​​Cancer Highlight

The Whirlwind's Reaping
Mike Shepley

   Ivan settled back into his office chair. A real cushy roller. Seven Hundred bucks worth. What you can get when your office is the size of a studio apartment. In a mid size3 city. Perks come with position.
   So much better than in the days he inhabited a cubicle in a warehouse size space. With his mere BS tacked top a sideboard, and a few pictures of the few places he had been. A BS from Tinker Toy Tech, as he was often told.
   Well, survival went to the swift and sure.
   Those who learned early…
   … taint what you know.
   Ivan runs a hand over his eyes. Just for effect.
   “So… you are trying to tell me… they are alive.”
   “Not exactly. Most are natural. Well… as far as we now know. But they have learned to mimic. Really well.”
   “To blend into nature.”
   “Exactly. Like they know we are here. And what we are.”
   The specimen of human sitting across from him was a prime example of what, back in the day, his Frat buddies would have called Nerd. And much worse, of course. A grind and computer cowboy who actually understood all the math instead of learning just the cues for a good guess. The latter via rote stimulus, a la Pavlov’s pups. A Nerd that had survived to wizened face, 20th century wire rim glasses framing magnified fish eyes, bald pate, skinny of form, narrow of shoulders, topped in some sort of sporty horizontally banded earth tone short sleeve button down.
   With pens, even pencils, protruding for a plastic pocket protector.
   “No one’s going to believe me telling that.”
   “3 Sigma certainty, so the Cray does say.”
   Ivan sighs. Then tries reason-
   “It’s GIGO. Depends on what you type in as initial parameters.”
   “Not so. The patterns never lie.”
   “Right. And I’m supposed to commit end of career suicide supporting this… analysis?”
   “Our job is to study. Just pass my paper along as something come to your desk. Isn’t that your job?”
   Ivan shoots him killer eyes. A real laser blast. The Nerd immediately throws his eyes to the side, recognizing the waking of the alpha predator, before lamely whispering-
   “ Just saying...”
   Yeah. One must keep the little people in line. Aware of who rules the roost. At all times. Or you get chaos. Still, the pencil neck would undoubtedly just run the thing over his head if he sat on it. Can’t have that. Would wake the predators above Ivan.
   “So, just to be clear here… There process to gather, well... sustenance… is to flush insects up out of the fields...”
   “And forests, or maybe just sparser open woods, made up of deciduous.”
   “And then they suck all the bugs in, straight out of the air, to ingest...”
   “Yep, kinda like the way Baleen whales get plankton. Huge gulps.”
 
   “Dr. Pepper...”
   “Popper, sir.”
   “The whole tale is bad fiction.”
   “But perfect science. Everything has tested out. Multiple times. The only way we...”
   “You.”
   “Could have it wrong is if the initial data was skewed some how. The same way, every time, everywhere...”
   “All at once.”
   “Exactly.”
   Ivan suspects Dr. Popper never caught the flick.
   Nerds. Oblivious.
   “Ok, and your answer is?”
   “Answer… to what question?”
   “Fine, to the problem.”
   “Is it a problem?”
   Ivan gives him another laser blast. Then slowly says-
   “You don’t think, upstairs of upstairs, this isn’t going to be defined as a problem?”
   The Dr. diverts his eyes again.
   “You bet it is. So just believe me here.”
   Silence. Then a resigned-
   “Sure.”
 
 
 
   More silence as Ivan eyes his prey, sizing up the way to make the kill. He switches to a steely stern voice-
   “Here’s how we handle this. For right now, it’s all classified. Not a word that these whirlwinds are … critters.”
   “Mimic tornadoes, that is the term we used. Most tornadoes are just what they seem. We think maybe there are a couple dozen mimics...”
   Ivan continues as if there were no interruption-
   “… going into feeding frenzies all over the place.”
   More silence. Then, continuing-
   “You can see how that would lead to a herd of scorched cats. Running amok all over the place. Out of control… in the streets...”
   “Yes. Yes, I see that...”
   “So. Go back. Lock up the data. Get it all in a thumb. Delete the rest. And get the thumb back to me.”
   “Aw... right.”
   The Dr sounded hesitant. 
   “In one hour.”
   Silence.
   Ivan gives the Dr. a last harsh look. Then growls-
   “Go already.”
   And the Dr. flees. No look back.
   Ivan sighs again. Picks up the desk phone and hits a speed dial. Waits through rings, then.
   “Yellow.”
 
 
   “Popper.”
   “What?”
   “We need to get him… um, into an institution.”
   “That far gone, eh?”
   “I tried to talk reason. Hopeless...”
   “Ok. Call the butterfly guys. On my authorization. Code word- conspiracy theory.”
   “The usual protocol then.”
   “Yeh… but… are you absolutely sure. Sooner or later we are gonna run into questioning families. With lawyers...”
   “Don’t worry with this one. I’ll have all his shit in my hands in an hour, or so.”
   “Great, but… are you absolutely sure.”
   “Yes, Eric. I know he knows. Proof positive.”
   Silence on the line. So Ivan goes on-
   “He KNOWS”
   “Ok. Just do it. Shut it all down"

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