Background to Journal of a DNA Pirate

In 2010, after I had submitted the draft manuscript of a full length novel to a publisher, I decided to start Journal of a DNA Pirate as a means to continue writing - in any way possible.

The objective was NOT to be bogged down by creating a story that had a known end or where I knew it needed to go. I just had to write from one end point to he next.

The journal format worked for that purpose.

Each time I came back to it I had to ask myself "What now?"

And so I began.

I stopped it in 2011 but had some ideas of where it was going. I had interest in my novel manuscript so I focused on that once again.

Then in 2014, there was a call for submissions by Fox & Raven for their second Ravensmoot speculative fiction anthology - maximum 8,000 words.

Journal of a DNA pirate fitted the bill. I just had to finish it off.

So, for a few days I wrapped up what I had in mind and made the word count - 8,000 words exactly.

I submitted it and waited.

The long list was released 1 October 2014! DNA Pirates was one of them.

And finally, 3 November 2014, the winners were announced - Journal of a DNA Pirate coming second!

This gave me the motivation to keep on with my writing and in particular my short story writing. It gave me the incentive to submit my now published (and first published) "Land of Light" to the "Imagine Africa 500" anthology.

But...
The publishing industry being a difficult monster to survive in, Fox & Raven announced, in October 2015, that they would be closing their doors.

It's a pity. But it's here, online to read anyway. And if it wasn't for Fox & Raven giving me that hope and motivation I may never have carried on.

For the complete ebook versions:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

iBooks

Scribd

Read it on this blog free: DNA PIRATE

>>>THE END

We set out with noble intentions. I want the world to know this. Things got twisted along the way. Some of our group got twisted along the way.

I righted a ship that was going to end us - the world. I'm not expecting accolades or praise for something I was a part of to start with.

The preceding journal is there as proof of the experiment and the knots that arose in the majority of the team. The insights into my colleague's thoughts should plainly show these knots and how the plan so quickly unraveled. I couldn't allow it to go any further than what was originally intended. So I made adjustments. Call it a fail-safe. Security.

Our target was given an expiry date on her dermasvirus. Lucky her. My team wasn't. My only hope is that this will be recognised as the warning it was originally intended to be.

Why was she chosen? Other than that she was young and healthy: no other reason. If we could create this virus, anyone can. And you put your lives, your DNA, in the hands of geniuses like us everyday. Wake up.

I have sacrificed my team, my friends, so that the message is loud and clear. Fuck with your DNA and you fuck with our humanity. Our flaws are what make us. To become some hybrid outside of the realm of evolution and natural selection puts the power of God in our hands. We barely have the right to exist as it is, never mind assuming Divine control in every waking moment of our lives. Evolution says we are perfect as we are, right now.

If this document is buried, it will resurface.

If this DNA fashion continues, there will be something more to come. Patience and compassion go so far for an obstinate child.

Today, people need access rights or passwords to give and receive/accept data via dermas-transfer - but our virus circumvents all this. If only the government could get hold of that tech they'd have a fucking field day as far as personal rights go. Think about it.

Take your DNA back. Take the evolution of your ancestors back. Next thing you know you'll all be giving your souls away for a moment, an extra day or month, of longevity.

We are all meant to die. We aren't more special than a fruit fly.

As my colleague came to see the destruction, the fruits of our labours, laid out before him in that apartment, my only hope is that he saw the pain that was coming for him. Was there an inkling of regret for what was once a concept and then was bloody real?

The genius must be prepared to experiment on himself. Otherwise walk away.

>>>>>>Recording:

"The protector serum?"

"I tampered with it. What you all assumed was stopping any infiltration was in reality exposing you to the virus from inception. But, it was manipulated to fight the virus for a time, and eventually lose."

"So it took a while for the virus to manifest." [Cough]

"Yes. But your bodies would've used so much resource fighting that when it was programmed to surrender, the virus hit harder and faster than before."

[Spitting] "And the lab samples?"

"They would've self-destructed by now."

"No backup."

"None."

"We wasted our lives. You fucked us."

"The lives were not wasted. Call it a sacrifice for the greater good."

"The greater good? Those egomaniac fucktards are the greater good?"

"They are. They just need to be guided every now and again."

"And what if they don't take the hint?"

"I will make sure of that."

"I never liked you."

"I know."

"How long are you keeping me here?"

"I'm not keeping you here. I'm waiting with you. You can't move yourself anywhere. There is no doctor on earth who can help you. Not even a hacker like me."

"Where's Julian?"

"His body is in the other room. He stopped breathing about an hour ago."

"Fuck."

"I'm irritated I wasn't there when it happened. I was moving you in here."

"I'm sure that [cough] will weigh heavily on your heart."

[Long pause]

"What was our original intention with hijacking DNA?"

"Kill the world and start again."

"No. That became your mission. The original intention was to take one or two lives. Lives that would be noticed. We wanted everyone to see the death. We wanted them to see the blood."

"Like this?"

"Yes. So how is this outcome any different?"

"Because it's me. Us. You fucking backstabbing cock-sucker!"

"Sure. But we can't have fanatics with so much control in the world."

"Says the dick watching me die right in front of him."

"Change comes with the price of pain. You happen to be the one feeling it today."

"So what now?"

"You die. The world moves on. Evolution continues, naturally."

"The vain species lives on."

"And an evolutionary line of superiority complex dies in this bed today."

"I hope they hunt you down and make you bleed, slowly."

"You know very well they will never find me. They will be too busy trying to secure the lives of their citizens to worry about where I am in the world."

"They should be worried." [Cough]

<<<<>>>>

... Background to JOURNAL OF A DNA PIRATE

DAY FIFTEEN: NOVEMBER 09 2025

Arrived back. Something is up. No response. About to step onto the train before Subject #1's stop.

Damnit! She just boarded. I was about to get up when she stepped through the doors. She's looking all rosy and peach fucking perfect. She made direct eye contact with me as she weaved her way through the other passengers towards my section of the train. It's like she's a new person. More open.

Happy to be bloody alive.

This has all gone to shit.

I've gone to shit. There's a red patch forming on my right hand and there is a burning sensation around my neck. Those bastards better be pulling the piss.

Heading over to P00102's apartment to get to the bottom of this fiasco.

Will record everything on my comm-unit.

>>>>>>Recording:

>>>>>>Translating to English:

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Ah, sure. No, go ahead."

"Thanks. Haven't I seen you on this line before?"

"No."

"You sure? You look very familiar."

"Wasn't me."

"Sorry, I'm not usually forward, but I recently realized that you have to make the most of life. Never let opportunities slip through your hands. So I had to ask."

"No problem."

"You don't sound like you are from around here?"

"No. Not from here."

"I would like to travel. See the world. There is so much beauty out there. Look at all these beautiful people. Just like you and me."

"Not really."

"Oh, I think so. They are all keeping to themselves, too afraid to reach out beyond what they know. Wanting people to like them, to notice them. But without drawing attention to themselves. Blending in but not wanting to blend in."

"Doing things to be like everyone else, you mean."

"Yes. But to feel like they are part of something. Not feeling alone. It's all about being accepted."

"No matter what."

"Sometimes. The pressure to be loved is there from birth. Wanting a parent to love you and accept you for who you are. Not what they think you should be. That is where the cycle begins. What we see here is not one person trying to impress a stranger. It is a son or a daughter trying to impress their god. Their parent. Even the parent who loves them unconditionally, no matter what, unknowingly puts pressure on their child to never let them down. People running their lives to maintain approval from a superior being. God, mother, mentor. What is the difference?"

"Status is another god. Ego."

"And when you bring someone down to that basic human need, it is no different to a baby crying in a crib wanting the comfort of another. A baby animal does not survive if it is not accepted by its mother. It is dead if the herd does not see it as an equal. Runts who are different to the rest die off, starved and abandoned."

"Better to be different than go with a herd heading for the edge of a cliff."

"Better to be the one to make a difference and turn the herd around. Would you rather stand back and watch as they plummet over the edge, or be the one to tell them where they are headed. Kindness has a way of working for everyone, not just the individual."

"This is my stop."

"It was really nice talking to someone willing to talk in this place."

"Sure."

"I hope you go out there and make a difference. Will I see you again?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you okay? You are sweating and it is freezing in here."

"Bye."

[Sound of doors sliding open.]

"What the hell is happening to me?" Heavy breathing. "I need to get out of here."

[Footsteps quicken. The sounds of people moving past.]

[The sounds of the underground fade as traffic noises fill the air.]

[A car hooter and tires squeal]

"Pedestrian, motherfucker!"

[Running feet and panting.]

"Nearly there."

[Sound of knocking]

"Open the fuck up, Julian!"

[Banging on a door. The squeak of a door opening.]

"Anyone here? Julian, where the hell are you? Where's the goddamn light switch?"

[A noise from a nearby room]

"Julian?" A light switch clicks. "What the fuck?"

[Someone says something inaudible.]


NEXT >>>>

DAY FOURTEEN: NOVEMBER 08 2025

Woke up about 5 minutes ago to the announcer cackling on about the next stop. My stop.

Ordered coffee. Hopefully it will be waiting for me by the time I'm finished here in the toilet. Ten I'll grab a bite to eat and catch up on the news feeds. Still no goddamn word from those useless pricks. I get the distinct impression that I'm being left out in the cold. Whatever the case, our mission - my mission - is on track.

----------------------
The same waitress from yesterday handed me my coffee. Ha! I think I freaked her out even more today. She stretched over to place my cup and saucer down on the table. I leaned in quickly, grabbing her hand and stared straight into her eyes. Deep blue. Flawless - for now. Didn't notice anything yet, other than a twinkle of fear and anger.

"Sir!" she had said and flicked my fucking hand off hers. Totally unaware that I'm part of her already. Well, the dermasvirus anyway.

An hour till we disembark. Breakfast time.

----------------------
Seriously, do me a favour. Message from the team reads:

Subject #1 has left work early.

That's it! Nothing else?

If they aren't going to furnish me with any more particulars, then I'm just going to have to hack her social networks. See if she goes crying to mommy about how she's feeling.

10 minutes to the main terminal. No problem.

----------------------
Her online life has revealed little. No parents alive to speak of. Therefore no sniveling. No recent posts. Dare I say no one to give a crap.

This is my stop.

----------------------
I can't breathe! What the fuck just happened? P00104 that piece of shit traitor. How the fuck did we, I, not see it?

MESSAGE: P00102
You ignorant morons. What the hell is going on? Your comms have been practically non existent. Now I get off at my stop at $@^# and guess who is there to greet me with a blank stare, that now says so much in hindsight? None other than P00104. Yes! That French fucker Guillaume. And fuck protocol before you start preaching about using real names here. Because if what he says is true then it's all flushed down the toilet.

He calmly invited me for a cup of coffee as if he just wanted to catch up and talk about the goddamned weather. Like him being at $@^# was the most normal thing in the world.

My face must have said everything because I didn't utter a "what the fuck", "who the fuck", nothing and he smirked his "Hi, Ryan. We need to talk."

And talk he did. I'd didn't say a word. I just listened to his tale. You may be interested in it.

1. Subject #1 will die. But not because of the virus. The virus will reverse itself. She will die an old lady in 70 or 80 years.

2. I, on the other hand, am Subject #2.

3. And the rest of the team are in completely random descending order.

4. Within 5 days we all will be dripping skin, fingers, organs and liquid eyeballs.

5. Everyone that I have come into contact with will have a slight cold. Nothing life-altering.

Charming. If I didn't have this sick churning sensation in my gut right now I would say he was talking shit. Then again, nerves will do that to the strongest of us. And why would he travel all that way as a practical joke or even an empty threat?

So best you rocket scientists get into the DNA sequence and check what the fuck is going on. In the mean time I am on the first direct ride back that I could get.

I will be taking a fucking sleeping tablet and hope this bullshit oozes out of my psyche by the time the last drop of whiskey drains from my glass.

End Message.

DAY FIFTEEN...

DAY THIRTEEN: NOVEMBER 07 2025

Just settled into my seat on my first part of my journey. On an encrypted data-link. Pinging my online system's security as I upload this entry.

All seems good. If it's not people hacking your network and accessing your data it's people hacking your DNA. HA!

Your immune system is no firewall against a breach on your DNA.

Depart in 20 minutes. Heading SW. 10 hours overnight. Arrive 9.15am.

Today dragged on. Had my last meal at home for a while. Cleaned up. Took one last look at the stacks of hardcopy books in the hallway and living room. Most I'm carrying digitally anyway, but they'll be missed. It's the one luxury-personal-attachment I give myself in this world. They can be given away when the time comes and more collected wherever I find myself living. They are not allowed to hold me down. My backpack is bad enough.

I once took a flight across country, two hours there, two hours back. It was for a meeting in the other city. I took my jacket, mobile and my pad. No carry-on luggage. No baggage to check in. I walked on and walked off. For some reason that was the most liberating feeling I've ever had in my life - if you don't count taking a piss in the wilderness without clothes on. No hands required.

------------------------------

The wheels are in motion: did the dermasvirus transfer onto the lady handing out our drinks orders. I think she thought I was coming on to her. Yeah, likely!

We have officially passed the point of no return.

I've sent a message to the others.

------------------------------

No damn response.

I'm just going to let the passing lights and gentle thrum of the tracks drift me off to sleep.

DAY FOURTEEN...

DAY TWELVE: NOVEMBER 06 2025

Plane and train tickets have been bought. Hire cars at various areas have been booked and paid for upfront: all with anonymous business accounts.

A few days till the real journey begins. My bag is packed. Travel light.

The team will keep me posted on our subject while I'm on the road. I'll likewise be sending them daily summaries. I haven't had any contact with them today. I think they are filling their respective lavatories and receptacles with bile and diced carrots.

I won't lie, I've felt the urge to dry heave my conscience. But that's all it was dry. No substance.

I must say this journal has been rather cathartic. Seeing my intentions, goals and purpose laid out in black and white makes me aware of the enormity of the task before us. Before me.

Before me?

After me?

What then?

A world of possibilities.

I expect the next few reports on our subject are going to be revealing. There is going to be a dramatic shift. One that will not go unnoticed.

Soon we will need access to her social online connections, doctor and lab results. But that's already set up and accessed. Our penetration is more than just dermal, skin deep. We are diving through the rotting surface of the world, and into it's writhing bloody cancerous mass and pulling hard.

DAY THIRTEEN...

DAY ELEVEN: NOVEMBER 05 2025

We're nearly at the stage of buying the various transportation tickets and hire-cars. I've gone over my checklist of personal items, clothing and other travel necessities that I'm going to need.

Feeling somewhat detached from the group as I mentally prepare for this part of the journey. Being from another part of the planet I'm seen as the foreigner, the roamer. They're all attached to their city, their homes, and their safe environments. I left that long ago, and escaped to a new life. I arrived here with minimal baggage - a small backpack and personal ghosts. They've got their lives weighing them down and they don't even know it. I wonder how easy it's going to be for them when the time comes and there's no turning back. Are they going to snivel and whimper at fate's feet? Is there going to be guilt and remorse flying around? Or are they going to step up and drop the shit?

In a way it's like they are using me to distance themselves from the mission. Distance themselves from the very human emotion that genocide brings up in the pit of your stomach.

Nobody else rose to the occasion. I felt the stares and looks of judgment when I took the task. As if they all thought I was the callous one; I was the heartless freak.

Only a week or so of traveling and then I'm back. Back to reality and back to the group. They can all envy me as I tell them of the final days of each city; one of the last of our group to go where the virus will soon wreak havoc.

I'm feeling a bit humbled by the honour. Never thought that would happen. Not like I give a shit about the empires we've built, or the magnitude of man's reach on this planet. But to be the one instrumental in bringing it all down: God that feels good.

Crack! and our concrete idols crumble.

Bang! and our world dies.

DAY TWELVE...