jefflong.yearzero-第38部分

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　〃White；〃　barked　Baird。　〃He　got　his　nuts　handed　to　him　after　your　peccadillo。　Is　it　true　you　killed　a　man？　And　ate　him？〃
　〃Are　there　others　from　the　anthro　department　here？　They'd　know　about　Ochs。〃
　〃Gone。　All　gone；〃　said　Baird。　〃But　it's　in　the　paperwork；　I'm　sure。〃
　〃Is　the　paperwork　here；　in　this　building？〃
　〃There　is　a　chance。〃　Baird　gestured　at　thousands　of　cardboard　boxes　stacked　in　the　hallways。　There　was　barely　room　to　walk　between　them。　〃Thought　you　were　dead。〃
　Voices　trickled　from　further　ahead。　They　descended　a　staircase。　In　the　distance；　he　saw　a　dozen　old　people　eating　dinner　by　candlelight　in　the　dark　shadows　of　a　vestibule。
　They　looked　spectral　surrounding　the　silver　candelabra。　The　men　had　ties　and　jackets。　Two　wore　tuxes；　one　a　smoking　jacket　with　ascot。　The　women　looked　ready　for　the　opera；　withpashminas　draped　over　their　shoulders　to　ward　off　the　chill。　They　were　eating　from　antique　blue　plates；　with　heavy　silverware　and　crystal　wine　glasses。　Nathan　Lee　could　smell　each　part　of　their　meal。。。the　veal　and　lobster；　the　butter　sauce　and　basil；　the　red　wine　from　old　bottles。　Not　one　of　them　was　under　eighty。
　〃Look　what　the　wind　blew　in；〃　Baird　announced　to　the　group。　With　a　slow　flourish；　he　turned　to　display　his　discovery。
　But　the　hallway　was　empty。
　
　15
　Expendables
　
　LOSALAMOS
　Cavendish's　clone　passed　among　them　like　a　ghost。　He　traveled　everywhere；　threading　through　their　security　systems；　appearing　inside　their　labs；　hacking　into　their　puters。　He　crawled　insidetheir　secrets。　He　wormed　inside　their　minds。　At　first；　Adam　didn't　hate　them。　He　simply　wanted　to　know　what　made　him　different。
　In　the　beginning；　his　flesh　had　been　sport　enough。　No　longer　stapled　to　Cavendish's　wheelchair；　but　still　filled　with　Cavendish's　memory；　it　was　like　passing　from　himself。　He　had　started　out　as　Cavendish　in　mind；　but　he　was　no　longer　Cavendish。　For　a　time；　they　had　been　like　Siamese　twins　joined　at　the　head；　right　down　to　the　neural　twitch　and　the　tremor　in　their　hands。　Every　memory　before　twenty　months　ago　had　been　a　memory　shared　with　his　creator。
　For　a　while　after　Adam's　birth；　Cavendish　had　done　everything　to　keep　hisdoppelg？nger　on　a　short　leash；　close　at　hand；　day　and　night。　Adam　was　required　to　dress　Cavendish　in　the　morning　and　wash　him　at　night。　Adam　wheeled　his　chair。　At　meetings；　he　stood　to　the　rear；　mute；　like　some　exotic　potted　plant。　He　cooked　Cavendish　breakfast　and　dinner。　Even　his　name；　so　cliche；　like　a　chain　around　his　neck。
　Their　chess　games　were　a　source　of　humor　for　Cavendish。　Neither　could　make　a　move　the　other　didn't　know。　Every　game　ended　in　stalemate。　But　then　one　day　Adam　made　a　move　of　his　own。　〃Checkmate；〃　he　whispered；　and　stood。　He　towered　above　the　board。　That　was　the　first　time　he　had　felt　his　wings　spread　open。　They　seemed　to　fill　the　room。　And　Cavendish；　ravaged　by　disease；　cupped　in　his　wheelchair；　seemed　far　below。
　After　that；　Adam　had　systematically　severed　himself；　tissue　and　mind；　from　his　maker。　It　was　a　dangerous　procedure；　because　his　Cavendish…consciousness　knew　that　Cavendish　was　waiting　for　just　such　a　breach。　The　one　thing　Cavendish　feared　in　the　world　was　the　power　of　his　own　mind。　Above　all　else；　he　did　not　want　his　secrets　roaming　beyond　his　control。　Adam　knew　that　Cavendish　had　planned　to　terminate　him　once　he　saw　his　cloned；　living　body。　He　was　an　experiment；　a　vanity。　Cavendish　merely　wanted　to　see　himself　immaculate　and　unflawed。
　It　would　not　have　been　Cavendish's　first　murder；　Adam　knew。　There　were　others　besides　the　old　woman；　Golding。　Cavendish　had　deported　dozens　of　his　enemies　into　the　wastelands　of　America；　or　even　disappeared　them　into　their　own　lethal　experiments。　For　some　reason　which　Adam　did　not　fully　understand；　Cavendish　had　been　merciful　to　his　clone。　He　had　permitted　him　to　live。　All　the　same；　Adam　was　careful。
　His　freedom　came　in　doses；　literally。　Los　Alamos　abounded　with　chemists　from　pharmaceutical　panies。　Adam　obtained　a　sedative；　organically　constructed；　that　would　not　leave　traces　in　Cavendish's　blood。　Cavendish　was　a　gourmand　with　a　weakness　for　Californianouvelle　cuisine；　light　portions　exquisitely　arranged。　He　never　suspected　the　sleeping　potion。　In　that　way；　Adam　began　his　rebellion。　He　occupied　the　night。
　At　first　it　was　a　game。　He　sampled　his　own　body。　He　spent　hours　in　front　of　the　mirror。　With　weights　and　anabolic　steroids；　he　jumpstarted　his　muscles。　He　injected　synthetic　testosterone　to　rewire　his　lymphatic　system。　Soon　his　quads　and　calves　were　stretching　his　blue　jeans　tight。　In　the　dark　of　night；　he　ran　for　miles　along　Los　Alamos's　forest　roads。　Cavendish　noticed　the　changes；　but　slowly。　He　mented　on　the　veins　along　Adam's　arms　and　thighs。　Adam　played　to　his　narcissism。　He　was　careful　not　to　display　his　enormous　strength；　only　his　beauty。　He　became　David　to　his　Michelangelo。　Cavendish　began　to　touch　him。　He　marveled　at　what　he　might　have　been。
　Adam　didn't　rush　his　independence。　Sometimes　escape　is　a　thing　best　done　in　slow　motion；　in　plain　view。　Not　until　the　eleventh　month　did　he　have　a　woman。　Soon　he'd　had　many。　He　experienced　forbidden　sensations　that　boggled　his　mind。
　Inevitably；　Adam　grew　bored。　It　was　an　inherited　trait；　a　defense　mechanism；　a　by…product　of　rampant　genius。　Humanity　annoyed　him。　It　gratified　him　to　see　the　great　cities　desolate；　the　great　bridges　traversed　only　by　the　occasional　dog。　The　plague　had　surged　in　waves；　backing　off；　giving　hope；　then　mutating　and　charging　into　them　again。　Everything　human　was　dead　now　except　America；　and　that　was　on　the　brink。
　He'd　downloaded　the　best　of　their　downfall；　the　scenes　of　747s　crashing　at　airports　or　being　shot　from　the　sky；　the　torpedo　sinking　of　refugee　boats　and　even　a　Princess　Cruise　liner　trying　to　return　from　Bermuda；　the　final　bell　ring　of　the　New　York　stock　exchange；　the　last　clap　of　the　gavel　suspending　Congress　eight　months　ago。　A　group　of　survivalists　had　strung　together　a　colony　in　the　upper　reaches　of　a　redwood　forest　in　Washington；　a　village　of　rope　bridges　and　Tarzan　swings　connecting　their　nylon　ledges。　Adam　liked　that　website。　The　apes　were　returning　to　the　trees。
　He　continued　to　take　sex；　but　he　no　longer　hunted　it。　It　wasn't　a　discovery　process　anymore；　only　an　urge；　like　defecating。　The　Internet　crashed。　You　could　surf　the　satellites；　but　he　was　jaded。　With　time；　he　turned　from　one　taboo　to　another。　He　became　an　incubus；　poaching　their　thoughts；　stealing　their　privacy。　Getting　inside　them。
　The　trespassing　started　as　a　thrill　ride。　He　broke　their　security　codes；　hacked　into　their　memory　banks；　peeped　on　them　through　their　own　surveillance　cameras：　it　was　fun。　It　satisfied　his　growing　contempt　for　them。　Adam　perfected　his　vanishing　act。　He　bobbed　upon　their　electronic　consciousness；　only　to　disappear。
　This　was　different　from　their　plague　surfing；　which　he'd　indulged　in；　too。　Soon　that　got　old；　as　well。　Adam　began　to　visit　the　technical　areas　in　person。
　Audacity；　that　was　the　ticket；　that　and　the　right　biological　minutiae。　By　every　measure；　except　his　metamorphosis；　he　was　his　father　Cavendish。　His　fingerprints；　his　retinal　signature；　the　chemicals　of　his　exhaled　breath；　his　blood；　his　speech　patterns；　all　of　it　identified　him　as　the　Director。　A　security　guard　tried　to　report　his　one　self　to　the　other。　But　Adam；　posing　as　Cavendish；　intercepted　the　report　and　had　the　guard　and　his　family　deported　to　a　hot　zone。　From　then　on；　no　one　challenged　him。　The　lesson　was　clear。　It　meant　death　not　to　let　Cavendish　be　Cavendish。
　For　the　first　few　weeks　of　exploring　the　grounds；　he　merely　rubber…necked。　They　amazed　him；　these　desperate　people。　The　sheer　abundance　of　scientific　experiments　could　not　make　up　for　their　futility。　The　variety　of　approaches　amused　Adam。　Some　verged　on　alchemy。　In　their　rush　to　find　a　cure；　people　were　trying　anything　and　everything。　He　could　feel　his　boredom　returning。
　Then　one　night　he　pushed　the　envelope。　He　entered　the　forbidding　technical　areas　collectively　called　South　Sector。　They　took　up　the　entire　southern　third　of　Los　Alamos　county。　Geographically；　it　was　a　separate　region　altogether；　occupying　an　isolated　mesa　finger　far　from　the　city　and　other　technical　areas。　Here；　〃deep　behind　the　fence；〃　inside　fences　within　fences；　lay　the　BSL…4s。
　Level　Four's　were　treated　with　a　respect　that　bordered　on　dread。　They　were　the　ultimate　killing　field。　BSL…4　workers　were　considered　the　Top　Guns　of　virus　hunting。　One　mistake…one　pinhole　rip　in　your　suit；　one　Diet　Coke　too　many；　one　wrong　twitch…and　not　only　you；　but　your　entire　crew　of　researchers　and　support　personnel　could　be　infected。　In　such　an　emergency；　the　whole　building　had　to　be　sterilized。　The　infected　crew　went　into　quarantine；　which　was　simply　a　prolonged　imprisonment　while　the　researchers　turned　into　the　plague　victims　they　had　once　studied。　It　had　happened　twice　here　in　South　Sector。　One　of　the　buildings　had　been　written　off；　and　now　lay　entombed　in　cement；　like　the　Chernobyl　reactor。　Five　teams　had　ended　up　being　test　fodder　for　their　colleagues。　They　ate　their　young　here。
　The　first　time　Adam　entered　a　BSL…4　was　for　the　challenge。　Also；　he　wanted　to　go　where　Cavendish；　with　his　disabilities　and　suppressed　immun