WHITEOUT : 6
“So what’s the condition on our suspect, then?” I asked, as we walked through the hall towards the back of the judicial holding area of the hospital.
“Not good. She appears to be suffering some kind of immune system rejection related to a viral infection.”
“Whatever,” I said. “Just give me a feed.”
The hazard-suited man looked back at me, then continued walking forward. I was granted temporary access to a handful of camera’s on the hospital’s network, and their feeds appeared before me as AR windows.
< Our perp is bleeding out of her eyes, > I said.
< Well that’s not good, > said Charlie.
< Do you think this could be a case of biologically-induced ideological terrorism? > Asked Huan.
< Nah, every one of those so far has been a hoax, > I said.
< What about that one in Shandong? > Charlie asked.
< That one was a hoax, too. But it might be possible to introduce mental illness and then prey on that. > Said Huan. < Induce paranoia and a disconnection from reality in order to speed radicalization. We can use gene editing to gradually remove mental illnesses, so why not use it to cause them? >
< That’s never been proven, > I said.
Huan was solemn. He might be right.
We arrived at a room full of diagnostic booths, at the end of the hall. There were four men, all in those same white hazard suits. I was waved into the diagnostic booth first.
Each booth was a miracle of modern medical technology, with all the finest sensors money could buy integrated into one compact package, fed through a network of diagnostic AIs. I tossed off my clothes in the enclosed changing area right in front of the booth, then walked in and assumed the T-pose.
A radiant line of red light ran down my body, then side-to-side, like in those movies when I was a kid. “Please hold still. Scanning,” said a robotic voice.
After a minute, the scanning was complete, and I put my thumb on the pad at the front of the booth for the blood test. The robotic voice did its little thank you routine, and I put on my clothes and sunglasses and returned to the holding room.
“So what can you tell me about this virus?” I asked.
“It’s a strange one,” said one of the men in hazard suits. I noted down his AR ID, in case I needed to contact him later. Dr. Zhang Cheng. “It’s targetting specific genes to overwrite, but nothing that’s essential for survival. Unfortunately, the immune system appears to get caught up in the process and begins to attack the uninfected cells - at least, that’s what we think so far.”
I let that sit for a moment. Maybe a mutation of one of the older generations of genetic modification delivery viruses, that got loose somehow? But every one of us in Outer Hong Kong, the citizens at least, should be resistant against that. It was way too much of a coincidence to be happening now.
Then a dark memory came over me.
“Dr. Zhang,” I asked, “what kind of non-essential genes is this virus changing?”
“A number of them are for appearance,” said Zhang. “We haven’t run a simulation yet on what someone would look like after the viral modifications, but it couldn’t be too different seeing as our patient has a fully-grown adult body.”
“I have some stuff to take care of,” I said. “When will I be cleared to go?”
“Oh, you’re already clear, Officer Fang. The scan found no signs of viral contamination.”
I adjusted my jacket.
< Charlie, Huan, > I said. < I need to go check out some things on my own. I’ll meet up with you later. >
