The Beasts Of Valhalla

'You've been very helpful. I have to pick up someone at the bus station. May I come back if I have any more questions about Sorscience or Obie Loge?'

'Gee, I hope you do come back, Mr. Mongo. Listen, I think there's something else you should know. Tommy was real upset about something just before he took off.'

'Bill,' I said quietly, 'I know that, and I don't think you and I should discuss it. I promised your mother I'd only ask questions about Sorscience.'

'But this does have to do with Sorscience. I'm sure Tommy was mad because of something that had to do with Obie Loge. They had a big argument. Rodney told me. Obie was sore because Tommy had questioned something Obie wanted to use for a score.'

'What?' I asked, feeling a chill run up and down my spine.

'I don't know. Rodney was in a hurry to get someplace. He just said that Obie was full of-excuse me-shit because nothing like what Obie was describing could ever exist in real life.'

Zeke Cohen got off the bus, blinked and sniffed in the late afternoon sunlight like some lost night creature searching for New York's night air. His black hair was wrapped in a crimson bandana, worn low across his forehead. A wide-brimmed leather hat sat on top of his head; buckskin, fringed vest over red silk shirt, jeans, boots; about a pound of gold chains hanging around his neck, one small gold earring in his ear. It was a perfect disguise for traveling unnoticed around Peru County, Nebraska. Zeke was a graduate student in criminology, studying for his doctorate in laboratory sciences. He enjoyed a reputation as the fastest computer gun in the East, West, North, or South. He taught a new undergraduate class in computer sciences, and his students called him Wyatt.

'You're not carrying, are you, Zeke?' I asked as we drove across the flat farmland that stretched to the horizon in all directions. 'Coke here is something that gives you cavities instead of holes in the nose, and grass is a soft green growth they cut with a machine called a lawn mower. They'll bust your ass good if they catch you with any shit.'

'Huh? Oh, no. Not even a joint.'

'Also, no cruising-in case you're feeling horny. There's nothing to cruise. 'Gay' here means ho-ho.'

Zeke had been staring out the window; now he slowly turned his glittering black eyes on me. 'Hey, Doc, what is that stuff out there?'

'It's called wheat, Zeke,' I replied drily.

'So that's what it looks like when it's in the ground, huh?'

'You got it. You stop bullshitting me, and I'll stop bullshitting you.'

He laughed loudly. 'Man, I've never seen so much open space!'

'It's 'the heartland,' Zeke, m'boy.'

'It looks kind of weird, you know?' He paused, glanced at me again. 'You look funny here, Doc. Out of place.'

'You mean, like a dwarf?'

'Yeah,' he said thoughtfully. 'Here you look like a dwarf.' He laughed quickly, self-consciously. 'Sorry, Doc. I didn't mean anything personal. I must be suffering from culture shock.'

'No offense taken,' I said evenly. 'Here, I feel like a dwarf. But don't be too smug; you don't exactly blend into the landscape, either. Did you make those calls I asked you to?'

'Yeah. There's no Volsung Corporation listed on any of the stock exchanges, so maybe it really is a privately held and capitalized company. Just to make sure, I checked with a friend of mine in business administration who's a stock market maven. Genetic engineering is the hottest thing going, witness Genentech. If there were a new genetic sciences company that had gone public, or was about to, she'd know about it.'

'Thanks, Zeke. You're already earning your money. I'll give you an advance when we get to my sister's place.'

'Hey, Doc, I really appreciate this gig. Summer sessions are out, I'm tired of research, and New York is boring in August. Besides, I can use the money. Just what is it I'm supposed to do? You were a little vague on the phone.'

'My nephew was big on computers; he's got a roomful of stuff. The basic unit is a Radio Shack TR4100, but don't let that fool you-and don't get careless. He's added on all sorts of goodies that he built himself, and he knew what he was doing. Basically, I want to know everything that's on the memory discs stacked next to the terminal. It's probably all encoded. You into fantasy?'

'You mean sword and sorcery stuff? Not really.' He looked at me, leered. 'I like detective novels. Somebody should write a huge detective saga, like one of those four-volume fantasy mothers.'

'You'll just have to wait for my memoirs, Zeke. I hope you brought your glasses, because Tommy-my nephew-was up to his eyeballs in fantasy. He was particularly into the Lord of the Kings, which you'll find on the table by the terminal. It's almost certain that Tommy built codes from those books, so you'll have to read them. Take your time; the important thing is to make sure you don't erase anything.'

'Got it.'

'You'll be staying at my sister's home, in Tommy's room, so you can set your own schedule. You'll love the food. Anything you want, she or I will get for you. I'll check in with you at least once a day, and probably more. I'll give you my parents' number; that's where I'm staying. I want to know the minute you find out anything.'

'Sounds like fun.'

'I'd like you to stay put in the house. If you get restless, take a cow for a walk. In Peru County, you're a walking one-man band of minority groups, and a lot of people here won't like your music. I don't want anyone to know you're here.'

Another leer. 'Why? You think the good folks of Peru County would hang a gay black Jew?'

'No,' I said without smiling. 'I'm afraid they'll hang a dwarf and his sister.'

7

It was all I could do to stay away from Janet's home the next morning, but I knew that it wouldn't do any good to stand over Zeke and drool down his neck while he was working. I certainly wanted quick results, but pressuring Zeke would be counter productive.

I spent the morning in the Peru City library reading everything I could find on DNA research and genetic engineering. I assumed I was slightly better informed than the average layman because of my long-standing interest in human growth hormone, but I wanted to dig deeper.

It struck me how far and fast the field had expanded since the time, only a few years ago, when gene splicing had been viewed as a sure road to self-destruction, a doomsday device impossible to defuse and just waiting to swallow up, or deform, all life on earth. Many scientists had urged that all research into genetic engineering be banned, for fear of creating diseases that could not be defended against. Indeed, although a total ban was never seriously considered, DNA research was virtually the only human endeavor every scientist on the face of the earth had agreed must be carefully controlled, with strict international safeguards. Protocols had been signed.

First individual cells had been cloned, then frogs. There'd been a report of the cloning of a human, but it had been universally dismissed as ridiculous and the 'clone' had never been produced; genetic research and gene splicing with higher forms of life had proved far more difficult, and was still considered highly dangerous, if not unethical.

However, the scientists had shown that some gene splicing could be conducted safely, and gradually the controls in certain specific areas had been relaxed. A great deal of genetic research was still taboo, but work with bacteria and plants had already yielded the wondrous results Bill Jackson had alluded to. In the fields of bacteriology and botany, nothing less than new species of life were being created virtually every day. Universities with genetic research programs had toyed with the idea of setting up their own profit-making companies, and the first gene-splicing concern to go public, Genentech, had sold all its stock within minutes of its initial offering on Wall Street.

Perceptions had changed dramatically; the end of human disease and deformity was being confidently forecast; the doomsday device had become, in the view of many, the key to the Gates of Eden.