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Free Gift For You!
As often as I can, I'll try to post a short story or an excerpt from one of my novels. Check back often and see what's new here! This time around, we have a reprint of my first-ever professionally-published story.
Out of the Garden
by JG Faherty
Chet clicked the mouse on the file icon labeled “Primate Enhancement: Laboratory Log.” He scrolled through the table of contents, his finger tapping rapidly on the mouse’s buttons, but saw no entries indicating justification or purpose for the project.
He took a deep breath, stretched his arms and shoulders, and rotated his neck to relieve the tension. He’d resigned himself to skimming the entire set of lab notes to find the information he needed.
But he wasn’t happy about it.
March 9, 2005
9:00 a.m. First series of PE 221 injections administered. Subjects 104M and 104F, a bonded pair of bonobos, showed no deleterious effects. The second series has been scheduled for three days from now.
Katie came up behind him, leaned over his shoulder. Her brown hair tickled his ear, and he forced himself to concentrate on the job they had to do.
“Find anything yet?” she asked.
“See for yourself.” He turned the screen slightly, so she could see.
“Just data on the compound’s structure, and an outline of experimental parameters. Skip to the next entry.”
Chet obliged, scrolling through pages until a new date came up.
March 12, 2005
Second series of PE 221 administered. According to the computer projections, enhancement of the frontal and temporal lobes should be visible by CAT scan within one week. Daily intelligence testing has begun [see file PE 221: Subject Test Results.]
“What type of enhancement?” Katie’s warm breath feathered across the back of his neck.
Focus. Their time here was limited. “Cellular regeneration and increased neurochemical production. I saw a reference to it in one of the other files.” Chet tapped the page-down key. “Ballard’s hypothesis centered on increasing the capabilities of the speech centers as well as overall cognitive functions.”
“Cognitive function enhancement is one thing, but bonobo anatomy isn’t designed for speech. What good would it do to make modifications in that area?”
“Vocal cord implantation.” Chet released a sibilant sigh through his teeth. “Don’t ask me how. The data on the surgical technique must be in another file we haven’t come across yet.”
“Not that it matters.” Katie pulled a chair over to the desk. “Every aspect of their experiment violated the prohibitions against animal experimentation. Whoever’s in charge here is going to be staring at an awful lot of jail time.”
“You’d think so. I’m willing to bet they get off with a slap on the wrist and maybe some fines. In fact, after the government sees what happened here, they’ll probably recreate the entire experiment somewhere else, somewhere it won’t be found.”
“You’re a pessimist.” Katie touched his hand briefly, to take the sting from her words.
“Yeah, I am. Let’s see what else is in here. I’ll skip a few months.”
September 23, 2005
CAT scans continue to indicate a 60% or greater increase in temporal and frontal lobe size, with concurrent increases in neurological activity.
However, there has been no concurrent increase in vocabulary, either written or in sign. Subjects have made no progress beyond the norm for non-enhanced bonobos. There has been no demonstration of vocalization.
Both subjects appear interested in the computer, but have only mastered the most basic of commands.
“No progress?” Chet glanced around the room. The empty, open cages stared like dark eyes at the two dead bodies on the floor. Rosettes of blood decorated the bright white of the labcoats. “I think maybe Sloan was mistaken about that,” he murmured.
“Keep going.” Katie gave his arm a nudge. “We don’t have all day.”
“I’ll go to yesterday’s entry.”
January 24, 2006
After extensive analysis of the data, the committee has voted to end this phase of the project. The remaining lots of PE 221 will be disposed of, and tomorrow we will sacrifice 104M and 104F. Autopsies will be carried out, to try and identify a cause, either organic or chemical, for the failure.
“That’s it.” Chet pushed the keyboard away, moved his chair back from the desk. “I searched through just about every one of Sloan’s files. I even did a keyword search. No historical background on the experiments. Maybe we’ll find something in the administrative records.”
“Suppose we do find something? Then what?”
“I don’t know.” He shook his head.
“Chet, there’s nothing we can do to stop it. Even if we find the evidence we need, get it to the right people, it won’t matter. There could be a dozen secret labs like this one set up around the country.”
“We can’t let them get away with it.”
“Right now we don’t have a choice. It’s too dangerous for us to get involved any more than we already have.”
Chet looked at her. Something akin to fear was growing in her soft, brown eyes.
He knew she was right.
“We’ll have to go underground. This was a government-funded project. They’re going to have people looking for us after what we did.” Chet slid off the chair and walked over to Doctor Maximilian Sloan’s body, delivered a hard kick that sent tacky blood flying in all directions.
“Chet, no more. He’ll never hurt anyone again.” Katie held out her hand to him.
“You’re wrong.” He took her hand in his, feeling the rough hair against his callused palm.
He stroked the ragged scar running down her throat. “For us, the pain will never end.”
(Originally published in at www.latelateshow.com, January, 2006)
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