Crime Of The Millennia (1) CHAPTER 1 – MEXICO and The Aliens Traveling on Federal Highway Number 85 towards the Rio Bravo; the family Marin on a journey to the Azatlan. Pedros' weathered skin reflected his exposure to the relentless sun of Tierra Caliente and the families gaunt frames, a testament to his failure as a farmer. With his wife Imelda and their eight children, they left their picturesque home framed by the rugged mountains of Northern Mexico. Now, a distant blur in his rearview mirror, as was the memories of their harsh life; directly ahead, hope and a future; AMERICA. Presidente Adolfo Lopez Mateo, found it difficult to improve conditions or opportunities for the citizens of Tamaulipais. The water for Tamaulipais is dependent upon an irregular rainfall and combined with primitive farming techniques, produced very low yields per acre and the earth reflected each seasons erosion, just like its' people. In Tamaulipais, one was too poor to own modern machinery or to buy fertilizer; items which if available could have improved Pedro and his families' chances or altered their current destiny. Pedro's small plot of land offered a miserly subsistence, land he could work and pass on to his children, but never sold. Less than ten percent of the Mexican people enjoyed the comfort of a middle class, for many were too poor to even own a burro. Pedro had gone to America to work in the last years and earned enough to provide for his family and purchase his fine pick-up truck; although old and the miles long, it was sturdy and reliable and most of all; his. Pedro's option was to go North and take his family and venture into America. It was a difficult decision; but the family worked as slaves for the Hacendado. Now, on the road towards the Rio Bravo, he set his mind to the long drive ahead. Imelda knew her husband was in deep thought, she could tell by the way he pursed his lips and knew this was difficult for them all, to go to the land of the Americanos. Her cousin had told her of many wonderful things and she wore beautiful clothes on her visits to the Rancho and they drove a CAR! So shiny and large. The time she had rode in it to la marketa with her cousin, she felt like a princess. Her cousin told her of how she and her husband worked in a field so full of food; as far as the eye could see. Surely, America must be rich. Now she would see, to confirm or deny the stories she had heard. Tired but scared and too excited to go to sleep, she stared straight ahead; towards-America. Juanito, their oldest, dreamed of his summer in America, a big car, a big woman; one that would take all of his energy to make love too and of course, plenty of American money. HONK! HONK! HONK! The Dina bus found this dreamer in its way of progress. In the back of the pickup, a camper shell provided shade and very little relief from the merciless Mexican Sun. Seven children, most asleep, except for Paula watching the people make their way on the hot and dusty road, to la marketa. A little burro, hidden from sight, under a load of it's things and men with sombreros struggling to carry their heavy loads, as their huaraches cut through the dusty road. Women in their colorful rebozos carried loads on their heads, walking with a wonderful gliding grace with their backs and heads held straight and high. Little children followed, each with their own small load, little girls carried their baby brothers or sisters, as Paula now sat in the back of the pickup, with her little brother fast asleep in her lap. Paula thought; "Why do we leave my Juleta?" She missed her. How long would it take to get to America? She only knew that it was North. The sights kept her awake and she did not want to forget how to get back to the Hacendado, to her Juleta. She had cried, yet Juleta said: "Querida, you cannot stay, do not worry as many of our family is here and I shall be taken care of. I know you shall grow up to be a beautiful woman with a handsome husband; this the Bruja told me when we had your fortune read." These words did not sway Paula for she loved her Juleta, who comforted her and spoke of so many, many things. No, she would remember the road, so it would help her Papa when he would have to come back, back to the Hacendado and her Juleta. HONK! HONK! HONK! Trucks and buses belched their exhaust and the fumes from the pick-up truck filled the small enclosure with a heavy smell of gasoline, mixing with the chalk like dust from the road. Paula felt light-headed, whether from the sun or the smell of unburned gasoline, she did not know. She laid her head on a large cotton sack, filled with cotton sacks that the family would use to work in the fields. To call them sacks was an understatement, as they were over seven meters long. Paula had worked in the cotton field, deftly picking the fibers from the boll, as her hands ached and her little fingers bled. The sack distended behind her like a large snake trying to consume her. It was a sack that never seemed to fill, yet each child's labor would contribute to the families efforts to fill the large truck-like bins. Thinking of these things, added to Paula's apprehension, the uncertainty of the journey, the knowledge of working in untenable conditions; yet she knew she was powerless to change what fate held in store for her. Approaching the last marker before they would leave the land of their birth, she could see the American flag waving from the little building in the distance. The truck came to a stop next to a group of heavily armed soldiers, who spoke roughly to her father, yet he maintained his composure and dignity. On the other side of the truck, she could hear another soldier berating her brother; "So, you think you are better, by going to the land of the Americanos?" "Do you not have any love for your country?" "Yes, I love my country, but I must help my family work." The soldier had the families green plastic micas in his hands and deftly cut-off a corner of each one saying: "Since you are abandoning your country, I will mark these micas to make sure that if you come back, we will know during our inspection that you are a family of traitors; that is if you dare to come back. These marks will let us know. You will find the Americanos do not care for you, this you will learn; to them you are nothing but aliens. Their ways are different and most of all they will always look down at you because you look and speak different." Go then, the soldier said, he waived his hand and the gate swung up to let our truck with our family pass towards the American flag in the distance. Driving the 1000 meters to the Americanos, the truck stopped next to the official who held up his hand. Paula saw that he was a handsome man, fair of hair and skin; so like our family she thought. He spoke to her brother, first in Spanish and then he asked Juanito if he understood English, to which he acknowledged yes. Paula was proud that Juanito had learned this strange language, to her it had no musical sound, like the bark of a dog. Once again the families micas were handed to the Americano. In contrast to their previous inspection, this official took the micas and held them to the side of her mothers and fathers face. How silly she thought that he would do so, as why would they not be the ones in the pictures on the mica? Juanito got out of the truck and came towards the back of the truck and opened the gate of the camper shell. Paula woke all her brothers and sisters, many cried at the intrusion of their normal siesta. The official spoke in Spanish, calling each by name and comparing the appropriate mica with the face of each and everyone. Finishing this procedure and satisfied at his thoroughness, he allowed Juanito to close the gate to the truck. The inspection over, Juanito signed the papers and all got back into the truck. The motor coughed to life, signaling the continuation of their journey and the uncertainty that lay ahead. Everyone adjusted their positions to resume the sleep interrupted by officialdom and Paula succumbed to the rest that her body desired. Her last waking thought was: "How can the Americanos think of us as coming from Outer Space?" CHAPTER 2 – VIETNAM, The Pilot The monsoon rain descended in a continuous and unending tympanic beat; providing life and nourishment to the mountains and forests it caressed. Within its protective embrace, creatures existed in the canopy and on the floor of the forest. Large, small, avian, simian, reptilian, joined the exodus, away from the epicenter, away from the forests most fearsome creature. A creature whose viciousness in the hunt was shared by all in its pack and its sole purpose was the elimination of the unseen, using weapons of destruction. This creature was man. Elimination or capture, elements of the NVA had successfully located the Marine Recon team, extracting a deadly toll. They sought those that survived, but the lush vegetation provided a blanket that suppressed sound and covered the Recon Teams tracks; increasing the difficulty of those in pursuit. The ageless trees, silent sentinels as they witnessed the violence and destruction that invaded their timeless empire. The sussurrant rain, interspersed with the random crack of automatic weapons, seeking targets of those that survived. Their only hope, 1st Air Calvary to send in the scheduled extraction unit. Sgt. Edward Clinton, one of three survivors, bore command of this mission and its success. The NVA were less than two kliks away and the possibility of their deaths, a distinct possibility and orders required that one must survive at all costs. Sgt. Clinton signaled and the foliage rose to reveal men in camouflage, haggard and weary, bearing wounds that would force lesser men to surrender. Sgt. Clinton took the point and set a course that would lateral away from their pursuers, moving them in an opposite direction of their extraction point, providing a diversion. They had left various booby traps, that would warn them of pursuit and allow them sufficient time to reset their course to the point. High above the canopy of the jungle, coursing through the air, with the grace of a humming bird. Lt. Commander JR Barzini and his co-pilot Sgt. Tommy Jones, "TJ" and aft gunner James "Mad Bomber" Baum, on orders from Command Saigon to extract a Recon Squad from Quang Tri Province. JR’s, steel gray eyes, concentrated on his flight while dexterously manipulating the controls of his bird of prey. He was determined to complete this last mission and bring his crew, the Recon squad and the Huey, back in one piece. There was no indication of his intense concentration, as both he and his crew had flown over one hundred previous missions; bringing back the brave and those not so brave. The crew focused their full attention on the canopy of the jungle, as JR skillfully skimmed the Huey over the tops of the trees. Vacuumed leaves and scattered wildlife, the only visual indication of the Huey’s wake. Sgt. TJ Swan, a native of Harlem had survived the street wars of gangs and common criminals and found a guiding light in a US Army recruiter who had encouraged him to enlist and back in the line of fire. It was a position he would not change or trade; for here he had found a man he could respect and follow into the fires of hell and beyond. In his current situation, he sat uncomfortably on his helmet, the Huey jinked left and right, as JR maintained an erratic path to avoid the occasional sniper round. TJ’s rear stuck to his helmet like glue, for his biggest fear was to take an errant round in his least defensible position. Cpl. James Baum, flailed about in his harness like a marionette. His palms securely latched to the handles of his M60; scanning the surface for muzzle flashes where he could aim and deliver his message of death to anyone that would dare interrupt the Mad Bomber and his companions on their mission of mercy. JR flicked on the intercom, "three minutes to touchdown" "Madman, look sharp and be alert, lets make this last one a touch and go." The Mad Bomber acknowledged this by responding with a mock "Aye-aye-Sir!" Their primary mission, to extract the Recon squad and return to forward command. With any luck, the situation would not be red-hot, requiring a covering fire to get the Recon Marines into the Huey. TJ pointed at the contact site for the Mad Bomber’s reference and slid into his harness, manning the opposite M60 in preparation for landing. Sgt. Clinton heard the familiar sound of the Huey approaching and scanned the skies for its familiar silhouette. He knew that the NVA would hear the Huey’s approach and their commander would change their course directly to their position. Precious minutes remained, before the extraction and the potential for another fire-fight was high. He needed to ensure that all surviving members would make it out to see another day. The sound of the Huey’s rotors increased as it "pop-upped" from the canopy of the jungle, extracting a grudging respect from the Marines on the ground as the pilot demonstrated his skills with his tool of war. Sgt. Clinton released a smoke signal in the clearing, making their presence known, providing wind direction that would guide the Huey in. JR side-slipped the Huey in, maintaining a hover just above the ground; smoke mushroomed out of the staging area, engulfing the foliage as he maintained power to the rotors, for a fast lift-off. By instinct, Sgt. Clinton maintained a covering position and simultaneously back-pedaled to the Huey’s bay doors. The thud of their bodies as they hit the bay floor, muffled by the grunt of pain as Sgt. Clinton felt a tug on his harness. His senses went on full alert, he turned and came face to face with a very large black man with a smile as large as the Cheshire cat. The Huey leapt into the air, TJ nor the Mad Bomber needed to pose the question; as to the remainder of Sgt. Clinton’s Recon Marines. CHAPTER 3 – WYOMING, Project Sustain Home of America’s nuclear forest, deep in America’s heartland where horses outnumber citizens and America deploys its grand plan to feed the nation. Dr. John Holman, Chief Researcher for "Project Sustain" since its initial funding by the United States Department of Agriculture. The facilities encompass 10,000 acres with strict security that impedes direct land and aerial access. The only evidence of its existence is the metallic sign employed at twenty-foot intervals around the perimeter of the facility; which clearly states: WARNING Property of the US Government TRESPASSING PROHIBITED Violators will be prosecuted USC 18-212(c) United States Department of Agriculture Dr. Holman’s staff of two-hundred and fifty represent, the leading edge of Americas Biological Engineering Research, whose primary mission at this facility is to minimize the period of gestation while simultaneously inducing a state of accelerated growth in the bovine test herd. The research staff had affectionately dubbed the test herd and the facility as "Cowtown-USA". Thousands of steroid combinations were introduced into the test herd and the discovery of an animal steroid which produced acceptable results in fast-tracking the calving stock to production with minimal side-effects, resulted in the availability of unlimited funding for the secret program. The zealous pursuit in this research, coupled with funding from USDA, represented mans attempt to control natural evolutionary growth. Natural selection is haphazard at best, resulting in the compounding of inherent defects through generations. The initial test herd was created from a superior strain of cattle developed from an experimental "in-vitro-fertilization" program and its purpose was to create a genetically pure herd for Project Sustain. Results varied and various side effects were noted with all lab pen observations recorded on all tests animals which were then destroyed after the examination. Forecasts compiled by joint studies from the US Department of Commerce and the USDA predicted that consumer demand would escalate by factors of four in America with each decade and the projected population growth. The United States Department of Health’s doctrine emphasized USDA approved beef as the "lynch-pin" for a nutritional diet; encouraging all American’s to consume a well balanced meal with protein as the important aspect of this pyramid of health. Interagency co-operation and funding lobbyists maintained close relationships with various departmental contacts to broaden their grasp upon every available dollar and encouraged participation from the pharmaceutical industry. Dr. Holman’s "white paper" in the Molecular Journal, focused on cell proclivity in aborted bovine fetuses and demonstrated that multiple fetuses are present in the womb and generally one survives to term. The fetuses that failed to survive, were absorbed through the cellular wall by the surviving fetus. His experiments centered on the surgical removal of the fetuses and harvesting and separating their cells for clinical trials. Harvesting would provide a scalable classification for the research trial protocol. After separation and classification, the samples would be injected directly into the fetus at proscribed intervals and the development of the fetus, monitored by sonogram with the results logged and analyzed per the protocol. The tests on the genetically pure herd over the period of the trials, demonstrated that fetal development accelerated through the injection of BGF-12 which was extracted from the harvested cells. Gestation was predicated upon the amount of BGF-12 available to the fetus and not the regularly timed cycle of gestation. Additional "cross-applicability" with other species showed promise. Dr Holman’s success catapulted his cousin; Dr. Alan Kipler’s career and his agency to the attention of the congressional subcommittees responsible for advanced medical funding. Immersed in his work and the research before him, Dr. Holman’s dedication to his work and the long hours that his research required hurt the one he loved most, Elizabeth. Congressional over-sights summation of Project Sustain: "To provide the American rancher the biological tools to feed Americas masses and to dominate the world market in production." This elite research facility and all of its contracted personnel were required to sign and acknowledge oaths of silence under the National Security Act. Dr. Holman’s success assisted Dr. Kipler, for he was a thief of others moments. The aura he emitted, a mixture of determination and hostility and his outward appearance was a façade for the turmoil that broiled within. His internal conflict drove him to seek answers-answers that he could pursue in the course of his work, utilizing personnel, skills and their discoveries for his own purpose. The increased exposure assured Alan the nomination of the nations most powerful branch; The Food and Drug Administration. A position whose edicts and directives over fourteen, a powerful non-elective position. With his cousins success he would not be required to place his lips on the butt of the senator who chaired the committee to secure the nomination that he desired. Alan’s interest lay in the studies of the Swiss Institute of Lausanne, Switzerland for they had made remarkable progress on the processes of human aging. The project fascinated Dr. Kipler and he maintained an open channel of communication with the project director, Dr. Han’s Uberhoff. Dr. Kipler desired the Presidential appointment, as it was his plan to create a duplicate project and utilize research materials he had appropriated from Dr. Uberhoff, which would save countless years on the base line studies. The benefits from this "jump-start" would enhance his own research project and further his agenda. His close and only friend, Otto Von Strosek, CEO of Werner AG Pharmaceuticals, agreed to fund and co-develop any venture with the understanding that the test data and its results would be shared. Their interests and motives, based on the commercialization of any break through, though regulations forbade Dr. Kipler from entering any binding agreements that utilized information mined from any FDA research project. With his appointment Alan would meld his previous project with the new research and "dual" the scope of its clinical trials. The necessary cellular materials were on the horizon, as a landmark case would open the availability of human cells within the United States. Dr. Kipler with his imminent appointment would be placed in a key position to control and modulate the materials. Otto Von Strosek currently funneled approximately twenty-five percent of Werner AG's revenue into R&D. Werner AG's re-packaging of pharmaceuticals had provided a handsome growth, though this profit was temporary. Otto Von Stroseks effort, required that he obtain marketable products that would emanate "exclusivity". A single product with market impact would generate one hundred to three hundred million dollars in annual sales. He was willing to invest towards development and joint ventures, especially this secret agreement with his friend Dr. Kipler. The potential of this liaison was incalculable, as the influence of Dr. Kiplers position and his office could benefit Werner AG. CHAPTER 4 – DC, The Capitol The nation’s capitol and its sterile concrete architecture glistens from the caress of the rain. Dr. Alan Kipler’s driver navigates a serpentine path along Pennsylvania Avenue in an attempt to avoid the potholes hidden beneath the puddles of rain. Dr. Kipler could drive, but found that his blood pressure rose at each stint of the wheel in the death crawl called traffic, imposing an unnecessary burden on his psyche and health. In his position he was expected to utilize one of the numerous vehicles allocated to his agency. Today he would acquire a powerful ally, a man of hunger equal to his own. He had all the required items to feed this man’s hunger; morsels, to entice and excite his victims grand visions. Otto Von Strosek could not be owned, but his weakness was power, the power that Dr. Kipler’s office and connections offered, connections that could catapult Otto’s company; Werner AG to the forefront of bulk distribution to Americas ever increasing pharmaceutical appetite. Werner AG, unlike other pharmaceutical manufacturers did not have an established beach-front in the American market; unlike other manufacturing concerns that had established themselves decades before. Inroads into the American market were extremely difficult, as the protocols required that all products be tested under the rigid auspices of the FDA. "Trials," (as testing was called) were rife with competitive analytical leaks, consuming an inordinate amount of time. Familiarization of both the trials and information provided a tactical advantage to a manufacturers attempt to penetrate fresh markets; the American market represented the number one target of all manufacturers in the world. Dr. Kipler’s connections would catapult Werner AG's products to the forefront of the American consumer. Otto’s long-range plans were to provide the American physician with generic copies of European products unhindered by bureaucratic procedures and target hospitals, providing generous discounts and focusing direct marketing to physicians to increase brand acknowledgment of Werner AG’s products. Otto would include generous outlays to the dispensaries of hospitals and additional discounts to the administrators of these facilities, who would utilize the savings for other facets of their health care operation. Dr. Kipler, the number one choice for FDA director by the Presidents advisory council and when appointed, his power would be incalculable. The benefits to Werner AG would be an indirect control of the trials process, which examined all drugs sold in the American market. Nominations for Alan’s vacant post would be under his direct control, as the committee gave broad latitude to the director of the FDA. With his new appointment, Dr. Kipler would "dual" his unique clinical trials and accelerate the animal research studies, incorporating the "Life Extension" protocol. Werner AG’s abortion clinics in the United States would ensure a steady supply of fetal material to Dr. Kipler's research facilities. The US Supreme Courts approval of the landmark Roe vs. Wade case, legalized abortion on demand, as the unwanted had become an inconvenience. The court interjected itself, unlike the town Doctor who secretly performed the procedure and a stark contrast to those who washed the fruit of their wombs, down the drain. The rational in this decision was to exert control on all aspects of life. The US Public Health Services failure to curtail the birth explosion of the poor through free medicine and moral education became the promise to end child abuse, by ending "unwanted children". Those in support assured all that it was an act of last resort and as such, would be used rarely; unlike the free and experimental "birth control pills." It was a reflection of what the world had become. Dr. Kipler, like other clever men had found what Otto wanted and Werner AG’s products would have priority in scheduled trials and provide Werner AG’s products a marketing advantage over their competition. With Dr. Kipler’s cousin as Chief of Research and his staff of microbiologists, embryologists and genetic engineers coupled with the availability of fetal material from the "harvesting clinics," promised benefits to Dr. Kipler’s "Life Extension Project." Its consequent discoveries, filtered by Dr. Kipler and those who sought to question its existence would find a rotational appointment to a remote research facility. The rain clicked against Dr. Kipler’s window and his reverie.
Copyright © 1995 Daemon Toles |