was very touching, and I cried for her loss. But yet, she was suffering, so it was a Godsend that she finally passed.”
“Thank you for everything and for the food you sent over to the house, Anastasiya.”
“I’ll do my best to take care of you now and please you, as I always have. But there’s something happening soon that you probably don’t know about since you’ve been gone. Some American diplomat, a woman from the US State Department, is coming to inspect the lab in a few days, as most of our financing for the fungi is now coming from the United States. As usual, there will be a few people from our government accompanying her, trying to talk the United States into providing more money. They, of course, will want the money to come to them to administer it. The woman will be here on a tour of several countries to give talks on why they need to stop allowing the production of drugs. She will report back to the United States on the need for additional money to continue the funding of our fungi research, and also for money for the dismantling of this building. She is on a tour of the Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and her last stop will be here.”
“What kind of nonsense is this?” he spat out angrily and thought of the stupidity and the hard times he was suffering. “This childish nonsense to make friendly fungi that kills opium, and is harmless to animals and humans, is set up to make it appear that the government is not allowing drug production. Ridiculous! Government officials themselves are in the drug trade. They get payoffs for allowing drug production, although no drugs come from this lab. What’ll I tell her? That I’m close to eradicating all drug production with my fabulous new fungi? The American government lives a lie to itself and its people. And I’m supposed to babysit some fucking cunt-for-brains idiot! Those assholes in the US send women to Muslim countries, and you know what they think of that and what they say about them when they leave.”
“Well, it is the funding of fungi growth to kill opium that keeps the lab open,” Anastasiya replied, trying to calm him. “Without that, we would have nothing, and you would not be able to keep your special room.” She referred to the special room where he kept live viruses that the Soviets had brought from Africa years before. “And it is not as though the Soviet government was ever truthful with anyone.”
“Better nothing than this,” Dr. Dorogomilov decreed in angry protest, but he really did not mean it.
They entered the doors of the huge Building 221. Moss blanketed the outside of the building, with its broken windows covered with plywood in place of more expensive glass.
Building 221 was dark, run down, the length of two football fields, and six stories tall, with four stories above ground and two underground. The underground stories were put there to assist containment of volatile bio-warfare agents should there be an accident--and there had been. He opened the door. Its unoiled hinges squeaked. The inside was dark, drafty, damp, and eerie. Airtight locks, put there to contain the horrific products made there, now hung open. No lights were on, and the inside was not heated, save for one section where his lab remained. It was still the most sophisticated lab of its kind on Earth, used for the experimentation of killing people with chemical and biological means. It was now used only for the façade of fungi experiments, modestly funded to create an environmentally safe formula to kill opium poppies. Although now dated, most all of the exotic equipment remained, however, for the making of bio-warfare agents, which was why there was partial funding for the fungi--to lower any interest in it being fired up again to make anthrax, staphylococcus, and experimentation in bio-warfare agents. Run down as it was, it was still a level four bio-warfare lab, like no other in the world, where biological warfare agents could not just be made, but
“Thank you for everything and for the food you sent over to the house, Anastasiya.”
“I’ll do my best to take care of you now and please you, as I always have. But there’s something happening soon that you probably don’t know about since you’ve been gone. Some American diplomat, a woman from the US State Department, is coming to inspect the lab in a few days, as most of our financing for the fungi is now coming from the United States. As usual, there will be a few people from our government accompanying her, trying to talk the United States into providing more money. They, of course, will want the money to come to them to administer it. The woman will be here on a tour of several countries to give talks on why they need to stop allowing the production of drugs. She will report back to the United States on the need for additional money to continue the funding of our fungi research, and also for money for the dismantling of this building. She is on a tour of the Ukraine, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and her last stop will be here.”
“What kind of nonsense is this?” he spat out angrily and thought of the stupidity and the hard times he was suffering. “This childish nonsense to make friendly fungi that kills opium, and is harmless to animals and humans, is set up to make it appear that the government is not allowing drug production. Ridiculous! Government officials themselves are in the drug trade. They get payoffs for allowing drug production, although no drugs come from this lab. What’ll I tell her? That I’m close to eradicating all drug production with my fabulous new fungi? The American government lives a lie to itself and its people. And I’m supposed to babysit some fucking cunt-for-brains idiot! Those assholes in the US send women to Muslim countries, and you know what they think of that and what they say about them when they leave.”
“Well, it is the funding of fungi growth to kill opium that keeps the lab open,” Anastasiya replied, trying to calm him. “Without that, we would have nothing, and you would not be able to keep your special room.” She referred to the special room where he kept live viruses that the Soviets had brought from Africa years before. “And it is not as though the Soviet government was ever truthful with anyone.”
“Better nothing than this,” Dr. Dorogomilov decreed in angry protest, but he really did not mean it.
They entered the doors of the huge Building 221. Moss blanketed the outside of the building, with its broken windows covered with plywood in place of more expensive glass.
Building 221 was dark, run down, the length of two football fields, and six stories tall, with four stories above ground and two underground. The underground stories were put there to assist containment of volatile bio-warfare agents should there be an accident--and there had been. He opened the door. Its unoiled hinges squeaked. The inside was dark, drafty, damp, and eerie. Airtight locks, put there to contain the horrific products made there, now hung open. No lights were on, and the inside was not heated, save for one section where his lab remained. It was still the most sophisticated lab of its kind on Earth, used for the experimentation of killing people with chemical and biological means. It was now used only for the façade of fungi experiments, modestly funded to create an environmentally safe formula to kill opium poppies. Although now dated, most all of the exotic equipment remained, however, for the making of bio-warfare agents, which was why there was partial funding for the fungi--to lower any interest in it being fired up again to make anthrax, staphylococcus, and experimentation in bio-warfare agents. Run down as it was, it was still a level four bio-warfare lab, like no other in the world, where biological warfare agents could not just be made, but
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