Never Trust the Smile

Prompt:  http://www.writing.com/main/redirect.php?redirect_url=http://i6.photobucket.com/al...

It doesn't look like the means to save the world from a complete breakdown of civilization as we know it.

You've seen them before--you know, those innocuous toy-like balls with a painted smile designed to make its use more palatable to the common man, a ball you squeeze repeatedly to relieve the stress created by an impersonal and demeaning world.  You may even have one on your desk.

I know I'm being melodramatic and cynical.  While I've never been accused of the former, I'm guilty of the latter.  The fact is I am just an every-day Joe you might pass by on the street and never remember.  I'm John Q. average, a person so often overlooked that even at my college graduation my name was never called to receive my diploma.  I remained in my seat too timid to make a scene ... at least until after most folks had cleared the auditorium.

Oh, I received that parchment proclaiming my degree with Honors in Biochemistry.  The following Monday I started a job with a small research lab on the outskirts of town. 

I often wondered how they knew about my specialty.  My academic adviser had tried her best to steer me away from my chosen pursuit of working with amino acids and their relationship with the central nervous system.  My goal was to create a class of drugs engineered to a specific individual's DNA to achieve the maximum therapeutic value for a given illness.  I theorized since each person's DNA is unique, 'smart' drugs should be able to target and eradicate diseased cells without being a hazard to that person or others.

Ms. Trudy Lawrence, PhD., said I had a better chance of winning the Powerball given the current state of technology than solving the riddle of personal human DNA. 

I pointed out the by-product successes of DNA studies, including DNA fingerprinting in the field of forensics.  It seemed to me a worthwhile field of study, especially if it could save lives.

She finally relented with the cryptic remark, "I may know someone...."

That conversation was two years ago.  It came rushing back two weeks before graduation when I received a phone call from OrbisTer Labs asking to meet me about a potential job.  While I had submitted a dozen resumes to various laboratories, I'd never heard of this lab.  Intrigued, I met with a gentleman who knew almost as much about my work as I did, asking some very pointed, and if I might add, disturbing questions about the results of several experiments I'd documented privately.

Strangely enough, I was so gratified to find someone who was interested in my findings, someone who actually understood what I was talking about that I ignored the alarms going off in my brain.  It's bad enough to be dismissed because of my nondescript appearance; to be thought boring, or worse, obtuse because someone couldn't comprehend the science behind my passion was appalling.  It never crossed my mind where this interview ... and my life might wind up.

For almost two years I labored alone on the problems associated with correlating the amino acids that stimulated, positively or negatively, diseased cells in test subjects.  I always felt a twinge of guilt about the animals used for testing, but I reasoned the necessity was for the greater good. Testing on the chimpanzees was the hardest; they were most like humans in their response.  If not for that, I would have missed the "effect."   

I said I was alone.  In reality, there were three of us on a team each working on DNA mapping from different perspectives, though looking for the same solution--targeting individual DNA. When I accidentally discovered that irradiating specific amino acids created a parasitic effect that attached to a unique DNA strand making the owner of that DNA totally susceptible to verbal cues, I realized there was much more to our research than I thought. 

I began to wonder if the lab's research was really for the greater good, and decided to keep my findings secret ... at least, for a while.  I knew I needed the means offered by this well-equipped, well-funded lab to duplicate my success.  I'd be brushed aside in an instant once my bosses assumed control of my work.  Obviously, the ramifications were extraordinary ... and alarming.  I'd discovered the means to total control of an individual.  Such power....

My testing involved three chimps, rotating on a set three-day schedule--first Tom, then Dick, and finally Harry.  Tom was the most scatter-brained of the three.  I know, not a very scientific term, but very appropriate for Tom.  I'd injected him with a small dose of irradiated amino acids.  Noticing no appreciable change in his behavior, I moved on to Dick the next day. Again no results.  After injecting Harry, I gave him the same command I'd made to the other two the previous days--stand on his head on a chair.  Dick and Harry starting jumping wildly up and down, laughing and pointing at Tom.  I turned, staring open-mouthed at the unusual sight.  I joined Dick and Harry laughing. 

That it only worked on Tom was an unexpected side effect.  I couldn't begin to explain all the technical reasons behind my discovery; I preferred to concentrate on the practical aspects of the ultimate result.  I figured the bottom line was more important anyway.

It took six months of trial and error to isolate the specific acid and the exact amount of radiation needed to react with Tom's DNA to foster that uncharacteristic and complete response to any suggestion.  I had to prepare alternate testing results for my supervisors to ensure they never found out my real discovery.

Administering the treatment was the tricky part.  Subsequent testing showed the acid could be delivered through any means--absorbed through the skin, inhaled, or ingested.  Direct contact with the person's skin was the most effective means, though it required at least ten seconds of continuous contact.  Airborne delivery was not as successful as the proper dosage often dissipated quickly before being fully inhaled.  Ingestion by food or drink was not always reliable either; who could know what or when a person might eat? 

I picked up the smiling ball off my desk and squeezed it absently while I pondered my dilemma.  I loved the texture of the ball as my hand closed around it, kneading it, working its magic to calm my overworked brain.  Rolling it between my fingers, it created a macabre looking grin.  And I smiled.

         * * *

I've become a bit more paranoid lately.  Did you know the lab's name, OrbisTer, is short for Orbis Terrarum?  That's Latin for World Order--not a normal name for your average commercial lab.  I think the stress of all this secrecy is getting to me.  I'm pretty sure my co-workers are beginning to suspect something; after all, the chimp's altered behavior patterns are hard to disguise.  I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.

People say it's a good thing to be beneath the radar these days.  In that regard, my rather mousy character has been a blessing.  Big brother is always looking over your shoulder, reading your mail, keeping tabs on you in every aspect of your insignificant life in an effort to control your every thought, deed, and action.  What do they really know about control? 

Government officials are elected by people ambivalent to their own futures.  People follow whatever whim blows in off the horizon by some person who's driven by a need only he knows.  That drive bubbles up until he can do nothing but blindly act toward some successful conclusion in his mind.  That he's able to convince the masses is a testament to his drive ... and their pliancy.  Years of self-centered tendencies have led this country down a fast path to ruin.

Bank executives are under a great deal of stress.  I wonder if my bank's president might meet me for a drink. 

I'm so tired of being overlooked.

Word Count: 1343