Every butterfly cube was a violent brown blur of activity. The rustling was the sound of tens of thousands of butterflies all pelting frantically inside their cubes.
Sasha had never seen this before, not in fifteen years of field and lab entomology.
Suddenly she put two and two together.
She snatched up her field pherometer. The device looked like a cross between a metal detector and a small vacuum cleaner.
The readings are off the chart!
It must have been a lot of pheromone. Sasha was perplexed. Nothing in the Complex can produce a pheromone this concentrated. That means it has to be artificial. Is it something from my lab or an external source?
There was one quick way to find out. Sasha rushed along the nearest workbench and flipped open the lids of six butterfly cubes. The frantic butterflies poured from their confinement.
At the end of the workbench, she searched with her left hand until she found the button for the intercom system. She didn’t take her eyes from the small cloud of butterflies for a second.
‘This is Sasha up in the entomology lab. Ah, you’d better get Vanessa Sharp on the line. I think we have a very big problem up here.’
Every single butterfly had flown straight through the ceiling vent.
The fern gully in the recreational reserve was by far the children’s favorite artificial ecosystem. It looked prehistoric, with ferns and mist-jets carpeting the forest floor.
But mostly they liked it because of the helicopter pods. A helicopter pod was a type of seed pod with three little wings. When you twisted the stem between your fingers, it flew like a helicopter. The children ran through the forest, spinning the pods and trying to catch them mid-flight.
All the children except for David and Angie.
David, nine years old, and Angie, ten, stared at what they had found in the recreational reserve.
This was a place where no one came, David had assured his classmate as he led the way through the ferny undergrowth, swinging a short stick to find his helicopter pod.
And then they had found it.
‘Let’s go back,’ Angie said, seeing the rest of their classmates moving away through the trees. Now she could just see the occasional patch of colored clothing between the trees as their classmates left her and David behind. They weren’t supposed to have come this way, but Angie couldn’t let David go on his own. ‘We’re going to get into big trouble if we don’t catch them up.’
David walked around the thing, hitting it with his stupid stick.
Angie once had a boil on her leg that looked like this thing. Except this one had grown from the forest floor, bending aside ferns and pushing away the soil. It was taller than David, who disappeared from sight as he walked behind it.
‘This definitely wasn’t here before,’ David said as he came back around, lifting his knees to negotiate the clustered ferns. ‘This is brand new.’
Angie wished she’d never followed him. David had lived here eleven months, only half as long as herself, but he acted like he owned the place because his mother was Dr Sharp.
‘Don’t touch it,’ pleaded Angie. ‘I don’t like it. We need to get going. If you don’t come right now, I’m going without you.’
David smiled mischievously, all dimples and teeth. He’d had a haircut yesterday. His straight brown hair curved up neatly around his ears. He pressed his palm to the dark dome.
‘I’m goooo-ing,’ warned Angie, taking a few steps.
But David knew she wasn’t going anywhere. At first he was just teasing her, but now, up close, he was genuinely interested in the thing. He pressed down with both hands. The thing yielded under his weight like jelly. He stood on his toes and peered inside.
There! Just under the surface. Movement.
He peered closer, but it was hard to see. Turning his head, ignoring Angie’s shrill protests, David slowly pressed his ear to the surface and listened.
Something snatched his shoulder.
He jumped back, then looked up and saw it was just his teacher, Miss Wright. She must have come back along the track to find them. But she didn’t seem angry with him.
She looked terrified.
David followed her line of sight to where his ear rested a second ago.
Something bulged towards his face.
Miss Wright yanked him away, grabbing Angie as the entire hump violently convulsed. Now David could see clearly. Something was trying to get out. Something was uncoiling inside. No — many things!
‘Run back to the path! Go! Go!’ yelled Miss Wright, pushing the children ahead. ‘Quickly, go!’
The jelly-hump exploded, spraying them with liquid. As they ran through the reserve with ferns snapping at their knees, they heard the emergency evacuation alarm begin.
Dana smiled at the tall investor in the crumpled suit asking about terrorism-proof engineering.
Here’s what they really came to hear about.
Counter-terrorism engineering.
It was part of everyday conversation. It was all over the talk-shows. People wanted to feel safe again. Huge amounts of funding would be tied to the first research organization able to provide that security. Terror-proofing was the catchphrase on everyone’s lips.
Dana felt her confidence begin to erode.
Delivering her own spiel was one thing, but counter-terrorism engineering was way outside of her field. Hell, it was an entirely new field! Dana didn’t even have security clearance to visit level three where they conducted the research.
‘Humans have always relied on plants for survival,’ stammered Dana. ‘And yes, we are taking this a step further and using plant genetics to design building materials for uncertain political climates.’
The tall investor interrupted, ‘So how far along are these projects?’
‘We are not a counter-terrorism research organization,’ Dana explained carefully, getting her rhythm back. ‘But in the event of, say, a powerful explosion, our construction materials don’t fragment like conventionally reinforced concrete. Their natural flexibility absorbs energy, dramatically reducing the chance of massive structural failure.’
Dana hoped she sounded tactful.
Something above the investors’ heads caught her attention. A single butterfly fluttered over their heads. Its erratic flight came lower and lower.
She ignored the eye-catching movement and said dramatically, ‘All our technology is exhaustively trialed and incorporated into this Complex before being released to the market. That makes this about the safest place on earth.’
‘When will we see further product releases?’
Dana didn’t see who’d asked the question. A cloud of butterflies now jostled above the investors’ heads.
What’s with all the butterflies? It wasn’t unusual to see one or two around the place, but never a cloud.
Dana focused back on her job. She was ready for this question. Investors always wanted to know when their money would start bearing fruit.
‘Biology is a complex discipline,’ she started, ‘far more prone to unforeseen variables than the pure math of conventional engineering, so rigorous testing is….’
But no one listened anymore.
Half of them ran for their lives. The ones not running stared past her towards the western fire stairs, their eyes wide, unbelieving.
Dana heard the evacuation alarm. Then she heard the screaming.
She turned and saw. ‘Mother of God….’
On the habitation level, in the single-room school for the staff’s younger children, Peter Crane heard the emergency evacuation alarm.