Dust

  Chapter 19 - Sleep

  Phillip went to Stevens office to search for any data he could find to explain the failure of the world defense. The scene had been swept by forensics. Steven's personal effects were removed but office equipment had been returned by order of Charles. Thankfully, the blood and other gore from a week ago had been cleaned away.

  For Phillip it was three days without a break trying to piece together the operation from Steven's vantage point.

  Nan had been no help. She was in emotional meltdown. Not only had she been the one to find the body but she had been treated as a suspect. On top of it all, she was worried about her mother. She wasn't able to reach her on the phone and was afraid for the worse. She had asked for permission to leave and check on dear old mom. So she wasn't even here to help Phillip. That's another reason why there could never be anything between he and Nan— she was too much like his ex wife. That woman was all about herself.

  The seeming futility of all their efforts was telling on everyone. Phillip had let all those who had families go home to be with loved ones when the end came. It was predicted that the dust would overrun the county sometime during the night. There were no places you could run to. Phillip and a handful of others, having no families and being stubborn, stayed to continue seeking a way to defend against the dust.

  Phillip was not the scientist that Steven had been. Phillip could not lead the way Steven had lead. Phillip was making progress but was exhausted from the ordeal and it looked like the fight was nearly over. Humanity had lost.

  Although Phillip still worked from his old office, until the ghosts left this one, he had come to Steven's old office, now his by rights, to search Steven’s computer for information. Was there anything here that could explain why their efforts had not stopped the invasion? Steven’s computer was protected by a fingerprint reader that the techs had bypassed for Charles. It was unsecured now for Phillip.

  Phillip felt depressed. He sat in Steven's chair in Steven's office and wished he had Steven's gun so he, Phillip, could take Steven's way out. His intellect was trying to rationalize his feelings. He knew why they called it depression. He felt like King Kong was sitting on his chest. If he had had a knife, he would cut himself. He wanted so much to feel something, anything but the heavy depression; even pain would be welcome. He wanted to scream but only whimpered.

  He would feel better if he just gave in to it — just lie down and never get up. But his intellect hadn't given up yet. He knew and said out loud "Feelings cannot be trusted.” Even when you're not in the latrine pit of depression, feelings cannot be trusted. They lie and exaggerate. They distort perception and reason. Bad feelings try to tell you that good feelings are an illusion and that they, the bad feelings, are the truth. They try to convince you that you should follow what you are feeling because it is right. Bull shit!

  He thought, “Could he even trust his feelings for Nan? As soon as he started to think about Nan He felt better. When he felt better, he remembered he hadn't taken his meds. That's why he was felling so down. He went to the bathroom and took his pills. He felt immediately better even before the drugs entered his blood. He felt better because hope opened her eyes and sucked in a breath and was no longer dead. He went back to work.

  He had searched and read documents for sixteen hours. He was beginning to fade even with energy drinks and caffeine. He went to Steven's bathroom again to freshen up. No minimalist washroom was this. It was complete with shower, wardrobe, and vanity. There was an electric shaver. Phillip didn’t feel he could bring himself to use a dead man's shaver. He rummaged through a drawer. He found two deodorant sticks — one unused. He appropriated it. When he used it, something scrapped his underarm. He inspected it closely and saw a black shard embedded in the solid deodorant stick. He pulled it out. It was a memory stick as are used for backing up computers. Phillip cleaned it with toilet paper and took it to the computer plugging it into the appropriate slot.

  The computer prompted for a password. Oh, sure why should anything be easy. Ok, if I were Steven Rice, one of the smartest men on earth, what would I choose for a password? The water Phillip had splashed on his face was wearing off. He couldn't think of anything smart. He typed "Jonathan" and when he hit enter a file folder appeared. He blinked at his good luck. He guessed it first try. So much for smartest man on earth!

  He started looking at videos. He found the video of the original encounter with the Europa nanobots. He had watched it scores of times. He wanted something more recent so he sorted the files by creation date. Another Europa video came to near the top. Oops wrong sort; the oldest files were on top now. Phillip then noticed the creation date on the Europa file. It was three months before the broadcast from Jupiter's moon. This was curious but the presence of four other variations of the video and of other apparent mission telemetry files also with variations predating the encounter on Europa made a mystery. Could this have been manufactured to support the hoax? He didn't know what to make of it.

  He was just too tired. Why should the alien dust only be killing some people? Did the other people have some kind of immunity? Actually more people were dying these days from diseases. Why was that? Something to do with global climate change. Can't remember why. And yes, most microbes were antibiotic resistant. The only way to kill disease pathogens was with nanos. Only the rich could afford nanos. The poor took the alternate treatment — they died. What did this have to do with why he was here? He couldn't concentrate any more. He couldn't remember what he was trying to figure out. There were some pills he could take to keep hi—mmm going. What were they? He tried to think but three nights and four days without sleep overtook him. Energy drinks and caffeine couldn't sustain him now. His eyes had been shut for a couple minutes. Now he laid his head on the desktop with only his own arm for a pillow. Phillip’s world went dark long before the screensaver darkened the computer. He was asleep.