Prime Slime
Chapter 16: Plan of Attack

Evan first heard it on his morning radio station. The shock jocks were making a fuss about an invasive plant disease in the nation’s heartland. Evan flipped on the TV and found all the major networks locked in on the crisis. The US was once again paralyzed in terror. One anchor called it a “river of slime” indiscriminately killing crops in its wake. Pockets of destruction were being reported from Texas to New Jersey.

Evan was beside himself. It sure sounded like Prime Slime, but how could that be? How could it have escaped the lab and spread across multiple States so suddenly? Perhaps it was something similar, but surely not Prime Slime, he thought. It had been raining hard lately, so that may have woken a sleeping giant. Evan raced impatiently through the channels with the remote to obtain more information. He stopped for some breaking news on CNN.

“We are receiving some bizarre information from our affiliates in Dallas. They’re reporting that this devastating disease actually glows in the dark. Farmers across the affected area swear by it. Is this the work of terrorists, or some kind of alien invasion?”

“My God!” Evan cried, falling back in his leather recliner. His world was suddenly yanked out from under him. It was Prime Slime. It had to be. But how? Regardless, he had to do something. He had to notify the authorities.

Evan dialed the Department of Agriculture, and was transferred to an upper-level official. After confessing that the slime originated from his lab, Evan was summoned to Washington. A limousine with police escort was immediately sent to his home, giving him barely enough time to pack an overnight bag.

In the interim, Evan called George: “Did you hear the news?”

“We don’t listen to that nonsense at Terra.”

“Get off your high horse for a minute and listen!”

“What’s up, Doc?”

“They’re reporting that a slime has destroyed crops in several states, most likely Prime Slime. I have no idea how it escaped.”

“You’re pulling my leg,” George uttered. “Are you sure?”

“Nothing else moves that rapidly. It’s spreading like wildfire from here to Mexico, leaving death in its wake.”

George still had doubts. “Several biological agents could destroy plants. And, as you know, conventional plants are susceptible to disease, especially after the drought we had.”

“Yeah, but none of them light up in the dark.”

“There you have it,” George relented. “How did it escape?”

“I thought you might know the answer.”

“You’re not insinuating I had anything to do with it, are you?”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Evan confessed. “I mean, we know how much you hate the factory farms. Besides my students, only you and your farmhand had access to it.”

“Wait a minute!” George exclaimed, as he put two and two together. “Yes, yes, Cal Radi, my farmhand. He and his co-worker have been missing since the day we visited your lab last week. Apparently, Cal swiped one of those Prime Slime vials and spread it like Johnny Appleseed.”

“All the way to Mexico,” Evan added.

“Looks like they got their revenge.”

“Revenge?” Evan inquired.

“Those guys were badly mistreated as migrant workers. We rescued them from slave labor to work in our organic gardens. They were good workers and good men, but were badly mistreated by the corporate farms.”

“How did they disperse Prime Slime over such a wide area?”

“Cal and Sonny made compost tea, which is a bacterial solution made from manure. It helps plants grow and protects them from pests. They probably made compost tea out of your Prime Slime, and sprayed it on every farm they passed on their way back home. They know all the planting fields from here to Texas.”

“More like ‘tempest tea’,” Evan remarked. He recalled how nervous Cal made him feel when they visited his lab.

“I’m guessing they made it to Mexico without a hitch, and crossed the border from Laredo. Not exactly your typical bioterrorists, wouldn’t you say?”

“It’s uncanny how the blight took its time to manifest,” Evan said, as he juggled both curiosity and anger. “Apparently, Prime Slime laid dormant until the rains came.”

“Then it caught fire,” George added. “Otherwise, Cal and Sonny’s path of destruction would have given them away, and the Feds might have intercepted them early on. They were likely near the border when the rains hit.”

“And now the seed is sown. . .” Evan offered, stoically.

The two men stitched together a remarkable story, as their fates collided. A painful silence followed, as Evan let go of blame, pondered the potential disaster, and decided what needed to be done. Quietly, he knew his career was ruined. Though Dexter and Terri created the monster, and George brought Cal into the picture, Evan was in charge. It was he who insisted on keeping Prime Slime alive. He was absent all summer from the lab, leaving his students unsupervised. He allowed Cal into the lab, against protocol. The buck stopped at his desk.

“Now you now why we can’t trust genetic engineering,” George said, sensing Evan’s untenable position. All he had warned about was coming true. Yet, there was no solace in being right; no reason to celebrate, considering the pain and suffering involved.

In the moments before the Feds arrived, with George on the speakerphone, Evan managed to change into the suit he reserved for funerals. He also set his sights on solving the problem.

“There’s nothing left for me but to quell the damage.”

“It is our task,” George assured him. “We’ll do this together; you with yours and me with mine. Fate brought us together, each with our own complementary gifts, to defeat this blight.”

“I thought you would be pleased by all this,” said Evan. “It substantiates all that you’ve been saying.”

“It’s not the way I wanted it to happen,” George confessed. “All I see now is incomprehensible loss and great suffering. But we must seize the opportunity. This is a mandate for change—a return to quality—and I plan to help lead that cause. But first you need to snuff this thing out. Stop the damage with MIFF, and I’ll help rebuild the land.” George’s courage cut through the despair, comforting Evan, and helping him focus on the task ahead.

“Thank you, my friend. Listen, the Feds are here to take me to Washington. I’ll let you know what transpires.”

“Knock ‘em dead.”

Evan pocketed his cell phone, as emergency lights peered through the windows of his apartment. He grabbed a bag with a change of clothes, his computer, and was swept away by a police motorcade to Kennedy airport in the pouring rain. He would catch the first shuttle to DC.

At the airport, Evan managed to contact Nan and his students by phone to inform them of the devastation, and his current situation. The news was unfathomable, and hit everyone hard. Nan wanted to be there to ease his pain. Terri and Dexter, who were in Evan’s office when he called, felt awful about putting him in this situation. They vowed to defend him at all costs. But, for the time being, Evan was on his own, and would take full responsibility.

An emergency meeting was called that afternoon at the Pentagon. Evan reported first to the Department of Homeland Security, where he arrived by police escort. An officer carrying a large umbrella greeted him, and brought him in from the rain. He was ushered to an office with no name on the door. The clerk opened the door, and left Evan inside.

He looked around the large office, filled with law books and pictures of US Presidents on the walls. In the center was a huge oak desk with American flags on either side. A man with graying hair in a light grey suit was sitting at the desk with his back to Evan, engrossed in a telephone conversation. Evan recognized the man’s voice immediately. The chair swiveled around, and the President leaned forward as he hung up the phone.

“Dr. Lucian, I presume.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Evan muttered. “I’m honored to…”

“What sort of evil have you unleashed?”

“It was not my intention to cause harm, sir.”

“What was it then, a game, playing cards with the devil, or perhaps a terrorist plot?”

“No sir. We are loyal citizens. Our mission is to cure disease.”

“We invest taxpayer money into your work, and you make monsters? That doesn’t sound like a cure to me, Lucian!”

“It was an accident, sir! We made every effort to contain it.”

“Then how did it escape, pray tell?”

“I believe it was stolen by farmers we were working with. They made off to Mexico, infecting farms they passed along the way.”

“That might play well in Hollywood, Lucian,” the President sneered. “But it won’t fly here! This looks more like a premeditated plot. Are you a communist, Dr. Lucian?”

Just then the red phone rang and the President answered. He listened for a moment before responding.

“Yes, go to Code Red. I want extra surveillance in high-risk areas: nuclear power plants, airports, offshore oil rigs, carrier flight decks, and major bridges. They’re sure to strike again.” Without further ado, he hung up the phone and turned back to Evan.

“This is likely the work of eco-terrorists. Our intelligence agencies warned it was imminent. We knew they had weapons of mass destruction as well.”

“I assure you, sir, this is from my lab. I can tell you every detail about this creature, how it was made, the kinds of plants it prefers, what plants are resistant, and how we can stop it.”

“Save that for our scientists and engineers. We’ll need that information to help stamp this thing out. You will be convening with them this afternoon.”

“But I don’t have my lab notebooks with me.”

“We’ve confiscated all your books. CDC scientists are raking them over as we speak, trying to make sense out of your data.”

“I have nothing to hide,” Evan said.

“Good, then spell out everything you know. Shortly thereafter, we will gather to develop a national strategy to solve this crisis.”

“I know how to stop it, sir.”

“We have the finest military and industrial scientists on hand. We’ll figure out what action to take. You just cooperate.”

Before Evan exited, the President left him with a final thought.

“Let me make something clear, Lucian. With our armed forces and national security stuck cleaning up your mess, we are more vulnerable to extremists who hate us and who hate freedom! The fate of this nation may be squarely on your shoulders.”

Back at the Pentagon, some of the big guns in science had gathered to work on the problem, including top microbiologists, agronomists, molecular biologists, agrochemists, USDA scientists, and the Army Corp of Engineers. Representatives from the major oil, chemical, drug and munitions industries were there as well.

The President impressed upon Evan that Prime Slime could be harnessed as a weapon of mass destruction to be used against our enemies. It would be one of the most effective weapons in the US arsenal, with less collateral damage than atomic warfare. Yet, it could backfire on us, with all our conventional farms. Evan thought about the aftermath of such a global war. Only organic farms and sylvan vegetation would survive. Maybe what this world needed was a new beginning, to put humanity back on the right path.

Before the meeting, Evan was asked to inspect the offending organism, collected by one of the CDC scientists. He was brought to a Biosafety Level 3 Lab, where the most harmful bacteria, fungi and viruses were studied. Evan donned special body protection gear to ensure zero exposure. The slime was contained on a Petri dish inside a safety hood. True to form, Prime Slime threatened to overflow from the dish, and glowed in the dark when they doused the lights. Evan bowed his head. There was no longer any doubt.

All scientists and dignitaries present were summoned to the State Department press conference room that afternoon. Evan sat in the second row, just behind the department heads and cabinet members, who occasionally turned back to give him a dirty look. Presiding over the meeting was an Army Colonel from the Corp of Engineers. With the help of a projector, he provided an overview of the scourge. The slime was spreading rapidly, aided by the heavy rain. The dots were starting to connect, leaving a long trail of destruction, northeast to southwest. It spread contiguously from the sinuous trail Cal and Sonny took to go home.

It was hard for Evan to listen to ‘experts’, who had no understanding of Prime Slime. By the time it was his turn to speak, he was brimming with frustration. But, he was not the most popular guy in the room at present. He nearly drowned in a sea of disapproval on his way to the podium.

With the aid of PowerPoint slides, Evan first described the nature of slime-producing bacteria and their relevance to plant disease. He then described the genetics of Prime Slime, and how the combination of super slime and rapid spread made this blight so dangerous. He then described the first outbreak, and how it was contained with MIFF. Evan spoke resolutely, overcoming vibes of arrogance, skepticism, and downright hatred in the room.

Evan argued that the best way to lick Prime Slime was not to attack it directly, but to starve it, as they had done at the football field. He made the case for MIFF as the obvious choice to achieve this, despite its drawbacks. Finally, he credited his students with refining the technology to make it useful on a grand scale.

Unfortunately, the best performance of his life was wasted on a stubborn audience. These were experts in the field. They were not about to follow an upstart. Their commercial ties would help them and their cronies reap a fortune with EPA-approved germicides.

Following a short discussion, the meeting was adjourned. The real dialogue continued behind closed doors, with reps from agribusiness and the petrochemical industry. Evan was not invited.

Eventually, Evan and a few of the lead scientists were ushered into a room where a number of dignitaries were seated. An ad hoc consortium of officials was summoned to combat the problem, including those from Agriculture, Homeland Security, the EPA and the Armed Forces.

Presiding over the council was Army Chief of Staff, General Favé Fortissimo. Though short and fat, his booming voice made him appear larger. With a wooden pointer nearly taller than himself, he detailed the extent of destruction on a digital US map. The lit-up dots represented the extent of destruction. Multi-colored dots were employed, corresponding to the crop decimated by the blight. It was easy to construct, since most farms were monocultures: Corn in yellow, wheat in orange, tobacco in brown, and lettuce in green. Forests, in dark green, had remained largely unscathed. Most of the devastation targeted factory farmland.

“Prime Slime is an opportunist,” Evan offered. “It preys upon the weak. Fortunately, it has no effect on animals, organic plants, or uncultivated vegetation. Thus, it will readily attack manicured, fertilized lawns, but not sylvan grasses or forests. However, the drought and heat may have rendered all vegetation more vulnerable. Of course, this is all based on limited evidence.”

Most of the scientists took Evan’s suggestions with a grain of salt. They did not believe in organic pseudoscience. Rather, they were card-carrying disciples of the germ theory, where all bacteria were to be destroyed, and every host was susceptible. Evan argued instead that improper care of the soil was the problem, and Prime Slime was dangerous only to plants grown by conventional methods. He might as well have come from another planet, however, since his words were considered sheer nonsense.

Clearly, the Feds did not anticipate this form of bioterrorism. Being caught off guard again had Administration mortified. Since 9/11, they were prepared to combat the likes of anthrax, smallpox, tularemia, and Ebola, maybe even TB. Yet, no one expected massive crop destruction by an unknown germ. The blight had already destroyed thousands of acres of commercial farmland and was expanding rapidly, especially in the heavy rainfall. None of the billions spent on homeland security prepared them for this peril.

“How in Sam Hill we gonna fight this thing?” General Fortissimo asked.

“This is not your typical military engagement,” one expert offered. “Modern warfare is fought as much by scientists as by soldiers.”

“You need to attack by night,” Evan instructed, which caught everyone’s attention. “These bacteria harbor a luciferase gene.”

“Talk English, boy!” blurted Gen. Fortissimo. “What the hell is luciferase? Do these bugs come from the devil?”

“No, no,” Evan explained. “Luciferase is an enzyme made by fireflies. It’s what makes them light up at night. Prime Slime contains the luciferase gene in its DNA. It lights up as it grows.”

“Let’s see if I have this straight,” said Fortissimo. “If it’s growing, it’s glowing. And, when it’s lights out, the party’s over.”

“Exactly,” Evan responded. “The brighter it is, the more active it is. Conversely, the dimmer the light, the weaker it is.”

“Why aren’t all plants susceptible?” asked an EPA scientist.

“Uncultivated lands have resources that farmlands have lost. Despite acid rain and dry weather, the forests and grasses contain abundant topsoil full of supportive minerals, and good microbes to fend off bad ones.” Again, this sounded like gibberish, and fell largely on deaf ears.

“We should spray at night with chlorine,” a scientist suggested.

“Antimicrobial tin might work better,” added another.

“These chemicals are much too toxic and will further damage the crop, not to mention the soil,” Evan warned. “They will kill off good bacteria that help plants grow. “With MIFF, you can stop this thing from expanding, with minimal damage to other living things. The soil will be usable again, once the crisis passes.”

“We need to burn this critter to the ground,” Fortissimo added.

“But why destroy more than you need to?” Evan asked.

“We can’t worry about collateral damage at this point!” Fortissimo blurted. “Gotta go with the big artillery.”

“You will burn homes and businesses as well. Plus, it won’t work in the rain. We’re better off using MIFF for these purposes. We could spray around the affected area without causing more problems, and save a substantial part of the remaining crop.”

“We know nothing about this chemical of yours, or its safety profile,” an EPA official interjected. “There are no human or animal studies available. In fact, there’s little data regarding safety. MIFF has not been sanctioned for use, especially on this scale. The law requires we use approved products that are readily available.”

“We have stockpiles of antibiotics, biocides and germicides ready and in position to combat this thing,” assured a USDA spokesperson. “Plus, we need to act quickly.”

Evan was powerless to change their plans. The situation was too mired in politics, money and ego. Furthermore, it would take time to produce the amount of MIFF needed. With the President’s blessing, the General had already directed the Army Corp to the edge of the slime devastation, armed with several weapons. The petrochemical companies provided germicides. Boxcars full of chlorine were freighted from Connecticut to Army bases at Fort Dix in New Jersey, Fort Knox in Kentucky, Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri and Fort Sam Houston in Texas. The Air Force directed aerial spraying of farmlands and other affected areas. On the ground, the Army was equipped with flame-throwers.

The President was determined to bring this incursion down, with all the might at his disposal. Weapons were in place to wage an all-out attack on the slime blight. Needless to say, the oil industry would profit handsomely, as is customary in times of war.

Though MIFF was not part of the primary plan, Dr. Lucian’s information was put to some use. They would attack the blight at night and monitor success with light-sensors. Planes equipped with digital cameras would collect images and relay them back to Command Control, making surveillance immediate and precise. Also, Agricultural Research Service scientists were intrigued enough with MIFF to recommend it as part of a backup plan. Monies were allocated to build stockpiles of MIFF, to pay for the basic ingredients and their shipment to regional agricultural labs.

Evan considered disclosing the secret MIFF recipe, so that government labs could produce it locally. That would reduce the cost and the time involved substantially. But, they had already scrutinized his lab notebooks, and knew his secrets. What they did not know, however, was the newest formulation for making MIFF, conceived by, and known only to Evan’s students.

A press conference was called that late afternoon. Evan was ushered to a room with other scientists, where the President was to give a televised statement on the current crisis. The President had the difficult task of explaining to a shocked public what had transpired, and the current plan of attack.

“We are doing everything possible to protect the American people,” he assured the nation, in his ever-confident manner. “This great country is more prepared than ever to protect our citizens against terrorism. We are attacking this problem on all levels, and we will prevail.” Unfortunately, much of the military was already spread thin fighting wars on foreign soil. Even the National Guard was tied up overseas, and not available to help fend off the growing plague. The President requested that $20 billion be approved by Congress to cover the costs of containing the blight.

After a debriefing, Evan caught a flight back to New York. Though largely ignored, he was committed to the backup plan. A limo driver waited for him outside of Baggage Claim at Kennedy Airport. The driver held up a sign that read “Dr. Evolution”. Evan was escorted to the hospital, and directly to the VP’s office.

Evan’s troubles were just beginning. Not having destroyed Prime Slime when he had the chance was coming back to haunt him. Not only his career, but the fate of the University was in serious jeopardy.

Evan was slapped hard with that reality as he entered Ms. Hardash’s office. As they stared holes through him, Evan summarized the DC meeting for the VP and Dr. Honcho, and outlined his plans to provide MIFF as backup. Ms. Hardash sneered and growled in disgust, but did not retort until Evan gave his concluding statement:

“We may need to reveal the secret MIFF recipe to state labs, so they can make it locally.”

“Over my dead body!” Hardash howled. “You can’t give our secrets away! That formula is proprietary! Burrstone has invested hundreds of thousands of dollars into protecting our rights to this technology! It’s worthless if everyone knows how to make it! Where do you get off telling us how to run our business?”

“You got a better plan?” Evan asked. “Are you willing to fund the production of MIFF here at Burrstone, and ship it out to hundreds of labs?”

We’ve put up too much money already,” Hardash snapped. “There’s no assurance they will use MIFF anyway.”

In quiet frustration, Evan looked desperately at Dr. Honcho, whose poker face was legendary. Hardash wanted to see Evan destroyed, but she also wanted to gain from his inventions, though they were not even close to the marketplace.

“We have only two choices, Minnie; either they make it or we make it. We can’t just sit on our heels. The government will provide part of the funding to get this done. If Plan A fails, we must be ready for Plan B. In any case, we better get moving. Remember, we were on the brink of success before this happened. Now, our only hope is to do some good. Let’s go down as heroes.”

“I should have fired you when I had the chance!” Hardash uttered. Evan looked to Dr. Honcho for support, but Honcho looked away in disgust.

“What good will pointing fingers do?” Evan responded. “We need to stop this thing, and MIFF is the answer. Widespread hunger and calamity are likely if we don’t act!”

“You’re a curse!” blurted Hardash.

“Listen, I know you don’t like me,” Evan volleyed. “But you have a part in this too. You deliberately slowed the development of MIFF. If you had hired the personnel I needed, someone would have been monitoring my students while I was away. If you had paid to have the contaminated bags removed daily, Prime Slime would never have come into existence.”

“You’re blaming me for this, Lucian?”

“So what’s next, Lucian?” Honcho interrupted, trying to keep the focus on the issue at hand.

“This is a defining moment. It’s not the scenario I had in mind, but it’s squarely in our lap. There are millions of innocent people and animals that will be affected by this. We are being called to a higher good. Let’s not hesitate.”

“What will you do?” Honcho queried. “What is your plan?”

“Get me the funding and personnel to mass produce this stuff, Chief. We’ll get it out to the Army bases and state labs in a few days, in case the Feds fail. My guess is that they will.”

“This is a national emergency,” Honcho commanded. “I want the entire Department on this project. I want all lab directors, technicians and students from every Division over at Dr. Lucian’s lab tonight for a briefing. We’ll make the first MIFF batch there, post haste, and show other Burrstone scientists how to make it. Piles of this stuff will be produced in several labs.”

Honcho turned toward Ms. Hardash and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll keep this in-house and keep the family secret, Minnie. Meanwhile, have the purchasing department rush-order whatever Evan needs.”

“Here’s a list of the chemicals and the amounts,” Evan ventured. “I was prepared for this moment.”

“Make sure they know this is an emergency,” Honcho directed. “Also, get the trucks prepared to load up MIFF, and cargo planes ready for distribution to various state and local authorities.”

A concerted effort like this had never occurred before at Burrstone, and Minnie Hardash’s anger management skills had never been taken to this level.

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