'It says the illness is miserable but short,' Cassy said. 'At least for healthy people. For people with chronic diseases, it advises them to seek medical attention at the first sign of symptoms.'
'A lot of good that's going to do them,' Pitt commented.
Once inside Costa's they took a booth toward the front. Pitt and Cassy were on the lookout for Marjorie. They didn't see her. When a boy about Jonathan's age came over to take their order, Cassy asked about the waitress.
'She went to Santa Fe,' the boy said. 'A lot of our staff went there. That's why I'm working, I'm Stephanos, Costa's son.'
After Stephanos disappeared back into the kitchen, Cassy told the others about what she'd seen in Santa Fe. 'They're all working at this castlelike house,' she added.
'What are they doing?' Jesse asked.
Cassy shrugged. 'I asked; it was a natural question. But Beau just gave me platitudes and generalities about a new beginning and making everything right, whatever the hell that meant.'
'I thought foul language wasn't cool,' Jonathan said.
'You're right,' Cassy said. 'I'm sorry.'
Pitt glanced at his watch for the tenth time since they'd been in the diner. 'It shouldn't be too long now before they arrive at the CDC.'
'They might be waiting for the place to open,' Cassy said. 'By now they've been in Atlanta for several hours. With the time difference maybe the CDC doesn't open for another hour or so.'
A family of four in the next booth started to cough and sneeze almost simultaneously. The flu symptoms progressed rapidly. Pitt looked over and recognized the pale, feverish appearance, particularly of the father. 'I wish I could warn them,' he said.
'What would you tell them?' Cassy asked. 'That they have an alien monster inside that's now been activated and that by tomorrow they won't be themselves?'
'You're right,' Pitt said. 'At this stage there's not much that can be said. Prevention is key.'
'That's why we've gone to the CDC,' Cassy said. ''Prevention is what they are about. We just have to keep our fingers crossed that they'll take the threat seriously before it is too late.'
Dr. Wilton Marchand leaned back in his high-backed desk chair and folded his hands over his expansive abdomen. He'd never followed any of his own organization's recommendations concerning diet and exercise. He looked more like a successful brewery proprietor of the late nineteenth century than the director of the Centers for Disease Control.
Dr. Marchand had hastily called together some of his department heads for an impromptu meeting. Attending were Dr. Isabel Sanchez, head of the Influenza branch; Dr. Delbert Black, head of Special Pathogens; Dr. Patrick Delbanco, head of virology; and Dr. Hamar Eggans, head of epidemiology. Dr. Marchand would have liked to have included others, but they were either out of town or tied up with other commitments.
'Thank you,' Dr. Marchand said to Sheila who'd just finished an impassioned presentation of the entire problem. Dr. Marchand gazed at his branch heads who were looking over each other's shoulders, busily reading the single copy of the report that Sheila had handed them prior to her presentation.
Sheila glanced at Eugene and Nancy who were sitting to her immediate right. The room had gone silent. Nancy nodded to Sheila to convey that she thought Sheila had done an excellent job. Eugene shrugged and raised his eyebrows in response to the silence. He was silently asking the question of how this collection of CDC brass could be taking this information with such apparent composure.
'Excuse me,' Eugene said a minute or so later, unable to bear the prolonged silence. 'As a physicist, I have to emphasize to you people that these black discs are made of a material that could not have been made on Earth.'
Dr. Marchand picked up the Tupperware container on his desk and with lidded eyes gazed in at the two objects.
'And they are definitely manufactured,' Eugene continued. 'They are not natural. In other words, it would have to be from an advanced culture ... an alien culture!' It was the first time the trio had used the word 'alien.' They had implied as much but had avoided being so explicit.
Dr. Marchand smiled to indicate that he understood Eugene's point. He extended the Tupperware container out toward Dr. Black who took it and peered within.
'Quite heavy,' Dr. Black commented before handing the container on to Dr. Delbanco.
'And you say that there are many such objects in your city,' Dr. Marchand said.
Sheila threw up her hands in exasperation and got to her feet. She couldn't sit a moment longer. 'There could be thousands,' she said. 'But that's not the point. The point that we are making is that we are in the beginning of an epidemic stemming from a provirus in our genomes. In fact, it's in every higher animal's genome that we've tested, suggesting it's been there for maybe a billion years. And the scariest part is that it has to be extraterrestrial in origin.'
''Every element, every atom, and every particle of our bodies are 'extraterrestrial,' ' Dr. Black said sternly. 'Our entire makeup has been forged in the supernova of dying stars.'
'That may be,' Eugene said. 'But we are talking about a life form. Not mere atoms.'
'Exactly,' Sheila said. 'A viruslike organism that has been lying dormant in the genomes of Earth creatures, including human beings.'
'Which you purport was transported to Earth in these miniature spaceships in the Tupperware container,' Dr. Marchand said wearily.
Sheila rubbed her face to get herself under control. She knew she was exhausted and emotionally drained. Like Nancy and Eugene she'd not slept a wink all night. 'I know it sounds implausible,' she said, deliberately speaking slowly. 'But it is happening. These black discs have the capability of injecting a fluid into living organisms. We were lucky to obtain a drop of the fluid from which we have isolated a protein that we believe functions like a prion.'
'A prion only carries one of the spongiform encepha-lopathies,' Dr. Delbanco said with a broad smile. 'I doubt your protein is a prion.'
'I said, 'Like a prion!' ' Sheila added venomously. 'I didn't say it was a prion.'
'The protein reacts with the particular segment of DNA that was previously considered noncoding,' Nancy said. She could see that Sheila was getting angry. ' 'Perhaps it is better to say it's functioning more like a promoter.'
'Perhaps we could take a short break,' Sheila said. 'I know I could use a little coffee.'
'Of course,' Dr. Marchand said. 'How thoughtless of me.'
Beau gave King an exuberant scratching behind his ears as he gazed out over the lawns in front of the institute. From the wrought-iron balcony off the library, he and King could see a long stretch of the driveway before it disappeared into the trees. It was clogged with new converts patiently making their way to the chateau. A few waved up to Beau, and he waved back.
Letting his eyes roam the rest of the grounds, Beau could see his canine friends were reliably on duty. Beau was pleased. He did not want interruptions.
Turning back into the house, Beau descended to the first floor and entered the ballroom. It was jammed with energetically toiling people. Now that the space was almost completely gutted, it looked far different than it had just the day before.
The people working in the room were a remarkably diverse group from all walks of life and of all ages. Yet they were working together like a synchronized swim team. From Beau's perspective it was a sight to behold and the picture of efficiency. No one had to give orders. Like the individual cells of a multicelled organism, each person had in their mind the blueprints of the entire project.
Beau saw Randy Nile laboring happily at a makeshift workbench set up in the center of the room. Randy's team was particularly disparate, with ages ranging from a man in his eighties to a girl less than ten. They were working on banks of sophisticated electronic equipment. Each person wore lighted magnifying headgear reminiscent of a retinal surgeon.
Beau strolled over.
'Hey, Beau!' Randy said cheerfully, catching sight of him. 'Great day, huh!'
'Perfect,' Beau answered with equal enthusiasm. 'Sorry to interrupt, but I'm going to need you this
