Vell Harlan and the Doomsday Dorms

“Repeat what you just said back to me,” Alex said.

“We were experimenting on extremophiles,” the hapless student said.

“Extremophiles,” Alex said.

“Yes, extremophiles.”

“In what universe is this an extremophile!”

Alex extend a fist that was holding a flamingo by the neck. The flamingo made a flamingo noise.

“In...this universe?”

“Extremophiles are microorganisms,” Alex said. “This is an organism, it is not ‘micro’.”

“There’s no size restrictions for an extremophile,” the student said. “Flamingos live in low-oxygen environments, they withstand brutally hot and cold temperatures, they drink saltwater so acidic it would kill other lifeforms -they’re extremophiles.”

“That’s a very broad-”

“Is this really your priority right now?”

The student pointed to the right, as a tardigrade the size of an airplane trampled a building.

“It’s getting handled,” Alex said.

Those doing the handling were currently not handling themselves well.

“How’s it going, Kim?”

“Not fucking well,” she shouted. Punching the tardigrade as hard as she could was having little effect. “You?”

“Also not great,” Vell said. He had not expected one bullet to have an effect, but he’d sort of hoped two-hundred bullets might. The tardigrade shrugged off every shot without so much as a flinch. Not that it had many facial features to flinch with.

“Cyrus better come through,” Kim shouted. They were running out of options fast. Already borderline indestructible at their regular size, the tardigrade was proving impossible to stop. Conventional weaponry was all but useless, and more than a few unconventional weapons had failed too.

“He should be done any second now,” Vell said. “I’m pretty confident his thing will work. And if it doesn’t we still have that raygun that turns things inside out.”

“I really don’t want to see what something this big looks like turned inside-out.”

“It’s a microorganism, they don’t really have blood or organs or anything,” Vell said. “Should be pretty mess-free, as far as inversions go.”

“Rather not take that gamble, bud,” Kim said.

None of them would ever find out what giant tardigrade organs looked like, thanks to Cyrus’s timely arrival. Vell’s only friend in the rocketry department had managed to recruit a few of his friends, and with Hawke and Samson’s help, constructed something that would hopefully solve the tardigrade problem. Cyrus hauled a makeshift rocket and some long lengths of chain across the quad, as his compatriots did the same. They spread out, made sure their rockets were stable, and that their welding held firm.

“Are we sure this is going to work?”

“Only one way to find out,” Cyrus said. “We’re ready, Vell, lead it this way!”

Vell ran around the side of the tardigrade and grabbed a few explosive runes out of his pouch. While the explosions had not been able to harm the surprisingly sturdy creature, the combination of force, heat, and noise at least made it move away from the bursts. Vell called on some rodeo history and used the explosions to corral the tardigrade in the right direction.

“That’s good, let’s go,” Cyrus said. He and his friends dashed away from the trap, and Cyrus flipped a switch on his remote.

The rockets began to spew fire and smoke, and took off, dragging the chain net, and the titanic tardigrade, behind them. While the flight was wobbly, the rockets kept stable as they rocketed up and out of sight. Kim saluted the rocketing tardigrade as it soared into the stars.

“Good job, Cyrus,” Vell said.

“Thanks.”

“Sometimes I think about shooting all our problems into space,” Samson said. “But rarely do I get to pull it off.”

“You’re lucky you caught us right as we were starting a new build,” Cyrus said. “We usually don’t keep the parts and fuel on hand to pull off something like this.”

“Well, there go my dreams,” Samson sighed.

“Don’t worry, Samson,” Hawke said. “A lot of threats are smaller than that tardigrade. I’m sure we can fling one or two into space.”

“Can we start with Alex?”

“No,” Vell said. “Though, speaking of her…”

Vell went to check on whether she had actually finished her assigned task.

“They eat shrimp, that’s a completely normal food,” Alex said.

“They eat brine shrimp. Those are very small.”

“They’re still shrimp!”

“Staying on task, I see,” Vell said.

“I’m trying to ascertain the nature of this experiment,” Alex said. She pointed at the student she was interrogating. “This one keeps insisting it’s about extremophiles, but this flamingo clearly indicates-”

Alex waved the flamingo she was holding again, and the flamingo made another flamingo noise.

“Is that thing still alive?” Vell said. “Let it go!”

Alex released the flamingo, and it immediately flew away, scattering a few pink feathers as it left.

“Flamingos drink water so salty it would literally kill a human being, they’re extremophiles,” Vell said. “And besides, your job was to find out why, not what.”

They knew “what” the problem was. The tardigrade had been hard to miss. They even knew who, thanks to some surprisingly forthcoming tardigrade-mutators. What they did not know was why they had made such a small creature so big.

“Oh, that part was obvious,” Alex said. “Because they said so.”

Alex pointed somewhere behind the student she was bothering. Vell went around her to look in a back room, and immediately let out a long sigh.

“The Board of Directors.”

A group of decrepit old men and women cowered in a back room, hiding from the consequences of their own actions. The roster had changed slightly since Vell had last seen them -a few members had presumably lost their ongoing battle to avoid death, and a few new old bastards had joined it. The new arrivals were barely distinguishable from the old, as at that age all features started to blend together. They all had pale, paper-thin skin, and those that weren’t completely bald only had a few strands of wispy snow-white hair left clinging to spotted scalps. They also all bore the scars and exposed mechanisms of the elaborate technology they were using to stave off death for as long as possible.

“Hello, Vell Harlan,” one of them croaked. Since his jaw was no long functional, he spoke through a synthesizer embedded in his throat. “Our offer relating to your rune-”

“Can it, Crypt Keeper,” Vell said. “I blocked your numbers for a reason, you’re not getting shit.”

The Board member shut up, and Vell stepped forward to look over the wreckage of the experiment.

“Let me guess, you wanted to study tardigrades and other durable lifeforms in a bid to prolong your own lives, right?”

“That is correct,” one of the Board groaned.

“I get that clinging to life is your whole thing, but what the fuck did you hope to gain from tardigrades and flamingos?”

“Durability,” one of the other board members said. Vell would swear he saw a cloud of dust fly out of the their mouth when they spoke. “As we age, our bodies become increasingly fragile. Observe.”

The Board Member managed to lift a hand so thin and pale Vell could see the outlines of individual carpal bones, and knocked it gently into the back of another Board Member. The slight touch caused the other member of the Board to cough once, then immediately keel over dead. An implant in their heart started to beep, and a second later, they sprang back to life with a rattling wheeze. Vell grimaced.

“I see,” Vell said.

“Since you’re apparently not taking any action to save us, we must save ourselves.”

“Yeah, look, as far as deaths to prevent go, ‘natural causes’ is pretty low on my priorities,” Vell said. “Have you guys ever considered, uh, moving on? I know Death, I could maybe try to get you some red carpet treatment.”

“Not today,” one of the Board wheezed. “Not any day. Not ever.”

“Death is just another problem. One we can solve.”

Vell didn’t bother making a second attempt. Most of the Board were a hundred years old, at least, often a few decades older. If they hadn’t come to terms with death at that point, nothing Vell could say would convince them. He pitied them, in a way: they were so terrified of death they clung to existence well past the point of life even being enjoyable. Most of them could barely move, or eat and drink, and what little they could do was physically painful. Most people Vell knew would rather be dead than “live” the way the Board of Director’s did.

“Okay, you guys have fun...not being dead, I guess,” Vell said. They didn’t really do much else. He turned his attention back to Alex. “So did you find out when this started?”

“She got hung up on the flamingo thing,” the student said.

“You’re misidentifying things,” Alex snapped.

“Alex. Priorities.”

“Good science is my priority.”

“Ugh. Just tell us when all this started,” Vell said, turning to face the student.

“Well, those old dudes showed up in the morning…”

In the morning of the next loop, those old dudes showed up. So did Vell.

“Good morning all,” Vell said. As anticipated, the Board of Directors immediately lost interest in their previous venture when Vell showed up.

“Ah, Mr. Harlan,” one of them croaked. “Any progress to report on Quenay’s game?”

“Nope, still not really working on that,” Vell said. The Board of Director’s only had a few functional facial muscles between them, but they managed a scowl in his direction, which Vell ignored. “I’ve been studying, homework, taking the occasional guitar lesson. Speaking of, have you met my girlfriend?”

Skye waved hello. Vell had brought her along for two reasons. The first was that he liked her, the second was that her experience in genetic engineering could be useful. Skye was an expert in making small animals into very big animals.

“Oh, is that a cellular growth accelerant?” Skye said. Her eyes immediately latched on to the familiar equipment, and she stepped forward to admire their gear. “Model Three Lidellian injector, nice. Your regulator’s a little misaligned, though.”

“Ugh, that always happens with these newer models.”

“I know, I’ve got a guy in the machine shop who works on them for me,” Skye said. “I don’t think I’m using mine today, if you want to borrow it.”

Skye and the locals started to shoot the shit about how best to mutate creatures with. Vell knew that would be enough to prevent another tardigrade rampage, as Skye would not allow the experiment to be conducted any less than perfectly. That left him to deal with the Board of Directors. He needed to keep them distracted, and he had something he wanted to confront them about anyway.

“So, not to be presumptuous, but my phone’s security system has been pinging me with occasional attempts to get into my stuff,” Vell said. “And I couldn’t help but notice that all started after I blocked your numbers.”

“We have nothing to do with that.”

“Right, and the fact my buddy traced all those hacking attempts back to one of your offices?”

“We host servers for multiple purposes.”

“Cool, I get it,” Vell said. “You know, even if I was working on the whole rune thing, which, again, I am not, I wouldn’t be storing any of that info on my phone.”

“I don’t see how any of that is relevant to us,” one of the Board croaked.

“I haven’t been able to move my fingers in seventeen years,” another added. “How could I do anything with a phone?”

“That’s just depressing,” Vell said. “Look, just leave me alone, alright?”

“We’ve never done anything to bother you.”

“You tried to enslave my friend!”

“Your friend, yes, not you,” the Board member said. Back in her first year, the Board had tried to have Kim declared an object, not a person, so they could disassemble and research her for their own purposes. The effort had failed, but Kim still like to avoid them, just to be safe. Vell decided to adopt the same policy, and left the Board alone.

“Skye, you look like you’re having fun,” Vell said, as he returned his attention to more pleasant people.

“Maybe a little,” Skye admitted. “These guys have some very interesting ideas on nano-injection methods to deliver growth serums to microorganisms. Could use a little refinement, though.”

“Well, who better to refine than you,” Vell said. “Have fun, try not to make anything too big.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine, I’ll keep things roughly dachshund-sized,” Skye said.

“Maybe aim more for ‘guinea pig’.”

“No promises,” Skye said. Vell kissed her goodbye and left the lab, confident the experiment was in good hands.

After a short jog across the quad, Vell headed to the dining hall for some lunch. The other loopers were also there, at their usual table, joined by a not-so-usual guest. The familiar blaze of Freddy Frizzle’s red hair was visible from a mile off.

“Hey Freddy,” Vell said. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing in particular,” Freddy said. His voice wavered as he spoke, as his baseline level of anxiety was heightened by proximity to Alex. “Just chatting about biology.”

“I called him in,” Helena said. “He’s the only fucking person Alex listens to, and if I had to hear any more of this flamingo nonsense I was going to lose it.”

Alex shot her a dirty look, which Helena shot right back.

“Biology is not my area of expertise,” Alex said defensively. “I had some misconceptions.”

“And the definition of extremophile isn’t always clear,” Freddy said. “Most people think of them as being deep sea creatures or microorganisms. I can see why a big pink bird would be the odd one out.”

“It is quite odd,” Alex said. “You wouldn’t think flamingos and tardigrades are both extremophiles.”

“Tardigrades aren’t extremophiles,” Freddy said.

“What?”

The entire table froze like they’d stepped on a landmine. A single misplaced word could result in an entirely new pedantic tangent from Alex. Nervous eyes turned towards Freddy, in hopes he could defuse the tension his misplaced words had created.

“I mean, uh, they’re, you know, a tardigrade can survive in extreme conditions, but they’re not specialized to thrive in them. They’re definitely extremo-something, just not extremophiles.”

Alex silently processed the explanation. Everyone else held their breath.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Alex said. She returned to her lunch, and the others returned to breathing normally.

“So, I don’t think the Board is going to give up on bothering me,” Vell said. “I think we should all beef up our network security. That includes you, Alex.”

“How is networking my phone with the rest of you more secure?” Alex said. “It just creates another point of failure.”

The rest of the loopers, and a handful of their friends, had their phone and other networked devices linked to Kim’s supercomputer brain. While she was still technically a computer, she was also beefed up with Quenay’s magic bullshit, making her virtually unhackable by normal means, and she could extend that protection to the rest of their phones.

“I don’t fail,” Kim said.

“Everything fails eventually,” Alex said.

“Well you at least need to get some kind of security,” Vell said. “Something sturdy. But not that Kraid Tech Encryption.”

“Why not? It’s one of the most effective security systems available.”

“Because it’s Kraid,” Vell said. “I’ve told you enough horror stories about him.”

“Most of which I believe,” Alex said. “But he’s shown no interest in you so far this year. It’s more likely he’s shifted priorities.”

It was true that Kraid had not been up to any of his usual shenanigans this year (that they knew of), but that was actually more suspicious, not less. Vell tried to avoid any pointed glances at Helena.

“Besides, the encryption is entirely user-end,” Alex said. “Kraid couldn’t access it if he tried.”

“That’s what he says,” Vell said. “It’s just not a good idea, Alex.”

“I’ll decide for myself what is a good idea, thank you,” Alex said. She finished off her lunch and left without a goodbye, as usual.

Vell double checked to make sure she was out of earshot before checking in.

“Everything going like we expected?”

“Alex hadn’t even left the lunch room before she started downloading the Kraid encryption,” Kim said. Alex had never technically given access to her phone, but Kim had let herself in anyway. It was just one piece of Vell’s much bigger scheme.

“Man, it is super easy to manipulate people,” Hawke said. “And kind of fun.”

“I know, I kind of see why Wish Fish and Kraid and all those motherfuckers are so into it,” Kim said. “Ugh, that was a little evil. Come on, Hawke, let’s go do something nice, balance our karma.”

“I donate blood, my karma’s fine,” Hawke said.

“I don’t have blood!”

“Well that’s a you problem.”