Death Valley

Written May 16th. A further exploration of "The Missile".

The halls were almost as shiny as her new earrings.
That was the first thing Edelyne noticed as her supervisor led her down to the lab where she would be working.  It was hard not to notice being able to see your reflection in the wall or the floor, almost as hard to ignore as the heat of Death Valley, able to permeate even this tightly built research facility.  It was much cleaner than the one she had worked in before, down in Texas.  Cleaner—and hotter.
She still wasn’t sure why she had been transferred to this facility.  She’d just received an email one day—no one had written letters for years, not for official work—telling her that she, along with several colleagues, had been chosen for a transfer to the new Death Valley facility, and she would be given a project once there.  She’d been excited at the time.  California! She dreamed of taking the shuttle that would surely be built up to San Francisco or to Los Angeles, taking in the culture of the state.  She had always wanted to go to California, but she’d never had the time.  Her work took up all of her attention.
She’d been informed, once she’d arrived at Death Valley, that trips outside were to be few and very occasional.  You have to focus on your work, the facility supervisor had told her and her colleagues.  This is important.  You’re doing it for your country.  Edy had been disappointed, but understood.  Her work in Texas had been important too, though she’d been there only briefly, an intern in her last year of college.  She liked feeling patriotic.  She wanted to help her country, and to advance science.  She always had, ever since she took her first biology class in middle school.  Science was the future.  It always had been.
She spotted a break room, and inside it, a television broadcasting the news.  The announcer, a pretty blonde with big brown eyes and a cutesy voice, was informing her viewers of increasingly strained relations between the Union of American States and the Pole-Spanish Empire.  This had been going on for months, as both competed for colonies.  The Union had taken Latin America and the rest of North America, and had begun to extend into Asia, while the Pole-Spanish Empire had grabbed Africa again, eager to regain the continent.  It was another cold war.  Neither would dare to fight outright, everyone was sure; that would cause far too much damage to both states.  Still, Edy didn’t trust the announcer, or anyone else pushing peace.  Her mother was convinced it would turn into a hot war soon enough, and maybe her mother was right.  Edy hoped not—but there was no way to be sure.
“So,” said the supervisor, a woman in her forties with hair already turning grey, “you just graduated from college, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What school did you attend?”
“MIT,” answered Edy, looking at a door even shinier than the rest of the facility.  “I was an intern at the Texas facility during my last year.”
“How wonderful,” said the supervisor, with a tone that suggested that it truly was, though Edy got the sense that this was just acting.  The woman’s voice was a little too warm.  “So you have hands-on experience with what goes on at a research facility, then.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
“Very good.  We need scientists like you.  Were you planning to go to grad school this year?”
“I was, but I believe that this facility needs me more than I need to go to grad school.  My country needs me.”
The supervisor smiled.  “That’s quite true.  Perhaps you will be able to return to school soon.”
“Perhaps,” echoed Edy, and the supervisor stopped walking and gestured to a door.  The metal door was inscribed with 4X09, a code that Edy didn’t know.  Back in Texas, everything had been labeled according to function, in plain English.  No codes.
“This,” said the supervisor, “is where you’ll be working.  Come on in and let me introduce you to your new partners.”  She stepped up to the door and said, clearly, “Myra Lee.”  After a moment, the door swung open, and Myra Lee led Edy into the room.
It was small, and filled with equipment.  A young man and a woman not much older than Edy stood over a counter, taking turns examining something through a microscope.  The man looked up as Edy and the supervisor walked in, and nudged the woman, who looked up, blinking.
“Brought us the new kid?” asked the man.
“Yes.  This is Edelyne Harper.  Edelyne, this is Gina Wieckowska and Thomas Rosten.”
“Nice to meetcha,” said Thomas.
“Yeah,” said Gina, running a hand over her blond hair in an absent sort of manner.  “She staying or do you have to show her the dorms?”
“We still have to go to the dorms,” said the supervisor, “but she’ll be coming here right after.  It’s never too soon to begin serving your country.”
Gina nodded and turned back to the microscope as Thomas scribbled something down and Edy and the supervisor left.

It had been a month since Edy had arrived at Death Valley.
She got along well with Gina, who preferred Gee, and Thomas, who hated nicknames.  She spent most of her time with them in 4X09—she still didn’t know what that meant.  On breaks, she always headed down to the break room, where the television told her, rather cheerfully, all about the heightening tensions between the Union and the Pole-Spanish Empire.
She was in the break room now with Gee, watching that same pretty blonde who always announced for this station.
“…a rumor is going around that the Union is developing biological weapons,” said the blonde, as Gee leaned back in her chair and sighed, “God, I wish we could go up to Los Angeles.  I need to go shopping.”
“Shh,” said Edy, leaning forward, toward the television.  “What’d she just say?”
“I dunno…”
“…unfounded and the government has…”
“…something about bio-weaps.”
“…no indication that such weapons are being developed.  When questioned, Secretary of State Michael Douglas stated that the Union remains dedicated to seeking peace with the Pole-Spanish Empire.”
“Hold on,” said Edy.  “They think we’re developing bio-weaps?”
“Yeah,” said Gee, closing her eyes, “but that’s totally crazy.”
“What are we working on, then?”
“I dunno.  You ask too many questions, Edy.”
“I was just wondering…”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Probably just vaccines,” said Edy, trying to reassure herself.
“Probably.  Maybe the common cold.  Serious s**t right there.”
“Yeah.”  Edy got up.  “I’m gonna go grab a snack in the cafeteria.  I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Sure.”  Gee pursed her lips briefly as Edy left the room, and as the announcer on the television informed her viewers, “…President announced a new healthcare plan…”

Edy didn’t go to the cafeteria.  Edy went to the bathroom and locked herself into a stall, heart pounding steadily, like someone crushing rocks into powder.
Biological weapons.  That was what she and Gee and Thomas had been working on all along.  Gods, it wasn’t a vaccine they were trying to make—oh gods.  Edy pressed her hand against her breast, just over her heart, and closed her eyes.  She’d been enjoying her work, too—this was sick.  It was so sick.  She knew that viruses had been manufactured before for biological warfare, but this… This was something else entirely.  She’d commented a couple of times that the viruses they had been working with seemed pretty deadly, and Gee and Thomas had just shrugged.
Weapons.  Edy, the eternal pacifist, had been making weapons.
Her first thought was to quit, to get out of Death Valley now and run back home to Boston.  She didn’t want to be responsible—not any more than she already was, at any rate.  The sooner she got out, the sooner she could forget.  She loved science for its potential to heal, not its potential to kill—working on this was a violation of her own moral code.  She had to quit.  As much as she had enjoyed her work here, she’d have to.  It wasn’t safe to be here.
But just one more day, she decided.  They’d just begun an exciting development in their research, and Edy wanted to see it through.  The rest of today and tomorrow should cover that, she decided.  They did work fast.
She walked out of the stall and splashed her face with cold water, trying to remove the horror.  Just one more day, she told herself.  And then she would schedule an appointment with Myra Lee and tell her she wanted to quit immediately.  As she walked back down the hall to the break room, she thought of excuses.  Maybe she could say her mother was ill? No, they could check up on that… Maybe Myra Lee wouldn’t ask for an excuse.  Maybe she would just let Edy go.
One more day.  She almost skipped, but restrained herself in time.  One more day, and she would be done.  Gee and Thomas could go on without her.  Sure, Edy would miss working on this kind of thing, but it was for the best that she got out now.  She couldn’t stay, could she? She couldn’t be responsible for a war, or for death.  Oh, but she loved her work… But surely her morals were stronger than her love? Of course they were.
One more day, she told herself again.  She’d find something else to work on—less fascinating, but more beneficial to humankind.
She’d have to pack tonight, just in case Myra Lee had Edy go the moment she resigned.  She hoped she had Gee’s and Thomas’s facility phone numbers so she could call them, if they wanted to keep in touch.  She’d have to go back to her mother for a while, until she could get a place of her own… Gods, there were so many things to do.  Leaving Death Valley would be difficult, especially on such short notice.  She had to do it, though.  She had to leave tomorrow, or else she’d be just as bad as those serial killers she hated… Tomorrow.  Surely they’d be done with this particular step of their research tomorrow.

They weren’t.  Edy stayed another day to see it through, and another, and another, all the while persuading herself that they’d be done soon—within the week, within the month, within the next three months…

Edelyne never left. 

Reviews

[D. Pesek]

I liked this story very much up until the end. I felt that the storyline was strong enough that it could have supported a longer piece. Honestly I could see this being turned into a thriller book, the storyline is just so good. I was getting really into it. You are a terrific writer.