The Anomaly Page #4

RNA bases, enzymes.

I see

Picasso.

Biology's purest sculpture.

The virus.

I'll make something

simple and nasty.

An airborne pathogen

that messes with DNA in a

particularly baroque fashion.

Makes the subject grow

some extra eyes, say.

I'll make it very contagious.

We show them it works.

We threaten to release it over

some densely populated cities.

And we all grow

obscenely rich.

Yeah, about that.

That's all very interesting,

very "baroque" was it you said?

Mmm.

Well, actually, Leonid,

we may have

mislead you, somewhat.

I mean, do we need

your expertise? Yes.

Do we need you to build

this bespoke virus? Yes.

But are we going to blackmail

governments for money?

No.

No, we're not.

We're not interested in blackmail

here, and we don't need money.

You may not understand this,

but our ambitions

are a little

wider.

I will not work if I do

not agree to the cause.

I'm very well aware of that.

Let me show you something.

No, no, no, no'.!

Stop! You'll die.

Back away.

What are you doing?

Lucky it's not too deep.

All right, I'm gonna stay

here until this one's over.

A change of plans, I think.

What nonsense this is,

I do not know.

But it proves one thing.

You have ceased

to be of use.

So thank you very

much for my freedom,

and an excellent

place to work.

But I will go

from here alone.

It's DNA coded.

You need an override code.

So why don't you relax

and watch some TV.

What is this?

Hello, Leonid.

The boy, of course, is Alex.

I believe you know him.

What have you

done to my son?

Please don't...

No! Mum!

Mum, no.

I killed the mother,

but your son

is still alive.

Although, perhaps not

for long, my dear boy.

The acid between

the sheets is irreversibly

spreading towards

your son's body

and can only

be stopped by us.

Ifs a little much,

I admit.

But it's a visual incentive and I

do have a penchant for theatrics.

I give you my word, your son will

be released if you do what we say.

All your instructions

are in front of you.

Leonid. We can save Alex.

But we need to act fast before

I change back into him.

I'm gonna black out soon and

there isn't much time left.

Leonid.

Two, one.

Manual shutdown.

We are no longer

transmitting, which means...

Hello, Ryan.

Let's see.

Pulse normal.

Within tolerance.

The ports are clear.

There's nothing

wrong with the

old receiver tech.

It's embedded nicely.

The vocal chords

have been disabled,

and I've fixed the self-inflicted

damage on the right side of the neck

and opened the node

portal on the left.

I've gone over all

the transmission equipment.

It's working perfectly.

So, it has to be a fault

or interference

with the satellite.

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