Omega Rose
J.R. Marzolf
Excerpts
No one knew what she was.
***
“Yes, we ran the tests three times in their entirety and rechecked the results three times as well. We checked in both the active and noncoding regions. The sequences are correct and complete, and it’s a perfect match. The source is a young female residing in California.”
“Excellent; immediately secure all materials, files, and printouts. Someone will contact you in the morning to collect everything related to it. Will you be on hand?”
“I’ll be here. Can you shed any light on what this is about?”
“Actually, no, I cannot, but this is excellent. Have a good evening,” was the monotone reply, and the phone clicked as the contact was abruptly broken.
“That was weird. What the heck’s going on? Does this have something to do with the DOD or the FBI?” He switched off his desk lamp and closed his office. As he drove home, he continued speculating as to what all this was about. “Well,” he reasoned, “At least tomorrow, there may be some sort of clarification, so I’ll make sure I’m there at the crack.”
Before he pulled into his driveway, another distant call was made. The monotone voice spoke just five words, “Omega Rose, DB Genetech Labs.” Then, the call ended.
“I want to talk to you about the Legacy Shareholder, which I just call Legacy. I know you have questions; those that have come before you did as well. But before we get to the questions, let me give you some context. As you know, Legacy holds a controlling interest in our firm; in fact, over twenty-one percent directly or indirectly. I know you have inquired, but as you discovered, it is impossible to determine the identity of Legacy. Those shares are held in several complex layers of trusts designed specifically to yield the utmost privacy. As I’m sure you have also discovered that, between our firm and Legacy, the controlling interest of the most powerful and vital companies in the world is collectively held. Much effort has been given to obfuscate this from the authorities and the general public. In essence, this means that Legacy, to some extent, controls a good portion of the planet’s entire economy. So, the question is? Who is Legacy? Well, son, you are about to find out...
…“Well, that’s a lot to take in. You say an agent of Legacy; will I actually meet Legacy instead?”
“Hard to say. I don’t even know that myself. I do know that in my meetings, there’s not always been the same person. As far as I can tell, there are at least three, and those are the ones that I have met. Two men in their fifties, who seemed well seasoned, and a lady of indeterminate age, who seemed very different than the other two.”
“Different in what way?”
***
And now, the car drove up in front of the same intimidating residence that reeked of nineteenth century old money. As before, he was ushered in, went into the North Parlor, and sat waiting on a Victorian sofa for the meeting.
The door opened, and then a woman entered, and he rose. She was tall, with an athletic build, and sporting blond, almost white hair. She was impeccably dressed in a light gray suit accented by a single strand of pearls. She exuded not only class and culture but something else, some undefinable element that Barry was pressed to identify. As she drew closer, he knew that she was not young and showed some signs of age at the corners of her eyes, but, in general, her skin and appearance were flawless. To say she was beautiful was totally inadequate; she was the most striking woman he had ever seen.
“Mr. Ford, please have a seat,” she said in a contralto voice as she walked to the middle of the room with strange feline fluidity. They both sat, and, for an uncomfortably long period of time, she barely looked at him, facing forward. The silence seemed of no discomfort to her. Then, she turned toward him directly.
With a slight smile, she asked, “Mr. Ford, what do you think of death?”
On a bank of screens elsewhere in the building, Ivan sat with Dr. Swensen and two others, watching Inga as she prowled around her new cage.
“Looks like she’ll settle in fine,” commented Ivan.
Dr. Swensen shook her head, the right side of which was swollen and discolored along the right jaw, extending up into her eye socket. “Don’t be too sure. You didn’t experience her explosive nature. She’s dangerous.”
“What’s she weigh, 100 pounds? Can’t be that dangerous,” Ivan scoffed.
“Erik is still in the hospital with a skull fracture and a concussion, and she fractured my zygomatic arch with one kick. Don’t be fooled; she is about as innocuous as a cobra, and it takes enough tranquilizer to drop a rhino to put her down. She almost came to twice during transport.”
“Now for the big one. Apparently, the pushback against CBDC’s is mounting. We need to keep this on schedule. Aside from the usual, what are we doing?”
St. Clair cleared his throat. “We have lured about as many as possible into crypto. It is not expanding as we had hoped. The exchanges are functioning as designed and we have back doors into all of them. When the moment arrives, we can make it all disappear in a puff of electronic smoke. But since it is not expanding as anticipated, I think we need to seriously consider a series of cyber-attacks, of course, coordinated with the target banks to deflect the damage to their account holders.”
“Is there a timetable?”
“Considering all the factors, the fall of 2026 or 2027 would be the most effective, that is if the central banks can continue to drive their currency devaluations at the proper rate,” said St. Clair blandly.
The program trailer for the new series Area 53 followed a deodorant commercial. Attractive, dynamic graphics of deep space, extraterrestrial vehicles, and explosions emerged in rapid succession, backstopped by dramatic sounds and grandiose music. It was impossible to look away. The human subconscious processes 20,000 bits per second, but the conscious mind only five to nine bits. Embedded in the trailer were subliminal frequencies targeting the subconscious. Unlike the crude subliminal image approach, these frequencies were tuned to specifically affect the hippocampal area in the non-dominant hemisphere of the viewer’s brain and, in this case, inculcate dogmatic conviction, social inertia, and a desire to be guided. This neuro-programming was not unique to the current program but was almost ubiquitous across broadcast and streaming services. However, the content was not uniform. Each specific audience dictated the programming frequencies. In this way, different populations could be groomed for specific purposes. In the case of Area 53, the programming was based on the mindset of people likely to watch the show and who already harbored strong beliefs and biases. To say that the frequencies were successful was a gross understatement. Individuals and even groups, once fully conditioned, could be activated through signals via various media to carry out virtually any set of instructions or commands. In the case of this specific population, they were to be the acolytes.
