Professor John Onyekwalu sat brooding in his office high above Lagos. Though not the capitol for many decades now, it was still one of Nigeria's largest metropolitan areas, and rivaled Hong Kong in the beauty and variety of it's soaring buildings.
It was December of 2041, and he knew it was time. His work, started so many decades ago, was ready, as ready as it would ever be. Yet the fires of youth that had prompted him to a work that he could never let any one know the real point of, had naturally dimmed over the years. 62 can't feel like 17.
He had known that such might happen back then. As a 17 year old, watching his mother cry, because her British lover had stopped sending the checks for their support. And he'd closed down his factory putting all of John's extended family out of work, and apparently disappeared, rumor had it, to an actually poor nation, where he had another "side family".
By what right do these whites swoop in when we are at our lowest, to take such advantage as they can? His mother never would have took such a deal, years back, had his real father lived. But he'd been told by his mother that he died, in a peacekeeping action of the U.N., itself yet another meaningless European/American exercise in post-colonialism.
His cousin Thomas, who lived with them back then had said, "I suppose we should be flattered, on behalf of our nation. They don't come to our nation to 'slum' any more! Let us celebrate, we've apparently 'arrived'!"
He'd been shushed, and the rest of the family had continued to brood, about how to get by without the factory in general and the Brit's monthly check specifically. The brooding resulted only in the conclusion that hard work was needed, but they'd been working hard at the factory, and so now would just have to find other ways to channel their energies.
It had been a rough time, and that's when John had his idea. For a revenge not only for this last outrage, but for all the things he knew the Brit had had his mother do on his visits, the price she'd been made to pay, over and over that they all might have a better life. And for the sake of his nation, his people, all the peoples and nations of this continent, to avenge all the injustices of half a millennia.
John was a prodigy, and was already wise enough to know his anger would be unlikely to last. It would be enough to get him started, but not to see him through. He promised himself then, that no matter how he felt later, he'd still do it, even if he did not want to. He promised that his older self, even if not up for this, would do it for the sake of his youthful tears and anger and heartache.
But it turned out he had enough hate to see him through.
**********
A minor flu...
Jenna Butler was sniffling, a not entirely unheard of phenomena on a woman's wedding day, but this was that flu going about, and it mortified her. Why couldn't I have listened to momma, she thought, and had the June wedding that she had wanted? Why rush it and have it in March?
Jenna was one of only two people, the other being her husband to be, that knew the rush was not for the usual reason. Oh, they'd engaged in marital relations already, but she was not pregnant. Her and Tim just didn't feel like waiting another three months, so damn what any one else might whisper and speculate about.
This latest flu was relatively mild, but it had one side effect that had got it dubbed "the Sniffles" in the media. It made your nose run inordinately, and even the regular over the counter remedies didn't do much to stop that. You could blow your nose as thoroughly as you liked, and you'd still be sniffling right after.
It only lasted a few days, but when a wedding of her size is scheduled, there's no changing the date. It made Jenna sick to realize that in just two more days, everything would have been perfect. Her sister, passing over a fresh Kleenex from the endless supply she seemed to have, said, "Don't worry, he obviously loves you, he's not going to care. He had it last week, so once it's over for you, you can just enjoy your two weeks in Hawaii!"
Jenna's father, out in the sanctuary, waiting to hear everyone was ready, had his own worries, and his daughter possibly being with child was not one of them. Dr. Butler worked at the CDC, and while he knew that there had been no reported fatalities from this latest flu, that it was still of great concern to his facility, as it had swept the world and no one yet knew where it had come from.
It had a communicability rate of 99.9%, which had immediately drawn attention to it - once they knew to look for it. Because one of the oddities of this virus was that they already knew that it had apparently been spread over three months ago, with no symptoms visible at all, and thus no detection and no response.
The whole world had caught it, then after what they determined was roughly a 90 day incubation period, those infected would display a flu like disease chiefly known for giving them the sniffles. Still no deaths reported, even among the very old and very young, which was somewhat odd. The general consensus - carefully not related to the public - was that this was an artificial virus, as the communicability rate suggested a "weaponization".
Two prime questions. Who did this? And what was it for?
Everyone was hoping and praying that the sniffles would be all this caused, but no one working on this truly believed that. Even the initial studies showed the virus was unusually complex, but in ways that no one had seen before. If the public knew how much resources were being dedicated to this, if his daughter knew, they'd be less worried about the cost of Kleenex and more worried about what might be coming.
**********
A questionable birth...
"Security!", cried the nurse, as she and the doctor and a staffer tried to hold Rick back from his wife Trish. It was December of 2042, and Rick had braved a New England blizzard to get his wife to the hospital to give birth. They were looking at what was unquestionably twin babies of African descent, and rather recent, given their dark hue.
Rick, as blond haired and blue eyed as his wife Trish was, was not looking at the babies any more, but at Trish, with hate in his eyes. "You rotten, cheating bitch..." was the start of invective that got a good deal more malicious and colorful. He was being held back from hitting her - barely - when security came in.
"Get him out of here!", yelled the doctor, and they drug him off, still screaming and cursing. They turned their attention back to Trish, who looked stunned and was whimpering over and over, "But I didn't, but I didn't..." The doctor flashed a look to the nurse who gave an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders.
Catching that interplay, Trish broke out of her reverie to say, "Listen up, I get it, but I have not slept with anyone else! Now if everyone could get over the winks and nudges, what's wrong with my babies?" The nurse looked skeptical, but the doctor only said, "We'll do everything we can to make sure they're healthy."
1,300 miles from Bangor General, where that drama was unfolding, Dr. Butler was at the CDC facility in Atlanta, Georgia, and had 6,815 times more things to worry about than one hospital in Maine. That is to say, he was worried about what he knew to be happening in Bangor General, but was also worried about the 6,814 other hospitals in the United States that were reporting similarly odd births.
Reports for the past six days had been coming in, from every county of every state in the country, of women of all races and ages giving birth to African babies. Always at least twins, some noticeable percent of times, triplets or quadruplets. And in all cases, not the usual brown to light brown of African Americans, but a deep black, with eyes so brown they were virtually black, with tight curly black hair and the lips and nose most associated with those from Sub-Saharan Africa.
He knew that something would have to be said. It was remarkable that they'd kept the press from reporting on this for almost a week, especially as reports of this were already coming in from every nation on Earth. For the first two days, nothing had been reported to the media, as each new mother figured they were the only ones to have this happen to them.
But now they'd all had time to hear on TV about this happening elsewhere overseas, and more and more were calling newspapers and TV stations, and only with the aid of the Secretary of Net Affairs, had they been able to, so far, keep all mentions of this offline. And at that, people were already working around the censorship.
Posts and messages about "miscegenation", "black babies" or "not my child" could be detected and eliminated at once, but what of the more circumspect blogs and posts about "dark twins" and "Saharan births"? The Secretary had warned that the list of phrases and queries was reaching such a point that soon almost everything to do with babies, children, marriages and race would have to be deleted.
The President agreed. Tonight he would address the nation with what Dr. Butler and his staff knew. A short speech, thought Dr. Butler grimly.
**********
A maskirovka to rely on...
Just after New Year's Day of 2043, Professor Onyekwalu's cousin Thomas said, "Such nations as practice net censorship have stopped now. The whole world already knew what was happening. As yet they do not know why, or how. Must we go over this again? Must we even have those mercenaries you hired do this thing? Dr. Kirui is an innocent man, you know. Fourteen years in his employ have shown me that."
The Professor said, "Of this he is innocent, of course! In general? That fool Kenyan is every bit an apologist for all things British and Western. He has no respect for any of his culture, our culture, any of our African history. He is, as are still too many, ashamed to be of Africa. He will not be a great loss. And it's too late to change plans now. I am sorry you had to live in Nairobi for so long. You'll be free to return here permanently soon."
Thomas said, "I'm glad of that part. But his staff, too? We've already deleted every note and file about this from our own labs and computers! If the Western World - and yes, the PRC, too - invested all their time and resources into this, it would still take them ten years of study to just learn what you did! Let alone to reverse it, if such even can be, which I doubt!"
John looked at his cousin gravely. He said, his voice low, "We've come too far, and it's always foolish to change a plan, especially one that's already working! Ten years would be good...might even be enough, at least to balance out the racial proportions. But twenty years would be better, and this maskirovka gives us that extra decade. It's not enough they not know how it was done, they must have false leads to chase down, only that will guarantee that the horrors of European Imperialism are avenged! The maskirovka is essential! You are with me? You remember my mother, the woman who cared for us, the indignities she suffered?
Thomas shook his head. "Yes, of course I remember. I'm with you. Always. Everything is in place. To all appearances, you are the brilliant scientist who worked on genetics in the ordinary way that 99% of your staff believe. All our papers and data support that. All evidence of our special project is gone. We'd have a hard time duplicating our own work at this point."
John smiled. "Good. And relax, this is for the best. Dr. Kirui and his team die for a good cause. And Dr. Butler's plane is landing tomorrow morning, he wishes to speak with all of the leading scientists in the fields of genetics, and naturally, I was among the first asked."
The next morning, Dr. Butler was being drove to the conference he had asked for in Lagos. It had been a vast effort tracking down anything that could be thought of as "Patient Zero", or even just "Patient in the first 100". And it bothered him that it had started in such a place, why would the terrorists not have released it first in the major Western cities?
He doubted it had been created here. Any who had the mind to come up with this, would have released it far from where they were. They had learned more about the virus than John Onyekwalu would have been comfortable with them knowing, though his plans had assumed they'd be as bright and thorough as they were.
Dr. Butler's team had already known that the Sniffles was a virus that transmitted genetic data to make all manner of unknown changes, it was the tracking down of what changes and how that they had not yet got to when the first of the new babies were born. Inevitably, they were dubbed "Snifflies", not only for their almost instantly determined origin, but for the initial "sniffs" that had greeted each of their births back before everyone knew the mothers were innocent of adultery.
The births gave valuable data, in that they had not had good data on who got the Sniffles first, as the long incubation rate and failure for many to report what seemed like "just a cold" had tied their hands. But now they could simply interview each mother, or rather, send out a nationwide directive for their local OB/GYNs to, and then learn where they'd been nine months and twelve months before.
There were other factors, the interviews could not give perfect results, but it gave them more info than they'd previously had. Everything pointed to Lagos, Nigeria as the Ground Zero of the infection, and so here he was to meet with all their scientists and appraise them of the situation. And agents from the CIA and DIA would also be there, to see if they could get any leads on which of them may have been a part of this.
It was a sure bet that at least one of them was. But it still bothered him that such a person would release it in his own city first.
His driver spoke to him by intercom. "Check your phone, sir." Hastily, Dr. Butler got it out. The news of the University of Nairobi explosion had just come out.
**********
An invaluable assistant...
The conference that Dr. Butler had called was in a buzz when he arrived. Everyone had heard the news of the explosion, but more of the death confession of the lab assistant who claimed he had destroyed the facility after murdering all those on Dr. Kirui's team - including Dr. Kirui.
His confession, that he had sent in advance to the police and media, just minutes before the explosion, said that he had not known what Dr. Kirui was really working on, and when he had learned his boss had been responsible for the Sniffles, he was sick with remorse for having aided him unwittingly in this genocide. He gave instructions as to where papers and data from Dr. Kirui's lab could be found, detailing some of his work.
This resulted in two things immediately. One, the CIA and DIA immediately had their agents transferred to Nairobi. And two, Dr. Butler could now accept all the Nigerian scientists as innocent, as surely it was not their fault that the madman had released his plague here in their city. He had probably done it to cast suspicions on the Nigerians, and be safe and unsuspected in Kenya.
He pounded the gavel and got some order restored. He did not really feel that there was much a group of Nigerian scientists had to offer to a program of research taking place in every major city on Earth, but why leave any stone unturned, and why turn down any aid? He shared with them what his team already knew, he made available the data they'd gathered, he went over their suspicions as how this was solely to change the genetic make up of man so that all babies would be born what used to be referred to as "Negroid".
He took questions then, and was particularly impressed by those of Professor Onyekwalu. He made a note to himself that this man might make a good researcher on this problem, he seemed willing and eager to assist. In conversations with him after the conference, Dr. Butler was even more impressed. Still, he asked why Professor Onyekwalu seemed to take this so much more seriously than some of his colleagues.
John explained. "There was a mixed race baby in my family, my brother. I do not want to go into what happened, but he is no longer with us. But I loved him. I am upset with any who would use race to divide what should be simply the Family of Man." He looked grim as he said this, but inside he was laughing at how such cheap and obvious lies were always swallowed so easily by the whites.
Dr. Butler flew back to the United States three days later, but not before he had visited the Professor's facility and been impressed by his work there. This didn't stop him from requesting that the CIA and such give it a look, though. The Nigerian had seemed helpful enough, but no sense in taking chances.
Three weeks after his return to Atlanta, he got the report from the intelligence agencies. Professor Onyekwalu was above reproach, and apparently there had been a British businessman who had had a relationship with his mother decades back. No knowledge of any mixed race baby as a result of that relationship, but still, it was entirely plausible that such just didn't come to official notice.
And if he was lying, why would he give a lie that could not be backed up? No, surely the man was simply being honest. That decided, he sent an email, inviting Dr. Onyekwalu to come to Georgia to aid his team on what was now the largest scientific research effort since the Manhattan Project.
**********
A decade of difference...
Some adults still called this new generation of kids "Snifflies", but many more used the politer and vaguer term "the new kids". They got some grief in school, but as no other kinds of kids were being born, and as there were so many more of them, it wasn't much, and died out soon. The first of them would be entering seventh grade soon.
The reactions of the world had been varied, but tended to soon enough conform into the same response. Some nations, like the PRC, Japan, some of the more backwards Eastern European and "stan" states, had tried some half hearted attempts at mass abortions and even infanticide. But that died out soon, as it became apparent that it was these kids or no kids at all.
The reaction then conformed to world-wide was that of pouring vast sums of money into research to cure this.
Dr. Butler's own daughter Jenna had four of the new kids. And had them long enough after everyone knew what was going on that it introduced no marital discord. An enormous shift in race relations and how everyone viewed race had took place.
The first two years, most everyone railed against this, but there was no one to hurt any more, as Dr. Kirui and his team were already dead, and it was "adjust" or have no kids. Some did resolve to wait, which simply resulted in white birth rates declining for the first few years, till one by one they realized that the scientists were no closer to a cure than at the start.
The majority having the new kids, it soon became a mark of pride to have them. Given a choice between loudly declaring that they'd never been racist anyway, or to stay childless for any reason and thus make it look like they were racist, most accepted what fate had handed the world. The Klan had made a brief and doomed rise, but it ended in a year, as too many of their own were having the new type of babies with the same regularity as they'd had babies before.
Well, twice as much, actually, as universally it was always at least twins.
Professor Onyekwalu had planned too well, even for the finest minds on Earth. The plans and data and papers that had been "found", supposedly from Dr. Kirui, weren't just meaningless babble. The Professor, in his decades long intense hatred of all things European, Western and White had literally pursued an entirely separate, entirely plausible, and entirely inapplicable research program simultaneously to his genocidal project.
And was now in a position to verify that no real progress was being made. It was almost time, he mused, for Part Two. He made an appointment to see Dr. Butler. Admitted to see him that afternoon showed how highly he was regarded. He sat down and without waiting said, "Dr. Butler, tell me honestly, how close are we to any kind of breakthrough?"
Dr. Butler leaned forward and said, "Don't be discouraged, I know how hard you and everyone has been working on this, but Dr. Kirui's leads were good, and I do think we are almost ready to piece it all together! Another year...two at the outside...I honestly believe we're that close!"
Professor Onyekwalu nodded. "Yes, I will pray that it be so. But I'm sorry, I am older now, and was older even ten years ago, and I must with regret turn in my resignation. I did want to hear that we were close, and am glad we are somewhat close, but honestly, I am tired, and yes, a bit discouraged, and wish to retire."
Dr. Butler looked sad, "But really, really Professor, we are so close, I'm sure of it, and I would so like you to be there at the end! Why half the leads on this have come from you and your team, you've been invaluable! Every time we've been discouraged ourselves, you've managed to fire up everyone and get us all back on track!"
Professor Onyekwalu only said, "Thank you for that. But really. It is time."
Dr. Butler said, "I understand, I guess, I really do. And I can't fault you. Tell me, what will you do, though? A man like you can hardly just stop, you know?"
Professor Onyekwalu said, "Sometimes, at a certain age, I think he can, but one must get to that age to realize it. Yet I won't be entirely idle, I'm hoping to take a world tour, and see all the wonderful sites of Earth before 'just stopping' as you say. At least I will take such a tour if I can manage it, given the state of the world nowadays, that is not so easy an endeavor as it used to be."
"I know, I know", said Dr. Butler. "The U.N. Virus Patrol has insisted on quite stringent rules for leaving and entering nations. Not so bad if you're just going from Point A to Point B, but for an old fashioned round the world tour - well, I can see how a month in isolation between each nation could be taxing."
"Indeed", said the Professor. "I was actually hoping, if I might presume, I know it's out of the ordinary for the non-diplomatic classes..."
"Of course!", said Dr. Butler. "And heaven knows you've earned it! We can give you a full work up here, and I can talk with some of my superiors about getting you a special pass! Take that round the world trip, enjoy yourself, and who knows? If at the end of it you decide you're not ready to stop after all, there'll always be a place for you here!"
"Thank you", said the Professor, while picturing his mother made to bend over the kitchen table at the whim of that long dead British man, just so that she could have the privilege of later putting food on that very table.
**********
A distracting Part Two...
On the flight from Atlanta to London, Professor Onyekwalu leaned back in his seat, sipping a brandy, and was to all appearances very satisfied. The world's population had produced twenty years worth of African babies in only ten years, thanks to his brilliant twist of making it that each woman would have twins. A twist he'd not thought of at first.
But his method of doing any of it had involved the ability to manipulate so many genetic factors, that such a final twist was almost easy at that point. Easy for him, anyway. In another lifetime, his genius could have cured anything, advanced mankind decades, made him a light that would shine for centuries, his name as famous as Einstein.
And he knew it. It was a small price to pay for his vengeance, he thought. He pondered as he often did, "Am I mad?" He knew that the real answer, by any standard, was undoubtedly "Yes". But that only made him smile a little. And strengthened his resolve. He knew his cousin was waiting in Lagos for him to return to pick up Part Two.
He knew his cousin would try to talk him out of it, or perhaps had even destroyed Part Two. Or what he imagined was Part Two. That reminded him to send his cousin an already drafted email. In which he described himself as having some second thoughts about this final stage of things, and wanted to take time out before making that decision.
Almost instantly his cousin answered saying that was just fine, and he'd keep things safe till the vacation was over. John smiled. He could almost smell the relief through the email. But this would keep his cousin from disturbing his Part Two till it was too late. He'd covered all eventualities long ago.
Including duplicating Part Two - another virus - at the CDC facility in Atlanta. Not hard given ten years and a whole staff of highly trained and educated whites. It pleased him to picture how that lily white facility would change over the next twenty years. As the last of the white populace started to age out.
Part Two virus was simple compared to the other. The original had needed to rework the entire genetic code, there being far more to being African than simply "more melanin". He'd tweaked intelligence while doing that, nothing drastic, the average IQ of the new kids would be 115 instead of 100. Though soon enough that level would be the new 100. And he'd done the twin thing, and the facial features, and gave ten years extra life to them. Physiologically, they'd all have Olympic athlete potential. That wasn't known by any yet, but it would be a consolation to the world later.
Part Two virus involved only one thing. A tweaked and weaponized off shoot of the encephalitis virus. Sub-Saharan Africans and the new kids would be immune. But for everyone else, it was age specific. Any one roughly fifty years of age or above - menopausal age for either gender - would display full symptoms at once, and while it would not kill them, it would leave them with permanent senility.
Others under that age would have it, but suffer no symptoms till they were around fifty.
He was almost to London, still in 2053 one of "the" capitols of Earth. Everyone on the plane already had his Part Two virus now. It, unlike the first, would only be dormant for a month. Giving him enough time to hit every major capitol, and enough time for it to spread all around. It would end all efforts to cure the new kid phenomena, and get every medical center on Earth working exclusively to solve the new virus instead.
And why not? The oldest and wisest minds, the leaders, the movers and the shakers, would be took out of the effort at once. Leaving those under fifty to figure out whether they wanted to cure "being black" or cure their own upcoming senility. An easy choice, even for Europeans.
"But why wait ten years, if this is worth doing at all?", had asked his cousin, long ago. "Because", he remembered telling him, "If both took place at once, they might work on both at once, this way, they've ten years of failure at the one, and now whatever resources they have left will be to cure an impending senility that only affects themselves. That it will make the new kids more accepted, and more relied on, will also be of benefit."
Thomas had asked, "But will they find the cure to the senility?" And he had answered, "So what if they do? It will take at least ten years, and by then another twenty years worth of new kids will have been born. And the non-blacks will all be that much older, and a vastly decreased percent of the population. Will the world care to even focus on the new kid problem again? Who would, especially as their superiority will be well established by then? Universities with mostly the new kids attending them, will they try for a cure? The Sub-Saharan African nations, by then some of the most influential nations on Earth, will they bother to try?"
"No, I guess not", Thomas had said. Not that he hadn't still argued later, finding it too cruel.
And not that the Professor had cared.
He got off the plane at Heathrow, so he could walk to Hyde Park.
**********
A conclusion of the matter...
It was nearly four weeks later, and Professor Onyekwalu had been back in Lagos for a couple of days. He had been to London and Paris, Cairo and Moscow, Beijing and Tokyo, Seoul and Manila, Los Angeles, Chicago and NYC. And to leave no one out, Mexico City and Rio De Janeiro, Buenos Aires and Johannesburg, Djarkata and Sydney.
He was at Thomas's house, having dinner, and listening to his soft hearted cousin going on about how relieved he was that John hadn't come back before the world tour to get that Part Two virus. John was pondering how to tell him the truth, as the first cases could show up any time now, given the vagaries of how viruses affected various individuals.
"I always supported your desire for African ascendancy, but honestly not all these Europeans, whites, whatever, are as bad as you say. They have in the main accepted things, and a peaceful passing away of them is as much vengeance as any people could need. Besides, that Part Two was so broad. Even some Africans, at least those with recent white ancestry, would be affected. When it was just going to make them have superior babies, that was one thing, but this terrible senility, quite another."
Professor Onyekwalu was old, he was tired, and he had had it. This was to be the moment of his greatest triumph, and here his weak willed cousin was making it hard on him. Best just wade into it, he thought. It would be over no matter what, and soon enough. "I did release the Part Two virus, Thomas", he said. "And since it is done, and done thoroughly, and for almost four weeks, there's nothing to do but adjust to it. I don't care about the mixed races, it's a price to pay, surely, but one I'm content with."
"But...but...", started Thomas, "you can't be serious! I know hatred has blinded you, but really, this is, you have no idea, you've always had no idea!"
John got up to leave. "Really", he said. "No idea? I don't know or care what you mean, be glad my love for you as my cousin saves you. That and there's nothing you can do about it now, even if you do betray me. I did this for what that British bastard did to my mother, a woman you seem to care little about. It's done. I'll hear no more of it."
Thomas just hung his head. "We never told you", he said in a low voice. "We knew it would enrage you, you were always so easily angered. But I'm not your cousin. I'm your older brother."
John looked at him, "What do you mean?"
Thomas flared in anger. "That British bastard you go on and on about? He was our father! I knew, but you were so much darker, so much more from our mom's side, so we let you have your illusion, your dream of an ideal Igbo father who'd died! But really, at some point, enough should have been enough! Enjoy this dinner with me, because from what you're telling me, it will be very close to my last!"
John ignored him, and rushed to his car, knowing that even if he could get to his lab that it was already too late, he had obviously been Patient Zero for this Part Two virus...he felt sick and disoriented for a moment. Now what was he about? Oh, yes, he had to get to school, his teacher would curse him in front of the other boys if he was not on time.
Could he cut through that field and make it? He walked past his car to find out. Halfway there, he saw a bird, and followed it for a few minutes, and it was three hours before his brother Thomas found him sitting in the grass, a bit of drool dangling from his chin, and gently led him back his house.
