Feb 13, 2010
A bitterly cold wind flew through the night air outside a chemical research facility in northern Illinois. Behind the building, in a well-lit parking lot, two young interns passed a badly rolled joint between them. Definitely pushing the graveyard shift, it had to be close to 2AM by now but neither of them had a watch. Their voices were intermittently interrupted by the howling wind, each time it rose their shoulders would shrug in discomfort.
“You ever think about the shit we’re doing here?” David asked.
“What do you mean?” Judy replied. “Smoking pot?”
He laughed. “No, I mean the research we’re doing right now. This drug development.”
She looked down slightly. “I assume you mean the amnesia drug.”
“What else? None of the other projects are remotely interesting in comparison.”
“True,” She said, “and to answer your question, yes. I do think about it. I worry”
“Me too. It’s almost done, you know? You don’t see the results like I do from the lab, but we’re getting near 100% acceptance levels, and complete submersion as well; none of them are coming out of it anymore.” He paced away while he talked, smoking nervously. “I mean, I know the benefits of being involved in a project like this, but…”
“But the ethical issues are leaving you cold.”
“Exactly.” He responded, clasping his collar shut as the wind froze the skin on his neck.
“I was told that it was only going to be used on soldiers.” Judy mumbled while continuing to look downward.
“OUR soldiers?”
“Yeah. Like, for the ones that…”
Suddenly the door opened and Asiya Hassan stuck her head outside. David quickly ditched the roach he was holding between his fingers and stepped on it. Asiya glared at him suspiciously. “What are you two doing? It’s late! I want to go home and I can’t leave until you finish those preliminary conclusions reports.”
“We know, Ms. Hassan. We were just taking one last smoke break. It’s almost done.” Judy said in their defense.
“Well get back in here and finish! I don’t have time for any of this!”
“Yes.” They both replied. As they walked back in past Asiya she sniffed loudly.
“What’s that smell?” She asked.
They walked away briskly. “What? Don’t know what you mean…” David trailed off. Asiya glared after him but let it go. She just wanted to be done with this place for the night.
She walked in the other direction, continuing towards the containment facility that was her original destination before seeing David and Judy slacking off and needing of a slap upside the head. Her shoes made large clapping sounds off the linoleum due to her flat footedness and the brisk pace with which she now moved. The blackberry at her side began to vibrate but this did not interrupt her pace one iota. She whipped it out of its clip and read the SMS on the screen. The sender’s name was “Home” and the message said: “I’m going to sleep now.” She sighed loudly and typed in the reply “Fine” and continued along her way at the same brisk pace. She came to a sliding glass security door and quickly slid her keycard through the reader. The door slid open as the 3-tone approval ding indicated that her security clearance had passed. She did all this with barely an interruption in the rate at which she moved towards her destination, having gone through the routines 3 or 4 times a day for the past year.
She moved through the containment facility, large numbered doors lining the walls of the hall. Occasionally the sounds of someone calling out for help could be heard, or someone sobbing loudly. She hated this part of the trip. She quickly found herself at door #7 and slid her keycard through the reader there, moving inside. It was a white room, with a white table in the center surrounded by white chairs, and a white door. Sitting in the corner, on the floor, was a middle-aged woman wearing a white gown.
“Who are you?” The frightened woman asked with a tremor in her voice.
“My name is Dr. Asiya Hussan, Mrs. Thompson. I’m here to help you.”
“Where am I?” She asked in a frightened tone.
“You’re in a containment facility, under quarantine.”
“Why?!”
“Because, Jane, you’ve undergone some severe trauma I’m afraid. Do you remember your training?”
“Yes. Infantry, first class.”
“Right. Do you remember anything about your time in Iraq?”
“I was in Iraq?” She asked confusingly.
Asiya smiled, and then frowned. “Yes, I’m afraid you were.” Asiya reached forward and pulled Jane up to her feet. “Come. Sit at the table with me.”
They sat at the table and Asiya leaned forward, holding Jane’s hand and looked into her eyes. “You’ve undergone some terrible treatment, Jane. You’ve seen some terrible things. I know you don’t remember them, but the stranger part of all this is that I’m now telling you this for the 3rd time today.”
Jane looked very confused. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”
Asiya took back her hand and stayed leaning forward, hands clasped in front of her. “Yes, I assure you we have met many times, Jane. We’re trying to help you get better.”
“How?” She asked like a frightened child.
“I come here every few hours and I show you things from your life. We’re trying to help you remember the good things and being sure not to mention the specifics about the bad things. Do you mind if I show you some items now?” Asiya asked in a straightforward manner.
“Sure.”
“OK. Let’s get started then.” Asiya took out a copy of the bible. “Does this look familiar?”
“It’s a bible.” Jane said plainly.
“Yes, but it was your grandmothers. Your husband tells us that it was very important to you at one time. Do you remember?”
“No, I don’t.” She muttered sadly.
Asiya continued. “What about this? Do you recognize this song?” She took out a small tape recorder and pressed play.
“Yes. Yes, I do! That’s ‘Up Where We Belong’, by Joe Crocker.” Jane said with excitement.
“That’s right!” Asiya said. “Does the song have any particular meaning to you? Any special importance?”
Jane’s face dropped, and sadly she said: “No. No it doesn’t.”
“That’s too bad, but don’t worry. In time this should all start to come back to you. What about this? Do you recognize this girl?” Asiya held up an image of a young girl in a ruffled pink dress.
“No, I don’t. Who is she?” Jane inquired.
Tears began to well in both their eyes, Jane’s from frustration and Asiya’s from understanding. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Thompson. This is your daughter.” She said plainly.
“Oh… I didn’t know that I had a daughter.”
Asiya was noticeably disturbed, and began to gather her things. “That’s enough for now.” She said, choking back tears. “We’ll continue this tomorrow. Thank you. In time you will get better.” She said with a tremble in her voice, knowing it wasn’t true. “I promise you.”
“OK, thank you Dr…… What was your name again?”
“Asiya, Jane. My name is Dr. Asiya Hassan.”
“OK, thank you Dr. Hassan.”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye.” Asiya left the room and the door made a loud damping thud behind her, leaving the room eerily silent.
She walked briskly back towards the labs, her feet making even more noise now than before. There was a fervor in her pace, as if she had something she urgently needed to take care of. Her blackberry went off again but she didn’t answer it this time; she just continued the quick walk towards her office.
She entered the lab area and took a quick left turn into her office halfway down the first hallway. Once inside she removed her lab coat and hung it by the door. Almost immediately she began rifling through papers on her desk, then she moved to a filing cabinet and in short time pulled out a brown folder. She took it back to her desk, sat down, turned on the lamp and began searching through the folder. She appeared to find what she was looking for, pointed at it with her finger, and picked up the phone on her desk. Looking back and forth between the paper and the phone she rapidly dialed a local number.
The sound of a very tired middle-aged man picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Geoff I need to talk to you.” Asiya said with a tone of urgency and annoyance.
“Asiya? It’s 2AM, can’t this wait until….”
“No, it can’t wait Geoff. I need to know who the client is on this Amnesia drug development.”
There was the sound of ruffling bed sheets for a few seconds and Geoff cleared his throat. “It’s a military contract, Asiya. You know that.”
“Right, but who specifically is the commanding officer in charge of supervision over there?”
There was a brief pause. “Jack Spears.”
“What the…..”
“Now, just calm down Asiaya…”
“No, Geoff! I won’t calm down! You told me that this drug was for shell-shocked soldiers! You said that it was being used as a last resort for those soldiers that can’t sleep at night, the ones that suffer horrible nightmares from the shit they went through over there!”
“That’s what I’ve been told it’s for. I don’t see why…”
“SINCE WHEN DOES COMMANDER JACK SPEARS DEAL WITH MEDICINAL TREATMENTS, GEOFF?!” Asiya yelled angrily. “You know DAMN WELL what this drug is going to be used for! You should have told me.”
“Well, I really think you’re…”
Asiya didn’t wait for him to finish and abruptly hung up the phone. She quickly picked it up again, dialing, this time to an obviously international number given the number of digits she had to enter. She started to cry when she misdialed in her panic, hanging up and trying again. Finally she got through.
“a'Arabi?” I heavily accented voice said in Arabic.
“Mahmoud? It’s Asiya.” She said with a tremble in her voice.
“Asiya? Is everything OK? You don’t sound good.” Her brother said with concern.
“Mahmoud, I need you to get mother, father, and our cousins and you need to get them out of Tehran. You need to start making plans to bring them to the United States.” Asiya ordered, her voice becoming increasingly more panicked.
“What? Why, Asiya? What have you heard?” Mahmoud asked with even graver concern.
“You know I can’t tell you that, Mahmoud. It’s the nature of my job. Please, just trust me. You need to bring everyone here as soon as possible.”
“OK, Asiya. I’ll start making the arrangements.” He replied solemnly.
“Thank you, Mahmoud. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.” She hung up slowly and put her head in her hands, sobbing loudly. She was reflecting on what she had done, and how much damage it could do. The drug was ready, she was the first to know it, the one who made it, and now one of the many people in the world helpless to stop it.
