The Andromeda Strain by Crichton, Michael

“It’s tempting,” Stone said. “The Air Force maintains a watchdog facility in Kentucky that tracks all satellites in earth orbit. It has a dual function, both to follow old satellites known to be in orbit and to track new ones. There are twelve satellites in orbit at this time that cannot be accounted for; in other words, they are not ours, and are not the result of announced Soviet launches. It is thought that some of these represent navigation satellites for Soviet submarines. Others are presumed to be spy satellites. But the important thing is that Russian or not, there are a hell of a lot of satellites up there. As of last Friday, the Air Force reported five hundred and eighty-seven orbiting bodies around the earth. This includes some old, nonfunctioning satellites from the American Explorer series and the Russian Sputnik series. It also includes boosters and final stages– anything in stable orbit large enough to reflect back a radar beam.”

“That’s a lot of satellites.”

“Yes, and there are probably many more. The Air Force thinks there is a lot of junk out there– nuts, bolts, scraps of metal– all in more or less stable orbit. No orbit, as you know, is completely stable. Without frequent corrections, any satellite will eventually decay out and spiral down to earth, burning up in the atmosphere. But that may be years, even decades, after the launch. In any event, the Air Force estimates that the total number of individual orbiting objects could be anything up to seventy-five thousand.”

“So a collision with a piece of junk is possible.”

“Yes. Possible.”

“How about a meteor?”

“That is the other possibility, and the one Vandenberg favors. A random event, most likely a meteor.”

“Any showers these days?”

“None, apparently. But that does not rule out a meteor collision.”

Leavitt cleared his throat. “There is still another possibility.”

Stone frowned. He knew that Leavitt was imaginative, and that this trait was both a strength and a defect. At times, Leavitt could be startling and exciting; at others, merely irritating. “It’s rather farfetched,” Stone said, “to postulate debris from some extragalactic source other than–”

“I agree,” Leavitt said. “Hopelessly farfetched. No evidence for it whatever. But I don’t think we can afford to ignore the possibility.”

A gong sounded softly. A lush female voice, which Hall now recognized as that of Gladys Stevens of Omaha, said softly, “You may proceed to the next level, gentlemen.”

13. Level V

LEVEL V WAS PAINTED A QUIET SHADE OF BLUE, AND they all wore blue uniforms. Burton showed Hall around.

“This floor,” he said, “is like all the others. It’s circular. Arranged in a series of concentric circles, actually. We’re on the outer perimeter now; this is where we live and work. Cafeteria, sleeping rooms, everything is out here. Just inside is a ring of laboratories. And inside that, sealed off from us, is the central core. That’s where the satellite and the two people are now.”

“But they’re sealed off from us?”

“Yes.”

“Then how do we get to them?”

“Have you ever used a glove box?” Burton asked.

Hall shook his head.

Burton explained that glove boxes were large clear plastic boxes used to handle sterile materials. The boxes had holes cut in the sides, and gloves attached with an airtight seal. To handle the contents, you slipped your hands into the gloves and reached into the box. But your fingers never touched the material, only the gloves.

“We’ve gone one step further,” Burton said. “We have whole rooms that are nothing more than glorified glove boxes. Instead of a glove for your hand, there’s a whole plastic suit, for your entire body. You’ll see what I mean.”

They walked down the curved corridor to a room marked CENTRAL CONTROL. Leavitt and Stone were there, working quietly. Central Control was a cramped room, stuffed with electronic equipment. One wall was glass, allowing the tails, were considered particularly trying. Many a scientist workers to look into the adjacent room.

Through the glass, Hall saw mechanical hands moving the capsule to a table and setting it down. Hall, who had never seen a capsule before, watched with interest. It was smaller than he had imagined, no more than a yard long; one end was seared and blackened from the heat of reentry.

The mechanical hands, under Stone’s direction, opened the little scoop-shaped trough in the side of the capsule to expose the interior.

“There,” Stone said, taking his hands from the controls. The controls looked like a pair of brass knuckles; the operator slipped his own hands into them and moved his hands as he wanted the mechanical hands to move.

“Our next step,” he said, “is to determine whether there is still anything in the capsule which is biologically active. Suggestions?”

“A rat,” Leavitt said. “Use a black Norway.”

The black Norway rat was not black at all; the name simply designated a strain of laboratory animal, perhaps the most famous strain in all science. Once, of course, it had been both black and Norwegian; but years of breeding and countless generations had made it white, small, and docile. The biological explosion had created a demand for genetically uniform animals. In the last thirty years more than a thousand strains of “pure” animals had been evolved artificially. In the case of the black Norwegian, it was now possible for a scientist anywhere in the world to conduct experiments using this animal and be assured that other scientists elsewhere could repeat or enlarge upon his work using virtually identical organisms.

“Follow with a rhesus,” Burton said. “We will want to get onto primates sooner or later. The others nodded. Wildfire was prepared to conduct experiments with monkeys and apes, as well as smaller, cheaper animals. A monkey was exceedingly difficult to work with: the little primates were hostile, quick, intelligent. Among scientists, the New World monkeys, with their prehensile tails, were considered particularly trying. Many scientists had engaged three or four lab assistants to hold down a monkey while he administered an injection– only to have the prehensile tail whip up, grasp the syringe, and fling it across the room.

The theory behind primate experimentation was that these animals were closer biologically to man. In the 1950’s, several laboratories even attempted experiments on gorillas, going to great trouble and expense to work with these seemingly most human of animals. However, by 1960 it had been demonstrated that of the apes, the chimpanzee was biochemically more like man than the gorilla. (On the basis of similarity to man, the choice of laboratory animals is often surprising. For example, the hamster is preferred for immunological and cancer studies, since his responses are so similar to man’s, while for studies of the heart and circulation, the pig is considered most like man.)

Stone put his hands back on the controls, moving them gently. Through the glass, they saw the black metal fingers move to the far wall of the adjoining room, where several caged lab animals were kept, separated from the room by hinged airtight doors. The wall reminded Hall oddly of an automat.

The mechanical hands opened one door and removed a rat in its cage, brought it into the room, and set it down next to the capsule. The rat looked around the room, sniffed the air, and made some stretching movements with its neck. A moment later it flopped over onto its side, kicked once, and was still.

It had happened with astonishing speed. Hall could hardly believe it had happened at all.

“My God,” Stone said. “What a time course.”

“That will make it difficult,” Leavitt said.

Burton said, “We can try tracers…”

“Yes. We’ll have to use tracers on it,” Stone said. “How fast are our scans?”

“Milliseconds, if necessary.”

“It will be necessary.”

“Try the rhesus, ” Burton said. “You’ll want a post on it, anyway.”

Stone directed the mechanical hands back to the wall, opening another door and withdrawing a cage containing a large brown adult rhesus monkey. The monkey screeched as it was lifted and banged against the bars of its cage.

Then it died, after flinging one hand to its chest with a look of startled surprise.

Stone shook his head. “Well, at least we know it’s still biologically active. Whatever killed everyone in Piedmont is still there, and still as potent as ever. ” He sighed. “If potent is the word.”

Leavitt said, “We’d better start a scan of the capsule.”

“I’ll take these dead animals,” Burton said, “and run the initial vector studies. Then I’ll autopsy them.”

Stone worked the mechanical hands once more. He picked up the cages that held the rat and monkey and set them on a rubber conveyor belt at the rear of the room. Then he pressed a button on a control console marked AUTOPSY. The conveyor belt began to move.

Burton left the room, walking down the corridor to the autopsy room, knowing that the conveyor belt, made to carry materials from one lab to another, would have automatically delivered the cages.

Stone said to Hall, “You’re the practicing physician among us. I’m afraid you’ve got a rather tough job right now.”

“Pediatrician and geriatrist?”

“Exactly. See what you can do about them. They’re both in our miscellaneous room, the room we built precisely for unusual circumstances like this. There’s a computer linkup there that should help you. The technician will show you how it works.”

14. Miscellaneous

HALL OPENED THE DOOR MARKED MISCELLANEOUS, thinking to himself that his job was indeed miscellaneous– keeping alive an old man and a tiny infant. Both of them vital to the project, and both of them, no doubt, difficult to manage.

He found himself in another small room similar to the control room he had just left. This one also had a glass window, looking inward to a central room. In the room were two beds, and on the beds, Peter Jackson and the infant. But the incredible thing was the suits: standing upright in the room were four clear plastic inflated suits in the shape of men. From each suit, a tunnel ran back to the wall.

Obviously, one would have to crawl down the tunnel and then stand up inside the suit. Then one could work with the patients inside the room.

The girl who was to be his assistant was working in the room, bent over the computer console. She introduced herself as Karen Anson, and explained the working of the computer.

“This is just one substation of the Wildfire computer on the first level,” she said. “There are thirty substations throughout the laboratory, all plugging into the computer. Thirty different people can work at once.”

Hall nodded. Time-sharing was a concept he understood. He knew that as many as two hundred people had been able to use the same computer at once; the principle was that computers operated very swiftly– in fractions of a second while people operated slowly, in seconds or minutes. One person using a computer was inefficient, because it took several minutes to punch in instructions, while the computer sat around idle, waiting. Once instructions were fed in, the computer answered almost instantaneously. This meant that a computer was rarely “working,” and by permitting a number of people to ask questions of the computer simultaneously, you could keep the machine more continuously in operation.

“If the computer is really backed up, ” the technician said, “there may be a delay of one or two seconds before you get your answer. But usually it’s immediate. What we are using here is the MEDCOM program. Do you know it?”

Hall shook his head.

“It’s a medical-data analyzer,” she said. “You feed in information and it will diagnose the patient and tell you what to do next for therapy, or to confirm the diagnosis.”

“Sounds very convenient.”

“It’s fast,” she said. “All our lab studies are done by automated machines. So we can have complex diagnoses in a matter of minutes.”

Hall looked through the glass at the two patients. “What’s been done on them so far?”

“Nothing. At Level I, they were started on intravenous infusions. Plasma for Peter Jackson, dextrose and water for the baby. They both seem well hydrated now, and in no distress. Jackson is still unconscious. He has no pupillary signs but is unresponsive and looks anemic.”

Hall nodded. “The labs here can do everything?”

“Everything. Even assays for adrenal hormones and things like partial thromboplastin times. Every known medical test is possible.”

“All right. We’d better get started.”

She turned on the computer. “This is how you order laboratory tests,” she said. “Use this light pen here, and check off the tests you want. Just touch the pen to the screen.”

She handed him a small penlight, and pushed the START button.

The screen glowed.

MEDCOM PROGRAM

LAB/ANALYS

CK/JGG/1223098

BLOOD:

COUNTS RBC

RETIC

PLATES

WBC

DIFF

HEMATOCRIT

HEMOGLOBIN

INDICES MCV

MCHC:

PROTIME

PTT

SED RATE

CHEMISTRY:

BRO

CA

CL

MG

PO4

K

NA

CO2

ENZYMES:

AMYLASE

CHOLINESTERASE

LIPASE

PHOSPHATASE,ACID

ALKALINE

LDH

SGOT

SGPT

PROTEIN:

ALB

GLOB

FIBRIN

TOTAL FRACTION

DIAGNOSTICS:

CHOLEST

CREAT

GLUCOSE

PBI

BEI

I

IBC

NPN

BUN

BILIRU, DIFF

CEPH/FLOC

THYMOL/TURB

BSP

PULMONARY:

TVC

TV

IC

IRV

ERV

MBC

STERIOD:

ALDO

L7-OH

17-KS

ACTH

VITS

A

ALL

B

C

E

K

URINE:

SP

GR

PH

PROT

GLUC

KETONE

ALL ELECTROLYTES

ALL STERIODS

ALL INORGANICS

CATECHOLS

PORPHYRINS

UROBIL

5-HIAA

Hall stared at the list. He touched the tests he wanted with the penlight; they disappeared from the screen. He ordered fifteen or twenty, then stepped back.

The screen went blank for a moment, and then the following appeared:

TESTS ORDERED WILL REQUIRE FOR EACH SUBJECT

20 CC WHOLE BLOOD

LO CC OXALATED BLOOD

L2 CC CITRATED BLOOD

15 CC URINE

The technician said, “I’ll draw the bloods if you want to do physicals. Have you been in one of these rooms before?”

Hall shook his head.

“It’s quite simple, really. We crawl through the tunnels into the suits. The tunnel is then sealed off behind us.”

“Oh? Why?”

“In case something happens to one of us. In case the covering of the suit is broken– the integrity of the surface is ruptured, as the protocol says. In that case, bacteria could spread back through the tunnel to the outside.”

“So we’re sealed off.”

“Yes. We get air from a separate system– you can see the thin lines coming in over there. But essentially you’re isolated from everything, when you’re in that suit. I don’t think you need worry, though. The only way you might possibly break your suit is to cut it with a scalpel, and the gloves are triple-thickness to prevent just such an occurrence.”

She showed him how to crawl through, and then, imitating her, he stood up inside the plastic suit. He felt like some kind of giant reptile, moving cumbersomely about, dragging his tunnel like a thick tail behind him.

After a moment, there was a hiss: his suit was being sealed off. Then another hiss, and the air turned cold as the special line began to feed air in to him.

The technician gave him his examining instruments. While she drew blood from the child, taking it from a scalp vein, Hall turned his attention to Peter Jackson.

***

An old man, and pale: anemia. Also thin: first thought, cancer. Second thought, tuberculosis, alcoholism, some other chronic process. And unconscious: he ran through the differential in his mind, from epilepsy to hypoglycernic shock to stroke.

Hall later stated that he felt foolish when the computer provided him with a differential, complete with probabilities of diagnosis. He was not at that time aware of the skill of the computer, the quality of its program.

He checked Jackson’s blood pressure. It was low, 85/50. Pulse fast at 110. Temperature 97.8. Respiration’s 30 and deep.

He went over the body systematically, beginning with the head and working down. When he produced pain– by pressing on the nerve through the supra-orbital notch, just below the eyebrow– the man grimaced and moved his arms to push Hall away.

Perhaps he was not unconscious after all. Perhaps just stuporous. Hall shook him.

“Mr. Jackson. Mr. Jackson.”

The man made no response. And then, slowly, he seemed to revive. Hall shouted his name in his ear and shook him hard.

Peter Jackson opened his eyes, just for a moment, and said, “Go…away…”

Hall continued to shake him, but Jackson relaxed, going limp, his body slipping back to its unresponsive state. Hall gave up, returning to his physical examination. The lungs were clear and the heart seemed normal. There was sm., tenseness of the abdomen, and Jackson retched once, bringing up some bloody drooling material. Quickly, Hall did a basolyte test for blood: it was positive. He did a rectal exam and tested the stool. It was also positive for blood.

He turned to the technician, who had drawn all the bloods and was feeding the tubes into the computer analysis apparatus in one corner.

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