everywhere.
The first version of the vaccine was not so aggressive. It couldn’t be. It was able to build more of itself only by tearing apart its rival. Otherwise it would have been another plague. Ruth had taught it to recognize the unique structure of the plague’s heat engine, which it shared, and she had given it the ability to sense the fraction of a calorie of waste heat that the plague generated repeatedly as it constructed more of itself, but the first vaccine was always behind its brother. Smaller and faster than the plague, the earliest model of the vaccine was able to eradicate its prey, but only after the chase.
The final version of the vaccine surpassed all those weaknesses. It suffused their bodies like disease-specific antibodies, attacking the constant absorption of the machine plague before the plague nanos could activate.
Maybe the vaccine can be reprogrammed to make us immune to the new plague, too, Cam thought.
“I’m here,” he said into his headset, reaching up to knock on the cabin wall. Then he realized he wasn’t upwind of her home. What if it was leaking?
“Cam?” Her voice was muffled, wrapped inside her containment suit. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the wall,” he said, although he’d backed away from the small building. Her place was dark. Even in the daytime, in fact, it looked no different than the rest of their huts, except that this cabin had even fewer windows than most, just one in the small living room and another in Eric and Bobbi’s space. Ruth needed electricity at all hours, so they’d wired her room with more outlets than normal and left it with no openings to betray what was inside.
This hut was the secret heart of their village. Ruth actually slept in the front room, which lacked any privacy, but her bedroom was a clean lab partitioned with plastic sheeting. It was crude and inefficient—and it worked. Eric had been her closest bodyguard, a role that once belonged to Cam. He hadn’t been inside for months. There was never a good excuse since they’d upgraded the electrical lines, and he’d promised himself to leave her alone for Allison’s sake. Even so, he remembered sharing a cool glass of tea with Ruth and Eric, sitting on the living room floor beside the other man but acutely aware of Ruth’s narrow bedroll and the open-faced cupboard she used to store her clothes, her toothbrush, a lipstick, a book. The tidy space had been full of the little personal things he never saw anymore.
“Is there anyone with you?” she asked.
Cam glanced over his shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable with where she was going. “It’s just me,” he said.
“Can you switch channels? I want to talk alone.”
“Greg?” he asked his headset, and the former Army Ranger sergeant said, “This is bullshit. You stay on the line.”
Other voices filled the frequency. “He’s right!” Owen shouted, as another man said, “We let you live here. We took you in when nobody else wanted anything to do with nanotech and now you’re going to hide something from—”
Cam shut off his radio, leaving the headset in place. Then he stepped closer to the cabin and rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Can you hear me? Ruth?”
There was a noise from another part of the hut, a thump, thump like someone convulsing on the floor.
“Ruth!” he yelled, imagining Patrick or Michael loose in the cabin. He jogged alongside the building to the front room before he realized he couldn’t fire through the window or break down the door. If he did, the new plague would have him, too. But what if the infected men grabbed Ruth or tore her suit? Cam turned on his flashlight and aimed the beam inside. “Hey!” he yelled. The plastic on the window distorted the light. He couldn’t see more than the long shape of the cupboards, so he banged on the glass, hoping to distract anyone at the door to Ruth’s lab. “Hey!”
The thumping increased, an
The first version of the vaccine was not so aggressive. It couldn’t be. It was able to build more of itself only by tearing apart its rival. Otherwise it would have been another plague. Ruth had taught it to recognize the unique structure of the plague’s heat engine, which it shared, and she had given it the ability to sense the fraction of a calorie of waste heat that the plague generated repeatedly as it constructed more of itself, but the first vaccine was always behind its brother. Smaller and faster than the plague, the earliest model of the vaccine was able to eradicate its prey, but only after the chase.
The final version of the vaccine surpassed all those weaknesses. It suffused their bodies like disease-specific antibodies, attacking the constant absorption of the machine plague before the plague nanos could activate.
Maybe the vaccine can be reprogrammed to make us immune to the new plague, too, Cam thought.
“I’m here,” he said into his headset, reaching up to knock on the cabin wall. Then he realized he wasn’t upwind of her home. What if it was leaking?
“Cam?” Her voice was muffled, wrapped inside her containment suit. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the wall,” he said, although he’d backed away from the small building. Her place was dark. Even in the daytime, in fact, it looked no different than the rest of their huts, except that this cabin had even fewer windows than most, just one in the small living room and another in Eric and Bobbi’s space. Ruth needed electricity at all hours, so they’d wired her room with more outlets than normal and left it with no openings to betray what was inside.
This hut was the secret heart of their village. Ruth actually slept in the front room, which lacked any privacy, but her bedroom was a clean lab partitioned with plastic sheeting. It was crude and inefficient—and it worked. Eric had been her closest bodyguard, a role that once belonged to Cam. He hadn’t been inside for months. There was never a good excuse since they’d upgraded the electrical lines, and he’d promised himself to leave her alone for Allison’s sake. Even so, he remembered sharing a cool glass of tea with Ruth and Eric, sitting on the living room floor beside the other man but acutely aware of Ruth’s narrow bedroll and the open-faced cupboard she used to store her clothes, her toothbrush, a lipstick, a book. The tidy space had been full of the little personal things he never saw anymore.
“Is there anyone with you?” she asked.
Cam glanced over his shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable with where she was going. “It’s just me,” he said.
“Can you switch channels? I want to talk alone.”
“Greg?” he asked his headset, and the former Army Ranger sergeant said, “This is bullshit. You stay on the line.”
Other voices filled the frequency. “He’s right!” Owen shouted, as another man said, “We let you live here. We took you in when nobody else wanted anything to do with nanotech and now you’re going to hide something from—”
Cam shut off his radio, leaving the headset in place. Then he stepped closer to the cabin and rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Can you hear me? Ruth?”
There was a noise from another part of the hut, a thump, thump like someone convulsing on the floor.
“Ruth!” he yelled, imagining Patrick or Michael loose in the cabin. He jogged alongside the building to the front room before he realized he couldn’t fire through the window or break down the door. If he did, the new plague would have him, too. But what if the infected men grabbed Ruth or tore her suit? Cam turned on his flashlight and aimed the beam inside. “Hey!” he yelled. The plastic on the window distorted the light. He couldn’t see more than the long shape of the cupboards, so he banged on the glass, hoping to distract anyone at the door to Ruth’s lab. “Hey!”
The thumping increased, an
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