Digital Underground - uXu - Underground eXperts United #uxu-470

### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ## ## ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ## ## ####### [ Bio Hazard ] [ By The GNN ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ BIO HAZARD by THE GNN/DCS/uXu When I think back, I recall a lot of symptoms that I did not notice at the time. That is a shame, I know, and I take full responsibility. Let me tell you what happened that afternoon last week. Due to circumstances, I have to write it down. Wednesday - October 11 - 1343 hours: The door to the laboratory swung open. Charles Chen (Ph.D, M.D. and some other degree I cannot remember) appeared. He looked really, really scared, which is a very, very bad sign in this profession. The group of five people (including me) in the laboratory gasped. Perhaps this was it, I guess we all thought, the end of the world. Perhaps Charles Chen had accidentally smashed a bottle from the Red Zone. (The Red Zone, as we all know, was the most hazardous area of this medical research centre. People there exclusively worked with lethal and incurable viruses.) I cautiously put down the test tubes I was working with (status: Yellow), and removed my face mask. "Chen," I said, "what's wrong?" He did reply in words. He just waved his hands in front of his chest, open and closed his mouth without saying anything. Well, that spoke for itself. The end of the world. Perhaps. I picked up the intercom, pushed the ALL button and begun (trying to sound calm): "Listen up! This is an emergency. I want all of you..." I was about to say that I wanted all personnel down to Disinfection. But suddenly Charles Chen began to scream. "East! East!" I wondered for a second if I had heard him right. "Eh... east?" I asked. "East!" he screamed once again. "Go east!" Then he fell to his knees and banged his fists against the concrete floor, while yelling that we collectively ought to do something eastwards. I concluded that whatever virus Charles Chen had caught, it was fairly obvious that it affected the brain. I quickly put my face mask back on. Then I sent all people in the building down to Disinfection. Everyone, except myself and my colleague Richard (the thin and pale graduate student). "Why do I have to stay?" he mumbled. "You got the best grades." "I've always cheated. I can prove it. Send me down to Disinfaction." "Yeah, yeah, sooner or later." We climbed the stairs up to the Red Zone. Richard constantly whined. He did not want to die, he argued. Whatever he wanted to do, I said, it was too late. (That is, if and only if Chen had smashed a bottle from the Zone. Perhaps he was just overworked?) The doors to the Red Zone carried a huge poster that said that only those who wore proper protection clothes were allowed to enter. Right beside the door, there was a list over current researchers. I examined it to find out which laboratory Chen had used. But Charles Chen's name was not on the list... "Why did he want us to go east?" Richard asked. "I don't know. He's probably chemically insane. Anyway, how come his name is not on the list...?" "Why should it be? It's Tuesday. On Tuesdays, Chen works down in the Light Green Zone, soiled trick vase." I slowly turned around and faced that darn idiot. "You're telling me this now?" "Well, you didn't ask me before, so..." "Never mind!" I was up shit creek, to say the least. I had ordered people down to Disinfection without any reason at all. Chen had not caught any virus. You could not even catch a cold in the Light Green Zone. I called Disinfection and explained the situation. "You're up shit crook, you know?" someone down there certified. They were of course pleased to hear that this was not the end of the world, but pretty annoyed with the fact that they had to explain this happy news to one-hundred and fifty people who had just been violently sprayed with all kinds of aromatic substances. We took the elevator down five storeys to Light Green. According to the list beside the door (which did not carry any poster at all) Chen had used laboratory number five. Laboratory number five was a one-man facility. Yes, there was a smashed bottle on the floor. I picked it up and read on the label: NON SENSE. "Shouldn't you... wear something?" Richard said by the door. "There is nothing to be afraid of in here." "As you fish." The desk was scattered with various notes. One of them caught my attention at once. non sense: cognitive NOT DEADLY neurone-firing in left frontal lobe affects: the ideas immanent in nervous activity in the brain, the processes involved in verbal syntactic and semantic capacities "Oh dear..." I said. "Seems like Chen spent his lunch inventing some funny viruses on his own. Lucky for him this one didn't turn out to be deadly." "Chaos," said Richard. I did not react properly. Instead, I said: "Yep, that would have meant chaos. The end of the world. Damn, I keep on saying it: do-not, never-ever, invent your own viruses! Yeah, they're funny to use, great at parties, a true ice-breaker, especially that 'rip-your-blouse-off'-thing I invented myself when I was a graduate student, damn break come god fast live..." I babbled for a minute or so without listening to myself. That is my way of calming down. "... but what does this damn virus do?" I said to end the session of therapeutic rapping. Richard looked at the floor as if he was thinking. Then he raised his finger. "Call." "Call who?" He breathed in. "Call... splinter..." verbal syntactic and semantic capacities "Richard!" I said and laughed. "You've caught Charles Chen's virus! Hey, this is a really funny virus! Say 'hello'!" Richard concentrated hard. But said: "Rocket." Oh, I laughed and laughed. And I would have kept on laughing if I had not glanced down on Chen's desk one more time. no cure I looked at Richard. He looked at me; fear shined in his eyes. "Oh dear..." I said. I threw myself over the intercom. "Sunday move like... can... gas..." someone down at Disinfection stuttered. It had begun. Now, I had to work fast. Really, really fast. I obviously had not caught the virus, as I still could utter comprehensible statements. I better get Richard away from me before it was too late. "Gold cigar eternity!" I said and realised that it actually was too late. Thankfully, Charles Chen's virus have yet not affected any other part of our hardwired neural features concerning communication. But you never know what might happen, as homemade viruses mutate easily. I dare not speculate on this subject, but assure hungary connection pan. Bring gold user must whether sympathy pleasant. Blue mud beer sailing police in fierce. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #470 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #470 with Noriega on the pay roll ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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