The Secret Journal of Mason Grey Eckhart.doc5
"Mason, I worry about you."
Coming from Laura Varady, I knew the statement was sincere. Other people at Genomex might try to fawn over me to gain favor, but Laura was not one of them. She could retire any time she pleased. She stayed on at Genomex as site psychologist because she wanted to.
"I'm fine, Dr Varady."
"No, you're not. Look at this office!"
"What is wrong with my office?"
"It's emotionally chilling."
"I like it."
"All this brushed stainless steel and hard edges…this probably depresses and intimidates anyone who comes to talk to you!"
"I hope so." I smiled slightly.
"Mason! You need to connect with your emotions!"
"I cannot exactly shed them, you know."
"I'm giving you a project for your own good: I want you to keep a daily journal."
When Laura is like this, it is not worth trying to argue with her. So it is that I have started this journal.
Genomex-by-the-Waters
Thursday, 28 September 2006
Thursday 28 September 2006
Well. Here I am. Now, what do I write about? Of course I have set this up so that it is encrypted and no one else can access it except me. I don't even know why I would want to read it.
What did I do today?
I have given much thought to the impression I want GS field agents to give to the public at large. They should look businesslike and professional, but not at all flashy or expensively dressed. They should not draw attention to themselves. The clothes should suit a wide range of ages.
After much searching, I found a catalogue of men's clothing of the most unrelentingly bland styles possible! Just the thing needed by GS agents! I'll limit style and color choices to keep my troops looking similar without putting them into uniforms!
I am doing some of these characters a service in teaching them how to dress, because their mommies and daddies failed to do so! I've seen them show up for academy classes wearing baseball caps turned backwards or sideways! Jeans with the 'waist' slung so low their underwear is displayed! Che Guevara t-shirts! They probably think he was a rock star and know nothing about the murderous thug he actually was.
I think I'm going to enjoy telling the recruits about the GSA haircut policy (from which I am of course, exempt) during a class late today. Anyone I catch whining I will send out for a 3 mile jog, no matter what the weather!
I have no idea what do about outfitting the women…
Friday 29 September 2006
If I had 200 people as dedicated and energetic as Laura Varady, I could clear up this mutant mess in 6 months or less.
As long as I've known her, Laura gets to work early every day, as I do. Well, I have little choice; I live here. This morning was no different save that she came to my office before going to hers. My own guards (!) allow her to enter my office unannounced. Most people find it impossible to say 'no' to Laura because she is so well-meaning and genuine. So, in she strolls.
"Good morning, Mason! I brought you a surprise!"
I looked up from my review of overnight email and reports. Laura was pulling a child's little red wagon. I had a wagon like that once long ago…
"Good morning, Dr Varady. What have you got there?"
She bent over and lifted a potted plant from the wagon, smiling.
"Your office is just too grim. Green, living, growing plants will make you feel better about everything. Studies have proven the value of plants in windowless spaces like this."
She pulled the wagon towards my desk, depositing a feathery, ferny-looking plant with small, faintly pink flowers at the front of the desk, and placing the others along the back wall.
"There!"
"You're very thoughtful, but I'm afraid I'm likely to forget to water them."
Laura smiled. "Not to worry! I plan to water, feed, and groom them as needed. You won't have to do anything with them except enjoy them. Already, things look livelier in here.
She was correct.
"Thank you, Dr Varady."
"You're welcome. On Monday, I'll bring some more." She glanced at her watch. "Oops, gotta go. I have an early appointment."
And off she went, pulling her little red wagon behind her.
Saturday 30 September 2006
All week long, Genomex is like a human hive, with lots of activity & I hope, productivity starting at about 5.30 in the morning continuing until 7.30 in the evening. Some people are here for all of those hours.
On weekends, it's quite different. A few people come in on Saturdays, but most of them are gone by 3 PM. On Sundays, it's nearly always only the security staff and me.
This makes Saturday evening/Saturday night the best time of the week to go prowling about Genomex and uncover its secrets. Genomex is full of secrets.
From the beginning, Breedlove kept every scrap of paper, every lab notebook, every printout, every inch of videotape, every disk, every hard drive and reel of magnetic tape. Habits from the old country inculcated by his teachers, I suppose. Adam had the same habits, and their staffs were mandated to follow the same procedures.
This resulted in a mountain of documentation. Over the last 15 years, I've troubled to go through every banker's box of it. I don't understand the fine points of the science, of course, but there is more present than technical minutiae.
I know more about the conduct of the work here—the often questionable ethics of Breedlove, and later of Adam—than probably anyone else.
Genomex was out of control from the start.
I am surprised Paul preserved some items, such as his Hitler Youth paperwork. Alone, it proves nothing, but with the attached photographs, Kurt von Schuler Paul Breedlove. This material is not saved in the archives any longer; I'm taking special care of it myself. You never know when something of that nature could prove highly useful.
Sunday 1 October 2006
I've had a pleasant, quiet weekend all by myself. It seems such a shame to ruin things with everyone returning to work tomorrow.
Monday 2 October 2006
The first class of the Genetic Security Agency Academy will be graduating shortly, and I have started interviewing the most promising of the soon-to-be-agents for leadership positions. I am pleased that so many of this initial class are themselves 'Children of Genomex'. They bring needed understanding of mutancy and the potential problems the Genomex mutants pose to the larger society.
Adam has been making a pest of himself since 1998 with his mutant squads, indulging in near-criminal actions and spreading his own fanciful propaganda. The deluded souls who believe in him are convinced he is the selfless savior of mutants, when he is the one overwhelmingly responsible for the creation of them. I am also guessing that he is continuing his experimentation and studies on these people.
I must honestly say that the tale he has chosen to tell is admirably constructed to appeal to ill-informed romantics: brilliant, high-minded scientist is deceived for 20 years? about the application of his researches. When at last he realizes that an evil, profit-seeking corporation has been using him, he 'escapes', dedicating energies and life to the 'rescue' of mutants, setting up 'safehouses' and sending 'saved' mutants off into the 'underground'. Adam, champion and savior of the Children of Genomex.
As stories go, it is effective with many people, given the prevalence of anti-technology, anti-corporation sentiment in this society. Rather than become well-informed and acquire rudimentary knowledge of genetics, it is easier to fear what is not understood, and make a virtue of ignorance.
Very soon now, I will have agents to counter Adam's merry bands of criminals.
One of the fellows I interviewed this morning was particularly impressive. Frank Thorne has consistently achieved high scores in all of his academic training, firing range scores, and written exams covering elementary biology. He has impressed me as purposeful, even driven. Thorne is a telekinetic, one of the handful of mutants created by Breedlove (with Eleanor Singer's assistance, of course) in the early 1970s.
Tuesday 3 October 2006
Laura Varady refused to meet with me in my office this afternoon.
"Your office is too damn cold, Mason, and I left my parka, mukluks and thermal underwear at home today. We'll chat in my office, in a climate survivable by the human species."
She smiled as she spoke. My office was a few degrees colder than usual, but of course I would never admit that to anyone except the crew responsible for heating and cooling onsite.
Seated amidst her African violets and crayon masterpieces of her grandchildren, Laura began directly with her concerns. She was a sweet, charming individual, but she possessed as well the admirable habit of not wasting anyone's time, including her own.
"I was alarmed by your choice of Frank Thorne for promotion."
"Why?"
"In succinct but unprofessional terms, he's crazy."
"I did not notice anything peculiar about him."
"That's because every Friday he's supplied with fresh medication patch of potent anti-psychotics."
"Medication patch?"
"Yes. Do you know what his classmates call him?"
"No idea."
"Mad Dog Thorne."
"Mad Dog Thorne?"
"As in Mad Pit Bull."
"And they say this because?"
"He enjoys violence. He enjoys hurting people, Mason."
"But he does everything…so well."
"I would not turn my back on him. I'd find an excuse to have his governor monitored and checked daily, in addition to his medication."
"That bad?"
"That bad. He is extremely dangerous."
Laura Varady did not exaggerate.
Briefly, I imagined Frank Thorne's head on the body of a pit bull, wearing a leather collar with spikes…
"Thorne is at the top of his class."
"Mason, if you insist upon using him, I urge you to keep my precautions in mind and to keep Thorne on a short leash."
Wednesday 4 October 2006
I took a stroll through accounting first thing this morning before anyone could be completely awake. What they do there I find stupefying boring, but my wandering through every corner of Genomex keeps everyone alert. Paul has become so reclusive and uninvolved in daily operations that some of the newer employees have never seen him.
To be continued…