Undisclosed by Jon Mills Read Free Book Online

mental illness and incurable diseases. They were the overflow of society’s mental institutions and asylums—or that was what he was led to believe. Scott just couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. There were thousands upon thousands—most appeared disoriented, asleep or screaming and yet, not a sound could be heard. It would take him almost a year to discover the real truth.
    He pushed the uncomfortable thoughts of them from his mind. He had to, there could be no room for error now; there was no turning back and no amount of preparation could ready him for today.
    Before entering he could already hear the sound of noisy chatter. As he entered the boardroom full of co-workers in white uniforms and military personnel, there, seated at the head of the table, was Harlan Kaine. His attire was impeccable; he always dressed in the finest suits that were tailored just right. To any businessman, military official or average person, Harlan was the image of success. Though he was never officially mentioned as Los Alamos Laboratories’ director, he was the one behind the curtain, turning the wheels. If he said it, you did it. And those that refused, well, they were never seen again.
    Nervously shuffling through papers at the opposite end was Dr. Evans, or as Scott knew him—James. They had both worked on the Genome project together and both had been selected to head up the latest one.
    “James?” Scott said inquisitively.
    A look of relief spread across James’ face as he looked up.
    “What’s going on?” Scott asked.
    “They’ve pushed up the date; they want to see the results so far,” James whispered to him.
    “Impossible, we need more time,” Scott replied.
    “Kaine demands we move ahead.”
    “Did you tell him that we haven’t fully tested, that it’s unpredictable what the outcome will be if we continue to test it too early?” Scott pressed his fingers into his forehead, soothing a building headache.
    “What other choice do we have?”
    Scott clenched his teeth and turned his head sharply towards Kaine, who was engaged in conversation with a high-ranking military official.
    “Scott, you had better get it together. We’ve got more than our careers riding on this,” James snapped.
    “Use serum 230. It will buy us some time, at least until we can completely test the other one and see what it does,” he said. “How many more must suffer?” Scott hung his head low and then let out a tired sigh. He proceeded to make his way to the back of the room.
    “Gentleman,” James said.
    As a hush fell over the room, James gave a nod and the lights went out. The wall in front of them parted like steel jaws. Light burst through and as their eyes adjusted to the glare, they could see a small operational room; masked doctors and nurses in surgical garments were busy preparing two male subjects strapped onto vertically angled operational tables.
    “Approximately ten hours ago our male subject was given an implant with serum 229, a genetic therapy meant to work with the inactive non-decoded DNA, or what some of you may know to be Junk DNA . Within minutes of the initial release of the serum we saw indications of increased performance, cellular repair, but any positive signs of improvement were quickly replaced by new forms of disease, hours later. As with previous subjects over the past two years the changes in the genetic enhancers began rapidly showing signs of disease attacking vital organs, and as you can see, that resulted in an increased and noticeable malformation of the face and chest area. Based on previous trials we can conclude that, like the others, he will be dead by the twelfth hour,” James said.
    “Taking into consideration these recent findings, the immune system’s reaction to the serum, we made further changes in the DNA sequencing and created a new implant containing serum 230. As you can appreciate, we haven’t had time to perform a test with this, until now.”
    His eyes cast a glance at