Dispatch #1

[INAUDIBLE] . . . but hopefully I’ve got the recorder working now. This is Dr. Nathaniel Letheford, Director, Alliance for Military Neutralization and Eradication of Sensitive Incidents and Atrocities. I have been inserted into conflict zone W-924/B for sample collection and field review of Amnemoriabacillus thanatensis. My pilot is dead. Transport destroyed. I sustained damage to my environ suit but have made repairs. Direct comm links are down, so I’m recording these dispatches and launching them via micro drone at regular intervals. I have five working drones.

The journey was rough but I’m here. This is a unique opportunity to see the result of my life’s work in the field. So here I am. Here I go.

Dispatch #2

I’m following the main road west, which should lead me to ground zero for the deployment of A. thanatensis and its first real-world application. The destruction in this zone is overwhelming. I’ve never seen such a complete deletion of infrastructure. Every bridge has fallen. Every building reduced to boulders and dust. Fighting in this zone has paused and most bodies have been cleared. Most, but not all. Even from this distance, it is obvious the deceased are mainly women, old men, and children. Many children.

Even after the bodies are buried, the pain for these people will continue. A casket hides a lot of crimes. Children buried without limbs. Skin blackened. Jaws, eyes, ears ripped away. A ragged hole where a face used to be. A casket doesn’t spare the first responders, the authorities who arrive late after the destruction, the body collectors, the embalmers. A child’s body done in by violence is an open wound in the world that can never be closed.

What if there were none of that? What if there were simply no body to collect? Not a day goes by where I cannot picture my daughter and how she died. [SENSITIVE DETAILS REDACTED.] No one else will have to endure that. No one else will have to remember. We can finally forget. That’s the gift we are giving to the world.

Dispatch #3

I have reached the first waypoint, the ambulance, and I have encountered A. thanatensis in the wild. I have limited ability to conduct a full, thorough, and complete examination in the field due to damaged and lost equipment, but I have collected and labeled specimens for later processing. I dare not send them in the drones, as we don’t want any of this stuff to escape into an uncontrolled area. Can you imagine?

The ambulance has sustained obvious battle damage. There appears to be large artillery fire and small arms. Complete assessment of the scene is difficult because of the heavy A. thanatensis overgrowth—which, ironically, is the point. It does appear the organism is functioning as intended, though it may have pushed past its previously assumed range. I can only guess this growth has spread from the original targeted deployment, six miles due west. If this turns out to be the case, we can adjust the initial dosing to contain it.

There are two paramedics in the process of being . . . processed. As expected, their open wounds are the site of germination, and the vegetation formed by A. thanatensis has erupted and branched out from there. I estimate the remains are eighty to ninety percent involved at this point, with only the ends of the extremities left to go. A few blades of green grass have germinated under the fingernails of one paramedic. Creeping vines have entered the ear of the other, and I imagine his brain at this point has turned to a tangle of pale, fibrous roots. The skull is yet unturned so I cannot cut into the cranium to investigate, which is a pity. Overall, A. thanatensis appears to be robust and healthy, and successful lateral gene transfer has occurred. It appears much like local vegetation because it is local vegetation—mostly tall grasses and creeping vines. Honestly, I’m so impressed with my work, if such a thing is permissible. This stuff is fast growing. I can almost hear it scrunching along, subsuming the remaining flesh and bone, though I know that’s just my imagination.

One note, though nothing of real concern yet. The varieties of imitated plant life appear to be infected with a sort of pustule. It may be some sort of pod associated with another species, but it appears it has incorporated into several of the plant varieties. I shouldn’t be too surprised or worried as the gene transfer may have simply spliced this feature into the various species it is imitating. I have collected a sample for further study. Attempts to dissect the pustule in the field revealed nothing remarkable—fluid and fibrous material. Perhaps it is still maturing?

Dispatch #4

I have discovered a mutation that I do not understand. It has taken me some time to regain my composure. Let me back up.

I have arrived at our target, the point of initial dispersal of A. thanatensis in this zone. The vehicle that the victims were traveling in appears to have been a large SUV. It has fallen into a shallow crater, created perhaps by artillery fire. One side of the SUV has been chewed away by what I assume is rapid, large-caliber machine-gun fire.

We know from mobile phone transmission there was a single young survivor of this initial assault on the vehicle, and that she called her local emergency services. The aforementioned paramedic team (ref. Dispatch #3) responded but obviously never made it.

A. thanatensis was probably introduced here in a cartridge, like a tracer round. It’s very efficient, you see. Many rapid-fire seeds of destruction followed by a single seed of redemption. It’s automatic and no one has to remember to deploy it. Now firearms literally leave flowers in their wake. The hippies of old could only dream.

It’s difficult to differentiate the occupants of the vehicle as they have been fully processed, and what remains are mounds of vegetation, though with a single anomaly—the pustules have continued to spread and evolve. Obviously, this is a consequence of gene transfer I did not take into account and will require some serious study.

Dispatch #5

The pustules mentioned in my previous dispatch weren’t pustules at all.

I have made it to the extraction point but it’s no matter. It’s best if I am not extracted. As I mentioned in my first dispatch, there was damage to the enviro suit. I thought I had patched it sufficiently, but I hadn’t counted on the spores. Localized A. thanatensis has found a way to reproduce and spread. I hesitate to use the term “infected” but it’s sufficient shorthand for the moment.

I have conducted further dissections and close observations of the “pustules.” They are a kind of bud, and those buds are more mature and fully developed here. They are, in fact, eyes. To be precise, the eyes of the young girl wounded in this battle and who initially called for help. She watched A. thanatensis cover and consume her companions in the car as she waited for rescue. She watched as the conflict continued. She watched for any sign help would arrive. It never did. And now, hundreds of genetic copies of her eyes grow on stalks that cover the site of her demise. Living eyes, wet and dark and dreamless. Forever seeing. They have all turned toward me. She . . . they . . . are watching me still.

Spores will follow, so I cannot leave. The eyes would spread until they covered the world. Until we saw them seeing us everywhere. Until we had to acknowledge them and their accusations. Where were you? They ask me. You left me to die.

Perhaps I am merely personalizing it because of my daughter. Or perhaps, because of my daughter, I’m the only one who does understand the meaning in that look. I have seen that look before in eyes that were no longer seeing.

I’ve set this, the last of my micro drones, to launch when I stop speaking for more than thirty seconds. I want to keep talking as long as I can, for as long as I have. When I am gone there will be nothing left of her.

The eyes are watching, so let them bear witness to the memory of my beautiful daughter. Her life ended at [REDACTED] Elementary School, in [REDACTED], United States of America. She [SENSITIVE PERSONAL REMEMBRANCES OF INVESTIGATOR’S DECEASED DAUGHTER HAVE BEEN REDACTED.] May her memory be a blessing.

I count one hundred and thirty-eight nodules on my extremities and an uncountable number more on my back. I can feel small bumps on the roof of mouth and in my throat. Given time, they will develop into short stalks, and from those will sprout beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that once belonged to a young girl waiting for rescue.