August 27, 1998, 2:30 P.M.—Went to the Anne Arundel Courthouse in order to review the court file on subject’s divorce from his first wife. Was informed that these files were sealed by court order immediately upon the entry of the divorce judgment. At present, I am unable to verify Mrs. Nelson’s allegations and must regard them as hearsay.
Dinner had been unusually quiet for Aaron Weiss. The two Martians with whom he shared a table spoke to each other in hushed tones, ignoring him. It’s like they’re really Martians, Weiss grumbled to himself, and they don’t want anything to do with an Earthling.
When they left, no one took their places. Weiss finished his meal alone and groped his way out of the wardroom, feeling distinctly like a leper.
His mood changed as soon as he reached his compartment. Wedged into the door was an envelope. There was something primitive about this method of communication in the midst of the station’s high-tech ambience. But Weiss quickly forgot the irony when he read the note inside.
I have reconsidered my refusal to consent to an interview. I will be at your disposal in the European Lab Module at 2200 hours. Feel free to bring your camera.
Chakra Ramsanjawi
Weiss could hear the Indian’s singsong manner of speech in the serpentine style of the handwriting. He was surprised by the invitation. During dinner, he had come to the conclusion that his fight with Hugh O’Donnell had resulted in the station’s scientific community hardening against him. Now the one scientist he had considered least likely to talk was consenting to an interview. These bright boys sure are an unpredictable bunch, thought Weiss.
He swam into ELM at the appointed time, moving cautiously from handhold to handhold, his innards braced against the slight hint of nausea he had felt that morning. The threat of sickness bothered him more than the real thing; he almost wished his guts would get the damned job done, upchuck and have it over with. Almost.
Ramsanjawi was alone, floating at a workstation halfway down the length of the module. His billowing saffron kurta was a brilliant contrast to the salmon-and-gray color scheme. Weiss noticed a flash of the eyes in Ramsanjawi’s dark face and thought he heard laughter echoing off the aluminum walls. He pulled himself closer. Ramsanjawi was staring at a centrifuge.
“Good evening, Mr. Weiss,” Ramsanjawi said without turning around. “I am delighted you accepted my invitation.”
Barely noticing the man’s overly sweet, perfumed scent, Weiss said, “I was happy to receive it. Surprised, too.”
“Why were you surprised?”
“You didn’t exactly lay out the red carpet for me when I came in here with
Bianco this morning,” said Weiss, drifting farther away from the Indian. “And after my fight with Hugh O’Donnell, I assumed no one would talk to me. Least of all you.”
Ramsanjawi nodded at each of Weiss’s reasons, then dismissed them with a laugh that blended perfectly with the whir of the centrifuge.
“I will explain why I have once again decided to break ranks with my brethren,” he said.
The centrifuge kicked off and Ramsanjawi reached inside to free a vial from the arm. The vial contained a liquid that shaded from aquamarine to deep blue in four distinct bands. Ramsanjawi motioned Weiss to the adjacent workstation, where a stoppered beaker was secured in a metal rack.
“Seawater from the North Atlantic,” said Ramsanjawi, nodding toward the beaker. “The white filaments you see are particularly nasty polychlorinated biphenyl molecules, which you know as PCBs. They are visually enhanced for what I am about to demonstrate.”
He inserted the needle of a syringe through the top of the vial he was holding and pushed carefully until the tip of the needle entered the third of the four bands of blue. Then he drew a portion of the liquid into the barrel of the syringe.
“These are genetically altered E. coli bacteria,” said Ramsanjawi, withdrawing the needle and holding the syringe so that Weiss had a clear view of the thin band of blue. “We use E. coli because they are easy to cultivate in large quantities. They are visually enhanced as well.”
Ramsanjawi slowly pressed the needle through the stopper of the beaker. The needle appeared in the seawater, glinting among the filaments. Ramsanjawi pressed the plunger. The microbes dispersed throughout the water in thin blue whorls. The filaments seemed to dance as the microbes swirled around them. Slowly, the filaments broke apart, separating into a snowstorm of flakes. In a minute, the water was clear.