It's darkly. And it's booming. The machines and the helicopters are the precursors of this sinister boom. The Omega virus has wiped two-third of the world, turning victims into shish (jellylike monsters that move like unicellular amoebas). It seems like the beginning of the end. Like it's Doomsday. Fires are cracking everywhere, burning down cities. Black Celine Dion looks into her computer again, eyes widening in her glasses. Working with The Fallback Bureau was a great choice she made after she watched her father and mother get destroyed by that singular viral infection from Pluto. In two big bottles are the gluey bodies of them, something she looks at with fury. When the aliens from Mars were still around, she had felt an ominous predilection. But after they were forced back to their base in a war that saw Earth-dwellers defeat the inhabitants of Mars, the predilection died. Four years after the Martians left, she graduated as a biologist and an ecologist, spending copious amounts of her time exploring ecosystems and biomes around the world. Following the viral pandemic break-out, some parts of the world had been marked "Dead Zones" or "Forbidden Zones" or, in some places, "Alienoids". But this is where Black Celine Dion focuses more on, studying aquatic planktons and lots of fishes like smallmouth basses, tuna fishes and eels. Where she does her cryptogenic experiments. And it was during one of these expeditions that she discovered a vibrant species of frog with little wing-like projections in the form of scales. Responding to this discovery, an award committee called her "a beacon of light in an otherwise dark world". Some of her papers are important commodities in universities. In fact, Black Celine Dion – whose real name is Jennifer Ekwe – is a staunch naturalist whose belief is in the light.
"What do we do now?" she asked The Fallback Bureau. "The virus is spreading fast, and has crossed the boundaries of "The Free". It means if we don't do anything as soon as possible the remaining one-third of the global populace will be wiped off before we could say Jack Robinson. We all know what that means. Ideas?"
"Um, how about we fight back with helicopters? You know, spraying the affected areas with the anti-virus. I think it's the only option we have left."
"But how much of that anti-virus? We don't have enough to combat a virus of that scale and magnitude."
"I understand." another said. "We can count our teeth with our tongues. But the least we could do is try our best. We can't just sit back and watch, whether the spread is on a large scale or not. It's our duty to save the world. It's up to us to save the rest of a dying race."
"It's an obvious point you are making." Black Celine said. "But we can't risk all we have left. I think we need to solicit funds and go back to manufacturing. I know how hard that soliciting can be, but it's all we can do for ourselves and the entire global populace. My mother and father are jellies right now, and I think that affects me more than anyone else. We will ask for the funds. James, send a quick email to the IMF. Harry Graves, you should call the U.N. Tom, you know what to do."
"Um, I...I...I guess." stammered Tom. "The World Bank?"
"Right on track, Tom."
"But...but..."
"No buts, Tom. We need to use all of the possible options we have. That we have an outstanding debt means nothing right now. It's all or nothing. If we all die, nobody's gonna pay that debt. Sound this to their ears. We have pressing issues at hand."
"Alright, I get the point," said Tom. "I'll do just that."
"Good." Black said. "Alright, everyone, we've got work to do right here! Go to the systems, start the programming. We need to contact the Martians. Maybe they can save us from the virus from the dwarf planet. A cord of many strengths is not easily broken. Perhaps our enemies could be our great allies if we present great benefits of such allegiance. Every man, even aliens, has a price. We just need to know what it is."
With this final announcement, the entire bureau began work – weaving their earnest intentions and knowledge into knits of redemption.
***
On their patrol outside of The Fallback Bureau building, clad in protective clothing and nose masks, they meet a man named Rebel Moon who has clairvoyant and psychokinetic powers. He is wet, and has plant matter – leaves and all – upon his body. He speaks Mandarin.
"I am coming from the treehouse over there." He points. "Have you guys seen my dog?"
They reply to him with their heads.
"Well," he continues. "I'm surprised you guys are still alive. My name's Rebel Moon, and I have seen countless things climb down that building over there – which I presume of course is where you guys are coming from. How do you guys manage to stay alive?"
But instead of replying to him, they grabbed him under the rain and charged back towards the building – boots stamping broken branches.
***
"What's happening out there?" Black Celine asked the man, another translating.
"I have been seeing things wobbling lately. They are just fluids with triple helixes. I don't know what they are. But I can say they are out of this world. Never seen anything like those."
"Caught any of them? I mean scoop."
"Sure." Red Moon answered. "Got them dancing about in petri dishes."
"I'm comfortable with that reply." Black Celine Dion said. "You will give me those. But first of all, you are unprotected. I'm uncomfortable with this part. We all are. Are you not scared of being infected? Look at you. No nose mask, no protective clothing. Are you sure you are alright? Your death day could be ticking quite fast."
"Death would be lazy on me." the man said. "I'm sure of this because I have seen death. These days it sits on a stone or on a tree branch and talks to me. I have crossed the point where death can take me carelessly. I wine with death, I sleep with death. Meanwhile, the living are just the dead on a loaned holiday which they must pay back with the same breath that was given. It's plain simple arithmetic. Don't you get it? The living are just the dead on holiday."
"What do you mean when you say you sleep with death?"
"I have a special genetic advantage. I have developed antibodies against the virus. But it came at a cost. Don't rush it. I know what you are thinking. That it can save the rest of mankind. Anyone who gets it would have clairvoyant and psychokinetic powers like I do. They would have a fifty percent ability to see the future. An evolutionary trend many may not want. So there is something to sacrifice for it. Will the rest of mankind be ready to evolve? That's the biggest question. Everything will change – genotype, phenotype, everything. But the good thing is that human limitations would recede to a minimum. We could then do more. We could then be really free? But how ready would they be? This virus knows our weaknesses and pitfalls. It's the decision of mankind to make. The remainder of us could just experience a bottleneck effect and survive. A gene drift of some sort. Humans 2.0 I'd say."
"It sounds interesting." Black said. "Maybe we could try that ourselves. Can it bring back the victims?"
"That is something it cannot do." the man said. "It works perfectly fine for pure humans."
"Can you prove to us by taking a jab?" Black Celine Dion asked. "We need to see you take the jab yourself before risking our own lives."
"Alright." the man said and led them outside. And as they walked with him to his treehouse, they heard the sound of wind rush and stopped. And when they looked they saw a young boy standing on a rock, and flapping his brown mighty wings. They looked at him dreamily – for a second, for a moment – confusedly, contemplatively, astonishingly.
Bio:
Marvel Chukwudi Pephel, also known as Poet Panda, is a Nigerian biochemist, writer and poet. He has contributed research papers to the field of Biochemistry as Nwachukwu Godslove Pephel. As a poet, Pephel's work explores themes of love, life, nature, and social issues, with a unique blend of creativity and scientific insight. His poetry is characterized by its lyrical style, depth, and emotional resonance. His work is a testament to the intersection of art and science. He is a fan of the surrealist painter Salvador Dali, and writers Helen Oyeyemi, Ray Bradbury, Irving Washington, Edgar Allan Poe, Frank G. Slaughter and Philip K. Dick. He calculates what he calls "Creative Functions", an experimental but effective way of writing short story endings before their beginnings.