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TREMORS: BAYOU RHYTHMS

PT.1: THIEVING LAS VEGAS

December 17th 1990:


“Are you sure?” Graham queried in a vain and desperate hope of some error. His face dropped and his heart sank at the confirmation. “Damn!” He cursed, before pausing for a while. “Yes... yeah, all right. I’ll tell him; But he isn’t going to be happy.” Mouthing a this time silent curse he put down the telephone receiver and made his way to the elevator. It was Monday, barely 9 am; and all in all, a pretty lousy start to an even worse week, in a truly god awful month. The year just didn’t bear thinking about! Graham sighed to himself with resignation. He somehow suspected that it was going to get a lot worse!


It was barely 9 am, and already the heat was unusually stifling for the time of year in a little travelled area deep in the heart of the Swamp. Moisture from the sultry air clung to the Spanish moss hanging from the imposingly ancient Cypress trees. Crickets chirped their songs in an almost choreographed cacophony celebrating the simple joy of being alive. Another day began with Nature’s dance of harmonious symmetry. There was little evidence of Man’s intrusion into this ageless shrine to Gaia: Little, but just enough to stir the attention of The Swamp’s consciousness.

Slow to react, but relentlessly tenacious, it probed the events of the past days here. Yes, Man had been here all right. That much was certain. Not pleasure seekers... No... No love for It... No respect. The deep gouges; the wounds into the very earth showed that..... Danger?..... A threat?..... Perhaps?...... maybe? It probed further, extending Its images and sensations out to the farthest reaches of Its sentience. A disturbance?..... Just a minor annoyance that would heal?..... Probably ...... More likely. It probed deeper. Poisons?... Foreign bodies?..... No ...... Nothing ...... No obvious danger ... Then what?..... Something...... Definitely something. It probed deeper still, tenacity driving It to find out what was bothering It so much. As It did so, footsteps approached; slow and deliberate footsteps with all the relentless determination of The Swamp itself.

“I heard your call. What is it you want? How can I help?” A deep rumbling voice echoed out, before stilling into meditative silence.

It focused its attention on the holes; on the men digging them; on the items they removed: A long dead creature in its tomb of rock ..... No harm done .... Then WHAT?..... Probe deeper, deeper still; down into the hearts and minds of the intruders who did this. As It did so, a large shadow, vaguely man-like, appeared over the holes. A huge mossy green hand reached out to touch the area, its senses extending out to commune with those of the Swamp. Who are they?.... Yes ...... What do they want? ...... Yes ...... Why? ...... They do not know ...... Who sent them...?

“Arcane!” Alec intoned gravely, “Now what are you up to?”


Graham was standing in the elevator as it made its way down to the laboratory. He was fidgeting nervously as he tried to think of a way of putting the grave news to He-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. He also wondered, briefly, if his health insurance was up to date. Aside from the usual dangers of flying glass, he felt that the new year would probably see some irritable bowel syndrome and a couple of new ulcers. The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Graham stepped out into the room.

“Ah, Graham!” Arcane beamed pleasantly, looking up from a microscope he’d been peering into, and putting down a glass of wine in his hand; “Do come in.” Graham stepped forward tentatively.
“Doctor Arcane, er, there’s been some... urm... some bad news...” He stammered uneasily. The Doctor’s expression barely changed; merely a quizzical raising of his eyebrows indicating that Graham impart whatever doom laden information he’d come to deliver. Oh well! Thought Graham; better get it over with, “The shipment just arrived, Doctor.”
“Shipment?” Arcane said absently as he adjusted the calibrations on his microscope and took another peek.
“The shipment of chemicals for your new synthetic fuel.” Graham was looking downwards, not meeting Arcane’s gaze as the scientist turned to face him again. He stood and fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, wringing his hands. Along with the stammering, it was a habit that annoyed him immensely; and he’d been doing his best to get out of. Funny how he only ever seemed to suffer it in Dr. Arcane’s presence.
“It did? Excellent!” Arcane paused, eyeing Graham suspiciously; “Although judging by that somewhat sullen look on your face; not to mention your previous statement; can I safely take it that you haven’t exactly told me everything?” He asked rhetorically. Graham merely nodded, grimly.
“The shipment was complete, Dr. Arcane... except... for... urm, the catalysing reagent. You know how volatile it can be... well, er, there was an... an accident, at the processing plant.”
“I see,” Arcane paused for a brief moment of contemplation, “and just how much of it did they manage to salvage and send?”
Graham cringed inwardly. There was no way he could soften the blow.
“urm... none, Sir. The whole batch was destroyed, along with their lab. It’ll take them months to rebuild and synthesise more. Nine, ten months including synthesis. I could try looking for alternative facilities, Sir, and maybe, well, get the time down a bit?” Graham had to suggest it, although he knew that there wasn’t really anywhere else that would even touch the stuff. And he knew that Arcane knew as well. He closed his eyes. Here it comes! He thought; Happy to homicidal in 0.6 seconds! His mind was racing. He had to say something! “I just want to say, Doctor, that I know how important this project was to you... *is* to you,” he quickly amended, “and, er... and, I just want you to know that I stand by you... urm... and I want you to know that... er... that if there’s anything I can do to... that is to say... anything I can say that will...”
“Oh do stop babbling, Graham!” Only a look of mild irritation crossed Arcane’s face: Irritation aimed seemingly more at his assistant that at the news he’d just received: Irritation that disappeared as swiftly as it had come. “Accidents happen. Too late to do anything about it now, hmm?”
“No, Sir. That is, yes. Nothing we could have done.”
“Well then! Just forget about it, man. Now come here!”

Graham couldn’t believe it! The synthetic fuel project had been Anton Arcane’s chief priority for some time now. It was the complex’s first really major project, and half of all their resources were devoted to it at the moment. Graham hadn’t been privy to many of the behind the scenes details, but he’d figured out enough to know that Arcane had been under considerable pressure lately. His recent mood swings, even for Arcane, had been erratic at best; downright awful at worst. Graham knew those moods well enough to know that there must have already been a number of problems; not the least of which was keeping it all secret from General Sunderland. Arcane had been more obsessed than usual with security for this project. Keeping the General from getting wind of it had seemed to be the only thing that had gone right. In fact lately, the slightest little occurrences had been causing Arcane to lapse into tantrums of greater than usual magnitude. This sudden benevolence from his mentor, while a very welcome change, was unexpected; and Graham positively hated anything unexpected.

Graham scrutinised Arcane, assessing the words and body language for any tiny clue as to the Doctor’s true feelings and motives. It was a trait that Graham had learned very quickly in Arcane’s employ. Assistants who didn’t learn to do this seldom lasted long; and Arcane Industries wasn’t famed for its health benefits and employee retirement pensions! It was all well and good him thinking that he wasn’t just any assistant, and had more importance to Dr. Arcane; but he had enough common sense not to take anything for granted where the good Doctor was concerned.

It was always possible that the news of the shipment hadn’t been a surprise at all: That Arcane expected it, and was part of an agenda hidden from him, Graham surmised. It was unlikely though, he concluded. Arcane had seemed very distant when the shipment was first mentioned to him; as though he’d genuinely forgotten it. Most unlike Dr. Arcane... Unless, of course, something else had come along to distract him. Now that seemed much more like it! The Doctor was want to immerse himself in his projects to the point of blind obsession; but he could be fickle; and if a tempting enough new stimulus came along, well... He had been known before to become so distracted as to switch the obsession from the old to the new in the blink of an eye. Arcane definitely had an eager air about him; not to mention excited, energised... and above all, pleasant and friendly: All pointers to a new project or scheme in its joyous infancy: Full of youth and infinite promise. Make the most of it, Graham! Graham thought to himself cynically: It rarely lasts. Still, while The Doctor was distracted it was a good opportunity to try and coax some more information out of him on the fuel project. It still irked Graham that he’d been largely alienated from this project. Arcane had dealt with much of it personally, with most of the delegating being given to Stella, Arcane’s other personal assistant. Graham had done some of the more mundane legwork, but little more than work reserved for minor assistants and technicians. Nothing more than a glorified bloody gopher! Graham reasoned that it was because he was in regular contact with Sunderland, whereas Stella -- who usually had the less publicly noticed duties -- normally wasn’t. Arcane’ decision was right, in retrospect, but, God, it still irked him! Graham knew his loyalty wasn’t in question, but he was hurt that the Doctor didn’t trust his common sense not to let anything slip with the General. It wasn’t fair! NONE of the others truly understood Arcane, or his genius and vision. Dammit! Wasn’t it HIS place to share that genius, and whatever failures and successes it conceived!? Graham stopped his train of thought abruptly, aware of where it was leading, before it distracted him from the critical situation at hand.

“But, Doctor Arcane. It’s a big setback... The delays,” he ventured, hoping for some slip of information in Arcane’s reply.
“Just delays, Graham. Nothing more. Next year instead of this year, eh? Nothing to get worked up about... Probably work out for the best.” The last sentence was muttered almost as a casual afterthought. Arcane got up from the bench he was working at and approached Graham, fondly putting his arm round the man. “Now come over here!” His eyes widened with gleeful anticipation; “I’ve got something to show you!”

Graham gave up on his idea of trying to pump Arcane for information. He doubted that his employer was likely to say more than a couple of words on the subject; and in any case, it was best not to break the man’s new found enthusiasm. Let sleeping Arcanes lie! He mused to himself. Not to mention that he was getting damned curious about just what was so important as to distract Arcane from the fuel.

Graham was led over to the bench where Arcane opened a small box by the side of the microscope. Reaching inside, he carefully removed a small lump of mottled, greenish-grey rock. Cradling it protectively as a loving parent would a new-born child, he offered it to Graham to hold. The assistant took charge of it, being obvious to be seen showing as much care in handling it as Arcane had. Looking at it, Graham wondered what the hell Arcane was wanting him to see. It was a lump of rock! Plain, everyday, common or garden rock! He moved it round in his hand to look at the underside of it. Still looked like rock to him! With a puzzled look on his face, he turned the far side of it over, towards him. Ah ha! Still rock, but this bit definitely had something embedded into it. Looking at it closely, it seemed to be the stone imprint of a small segmented worm-like creature, perhaps 4 or 5 cm long by about 1 cm wide.

Graham waited for a brief moment for Arcane to say something: A cue for whatever response the scientist wanted. None was forthcoming. Graham was clearly intended to offer the initial comments.

“It’s, er, very nice, Doctor.” Graham knew how glib it sounded even before he’d said it, but he figured that whatever he did say would be wrong. It was hardly likely to irritate the Doctor when he was in such a good mood. Probably the reverse since it would give more than enough opportunity for Arcane to openly show the difference in academic prowess between the two of them. Always guaranteed to keep the Doctor happy in all but the direst of circumstances; and a happy Arcane was a benevolent Arcane; and definitely in Graham’s best interests. “A fossil?” Graham added with interest. A nice added touch, he thought to himself, knowing Arcane would enjoy a brief moment of berating him for his lack of vision. The Doctor stared at his assistant in absolute silence for a few seconds, before closing his eyes in dismay and giving the floor a downward glance; then looking straight back at Graham.

“Nice? A fossil?... Graham, you have about as much sense of grandeur as a barely average amoeba.” Arcane exclaimed quietly, with a beautifully choreographed sense of faux outrage. “Do you have ANY idea of what it is that I’m allowing you to hold in those hands of yours?” Graham went through the motions of pretending to think for a moment.
“erm, no, Doctor.”
“No... well of course you don’t, Graham. I really must enlighten you then, mustn’t I? What you are holding in those lucky little hands of yours, is one of the earliest recorded segmented worms in history. This little darling has been buried in that piece of marine sandstone since the Vendian era of the Proterozoic Precambrian: 605 million years to be more precise, preceding the previous record by some 10 million years. Haven’t even named it yet!”
Graham looked at it again, this time with somewhat more awe.
“Where... where did you get it from, Sir?”
“Well, when this little chap was alive it would have been the supercontinent of Laurentia, but for our purposes... New Orleans. I hired a local palaeontologist from the Institute there to retrieve it for me, along with some other things.”
“That’s.. that’s wonderful, Sir...” Graham stopped himself in mid sentence when he saw a look developing on Arcane’s face; an eager look positively telegraphing that he’d only told Graham the merest fragment of his true find; eagerness that was crying out to be divulged any second now. It made sense, Graham thought. Sure, this was a pretty important find from a historical point of view, but hardly the type of thing to get a man like Anton Arcane so fired up to the point of obsession. “er, there’s more, isn’t there, Sir?” he gingerly ventured forward.
“Very good, Graham!” Arcane’s eyes lit up in genuine approval as he grasped the man’s face with both hands; careful, of course, not to cause him to drop the vital piece of Earth’s history in his grasp. Graham gave an involuntary beaming smile. Receiving praise from his employer was a rare and momentous occasion, and when it happened, it positively made his entire week.

As quickly as he’d moved towards Graham, Arcane backed off, walking at a brisk pace to a work surface at the other end of the lab, where he picked up a similar box to the type he’d just opened, and returned to the assistant. With one hand outstretched, to indicate Graham return the sandstone fossil to him, with the other he proffered the box. The swap was made, and as Arcane placed the original back on the bench by the microscope, Graham began opening the second.

“Careful now!” Arcane seemed even more reticent than the first time. After a moment of contemplation, Graham took the second box to the bench and put it down, and then continued opening the metal catch and lifting the lid. He glanced up at Arcane briefly as he did so, catching the intense look of anticipation on the scientist’s face. If that thing had just been the teaser, what the hell was in here!? he wondered briefly.

Peering into the box, he was immediately a little confused, although this time he knew that showing it would be detrimental. It was another piece of rock; different to the last though. This one was a flecked white and grey one. He moved his hands to retrieve it, glancing first at Arcane to indicate that this was acceptable. The scientist merely gave the smallest of nods, still gazing at Graham with an air of anticipation bordering on the predatory.

Upon examination, its significance became far more apparent.

“Another one, Sir?”
Arcane nodded pleasantly; “Well? Take a closer look, Graham. Tell me what you think.” Graham did as he was bid, examining this new fossil worm.
“It’s kind of like the other one, Doctor,” he said, peering at it closely. It certainly was. Similar size; perhaps maybe a little larger, but nothing noticeably different. The colouring was again marginally different, but not so much as to be detected by all but the closest examination. Similar segmentations. It had some tiny vestigial pinprick-like projections on its underbelly, exactly like the first specimen. To be honest, he could barely tell the difference. He finally gave a shrug, unhappy that he hadn’t been able to spot any notable difference between the specimens. “I’m sorry, Doctor, I..I can’t tell any difference. Are they the same species?”
“Splendid, Graham! Excellent, in fact. They are indeed the same. Some minor adaptations to environment, but to all intents and purposes, the very same species. Juvenile specimens I would suspect, as well, judging by the as yet poor development of the ventral spines... presumably for movement through the precambrian alluvials.”
“That’s great, Sir,” Graham smiled, “i.. it’s an incredible find... and, like, to have two of them...” again, he stopped himself. No. There was more to it than that. Arcane was not just a small minded paleontologist, only interested in digging up things of no practical use to him. The man’s genius and vision would have seen implications to the future... but what!? “There is a difference, isn’t there, Sir?” he looked up at Arcane, who reciprocated by smiling back broadly.
“Oh, yes! Indeed there is, Graham! All the difference in the world... which’ll make all the difference to *me*!” He paused briefly, to prepare his speech for maximum effect; “That particular rock you’re holding now is stromatolitic limestone from the Archean era of the Precambrian, which means it’s nearly 3 *billion* years old; predating our other little friend there --” he inclined his head to indicate the worm fossil in the sandstone “-- by... well, suffice to say, a *very* long time!” he beamed broadly.

“3 *billion* years!” Graham gasped, remembering Arcane’s pleasure at having found a specimen a mere ten million years prior to the previously oldest similar life-form. No wonder Arcane was happy, although he was still at a loss as to what the practical applications Arcane would desire were. Maybe it was just the historical aspect after all? It was major enough.

“Now, Graham! Consider the differences between conditions on Earth 605 million years ago... and 3 billion!” Arcane raised a finger in a somewhat lecturing pose; “Consider the Proterozoic: A variety of multi-cellular life-forms begin evolving from the cyanobacteria and eukaryotic organisms; notably some metazoans; these and other burrowing organisms -- this is the first example of this particular species to be found, by the way--” he exclaimed proudly; “... and all evolving in an oxygen rich environment: ALL aerobic life-forms! --” he began pacing the laboratory as he got into his stride, “-- and now consider the older, Archean period --” he went over to Graham and removed the limestone fossil, holding it up to his eager, appraising eye as he continued his pacing, “-- simple organisms: Prokaryotes, cyanobacteria, the various blue-green algae... all cheerfully existing in an oxygen free environment; all anaerobic, Graham... or so it was thought. But now we have our little friend and saviour here to prove differently, don’t we, Graham!? Graham, I am about to rewrite all theories on the formation of life on this planet!

“Doctor Arcane? If this is, well, the oldest complex life-form, er what did it survive on?”
“The simple organisms around at the time, obviously. Algae mostly, I would imagine; and it would most likely have processed the soil and silt deposits it lived in for the various microbes contained therein.” Graham nodded, but still seemed a little confused over something.
“I.. I don’t understand, Doctor. How can they be the same species if, well, one needs Oxygen and the other doesn’t?”
“Well now, Graham, that’s the beauty of it. It’s an interesting conundrum, isn’t it? And really, there are only two theories: One, that there was an Oxygen environment 3 billion years ago --” Somehow, Graham didn’t think this was the theory Arcane was going for, notably since he’d mentioned it first, “ -- and two: that this species survived, virtually unchanged, between the eras, by adapting to an Oxygen rich environment, in which case we have a very unique little creature here; existing billions of years before it should have, and far more complex than any other life-form of its era. Either theory is going to overturn existing beliefs and cause quite a stir, so it hardly matters to us, eh?”
Graham gave a little frown. This didn’t make sense at all. Arcane was making such a big thing of the historical aspect of these theories on the evolution of life, and his find, and yet he didn’t seem to showing much genuine concern for the truth behind it.

“You’re going public with this, Sir?” Graham ventured. Arcane’s own words had indicated letting the scientific community in on this find, so Graham didn’t feel he had anything to lose by asking.
“Well of course I’m going public with it, you twit! How else am I going to get the acclaim and recognition I deserve for the find of this or any other century!?” Arcane paused to let his little outburst subside, before continuing, now back to being calm again; “I’ve a little more research to do, Graham... a few things to sort out, but the world will know about my discovery soon enough!” Arcane returned to the bench, where he replaced the limestone within its box, and shut the lid again, before turning back to Graham with the broadest grin on his face. “Until then, Graham, our *real* work begins!”
“Real work, Sir?”
Arcane continued to grin like a Cheshire Cat and went over to Graham, putting his arm round the man’s shoulder.
“Yes, Graham, the *real* work. We’ve a lot of tests to run on these creatures. A lot of information to collate and use. We need to know the precise methods by which they adapted to such radically different environments without becoming a totally new species.
“But, Doctor Arcane, how are we going to do that? They, they’re just fossilised rock?” Arcane gave a little chuckle, beckoning Graham to the microscope he was looking into when Graham first entered the lab.

“Take a look, Graham. Tell me what you see.” As Graham approached the microscope, Arcane wandered off somewhere behind him and seemed to be fetching something. Graham stooped over the microscope and adjusted the focus, gazing down into the eyepiece. What he saw was a simple tissue sample of nucleated cells. Without any further information he had no idea of what exactly he was looking at.

“Well?” Arcane asked calmly, walking up to Graham with hi