor brought us onto a freight elevator of all things, and it slowly shuddered downward with the press of a large, impossible-to-miss red button on the side. “So, how much does everyone know about the Antithesis?”
More than the doctor probably expected with me here, though that part went obviously unsaid. The kid from the couple shot his hand up so far he nearly clocked someone in the chin. “They’re big, mean, plant aliens!”
“They are,” Doctor Winslow replied, letting out a bit of a chuckle. “But they are so much more than that. While they have been on our planet for just a short thirty years, the ways the Antithesis have changed our very understanding of nature itself are truly innumerable. In most regards they are a curse, but even poison can become medicine with the knowledge of the right dose, as they say.”
The elevator ride concluded with a hiss, and we entered a far different looking set of hallways. Solid concrete top to bottom, and more than a few armed guards roaming the halls. Felt as if we had walked right into some covert military base. That machinery from earlier was far more pronounced, and even more dubious in their shapes and functions. One set of scientists turned a corner with something on a cart, something all of us realized was a Model Three, currently trapped within a box of glass and sleeping the day away, a thick white gas obscuring the top. The kid in our group pressed back into his mother’s legs, but all others reacted with gasps and murmurs.
“Is that legal?” I ended up whispering to myself.
Dependent on individual territories and city-states, but Arizona has no qualms with live Antithesis research, as long as it is publicly disclosed and properly monitored by at least one Vanguard. For reference, Eye Spy from the soiree is the Vanguard currently stationed here, with Trigonometry as a fast-response backup in case of absence or emergency.
Doctor Winslow seemed not the least perturbed by the Model Three, and waltzed through the hall all the same, continuing on with his lecture. “Our Antithesis research started at about the same time as everyone else in North America, after the ‘Ohio Pigeon’ Incident, as it was called back then. Due to rudimentary technology, our research at the time was for the most part limited to autopsies, for which the leading expert in the entire field was one Evelyn Hargrove, whose discoveries served as the foundations for nearly every breakthrough for years to come. Hell, we still use some of her transcripts to this day”
One of the college students stepped up with a glimmer in her eye. “Wait, Doctor Dagger was real?”
That got a full laugh out of Dr. Winslow. “Indeed she was, although with far less malicious intent than is usually portrayed by most horror works. A fan of the Seven franchise, I assume?”
“Totally! Seven Third was peak! Shame Four and Five have been kind of slop.”
The doctor then muttered under his breath, which I only caught because I was in the front row. “That reminds me, I need to run through that report for New Houston’s transfer request…”
Our remaining walk through that current hall was a touch more subdued, everyone getting clammy every time a whole squad of armed bodyguards crossed by. Doctor Winslow did his best to keep the momentum up, but there was only so much one could do against those oppressive stone walls.
We stopped at an open door, which I could make out led into a medium sized room, one the group would struggle to get fully into. As we reached it, Doctor Winslow’s smile picked back up and a fidget in his hand gave away some of his intention. “While more traditional tour etiquette would point towards saving the more impressive part for the end, recent acquisitions have made me decide on a change of plans! Everyone, if you–”
Before he got fully through his spiel, the suspiciously quiet bodyguard jerked him aside and raised a hand to the group. His face was flat, but those eyes burned with intensity.
“Elliot,” he growled, just loud enough for me to make out. “This is a really bad idea. This isn’t just some Model Six we show off to visitors, and if something were to happen while Eye Spy is-”
“Relax, everything will be fine. I’ve crunched the numbers on those sedation formulas dozens of times. Unless there is something I’m missing, there’s no chance it’ll wake up. Perfectly safe, I promise.”
“...Don’t make me regret this.”
The bodyguard relented, and with a clear of his throat Doctor Winslow continued his statement. “...Everyone, please follow me in.”
One step was all it took for me to understand why the bodyguard had been so hesitant.
From behind layers of glass, one from the room’s window and another from the actual containment unit, I was now staring at the form of a Model Fourteen, currently inert but still just as intimidating as ever. Its long body snaked on and on and on in my view, as if someone had blown up a centipede to the size of a train. Sturdy armored plates covered each segment of the body, and the legs and mandibles splayed out for our viewing pleasure could have punched a man through with scary ease.
I was one of the first ones in, so I got to listen to the noises of fear and awe from the rest while I worked on picking up my jaw off the floor.
Doctor Winslow very much enjoyed everyone’s reactions. “Impressive, right? An acquisition from the recent Targ incursion, sedated and donated by the Samurai known as Red Ghost. Not to toot our horn, but we doubt anyone else in the entire continent has anything else like this!”
More oohs and awes followed. I remained silent, hands in pocket to keep them from inadvertently touching a button or switch on the console in front of us, but my eyes remained entirely transfixed on the Fourteen. How the hell had that Red Ghost guy managed to capture that thing? First time I’ve heard of them.
Doctor Winslow yapped away in the background, but I tuned it out and just kept on staring. Work mode had unintentionally been switched on upon seeing a double digit Model, and on the off chance something was going to happen, I wasn’t about to let anyone die.
Some movement in the unit caught my eye, and I felt my heart drop. At the very end of the Antithesis, a little part of its flesh was…undulating? Moving in some way. Not any drastic movement, but some sort of rippling beneath the skin.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Doctor Winslow turned to see where I was pointing, and took a second longer than I hoped for a response. “We’re not quite sure, actually. As far as we can tell, it's an unconscious reflex, linked to its ability to create more segments for transport.”
I didn’t miss the bead of sweat now trailing down one of his temples, and my breath hitched when Calydon decided to give his opinion privately.
Max, everyone needs to evacuate this room immediately.
“What’s about to happen?” I asked as quietly as possible.
Doctor Winslow is correct, but only to some extent. As he stated, the growth process of the Model Fourteen is most commonly used for additional biomass storage, as it is a transport unit first and foremost. However, it serves an additional function internally within the body, one that has commonly been missed in study as poison-based Vanguards are surprisingly rare on Earth.
Just in the very glimpse of my vision, I thought I saw a leg twitch. Then two.
As to not be inhibited by chemical warfare in transportation efforts, the Model Fourteen has been known to, unconsciously or otherwise, trigger its growth process to work toxins through its body faster and lessen the time needed to adapt to such substances.
Several segments of the creature shuddered softly, and now it had everyone’s attention.
In essence, it can cure itself of the anesthesia.
The eyes of the Model Fourteen snapped open.