David Robbins - Boston Run

Berwin’s forehead creased as he sorted the new information. If he’d been captured in Minnesota, then he must be from Minnesota, from the Home the scientist had mentioned. None of the revelations jarred his memory. He realized he must proceed cautiously. If Milton knew how little he truly knew, the colonel might lie to keep him in the dark. “It sounds as if the general doesn’t like me,” he commented.

Milton snorted. “Like you? General Malenkov despises you and the rest of the Family. But he especially hates you because of the many times you have thwarted his plans. Oh. And there is one other he hates. The Warrior named Hickok.”

The name provoked a recognition response in Berwin’s mind. He recalled the blond man in buckskins he’d seen in his dream, and he perceived the two were one and the same. Hickok. He felt the man was a close friend, although he couldn’t remember any experiences they had shared.

“There is a rumor making the rounds, and I don’t know how true it is, that General Malenkov became furious after you destroyed Lenin’s Needle in Cincinnati. He vowed to take revenge on you and the Family, at all costs.”

Lenin’s Needle? The title was unfamiliar to Berwin.

“General Malenkov personally conceived of the intricate plan to eradicate your Family once and for all,” Milton went on. “He sent the HGP

Unit to capture you, and you were transported to Boston and placed in the HGP ward under my care.”

“Why Boston? Why you?”

“I was placed in charge of your treatment because I was instrumental in creating the Memroxin. No one knows the capabilities of the drug better than I do.”

“What are its capabilities?”

“Memroxin inhibits the ability to remember past events. You might say its a form of induced amnesia. Twelve hours after Memroxin is injected, the subject can’t remember a thing. Bewilderment and disorientation are quite common.”

“How many doses was I given?”

“One. One dose is all that’s required. Our experiments demonstrated that additional amounts of Memroxin don’t enhance its effectiveness one iota.”

“How long does the amnesia last?”

Milton had relaxed as they conversed. He gestured absently, as if he was lecturing an intern. “The duration varies. For maximum effectiveness the subject must be kept in a controlled environment where all external stimulation is eliminated. You see, the potency of the Memroxin is reduced when the subject is subjected to strong emotional affirmation of the previous identity.”

“In other words, if someone the subject knew and loved were to walk into the subject’s room, the Memroxin would lose its hold?”

“It could happen. Even favorite possessions can trigger recall.”

Berwin pondered for a moment. “I don’t get it. How can the Memroxin be used to extract information if it makes the subject forget everything?”

“There’s the beauty of the drug,” Milton stated proudly. “The subject gradually begins to recall events, people, and places from the past, but the memories are vague at first. They take the form of dreams or random associations, and they’re of no unusual significance to the subject.” He paused. “That’s where I come in. If properly manipulated, the subject will reveal a host of important information he or she ordinarily wouldn’t divulge. To the subjects, there is no connection between their dreams and their past.”

“That’s why you were so interested in my dreams.”

“Exactly.”

“And all the lies you told me?”

“They were intended to allay any suspicions you might have entertained. We fabricated the report of your demolition accident to explain your presence in the hospital—”

“But what about my scar?” Berwin interrupted, running his finger along the indentation.

Milton smiled. “It’s fake. We shaved some of your hair off, and a professional makeup artist applied the phony scar. If you use your thumbnail, you can peel the scar right off.”

Berwin jabbed his right thumbnail into the skin at the nape of his neck, just below where the scar began. In seconds he succeeded in peeling the tip off, and a sharp tug removed the remainder. He dangled the strip of flesh-colored adhesive material in his hand, reflecting on the brilliance of the deception.

“Your so-called family also figured in our scheme. We wanted you to feel at ease, to avoid arousing your Warrior nature. We thought you would adjust more readily if you believed you had the support of a loving family,” Milton disclosed.

“And the lie about the United States winning World War Three was to convince me the Russians couldn’t possibly be a threat, just in case some memory of the war surfaced?”

Milton nodded. “And to convince you that you were among fellow citizens in a country to which you were devoted. We hoped to eliminate any suggestion of a potentially disturbing memory of a hostile nature. Our enemies can arouse strong emotions too.”

“And strong emotions interfere with the Memroxin.”

“What triggered your memory?” Milton inquired. “Was it something the damn janitor said?”

“I’ll ask the questions,” Berwin rejoined stiffly.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Why did you go to so much trouble to get the information you wanted out of me? Why not use truth serum or simple torture?”

“Because General Malenkov gave explicit instructions that you weren’t to be harmed under any circumstances. So torture, obviously, was out.

Truth serum, as you call it, is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s unreliable.

The subject can resist, even lie. And there are sometimes adverse side effects. Memroxin, on the other hand, is harmless, and eventually the subject regains a fully restored memory.”

Berwin stared at the scientist. “Why does General Malenkov want me in one piece?”

“Because of the part you’re to play in the HGP Project,” Milton answered.

“What’s that?”

“The HGP Project is the second reason you were brought to Boston.

HGP research is based in Boston, and this hospital, specifically this ward, is exclusively devoted to the Project.”

“Explain.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Try the beginning,” Berwin suggested.

“Very well. Prior to the war, American scientists in this very city were earnestly engaged in the Human Genome Project, or HGP. Do you know what a human genome is?”

“No.”

“The human genome refers to the complete set of genetic instructions for making a human being. Billions of dollars were spent by American scientists in the decade preceding the war as they attempted to map and sequence every human gene. They made commendable progress, despite the magnitude of the task. There are approximately one hundred thousand genes in the human body, and there are about three billion chemical components of genetic material. The goal is to identify every one.”

“Why?”

“Think of the implications. Eventually we’ll be able to take a fragment of tissue from an embryo and screen it for every known disease based on its genetic constitution. There are around four thousand heritable diseases in the world, and we intend to track down the genetic base of each.

Through selective breeding we can ultimately eliminate those diseases,” Milton boasted.

Berwin straightened when he heard the phrase “selective breeding.”

“Eliminate the diseases? How?”

“By terminating every embryo carrying a genetic defect.”

“Mass abortions?”

Milton nodded and grinned. “Why do you look so shocked? Mass abortions were commonplace in America before the war. Over two million babies were aborted every year. We are simply continuing the work the Americans started.”