Earth Thirst (The Arcadian Conflict) - By Mark Teppo Page 0,74

attraction and pretty much out of any cruise line routes, what would create such a boom in housing needs?”

“A workforce. One that needs temporary housing.”

“Exactly.”

She wanders over to the chart and taps Hyacinth Pharmaceuticals. “Figure Hyacinth Worldwide is managing the land, since they're already on the island. Maybe the hotel is originally built to facilitate the team that plants all the trees. They spend three decades growing that farm, and when the trees start to mature, they build the lab.”

“That's some long-term thinking.”

“Who thinks like that?”

“The Japanese.”

“Big Ag,” she says, rolling her eyes at me. Then, more seriously: “And Arcadians.”

“We left the island,” I tell her.

“Are you sure?” she asks. She still has that glint in her eye—that journalist delight at having uncovered some unexpected secret.

“No, I'm not sure,” I say as my stomach starts to tighten.

“Okay, let's look at the list of what you'd get from a farm on Easter Island.” She takes the laptop from me and switches over to a document that she was working on. “Sirolimus,” she starts. “Sourced from a bacterium found only on the island. If we buy the marketing hype, star fruit is useful to combat infections and it also acts—and I quote—‘as an inhibitor of certain isoforms.' What does that mean?”

I suspect she already knows, but I play along. “It increases the efficacy of other drugs.”

She makes the popping noise with her lips as she points a finger at me. “There's agbayun,” she continues, working down the list. “Also known as miracle berry—a source of miraculin. Handy when you're making native medicines. And African serendipity berry too, which has thaumatin in it, much like miraculin. They're also working with Amyruca, a natural source of DMT; Oldenlandia affinis, widely used in Africa to assist in childbirth; Polygala tenuifolia, a memory aid found in a number of Chinese herbal remedies; a couple others which I haven't figured out what they're useful for yet; and the jujube, which I thought was something that Lewis Carroll made up, but is apparently useful for a whole host of things.”

“Ziziphus,” I say. “Ziziphus zizyphus.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know of it. We used to eat the fruit. We'd dry it and eat it.” I shake my head at her raised eyebrow. “Never mind. Yes, I can see why it's on the list.”

“A small pharmaceutical company could make its nut—if you will—off any one of these if they could figure out how to harvest and/or synthesize them in large enough quantities. Yet, if we believe the marketing copy isn't just for show, Hyacinth Pharmaceuticals is doing all of them. Doesn't that seem a tad…?”

“Ambitious?” I try. “Delusional?”

“Either. Both,” she says. “Remember when I talked about the corporate pyramid? Every company is working on a piece of something else, and none of them know anything other than the part they're responsible for. Someone much higher up the chain knows the real score. They're the architects of the capital ‘P' plan. This is like a compressed version of that sort of vision. It's all in one place. In one company. We've got psychedelics, antipsychotics, immunosuppressants, antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, antifibrinolytics, God knows how many other anti- agents there are. If you put them all together what have you got?”

“I got lost somewhere around the third anti-.”

“Complete systemic disassociation.”

“What does that mean?”

“You won't feel a thing, and your body won't reject anything you put in it. Or attach to it.”

It clicks for me. “Nigel.”

“They weren't just torturing Nigel,” she says. “They were cutting him up for parts.”

“Parts they could use for something—or someone—else.” I struggle to wrap my head around the idea of parts. Not just organ transplants, but entire pieces of a body. Or even building an entirely new body out of disparate sections. How would this work? “Lemon trees,” I breathe.

“What about lemon trees?” Mere asks.

“Do you know how a lemon tree is cultivated?” She shakes her head. “You grow lemons and oranges on the same trunk. It's done all the time. They're from the same family. You can graft a branch on, and the trunk will accept it. With this pharmacopeia, you could do the same with any genetically similar species.”

“Like Homo erectus?”

I nod, knowing it's more than that. It'd be even easier with a species that is more refined, genetically-speaking. Something singularly sourced.

Hyacinth wants to grow their own Arcadians.

TWENTY-SIX

“Who owns Hyacinth?” I ask, suppressing the serpentine twist of fear rising up my back. Focusing on what we know. Setting aside this line of speculation. Knowing who you are fighting is often times more