The Last Castle - Stopgap Measures
#2 of The Last Castle (Scifi Themes)
The Last Castle - Chapter Two
"Stopgap Measures"
*
Hello, folks! Here's the next chapter in this sci-fi extravaganza commissioned by Xenin . I hope you'll have a good time, and I will definitely be looking forward to your comments!
Cheers!
*
Meng woke up in a strange bed, one particular in that it did not seem to tremble with the buzz of solid stator electric engines or rattled by errant winds, leading into the illusion that he was sleeping on solid rock - which he technically was, the room where he came to being a concrete box with walls painted with white and brown, and the ceiling a pale grey and with light fittings upon it, though he could only see them vaguely. It was completely dark except for a dim green glow above the door signifying the escape route during emergencies, and that light, to his slight displeasure, could not be turned off.
The red panda had slept, nonetheless, and he awoke slowly, eyes heavy, limbs resting upon the sheets that felt rougher than the ones on the White Dawn, but the bed was comfortable.
"Local time?" he called into the air.
"It is 07:15, Doctor Sun," the voice of his wristpad responded from nearby, making Meng's ears flicker. He tried to remember where in the room he had put the device, looking about as much as he could without raising his head from the pillow.
"Locator light."
A red flash appeared on the corner of his eye, and turning his head, he realised that it was coming from under the bed.
"Ah."
Meng rolled to his side and grabbed the wristpad which he brought up and returned to his back. The numbers scrolling onto the display told him that it indeed was that time, and he had about half an hour before he was expected to be seen in the mess hall for the science team's breakfast meeting before they would start touring the facilities.
The red panda felt excited about the prospect, enough to put a flicker into his tail and ears. He would finally be getting back to work, last night had been a shambles in that respect, the staff of Project Hänschen-Klein more keen on making chatter than hearing his latest ideas about recombination and intron sequencing. Today, he was sure of it, they would be more amenable to listening and talking about science instead of idle talk. Socialisation could come once he had managed to unload all the ideas he had come up with during the long flight to Germany, besides him providing them with all the Manila data he had brought with him that they had not been able to send to Hänschen-Klein over their very temperamental satellite connection. There was simply so much work to do that it filled his mind, and everything else felt superfluous in comparison to the fact that perhaps him, with these people, could be the one to make the final step...
There were some mundane things to be done before that, though, personal maintenance he just had to get over with. He got out of the bed, stretched, yawned, and fetched his toiletries from his bag - which had finally been delivered by the soldiers when it was after midnight in the facility, and he had already gone to bed in his day clothes, feeling immensely tired after such a long day. He took out his towel, toothbrush, some germ toothpaste and his fur brush before heading out into the hallway outside the steel door into his room.
The corridor was a maze, with signs pointing out directions on most walls, which only did so much to help him navigate the confusion. Here too, as everywhere else in the facility, the scale was out of proportion with the amount of people actually present - the areas designed for hundreds only populated by a few now. He walked about slowly, towel over his arm, personal effects clutched in one paw, while he wandered along the many intersections. Why should it be so confusing, he thought? He just had to -
A nearby door opened, one with a faded, painted number on it, and a tiger emerged, clad in a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless T-shirt of the sort Meng knew used to be called a wifebeater, showing arms rippling with muscle as much as the feline's stripes.
"Good morning, sir!" the tiger greeted him formally.
"Morning," Meng replied quietly.
The tiger closed the door behind him and began down the corridor in the opposite direction from Meng -
"Sir!"
Meng turned about to see the tiger looking at him, across the corridor. The cat appeared somewhat questioning in his gaze over to the red panda.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Can I help you with anything, sir?" the tiger asked. "Anything you need?"
Meng flicked his ears, briefly. He must've looked even more lost than he thought he did.
"I'm actually trying to find the bathroom," he said, "could you maybe direct me to the washing facilities? I like to freshen up before breakfast."
"I was actually just heading there myself, sir!" the tiger smiled. "You can follow me if you like. It's not far from here!"
"That is fine," the red panda said. "Lead on, please!"
"Sure! I'll show you the way!" the tiger's tail swung about behind him as he made a little turn once more. "Just over here, sir!"
Meng still found it somewhat awkward, the earnest politeness and speed with which these soldiers bestowed that title upon him, despite him being a civilian member of the project. He did understand the implication of respect, him being a senior researcher despite his young age, but still...these men were men of war, of a wholly different life to his own. Their minds were different...as were their bodies, incidentally, he had to admit, as he watched the tiger walk with steady, deliberate steps that showcased his muscled body. He hadn't known hunger, Meng thought, he could eat at will and put his energies into honing his body and his movements, and his skills. He must've had a great appetite, Meng thought, idly, as they tramped through the echoing, green-painted corridors of the base, passing even further soldiers joining into the throng, moving about on their business.
"And here it is!" the tiger announced once they reached a particular door. "No need to be sparing with the water, either, we've got our own reclamation plant, heheh!"
"Good to know," the red panda said.
They went through the door, where the corridor became tiled in white, and made a bend to the left and then right, to form a kind of a barrier between the corridor and the actual room. He could already hear the noise of laughter and the swooshing of water. It echoed off the walls, even before they rounded the final corner of modesty and entered the showers themselves.
It was a long, narrow space, with about twenty showerheads separated only by flimsy curtains - their plastic somewhat frayed with age, but still hanging in their place. Water ran freely from the showers that were turned on, and half a dozen furs were already enjoying the promised copious water and some shampoo. They were scrubbing themselves with obvious pleasure. This much Meng could tell from the occasional rumble and guffaws of laughter the men let out .
"...yep!"
"Hahah!"
Laughter rang through the room, and the red panda noticed that some of it was coming from a familiar face, the Doberman Colonel Wieland from the last night. The dog didn't seem to have any qualms about showering with his subordinates. The military canine was covered in suds of soap while he chattered to a pearly white Dogo Argentino luxuriating underneath the next showerhead by the Commander of the entire facility.
"Just hop in, sir!" the tiger told Meng, already starting to shuck off his clothes. "And if there's no free showerheads, you can always squeeze in with someone else, heheh!"
The tiger sauntered over towards them, where a few open lockers were located, with olive-colored towels hanging from hooks within most of them. The tiger seemed to home in on a particular one, for he took his shirt off, folded it cursorily and put it onto the shelf.
"Oh, sir! You can have one of the ones that don't have a label on them, we've all got our own!" the tiger said. "Can get the quartermaster to print a label for you too!"
"Hmmm...thank you," Meng commented. "I think I would like that."
"GUTEN MORGEN!" bellowed the Doberman, as he seemed to notice Meng's presence. The Colonel was soaping his head furs, ducked away from the stream of water so that it kept running comfortably over his back. " How goes, Mister Meng?"
"That's..." Meng started, but stopped before he added a 'Mister' , instead saying, "...that's actually Mister Sun. Sun Meng."
"Gotcha!" the dog flicked a wet ear at him. "Hope you slept well!"
"It was adequate," the red panda answered.
He heard some snickering from behind himself while he turned to face the row of lockers. Meng tried to seek out one that didn't seem to be already reserved. He found one near the tiger, who was now down to his skivvies and slipped those off his rump as well before depositing the underwear into his locker. The tiger sauntered over to the showers, tail flicking about, and got a few good-natured greeting ear flicks from the various soldiers loitering beneath the waters. Even the station commander himself waved a friendly paw at the newcomer. The tiger was all smiles when he took a spot under one of the showerheads and let it run over his muzzle, head shaking from side to side in pleasure.
Meng spied the tiger's bathing for a few moments, but decided then that he had his own toilet to perform as well. His clothing was deposited into the open shelf of the locker, and he checked that the towel provided was indeed dry. His little fussing around was soon done , and then it was time to approach the showers.
"Excuse me..." the red panda spoke.
The Dogo Argentino seemed to pick on his words first, considering how his ears flicked up and down and sent droplets of water flying.
"Sup?" asked the dog.
"Where do you acquire the detergent?" Meng asked.
Someone giggled roughly. Meng's own ears flicked back and forth at the almost barking sound. Must've been one of the canines in the room. Even the tiger he had encountered in the corridor was looking over to him now, standing there, nude and with his eyes wandering curiously about the shower area.
"Djo'mean the soap?" asked the dog.
"Yes," Meng said, "the soap...ah...shampoo? Whatever you call it?"
"Sure, heh, here you go!" the white dog replied.
He walked away from under his shower and moved only a short way over to a grey plastic box attached to the wall. From its underside hung a transparent, plastic nozzle of sorts, filled with the milky soap. To Meng it looked like a rubber teat for babies to suck on.
"You just put your paw under here," said the dogo argentino as he placed his paw palm up below the nozzle, "and then you...squeeze..."
He gripped the plastic nozzle, which seemed to be quite soft, and stroked up and down while squeezing on it. The motion squirted ropes of soap onto his palm that crisscrossed goo over it.
"Like this, sir!" the dog grinned with his tongue lolling out of his muzzle. "Shouldn't be too difficult."
"It's a motion he knows well!" someone barked from the other side of the room.
The Dogo Argentino chuckled roughly and glanced over to the showers in search of the culprit. He seemed to find one in a smirking black-haired human whose green eyes flashed with mirth.
"Speaking from experience, are you, Korla?" he retaliated with an unbothered smirk.
"At least I can find mine, unlike you!" the soldier called right back.
Meng felt somewhat guilty for his eyes catching a sight of the soldier's groin, where indeed one could very well see the parts that he was more used to having hidden from direct view, when it came to his own anatomy.
"I've got something nice dangling down here too..." the Dogo wagged his tail.
"Thank you," the red panda mumbled as he squeezed some of the shampoo onto his own paw and then dashed to one of the showers, a few heads away from the main crowd, and turned on the tap once he figured out how it worked.
"You're all talk, Braulio!"
Meng's ears flopped down under the rush of water that glued his furs down smoothly over his lean body. He had to admit that the warm water felt wonderful after the rudimentary facilities of the airship. He liked how it soaked his thick tail and made it heavy, fully clogged. Even that felt like a luxury, in its own way.
"Remember that we've got a guest here now, men!" Meng could make out the voice of the Doberman again.
Some of the soldiers laughed, even hearing this. Meng wondered whether that really was good conduct from them. It was either that or the Colonel was quite lax when it came to discipline. The White Dawn might have been a civilian ship but it ran like clockwork as far as the crew was concerned.
"Jawohl!" someone called back.
Meng turned the water down to a trickle and began to lather himself up with the shampoo he'd held in his cupped palm. It was only mildly scented, his nose detected, while the process of producing foam began.
"Need a paw, sir?"
Meng continued to wash himself. He didn't pay any particular attention to the banter continuing in the showers.
"Hey, sir, panda sir!"
Now he realised that the speaker had to be addressing him and not anyone else. Meng turned his muzzle away from the wall and turned about to face the source of the noise, whom was revealed to be the tiger from before, now showering nearby.
"Yes?" Meng spoke softly.
"Me and Braulio were wondering if you needed a paw with that," the tiger replied.
Meng's ears flicked back and forth, a sure sign of his curiosity and in this case, confusion. The tiger looked quite serious, yet the white dog behind him was obviously smirking away. That was odd to the red panda.
"Excuse me?" he stated.
"Well, sir, we heard that in Taewoon all you do all day is lie in the sun while girls rub oil on you," the tiger smiled broadly, flashing white teeth as he did so.
Guffaws of laughter rang around the room.
"...and we were wondering if you needed some help since you're flying solo now!" the tiger added.
The laughter got only louder. Even the Doberman Colonel seemed to be joining in it, Meng could tell. He felt heat creep onto the insides of his ears that had nothing to do with the warm water that had been running over them.
"Hmm, I think I will manage," Meng said. "Thank you."
"Are we not pretty enough for you, sir?" the white dog added to the tiger's earlier proposal.
"Oh noooo..." the tiger warbled.
Now Meng could feel the heat flow even lower down, over his cheeks and even to his neck. Everyone was laughing, and they were not only laughing at the tiger and the dog making their jokes, but they were really making fun of him.
"Easy now, men," the red panda could hear the Doberman speak, though half-heartedly, he could tell by the grin that hadn't disappeared from the canine's muzzle.
"It's not our fault if he's a sensitive sort, sir!" the tiger chuckled.
Even more laughter.
Meng didn't want to take any more of that. He turned off the tap and rushed to the lockers by the wall, to grab his towel into one paw and his toiletry items into the other paw before he disappeared into the turn in the hallway that led into the shower room, wet tail swinging behind him.
"Awwww," the Dogo Argentino shook his head at the sight of the disappearing tail.
"Too much?" the tiger commented.
"Nope, don't think so," the white dog wagged his tail while offering his paw to the tiger for a fist bump.
"That's quite enough!" Colonel Wieland barked.
The jesting duo's ears quickly assumed a more downwards slope. The Doberman looked angry.
"That was putting it on a bit thick," the Doberman said.
"Sorry, sir," the tiger muttered.
"Just welcoming him to our team, like anyone else," the Dogo Argentino said.
"There's a place and time for that kind of thing, Acuña!" the officer's voice came out sharper now. "And you have to know when to stop. You got it?"
"Yes, sir," the white dog said.
"Good," the Doberman flicked his ears sharply. "The same goes for you, Mou."
"Yes, sir," the tiger said.
"Humph," Colonel Wieland seemed to direct his final sneer at the whole bunch of soldiers as a whole, "carry on with your showering now! Assembly soon!"
They were much less keen to do their usual banter after that interruption.
*
Meng's upset was only made worse by the fact that he got lost while he tried to find his way back into his room. The red panda had to ask for assistance from a passing soldier, whom tried to do his best at being polite while pointing out the correct directions to the scientist whom dripped water onto the floor and covered his modesty only from the front with a rumpled towel. Meng didn't really register his relative nudity, but made the rest of the way back into his quarters with his bare ass flashing to anyone who might have seen it.
The red panda's tail and ears flicked uncomfortably once he was in the solitude of his suite. The air conditioning felt much too powerful now when his damp fur began to cause a chill on his skin.
What a bunch of idiots!
Meng tossed his toiletries away and began to dry himself with the towel to the best of his ability. He was glad that at least the majority of the soap suds were gone, which meant that he didn't have to go back to the shower room to clear the rest away. The grooming and the toothbrushing he could do on the sink in one corner of the room, he thought.
What should I have expected?
The red panda frowned. He was not happy with the dirty remarks that had been going on, but he was even less pleased with his own behavior in dealing with them. Of course they had no right to heckle him, even if he was the proverbial new guy. Meng knew how it worked, he was no stranger to tight communities.
Hell, every group tended to prefer to stick to their own nowadays, Meng thought. It was no surprise that these people were not particularly keen on him, or at the very least wanted to test his patience.
Whatever those transhumanists were thinking when they made us, they probably didn't think just how much we'd like hazing one another.
Meng's muzzle felt matted while he used the least wet corner of his towel to dry his face. It had the vague smell of the shower room still lingering on it.
Pricks.
He knew coming to Germany was a massive step, not only because of the hardships involved in the logistics, but the entire experience, from the very fact that he would be an entirely new factor in what must've been a precariously running machinery that was The Castle. He was the proverbial...
Meng had to think about the right metaphor to use.
"Spanner in the cogs?" the red panda murmured to himself.
He hung the pillow to dry from a hook on the wall and pulled on a fresh pair of underwear and a T-shirt. Meng was glad to find that the sink in his room did provide both cold and hot water. He began to brush his teeth and wondered whether he could skip such communal showers by washing himself by the sink.
Fool!
He spat out a wad of toothpaste. Meng looked at himself on the mirror. He looked like he had chewed an antacid tablet, one was meant to dissolve in water.
"Boo!" the red panda declared to himself.
Meng stuck the brush back into his maw and went to town on his molars.
Just don't show them you're pissed off.
That sounded like a stillborn idea, thought the red panda while he carried on his brushing. He'd already caused a bit of a scene in the shower room with him rushing out of the place. Of course he had the right to, they were poking fun at him and even the commanding officer had joined in on the fun.
I may have to talk with someone who is really in charge.
He'd meet all of them today, anyway. He was meant to find Doctor Tennenbaum and report to her for his familiarisation to begin. Perhaps he could also drop a word to that effect with her. She had to hold sway with the military staff as well. Surely no harassment was tolerated in the facility. The work they were doing was much too important for them to let something so petty to interfere with it.
Meng dipped his muzzle down under the tap and rinsed his maw.
*
Meng had lost his appetite due to his head working at an overdrive on the shower incident and the work of the day, and he decided that he could quite comfortably skip lunch and instead head to the scheduled meeting with his boss. Once dressed, he headed out into the hallways again, hoping that he would not encounter any of his bullies from the showers. His luck held all the way until he was on one of the stair landings and had to walk past the white dog he'd met earlier. Meng quickly averted his eyes to the wall and simply hurried on his own way.
The brief encounter still managed to put some heat to his cheeks, and he felt uncharacteristically flustered upon his arrival to the main laboratory level. He was glad that the soldier manning the guardpost there was not someone he had met before.
"...Doctor Meng Tian Sun..." the guard said.
"That's Sun Tian Meng," the red panda replied. "But yes, that is me."
"The new guy?" the guard asked.
"You could say so," Meng said. "I am here for Doctor Tennenbaum."
"Yes, sir," said the guard. "Right away, sir."
At least this was a proper soldier, Meng thought, watching the man grab a phone receiver and dial.
"...a Doctor Meng here...yes...yes, Doctor...right away, thank you, Doctor."
The phone was put down.
"Doctor Tennenbaum will be here momentarily, sir," the guard said.
"Thank you."
He didn't have time to be antsy for too long. Doctor Tennenbaum entered on her powered wheelchair via a corridor to the right.
"Good morning!" she sounded cheerful while buzzing about to meet the red panda.
"Doctor," Meng bowed.
"I trust you slept well?" Doctor Tennenbaum asked.
"It took some time to get used to being on solid ground again," Meng noted.
"Or underneath it, rather!" the woman giggled.
"Quite." Meng said.
"Shall we?" she proposed.
"I am ready," Meng said.
"You look like it!" Doctor Tennenbaum smiled. "Wonderful. It may be a long day ahead of us."
"I am used to that, Doctor," Meng noted. "It will be no problem."
And here I'm hidden away from anyone who wants to give me a backrub and tease me about it, he thought.
"We shall go in this direction," Tennenbaum pointed out the corridor.
They set along the way, the red panda alongside the woman and minding that his tail would not get tangled anywhere rotating.
"Hope you don't mind the light down here," Tennenbaum mused as they moved along, "many tend to find it somewhat...gloomy, on occasion, and prefer to take trips to the topside to enjoy the sunlight."
"I will keep that in mind, should the need arise," Meng replied.
Tennenbaum smiled.
"I was just thinking, remembering how it sometimes makes sleeping difficult," she noted.
"Thank you for your concern," Meng said.
"Sometimes I wish these corridors weren't quite so long though...especially when I'm walking on my own feet..." the Doctor continued her conversation.
Meng glanced at the wheelchair, but did not comment verbally, rather offering simply a small smile. She always dealt with her own infirmity in the most discreet manner.
One more corner, and they were facing only a short stretch of the vaulted corridor, terminating in a pair of heavy doors.
"And here," Doctor Tennenbaum pointed out the blast doors, "here is what we could call the inner sanctum...this is where the Project truly...happens."
Meng gave a small nod.
"I am delighted to finally be here," he said.
The Doctor entered a key code into the panel by the doors and they opened slowly under hydraulic power. Another guard post was located beyond these doors, manned by a chipper-looking fox in his booth. The hallway's color scheme turned into a shade of white and grey instead of the pea-like green of the main complex. A few meters down, a pair of glass doors stood adorned with a stylized logo that depicted the globe of the Earth speared by the snake-coiled Staff of Aesculapius. The letters 'UPI' balanced on top of the hilt of the staff.
"And here we are...Project Hänschen-Klein branch of the Universal Propagation Initiative," Doctor Tennenbaum mused, "say whatever poetic thing that comes to mind about it, but this is where we hope to turn the tide. Plain and simple."
"That's why I am here," Meng replied.
"Let's go and see where Michel is, he has promised to join us for the tour and to give a small presentation about the most current research we have going on," she said, "I thought it'd be good for you to see what our teams are doing here, and to see how you will fit in."
"Of course," the red panda said.
Doctor Tennenbaum led the way into the corridor, with her wheelchair buzzing along the way. The laboratory section felt more like a hospital than the generally bunker-like conditions that persisted elsewhere in the underground base. It was very expansive, as well. The signage on the walls indicated the way into several levels and sections with fanciful names, and further junctions led into further parts of the facility that they simply passed for now.
"Where shall we find Doctor Michel?" Meng asked as they passed a series of stairs with a sign announcing that they led to the "PATHOLOGY" level.
"He should be in DNA extraction. He has been working on some fresh samples we've got from the north..."
Two further turns, and she singled out a door marked "EXTRACTION" and they entered after the customary key code entry. This laboratory was in the shape of an elongated room that was mostly filled with two rows of ventilation cabinets side by side against each wall, and on the center, tables with shelves above them and loaded with glass containers, plastic-wrapped packages and laboratory equipment in a rather haphazard order.
Meng's ears dropped as soon as they entered - a shrill buzzing noise was present, and it seemed to have the ability to make his gums resonate, as impossible as that was. The room was otherwise deserted but for the rumpled shape of a Rottweiler sitting on one of the workstations, white-coated, leaning against the glass of the suction hood so close that his nosepad pressed against its surface. His paws were working inside the cabinet, and remained there even when he flicked his head over to see the entrants.
"Good morning, Michel," Doctor Tennenbaum said mildly.
"Yes," the dog replied.
Meng contented himself with a simple nod as they approached along the aisle between the unused suction hoods and the overflowing tables, getting closer to the source of the buzzing noise. It was terminated soon enough by a movement from the Rottweiler who removed his paws from the cabinet, covered in white gloves stained with dust.
"We had some breakfast and we are now touring a little," Tennenbaum said. "How are you?"
"Busy," the dog said. "These samples aren't extracting themselves."
"Procurement of DNA samples from the bones is one of Michel's responsibilities," Tennenbaum noted. "They are the cornerstone of our programme to attempt to understand the nature of the dysgenic crisis and its origins, which of course helps us in determining the best ways to tackle the problem."
"Your results have always been most impressive," Meng commented. "I have been reviewing them throughout my trip here."
"Impressive?" the Rottweiler let out a snort. "Inconclusive, more like, and that is nothing to be happy about under these circumstances."
"But it is the start," Tennenbaum said. "When we get to the root of things, we are closer to the answer to this crisis, once and for all, besides the stopgap measures that have been going on for a hundred years."
The dog pulled off his gloves and laid them down onto the surface of his workstation before he closed a sliding door to seal off the cabinet, containing the noisy drilling equipment and what looked like a humerus on a pair of stationary pincers that kept it still for the extraction. A hit of a switch turned off the fan that had been removing the dust from the drilling, and it became very quiet by the suction hood .
"Hmmmyes..." he said. "I presume I'm supposed to tag along now?"
"If you would," Tennenbaum said. "You are more able at pointing out things, as you are, Michel."
The Rottweiler glared at the seated woman.
"The old body playing possum again?"
The scientist in the wheelchair smiled briefly.
"I've had to increase my pyridostigmine, but I am fine," Tennenbaum said. "I shall be fine. I have talked with Doctor Salo."
"You push yourself too hard," the dog said.
"I do not deny that, either, Michel," she replied.
"Humph," the dog harrumphed. "I suppose I shall have to take over or you shall literally work yourself to death."
The two engaged themselves in a brief staring match before the Rottweiler sneezed in the manner only canines could accomplish, rubbed his muzzle, and yawned, showing his tonsils and fangs quite openly. Meng wasn't intimidated, it was simply a lot of oral cavity in one go.
"Perhaps you could tell us what you were doing right now," Tennenbaum proposed.
Michel waved his paw at the suction cabinet.
"They went digging around on a Catholic graveyard in Stettin, up north," he said. "One of our forward teams, that is, for procuring bone material for DNA sequencing. We are targeting anything between 2000 and 2050 in the hopes of finding samples as close to the beginning of the dysgenics crisis as possible."
"To find some of the original genetic mutations responsible," Meng commented.
"To find out why the world fertility rate suddenly plummeted and why the average life expectancy halved after hitting 110 in 2045 in the developed world," the Rottweiler replied. "To find out what went wrong, whether someone did it on purpose, and whether we can do anything to turn the tide."
Meng found the dog's tirade almost amusing, especially considering the circumstances. Hadn't the scientists at the time thought - in their almost divine confidence - that splicing non-human genes into the great genome would eliminate the problems and give the entire human species an injection of much needed vitality? Meng wondered how old Michel was. He hadn't seen his personnel file, and he could only guess. He suspected third generation. That's how long these animal men had been walking the earth alongside the more mundane and increasingly scarce examples of homo sapiens.
He couldn't have been older than forty, Meng thought. He hadn't really seen anyone older than that in the base, and rarely in Taiwan, too.
It was a young man's world now.
"And that's why we are here, aren't we?" Meng spoke, his introspection done, eyes drawn away from the big bone in its protective case.
"To make a lot of babies," Tennenbaum chuckled. "Who live a long time and make a lot more babies."
'And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it:" and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.'
Both the Rottweiler and the woman turned to look at Meng, who had just stopped his quoting.
"Do you seriously remember that stuff?" Michel asked.
The red panda nodded.
" Just something that I was reminded of," Meng replied. "Isn't that what we are trying to do?"
"Sometimes I wonder if God should've just left His tap running this time around like He did the last time when he wanted to get rid of us," Michel said. "Us melting the polar ice caps wasn't enough, it seems."
The Doctor chuckled.
"We might have done that, but there wasn't enough water in the polar caps to wash the entire world with...a...oh, what is the word now, I can't seem to remember the word in English...ah... Die Sintflut...hmmm..." the Doctor seemed to be struggling with her vocabulary as she resorted to her native German, "what is it..."
"Déluge," the dog commented.
"I think that is the word in English as well," Meng replied. "Deluge. The great flood."
"Ach, that's it!" Doctor Tennenbaum sounded pleased by the revelation.
"Hmmmph," Michel rumbled. "We are wasting time playing Trivial Pursuit. We should move on like we agreed on. Where to first?"
"We should start with the gene bank, " Tennenbaum said. "Show what we have, physically so."
"Alright," Michel replied. "Let's go. I've had enough of bones for now."
They filed out of the laboratory. Michel sneezed loudly soon after.
"Merde," he coughed.
"Gesundheit," Tennenbaum commented.
"I bet the filters are clogged up again," the Rottweiler grumbled. "I don't like it. Who know what I might have been inhaling with the dust! HRSA, super AIDS, tuberculosis, D-resistant plague..."
"I presume your samples are sterilized externally before you begin extraction of the marrow remains?" Meng questioned.
"Of course they are!" the dog declared. "Our samples must be handled with care. Our men have been digging around everywhere, from war graves to mass graves and everything in between. The things they might be exposed to..."
"That is why we have precautions, Michel," Tennenbaum noted.
"Hmmmm."
They wandered along the corridor at a leisurely pace, set by Doctor Tennenbaum. They passed a familiar face, the badger from the previous night, but other than that, even the laboratory appeared to be deserted for the moment.
"Is everyone working?" Meng wondered aloud.
"More or less," Michel said.
"You'll get to meet everyone in time," Tennenbaum said. "We mostly get together for the meal times and departmental meetings. Besides that, everyone tends to keep working with their own things."
"It was very much so in Taipei as well," Meng said.
Several twists of the corridor brought them to a shiny stainless steel door that reminded Meng more of the sections of the bunker outside the laboratory area. Michel entered his keycode to let them in.
"I don't think we want to go through the whole decon hullabaloo," the Rottweiler commented as they entered into an anteroom of sorts, equipped with several computer consoles and a little more besides a door marked "DECONTAMINATION AIRLOCK' and a large triple-glazed window opening into the room beyond.
"No," Meng said.
"Come take a look!" Tennenbaum told while she buzzed over to the window.
Meng followed the wheelchair-driving woman and then let his eyes adjust to the somewhat dimly lit space on the other side of the thick window. The room was not particularly impressive, at least when it came to its furnishings. Several cylinder-like containers sat on the floor, and half a dozen stainless steel fridges sat on the other. A few cabinets with glass doors completed the utilitarian decor.
"Here is where I believe the truth lies, ultimately," Tennenbaum whispered softly. "In the past."
"And the present," Michel cut in. "We have an extensive collection programme for genome samples from everyone here, and anyone we can talk into being sampled, really."
"I am sure that Michel will insist on sticking his needle at your arm as well in the near future," Tennenbaum said.
"Whenever it is convenient," the dog barked out.
"I shall oblige you," Meng nodded briefly. He didn't want to alienate anyone else in his very first day at the Castle.
"Our oldest original samples go to the very beginning of the 21st century," Tennenbaum explained, "heritage samples from our predecessors. That doesn't include Michel's DNA extractions that go even further back, although at a reduced quality, of course."
"It is truly miraculous that even as much as we do have has survived here," Meng mused. "It is not quite so lucky everywhere."
"In the old days, libraries were razed by fire," Michel said, "our biggest enemy is the power being cut and the freezers melting."
"At least that is not the danger here, Michel," Tennenbaum said. "We are quite safe in that regard."
"I don't trust all this equipment," Michel said, "Nobody's been making this stuff in over 50 years."
"This place was built to last," Tennenbaum retorted. "Those people knew what they were against."
"Nobody does yet," Michel said.
"Time," the woman said. "This place was built to withstand time. To give us the chance to still do something about everything that's been going on."
"We've got 50,000 samples in ice and we still don't have the answer," Michel pointed out the freezer room through the window.
"But we're still looking" Tennenbaum said. "And that is what matters."
"We won't stop until every single avenue has been explored," Meng added, "and then we'll find a new one, and go through that."
The Rottweiler rumbled.
"You already got the job," Michel said, "you don't have to try to impress us anymore."
"I think my work will speak for itself," the red panda sounded unbothered in his reply.
Doctor Tennenbaum smiled, and turned her chair so that she was facing both of the men in the dimly lit room.
"It does," she said. "And we have only seen very little of it. Like you have only seen so little of ours.
"Where to next?"
"Biostatistics is the next department," Tennenbaum said.
Michel clicked his tongue.
"There's nothing much there in the way of genetics," the dog said.
"I would still like to see," Meng said.
"Onwards, then!" said Tennenbaum.
*
The room was loaded with computer equipment, which did not surprise Meng, but the smell of very old paper and plastic aroused the red panda's olfactory senses, upon their entry into the Biostatistics department. Here too it was quiet, although alcoves nearby had lights in them.
"Ah, yes...been a while since I was here," Tennenbaum mused. "The aisles are somewhat narrow for me to go on when I need my chair."
Meng observed the rows of archive shelves, of the sort that were stacked together and manipulated with a system of wheels and pulleys to open up the spaces between them whenever someone wanted access to whatever they were looking for.
"This is where it usually begins, whenever we want to explore a new theory," Michel said. "You dive into the statistics to find out what kind of trends appeared at which time."
"A good epidemiological approach, that," Meng agreed.
"Our predecessors and their predecessors scourged all of Germany for population records, church records, anything they could've gotten their hands into," Micel noted, "the computers have everything we've managed to acquire, running close to the collapse of the European Confederation. After that nobody has been keeping records like that."
"Besides our own local files, of course, but the number of people involved are not really statistically important," Tennenbaum added. "It's more of a staff record."
"At least it tells which bones are most interesting to dig," Michel said.
"And of the global trends," Meng said, "our data comparison has already indicated that the dysgenics epidemic began approximately at the same time both in Europe and in the Far East."
"Already a very important find we could not have made without our cooperation," Tennenbaum stated.
"I'm not surprised," Michel said, "back then everything travelled fast. Global pandemics were the norm for every new bug that surfaced, whether it killed a lot of people or only a few. To think what could have passed under the radar while everyone was fighting away super AIDS or the Yemo Virus or the Indian Flu, just to mention a few."
"At least we can rule those out, for most part," Tennenbaum said. "The population statistics indicate that their death toll would have caused only brief demographic changes, at least in Europe and other developed areas. The effects of multiple-resistant pathogens were much more notable at the time, before the introduction of the new recombinant chemotherapeutic agents."
Meng cleared his throat before the two colleagues could get into a more indepth discussion over that particular topic.
"As fascinating as these population trends are, we must remember that the greatest riddle is the question of the poor neonatal survival that could not be linked to any of these considerations," Meng noted.
Michel's ears flapped and swiveled.
"Do not forget the Serneholt Hypothesis," the dog lectured. "In-utero viral exposure - "
"Nobody has managed to find any single or multiple pathogens that would have proliferated and caused such a great epidemic of poor gestation and multiple sequelae as was seen from 2070's onwards and leading into the observed population crisis at the end of the century," Meng retorted. "The Serneholt Hypothesis has not been proven."
"Nor entirely ruled out either," Michel said quickly. "Not even after so many people have tried."
"I did not know that you are such an adherent of the Hypothesis," Meng commented to the Rottweiler.
The dog appeared indignant.
"It is but one of the possible pathways into the population crisis," he said. "Without knowing anything for sure, we have to keep looking into every possible venue before we make any assumptions to one way or the other."
"I am sure both of your concerns are valid, gentlemen," Doctor Tennenbaum spoke up, "but indeed they remain individual theories into the issue at hand, and we cannot issue final judgment until we have explored them even further."
"I was not arguing!" Michel snapped.
"Neither was I," Meng noted.
"Intellectual debate is what keeps the inquiring mind active," Tennenbaum said after clearing her throat.
"Speaking of which," the red panda cut in, "I would like to see the genetics section next, if possible, since that is where I will be working. I would also like to see whether my samples have been successfully unloaded there."
"Indeed," Tennenbaum nodded, "I suppose we can skip the Pharmacology department for the moment, unless you would like to see the bioreactors, perhaps."
"I understand I will have my own," Meng replied," and I would wish to inspect them."
"As you wish," Michel said. "Let's go to the elevator. It's on the upper level, and I presume you don't want to take the stairs, Doctor Tennenbaum."
"Perhaps tomorrow," the woman answered. "I expect that my legs will have made a recovery by then. The stairs are good exercise."
"Hmmmmmmmmmhhppppph," Michel gave very much a canine rumble.
"The elevator for now, I presume," Meng added.
"indeed," she replied.
They crammed into the elevator. It's confined space reminded Meng of the seemingly endless trip on the airship. The rattling box only increased Meng's resolve to get out of the base at some point and take a proper walk in the woods on the topside. As long as he didn't wander onto some makeshift cemetery, the red panda thought.
The trio landed into a corridor that led them to a door marked with the usual biohazard warnings plastered everywhere. The stainless steel interior of the room they were admitted in was clinical to the utmost, and with a reason.
"STAND STILL DURING DECONTAMINATION," a disembodied voice emanated from loudspeakers.
"Remember your eyes," Doctor Tennenbaum said.
Meng crunched his shut just when another alarm bell rang, and they were bathed in what he knew to be ultraviolet light, to destroy any foreign biological matter they might be carrying with them. At the same time, the red panda's ears picked up a hiss from the vents near the floor. The disinfectant spray gave an extra cleaning to their filthiest body part, their feet, which of course, Meng Knew, could carry contaminants all around the base.
"PRESSURE EQUALISATION."
His ears popped with the drop in air pressure. Meng swallowed quickly.
"CYCLE COMPLETE."
The inner door opened and allowed them to move forward. Beyond this point, everything was clinically white, and glass doors separated sections from one another. Meng began to feel excited. He was finally going to see his new laboratory, instead of simply looking at a report, or a map.
"Automatic sequencing laboratory is to the left here," Doctor Tennenbaum gestured," to the right, the embryological pathology laboratory and the cellular culture and bioreactor room. Ahead are the electrophoresis room, the conference room and the virtual reality applications room."
"It is a most impressive setup," Meng commented. "It pleases me to see everything run so well and in such an orderly fashion."
"If we did not take care of the equipment, we would be down to working with beakers and pipettes," Michel grumbled. "Which we often do, when it all breaks down."
"As long as it still works," said Doctor Tennenbaum.
"And much can be done, too," Meng said.
"What would you like to see first?" Doctor Tennenbaum asked.
"Pathology," Meng said. "I want to see what you do with the animals."
"Of course," she replied. "Michel?"
"I still prefer the bones," the Rottweiler muttered.
Grumblings or not, Michel led them through the doors and into the special laboratory itself. Here the lights were low, and many of the shelves over the tables contained glass bottles in which spooky blue, gelatinous shapes floated. Meng started to understand why the Rottweiler would prefer a tibia to the glass vessels with their malformed foetuses, stained with chemicals to ease the investigation.
"The animals are kept in the animal lab," Michel said," this is where any autopsies are made, besides of course the fertilisation of the embryos before implantation into the hosts."
"Including the dysgenics model?" Meng asked.
"All series, yes," Tennenbaum said.
"Theoretical models," Michel added. "They are mere extrapolations of the possible course of the crisis."
"As is all our work," Meng said, "until we find the right one."
"And before we do, we can look at these, for the gross and cellular pathologies," Tennenbaum said. "Search for clues."
"I'm still sure it's in the bones," Michel said. "And once we've dug up enough of them, the statistical model will reveal the culprit."
"Which will be very useful knowledge, once our recombinant DNA method will bring us its first practical applications," Meng said.
"Yes," ruffed the dog. "You cannot understand the future without knowing the past. And you intend to create a new future, do you not?"
"Preferably one that we will see," Meng said.
"Natürlich," said Doctor Tennenbaum.
"Hopefully somewhere else," Michel snorted. "It smells like formaldehyde here."
"Perhaps the scent in the bioreactor room will be more to your liking, Michel," Doctor Tennenbaum said. "Rather more earthly."
They proceeded on their way, accompanied by Michel's harrumphs. To Meng's nose, the scent in the room they entered was more akin to an overheated radiator. The source of the smell laid in the row of cylindrical tanks that stood in a row by one of the walls, each of them as tall as a man. Smaller units of vaguely similar appearance stood on the other side of the room. A mess of cables and tubes spiraled into them from the ceiling, where countless numbers of them ran on installation rails. The air was warm, and felt heavy to breathe.
"You did not make false suggestions about the smell, Doctor," Meng noted to Tennenbaum.
"We're in the process of rebuilding the heat exchanger to reduce the temperature here," Doctor Tennenbaum replied. "Four new units were recently started to produce extra culture medium for the cytoplasmic injection studies."
"The men were not happy," Michel said. "They had to stop making one of their lagers."
"Excuse me?" Meng felt the need to ask.
"506 over there - " the Rottweiler pointed out the steel vessel, "Used to be the source of Corporal Anselm's favorite beer."
Meng frowned.
"The soldiers are using the laboratory equipment for making alcohol?" the red panda sounded unhappy. Somehow he wasn't even surprised by this revelation.
"Everyone is using them for making alcohol," Tennenbaum said. "As long as it doesn't damage the equipment and it has a morale-improving effect on the staff, Colonel Wieland lets it happen."
Meng grimaced.
"But this is extremely sensitive equipment!" his voice gained both volume and pitch. "Our ability to produce the basic enzymes and reactants for our research is entirely based on the function of these bioreactors! What if there is contamination - "
"They did wash it before it was brought here," Michel said.
Meng swallowed. The dog's attitude was starting to annoy him. Was everyone starting to lose it down here?
"Are you serious?" he had to ask.
"Of course the strictest of cleanliness is observed," Doctor Tennenbaum seemed to sense the red panda's reaction, and cut in. "Everything is thoroughly sterilised."
"Besides, it's grounds for serendipitous discovery as well," said Michel. "One batch of spelt beer included an fungal contaminant that turned out to be a fantastic antibiotic against gram-negative bacteria. You'll be happy for that accident the next time typhoid fever breaks out."
"Typhoid?!" Meng gasped.
"We had six cases, about two years ago," the Rottweiler replied. "One of our recon teams made the mistake of eating with some locals somewhere to the east of here. It was not...hygienic."
"Nasty strain, too," Tennenbaum said. "The Pakistani variety that became resistant to most antibiotics already in the 2060's or so."
"But not to that little thing from Corporal Anselm's brewery," Michel mused.
"It doesn't help with this whole repopulation plan that you can die from a simple scratch, with the lack of even basic medical care in most places," Tennenbaum mused. "Let alone other things."
Their obvious enthusiasm made Meng reluctant to comment on the issue further. He still did not like the sound of it, however, of the irreplaceable bioreactors being used for frivolous purposes, accidental medical discoveries or not.
"Hopefully there is a free one for my recombinant studies," the red panda decided to lay some claim to his territory, either way. "I need to produce several special strains from the samples I brought here with me, including my own cellular line for the enzyme studies."
"Of course," Tennenbaum said. "We have reserved several from the secondary studies. They will be at your disposal at all times."
"And as far as I know, nobody ever made beer in any of them." Michel grumbled. "Or cheese, for that matter."
Meng's tail bristled.
"Is that a joke, Doctor?" he asked.
He had to.
The Rottweiler flicked his ears at the red panda.
"There was a collective desire for some sour milk products," Michel said. "We did a few experiments."
"Delicious ones," Doctor Tennenbaum said.
"Ahem," Meng ended up clearing his throat after not figuring out anything else to say about it. "Anything else I need to know about that you have going on here?"
"All the data is on the computer, of course," Tennenbaum said. "But we've got cellular cultures for the various studies, high-temperature enzymes for the PCR machines, antibiotics, my physostigmine..."
Tennenbaum buzzed on her chair over to one of the large tanks, and tapped its surface with her knuckles.
"This one here is responsible for keeping me going," she said with a small smile.
"Almost as good as beer," Michel said.
"Speaking of which!" Tennenbaum said. "How about a little light lunch before we carry on to the departmental meeting? Everyone will be eating before that anyway."
"Suits me," Michel said. "I have a few bone samples in the oven waiting for me as well, they ought to be baked quite well once we're done."
Meng wondered if these so-called scientists had anything else to think about except food and the next time they were going to get some.
"And you?" Tennenbaum smiled to the red panda.
Meng hated to admit it to himself, but he was feeling quite hungry after skipping his breakfast. That seemed like a more reasonable explanation to his hunger rather than the constant talk about food.
"Maybe something very light, then," Meng said.
He wasn't exactly sure just what 'light' meant to these people, either.
"Splendid!" said Tennenbaum.
"Hope you still remember the way, " Michel told the red panda, as they all headed out of the oppressive heat of the room.
*
Thank you for reading! I hope you had an interesting time, and I look forward to your feedback! Remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!
See you in the next chapter!