The front desk came in on line one.
"Sir, Dr. Roach is here to see you."
"Send her in," Dr. Crocker replied without looking away from Roach's resume on his desk.
Within a minute, a disheveled and callous twenty-five-year-old woman walked through his office door in a clean white lab coat.
He could see her dim grayish teeth as she chewed on her tongue with her molars, symptomatic of someone who thought about nothing but work even after six months in prison.
Her pretty face said nothing. Her eyes were void and her mind was elsewhere.
"Have a seat," Crocker offered.
The woman sat.
He didn't extend her any further pleasantries.
"Doctor Roach," he drawled as he picked up her resume to read, "Born 2138 on Mars, PhD in Molecular Biology and Genomics, graduated top of her class from Harvard, wrote the book on the completed human genome, took a comfy government job researching cures to every genetic disease known to man with a near unlimited budget, and then..."
The older doctor put the papers down and studied her curiously.
"...sent her team of one hundred researchers, along with a hundred more military personnel, straight to hell with a flesh-dissolving acidic gas that broke every chemical weapons treaty the USA has signed since World War One."
Absently, Roach responded, "A contagious metastatic cancer broke out of containment. They were dead anyway."
"A cancer you designed," he accused her.
"It was an accidental byproduct of our Stage-Four prevention program," she put simply.
"Cut the bullshit," the old doctor leaned in seriously. "Who gave you the order to make guinea pigs out of your friends? Who made you the scapegoat in this mess?"
"There was no order," she reaffirmed. "I eliminated the contagion for God and country."
"Tell me," Crocker threatened firmly, "or else I put you back in your box."
The woman just stared blankly at him and chewed on herself like a dumb cow.
The man smiled proudly after a long silence and leaned back in his chair comfortably.
"I'm impressed," he told her, knowing she didn't care for the compliment. "And, FYI, it took a lot of string pulling to get you out of your life sentence, so rest assured, we both know what really happened at Project Dogwarts."
Her lips finally stopped contorting around as her jaw clenched at hearing the codename.
"Are you CIA?" she asked.
"We're private, baby!" Crocker winked at her with a toothy grin. "Welcome to the Edax Corporation. We launch to HQ tomorrow."
*****
"Anything to drink?" asked a stewardess wearing a skimpy flight outfit.
"Brandy," the old doctor ordered.
Roach thought for a moment and decided she'd like "A bottle of cane sugar Coke."
The flight attendant and her breasts bounced away.
"Odd choice," Crocker remarked.
"Prison is bland," the younger doctor replied.
"Is it true what they say about female prisons?" he asked.
Unapologetically, Roach returned, "Was I staring?"
"They'll do anything you ask them to, you know. Edax treats us well."
A hint of a smile laid dormant upon her cold face.
"And then what? You'll watch?"
"The chairs turn three-hundred-sixty degrees."
"Am I getting Epsteined right now?"
That earned her a snicker from Crocker.
"Dr. Roach, telling jokes?" he scoffed with a boyish smile as he held out the candy. "And no, the Boss doesn't hire women under thirty."
She pretended not to notice his snicker.
"No, really. Take it," he proffered again.
"Are you going to call me a bitch after, Pavlov?"
"No," Pavlov promised.
So, she took the candy bar from him tenderly like a child from a stranger.
"You," the old doctor shook his head with mock astonishment, "silly bitch."
"Hey!" Roach giggled.
"Ah," the man demarcated her laugh as his eyes twinkled, "you're going to fit in just fine."
She wanted to ask what he meant, but the tall busty stewardess returned with a platter.
"Your drinks," she announced.
They thanked her in unison.
Before she could leave again, Roach eyed her.
"Mind taking all that off?"
*****
The shuttle docked into the loading bay of Edax HQ, and its first impressions were unbeatable. The ship, second largest only to Space Force One, was partially skeletonized on the inside to display the pipes, cables, and machinery that made the ship function. By design, these glass windows into the soul of the ship were intuitive, such that any child viewing the mechanics of their home could trace any process end to end safely. Children were not the only ones scavenging for comprehension, however. Researchers and engineers utilized this exposure to document the physics and operation of various parts of the structure, from the chemistry going on in mixing pipes to 1,000x scale representations of microprocessors embedded into the walls where every transistor was a visible dot of light.
In other words, one could sit and watch the ship think.
Roach's tour for the day proved no part of the ship was free from this style, not even the hull itself, which was mere glass in some places to show off the hull's layers beside it. Like a museum that only lit its exhibits, there was no lighting for the sake of lighting in Edax HQ. Everything was lit ambiently, encouraging a high contrast of multicolor, shadows, and depth to everything that could be seen. The people aboard the ship lived in a timeless neon city saturated by lymphatic darkness.
To Roach, this environmental aesthetic comforted her, because she had always felt like she could express herself better when none were looking; and in this particular ship, rarely was there a coincidence when the watcher could see the watched nor the watched the watcher.
Crocker stayed with her throughout, pointing out various sights and trivia just to watch her face light up with glee, a glee she herself was skeptical of and struggled to keep in check.
Eventually, the pair wound up at an elevator.
"Fun, huh?" he asked seductively.
"Yeah!" she innocently exclaimed. "Where to next?"
The man didn't answer until they were alone in the elevator, where he became grim.
"Project Swallowtail," he said and swiped his badge, beginning their descent to a place the buttons couldn't reach.
"Oh," the woman regained her coldness, for she knew to expect horrific and classified information.
"Are you aware of what Edax Corp sells?"
"Immortal clones?"
"Nothing is further from the truth."
The elevators opened to reveal a tiled black and green interior lit by blacklight wall lamps. Their white coats glowed brilliantly as Crocker's shoes tapped along the floor. Researchers, who split like the Red Sea when they saw Dr. Crocker, were present as Dr. Roach trailed him. She noticed the older man walked differently down these arched corridors--aggressively and confidently, like he owned the place, corroborated by the way he shoved a pair of double doors open hard enough they slammed the walls. Beyond this point was a hundred-foot diameter birdcage--at least that was what the multilevel domed room looked like. High above hung a chandelier of UV light, and under it was a circular control panel with scientists sitting around it and a silhouette of a man at its center with a dog beside him looking up at a dozen displays.
"BOSS!!!" the old doctor bellowed, startling some of the lackeys.
The silhouette turned towards the pair.
Crocker led Roach into the circle and presented his catch.
"This is Dr. Roach."
The dog looked at her and she noticed there was something anatomically incorrect about it.
The Boss, a man in his prime and a tailored suit, offered his hand.
"Dr. Roach! It's an honor to finally meet you, considering how much your scientific contributions have helped us."
His hazy eyes didn't react when the new woman didn't shake.
"Helped you with what?" Roach asked.
The Boss put his hand down and answered, "Bringing about the immortality of man."
There was a period of silent gazing between the new acquaintances, both utterly detached from the moment and perfectly content with the passing of awkward time.
It was not Crocker who interrupted their daydreams but the dog, which stood bipedally and placed a paw on Roach's lab coat.
"Pet me," it demanded.
Roach's brain was instinctively frightened by the dog's simple gesture because it was unnatural and uncategorical for a dog to do such a thing.
"Jesus Christ," she swore to calm herself.
"What?" teased the Boss. "Never seen one before? They're made on Europa and sold as sex slaves."
Roach was indeed aware of the fabled Fuzzy Moon. It was just rare to come across one of their products because owning one suffered the combined penalties of first degree child rape, first degree animal abuse, torture, and first degree possession of a bioweapon (which all genetic abominations were lawfully classified as), regardless of intent.
In just a few mere minutes of entering Project Swallowtail, Roach already had another life sentence hanging over her head.
Even so, the young doctor couldn't help but palpate the soft, tail-wagging oddity.
"And why..." scratch, scratch, scratch, "do you have a hybrid?"
"Long story. You'll learn more about her later," Crocker finally spoke before telling the little beast to "Git!"
The dog went shyly back to its master, and it was during this transition Roach confirmed her sex.
"Shouldn't she have clothes?" the woman voiced maternally.
"I hate clothes," the dog barked.
"Makes her skin sore," the Boss shrugged.
Crocker accused her of prudery. "It's not like she's indecent. Just don't look where you don't want to see."
Roach quelled all impulses to intrude further and dropped it.
"Sorry."
"It doesn't get better," the Boss promised, preemptively eliminating any future protest.
"Understood."
"Good," he yawned as he sat in his command chair. "Well, where should we start, Crocker?"
"Edax, I suppose."
"Edax sapiens..." the Boss whispered, and with a movement of his fingers he brought onto a big screen above a peculiar strand of DNA, spinning in all its glory.
"It's..." Roach gaped at the thing, "a triple helix. Edax sapiens? A wise eater? What species is that?"
"The clones," Crocker said.
Astounded and admiring, she asked the Boss, "You made that?"
"I only replicated it. I did not make it," he answered.
When her confusion didn't clear, he made another series of movements on his armrest.
"Watch," he told her, and on the screen she saw a single strand of RNA unwind from the double helix labeled "Homo sapiens" and cast aside under the label "Edax sapiens."
"Edax is just RNA?" she scoffed. "I don't think a virus is deserving of the sapiens name."
"Not just any RNA," Crocker interjected. "It's an oligonucleotide that builds and edits itself until it runs across the entirety of its host's genome. And RNA came before DNA, so we shouldn't assume DNA is the only route to multicellular life in the Universe."
Dr. Roach rattled off questions: "Are you saying it's alien? Do we know what Edax looks like on its own? What happens if someone is infected with it?"
"Something like this," the Boss muttered.
A video appeared on the screen and it showed a bedroom with a couple making love.
Then there was struggle.
The sheets beneath the woman turned red as the man bit down on her throat.
The gruesome imagery made Roach wince, and then hypnotized as the camera became flooded with neon orange light emitting from the man's melting skin as he continued to consume her orally.
When the light climaxed, he was just a liquified glowing blob seeping into her wounds. Only her vague figure could be outlined as the viscous goo covered every inch of her skin.
The Boss sped the video until the goo reformed itself.
A different, singular, man laid in the bed.
He answered a phone call, got out of bed, and changed the sheets.
The video paused and rewound until the original pair were seen.
"That man," the Boss pointed with a wobbling hand, "is patient zero, Carlile Smith, the only survivor of the USS Dvospolan in 2101. That woman under him is Alexis Kratzer, Captain of the USS Connecticut, who rescued Carl and was a transwoman, hence..." he sped forward the video, "the male it turned into after digesting her DNA. The Edax was shot and killed soon after. I was an attending physician aboard the Connecticut. Once I saw the video and analyzed samples taken from its body, I waited until the case went cold, returned to Earth, and founded the Edax Corporation to study and utilize Edax's properties."
"How old are you?" Roach wondered skeptically.
The thirty-something man completed his thought before answering. "And utilize, we did. I'll be eighty-six tomorrow--the original me, at least."
"You're... one of them?" she worried.
"Boss has nine Edax clones around the solar system," Crocker boasted.
"Big company," he affirmed. "Ten minds are better than one, eh?"
"Do you... eat people too?"
"No," the Edax pushed himself up onto his feet and squared his shoulders with hers. "That's what you're here to find out: why the fuck are my products going rogue?"
*****
Per instruction, Roach was to spend her second day aboard Edax HQ with the Boss.
Dressed and ready for the job, six hours of sleep was plenty for the both of them.
"Coffee?" the Boss held out a cup as his new employee approached the circle.
She took it with a small "Thanks."
Although Roach was inoculated to the intimidation tactics of nature and men alike, the species before her radiated such superiority she avoided eye contact with him.
"Look at me," he demanded.
So she did.
"You are not a husky and I am not a wolf," he told her. "It doesn't work that way."
Her mind decrypted the puzzle until their relationship was clear.
Fundamentally incompatible.
"So, Edax isn't contagious."
"Correct, in every sense of the word. Edax isn't a virus as it is incapable of self-replication. In fact, the inverse is true. We are the ones who infect it."
He gestured for her to give him her hand for a demonstration.
So she did.
"Just a prick, okay?" the Boss asked.
"Okay," she consented.
Swiftly, he took out a needle and stabbed her thumb.
When a bead of blood appeared, he flipped her hand and pressed it against the back of his. After a few moments, he revealed the result of their experiment.
Where her blood had touched him, it had turned his skin to her skin tone and texture.
"See?"
"I do."
"And now..." he pricked himself and stamped her instead.
No change occurred.
"Then how--"
"Come," he said, and then led the way to a vault-like door at the edge of the bird cage.
After performing a retinal scan, the door opened and revealed a corridor lined with cylindrical glass tanks with humming machinery behind them.
In every single one stood a different person, but they were organized by age. On the left were children, on the right adults.
"Edax is best classified as a cancer," the Boss spoke over his shoulder as he tread down the hall. "It can't jump person to person, let alone cell to cell. However, if any cell should be Edax, any replication of that cell will also be Edax. Hence..."
He paused when the tanks transitioned to basketball-sized pods.
Roach peered into it and saw the beginnings of a fetus.
"...why we implant Edax at conception. Only then will it grow to be an Edax clone."
Although the left got progressively younger, the right side of the aisle remained adult.
Furthermore, the children's faces were all eerily similar, unlike the adult's diversity.
"Why--"
The Boss didn't skip a beat.
"Because Edax is sexless and doesn't understand puberty."
Roach pondered the puzzle again until the gruesome video and his words finally clicked.
"The Edax children are meant to eat the adult clones in order to create the final product," she realized.
"Correct," he confirmed. "After which they are shipped out so the client can begin the brain mapping process."
"They are clean slates."
"The human side of them, absolutely. The Edax side of them, almost always. It seems without conscious awareness, Edax's natural intuitions become more dominant. If that weren't the case, they wouldn't know how to eat. But in rare instances, the Edax fully rejects hosting its originator's consciousness."
As they stared at a clone, the boss chewed his lip and looked down at her sideways to retell a wild tale.
"In the early days, we had this one couple that were brain mapping, right? Well, the husband got the bright idea that he should bodyjack his wife's Edax, going so far as to kill his own, but the Edax wasn't having it. Theoretically, he should have succeeded. We're not sure, but our best guess is there was a slight channel interference between the two readers. Because of the couple's constant proximity, the Edax could have incorporated a partial map from each of them, resulting in an erroneous consciousness only rectified by the Edax's natural state. It killed them both once it was woken up."
Wide eyed and slightly anxious about their closeness, Roach could only nod.
"Have any questions?" the Boss asked her softly.
He had one of those voices that tickled feminine ears.
And Roach liked the way he smelled.
Biologists were the most unapologetic for such instincts by trade, after all.
The young doctor chalked it up to his fantastical novelty.
Vampires, werewolves, pirates, surgeons, billionaires, and shapeshifting human-alien hybrids, oh my!
"How did Carl become patient zero?" she asked calmly.
"Contact with the original organism is our current theory. We looked into Dvospolan's logs, and it appears before Carl sabotaged the ship outside Saturn's rings he had an expedition on Titan's surface."
"Did you investigate?"
The man turned to her with a subtle smirk.
"Dr. Roach, we're about to. Edax HQ is already making way."