Invasion

"Exactly that," Beau said. "It is born out of the need to take seriously the stewardship of this planet. Human beings have been doing a terrible job up until now as witnessed by pollution, destruction of ecosystems, constant strife, and warfare. The situation necessitates a change, or, if you will, a new beginning, and the institute will be the agent for that change."

The skeptical reporter smiled wryly. "Such practiced rhetoric," he commented. "It certainly sounds highfalutin, maybe even true, at least the part about the mess humans have made of the world. But the idea of an institute accomplishing this out here in an isolated mansion is ludicrous. This whole operation with all these brainwashed people strikes me more as a cult than anything else."

Beau fixed the skeptical reporter with his eyes and his pupils dilated maximally. He walked toward the man, oblivious to the people who were blocking his path. Most stepped aside, a few Beau pushed. He didn't shove them hard but rather eased them out of the way.

Beau reached the reporter who defiantly returned Beau's stare. The whole group of journalists went silent as they watched the confrontation. Beau resisted the temptation to reach out, grab the individual, and demand he show proper respect. Instead Beau decided he would bring this contumacious individual back to the institute and infect him.

But then Beau thought it might be easier to infect them all. He'd just give them each a parting gift of a black disc.

"Excuse me, Beau!" an attractive young woman called who'd just arrived. Her name was Veronica Paterson. She'd ran down from the chateau and was out of breath. She was clothed in an alluring one-piece spandex outfit that appeared as if it had been sprayed on her lithe and shapely body. The male reporters in particular were intrigued.

She pulled Beau away from the group so she could tell him in private that there was an important telephone call for him up at the institute.

"Do you think you can handle these reporters?" Beau asked her.

"Most certainly," Veronica said.

"They are not to go inside," Beau said.

"Of course not," Veronica said.

"And they're to leave with gifts," Beau said. "Give them all black discs. Tell them that it is our emblem."

Veronica smiled. "I like that," she said.

"Excuse me, everybody!" Beau called out to the crowd of reporters. "I must leave unexpectedly, but I'm sure I will be seeing each of you again. Miss Paterson will be available for your remaining questions. She will also be handing out small parting gifts for you to take as souvenirs from your day at the institute."

A babble of questions bubbled forth in response to Beau's announcement. Beau merely smiled and moved off. He clapped his hands, and King came bounding to his side. While Beau had been speaking with the reporters he'd had King keep his distance.

A sharp whistle from Beau brought a number of the other dogs from around the grounds. Beau snapped his fingers and pointed toward the group of journalists. The newly summoned dogs quickly moved to positions ringing the reporters and patiently sat on their haunches.

Upon reaching the house, Beau went directly up to the library. He dialed Dr. Marchand's direct number and the line was immediately answered.

"They have left," Dr. Marchand said. "But it was an unexpected ruse. They informed us they were going to the Sheraton, but they did not."

"Do you have their report?" Beau asked.

"Of course," Dr. Marchand said.

"Destroy it," Beau said.

"What do you want us to do about them?" Dr. Marchand asked. "Should we stop them?"

"By all means," Beau said. "You shouldn't ask a question to which you already know the answer."

Marchand laughed. "You are right," he said. "It's just this weird human trait about trying to be diplomatic."

Mid-morning Atlanta traffic wasn't bad compared with rush hour, but it was a lot more than Eugene was accustomed to.

"Everybody seems so aggressive here," Eugene complained.

"You're doing fine, dear," Nancy said, although she hadn't appreciated how close Eugene had come to another car at the previous intersection.

Sheila was busy looking out the back window.

"Anybody following us?" Eugene asked, glancing at Sheila in the rearview mirror.

"I don't think so," Sheila said. "I guess they bought the story about getting some rest. After all, it was reasonable. But what worries me is that now they know that we know! Maybe I should say 'it' knows."

"You make it sound like a single entity," Eugene said.

"All the infected people have a way of working together," Sheila said. "It's spooky. It's like viruses themselves, all working for the collective good. Or like an ant colony where each individual seems to know what everyone else is doing and what they should be doing as a consequence."