Chapter 4: Birds

03/28/2025 - Ramona

"Birds?" Gabriel's brow furrowed as he leaned closer to Phoebe's monitor, studying the brain MRI scans with evident confusion. His analytical mind was clearly attempting to process what he was seeing—or rather, what he was supposed to be seeing.

I watched him carefully, noting the tension in his shoulders. We stood in Phoebe's laboratory, a space that perfectly reflected her brilliant but chaotic mind. Unlike my meticulously organized virology lab, hers was a fascinating jumble of cutting-edge technology and improvised solutions. Neural interface prototypes in various stages of development occupied several workbenches. Cables snaked across the floor in patterns that probably made sense only to her. The walls were covered with whiteboards filled with equations, circuit diagrams, and the occasional doodle or creative expletive.

We were alone, the three of us. Phoebe had ensured privacy by sending her two research assistants on errands that would keep them occupied for at least two hours. A wise precaution, given the sensitivity of our discussion.

"Many species of birds can sense the Earth's magnetic field," Phoebe explained, her usual rapid-fire speech slowed deliberately for Gabriel's benefit. "They use it to orient themselves, especially during migration. It's like they have a built-in compass."

"Specifically, they have specialized magnetoreceptors," I added, maintaining my professional tone despite the extraordinary implications of what we were discussing. "Cryptochrome 4 is the protein that allows them to detect magnetic fields. It's a remarkable evolutionary adaptation."

Gabriel straightened, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. "Let me make sure I understand what you're telling me," he said carefully. "This virus you've detected, which is apparently everywhere now, only affects women and is adding pigeon genes to their DNA?"

"European robin, actually," I corrected him. "Not pigeons. Erithacus rubecula. They're a species much more sensitive to magnetic fields than most birds. Their magnetoreception capabilities are significantly more refined."

Gabriel turned back to the MRI scans displayed on the monitor. "And what exactly am I looking at here? How does this relate to the virus?"

Phoebe leaned forward, her energy barely contained as she pointed to subtle differences between the images. "These are scans of the same subject taken six months apart. The most recent was taken last week." Her finger traced along certain neural pathways. "See these structural changes here, and here? Unless you're specifically looking for them, they might not be obvious even to most neurologists. But they're there."

I observed Gabriel's face as he struggled to discern the differences Phoebe was indicating. The changes were indeed subtle to the untrained eye.

"The brain structure has been altered," Phoebe continued, her voice carrying that unique combination of scientific fascination and appropriate concern.

Gabriel took a step back, his expression shifting from confusion to alarm. "So, you're telling me that an artificial virus contaminating all of humanity has been busy modifying the brains of women?" He looked between us, his gaze lingering as if searching for visible signs of these changes. "I haven't noticed any... behavioral changes in the women around me."

"The changes are extensive but also remarkably subtle," Phoebe explained, absently twirling a strand of her chestnut hair around her finger, a habit she displayed when deep in thought. "As far as I can determine, most of these modifications have essentially transformed women's brains into receptors for specific electromagnetic frequencies."

She moved to another monitor, pulling up a three-dimensional neural map. "However, I cannot rule out other effects. The new neural pathways are deeply integrated with existing brain structures. It's like a thin matrix overlaid on the standard neural architecture, but interconnected at thousands of points."

Gabriel leaned against a nearby lab bench, clearly processing this information. I could almost see the thoughts racing behind his eyes: concern for humanity at large, but also more personal worries. Was he thinking about Wendy? Most likely. I would be, in his position.

"What does this mean, exactly?" he asked after a moment. A weak smile crossed his face. "Have you noticed a new ability to know which direction you're facing?"

"We actually tested that," I replied, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood, however ineffective. "We set up a controlled environment with no external directional cues and blindfolded subjects. There was no statistically significant improvement in directional awareness."

"Whatever these changes are for, if they're for anything specific, it doesn't seem to make women more receptive to Earth's magnetic field," Phoebe added, bringing up another set of data on her tablet. "We've run a battery of tests, and nothing indicates enhanced geomagnetic sensitivity."

I moved to stand beside Gabriel, ensuring my voice remained steady despite the gravity of our findings. "The virus hasn't simply copied the genes of European robins as they exist naturally. These genes have been heavily modified as well. In birds, the magnetoreceptors are located primarily in the eyes and are triggered by blue light. Here, the receptors appear to be spread through that unusual matrix and likely function through an entirely different mechanism."

"The modifications are elegant," Phoebe interjected, unable to hide a note of **** admiration in her voice. "Whoever engineered this knew exactly what they were doing. The integration is seamless, like the changes were meant to be there all along."

"The virus is absolutely mind-blowing from a technical standpoint," I explained, unable to entirely suppress the professional admiration I felt despite the disturbing implications. "Whoever engineered it must have had substantial resources, both time and financial, to design, build, and disseminate it on this scale." I moved to another screen, bringing up microscopic images of neural tissue. "It also appears to enhance brain plasticity, which would be necessary for these alterations to occur so efficiently. Under different circumstances, such technology could revolutionize treatment for patients with traumatic brain injuries or neurodegenerative diseases."

Gabriel paced the small open area of Phoebe's lab, his analytical mind clearly processing everything we'd told him. "I may not be a biologist or a neuroscientist," he said finally, "but I'm not stupid. If someone went through the trouble of developing the most advanced artificial lifeform—"

"Construct," I corrected automatically. "Viruses aren't technically considered lifeforms since they can't reproduce independently."

Gabriel waved away the distinction. "Fine. If someone developed this incredibly sophisticated viral construct that targets only women, all women on Earth, rewiring their brains to function as antennas, it doesn't take a genius to suspect the goal is to have women ready to receive some kind of transmission."

The laboratory fell silent as his words hung in the air. Phoebe and I exchanged glances. She nodded slightly, encouraging me to confirm his suspicion.

"That's our working hypothesis as well," I admitted.

The three of us stood in silence, each contemplating the horrifying possibilities. The only sound was the soft hum of Phoebe's equipment and the occasional beep from a monitoring system.

"Mind control," Gabriel finally said, voicing the concern that had been weighing on all of us. "That's what we're talking about, isn't it? Someone wants to control half the world's population."

Phoebe shook her head, though not in complete disagreement. "That's the most worrying scenario, but maybe the most unlikely." She pulled up another set of neural maps on her screen. "It would require an unprecedented understanding of both the human brain and virology to accomplish true mind control, knowing exactly which neural pathways to target and how to manipulate them precisely. I don't think anyone can do that..."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression troubled. "More likely, based on what I'm seeing in these scans, is that it could disrupt consciousness or trigger altered states. As for the motivation…" Her voice hardened slightly. "The fact that it only affects women suggests sexist undertones to whatever agenda is behind this."

"But you're not ruling out mind control," Gabriel pressed, his gaze intense. "And if it's even a remote possibility, especially as a worst-case scenario, we need to prepare for it." His expression shifted to one of concern mixed with a hint of accusation. "Why didn't you bring this to me sooner? I need to report this up the chain immediately. This is beyond anything Echelon has protocols for."

"That's precisely why we waited," I interjected firmly, stepping forward. "Gabriel, I'm telling you this because I trust you, and because I couldn't in good conscience continue this work without your knowledge. As Operations Director, you need to be aware, especially since we'll require additional resources, simulation time, and equipment."

I hesitated, choosing my next words carefully. "But I've already attempted to alert the CDC. My initial report was acknowledged, but subsequent communications have gone unanswered. My contacts there have gone silent, completely." I met his gaze directly. "I may be overreacting, but given the sophistication of this virus and its global reach, I suspect this may originate from higher in the governmental hierarchy than we'd like to believe."

Gabriel's expression shifted from determination to disbelief, then to conflicted uncertainty. "Are you suggesting that our own government might be behind this?"

"I'm suggesting that we don't know who's behind it," I clarified. "But whoever it is has resources and reach that extend to levels that should concern us. The virus itself represents technological capabilities beyond what should be possible with current published science."

"We need to stay quiet about this for now," I insisted, noting the struggle playing out across Gabriel's features. "Something is deeply wrong here. If someone has engineered all women on Earth to receive a signal, we have to consider that the endgame might be imminent. We need to find solutions quickly and operate under the assumption that transmission could occur at any moment."

Phoebe nodded vigorously. "If we alert the wrong people, we might accelerate whatever timeline is already in motion. Or worse, we could be silenced before we have a chance to develop countermeasures."

I watched Gabriel carefully, recognizing the weight we had just placed on his shoulders. His loyalty to proper protocols and institutional hierarchy was being directly challenged by the enormity of what we were suggesting. I could see the conflict in his eyes: the operations director who believed in systems and procedures versus the scientist who understood the implications of our discovery.

"Alright," he finally said, his voice low. "We keep this contained for now. But we need a plan." His analytical mind was clearly shifting into problem-solving mode. "If this is about transmission, perhaps we could develop some kind of jamming technology? Block whatever signal they're planning to broadcast?"

Phoebe shook her head, her ponytail swinging with the movement. "I've already tested emission across all frequencies available with our equipment to see if any would trigger a response in Ramona." She gestured to the equipment behind her: signal generators and monitoring devices hastily assembled. "Nothing produced any effect. Our calculations suggest the frequency is likely very low, which makes jamming impractical without—"

"Wait," Gabriel interrupted, his expression shifting from thoughtful to alarmed. "You experimented on yourselves? Without oversight?"

I met his gaze directly, unapologetic. "We have no time for excessive caution, Gabriel. The virus only affects human females. There was no viable alternative to human testing. We made the decision to use ourselves as test subjects." I gestured to the monitoring equipment. "We took every reasonable precaution during the experiments."

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture I'd observed when he was particularly stressed. "And you're saying it didn't work? The tests showed no response?"

"Correct," Phoebe confirmed, pulling up a series of brain wave readings on her monitor. "Based on the magnetoreception capabilities we identified, we suspected the modified brains would react to low-frequency signals. We went as low as we could, but either the correct frequency is even lower than we could produce, or we simply didn't have sufficient power for the transmission to register."

I moved to stand beside her. "There's another possibility as well. The brain alterations may be designed to respond only to a specific signal format, not merely the correct frequency. Like a lock requiring not just the right key, but the right turning sequence. It would make sense. Otherwise we would have been affected by other known low frequency transmissions."

Gabriel's expression changed subtly as he processed this information, his background in physics clearly informing his understanding. "Very low frequency," he murmured. "VLF not only has an extremely long range but can penetrate deep into the ground."

Phoebe nodded vigorously. "Exactly. It's extremely clever from a strategic standpoint. If someone wanted to broadcast a message to as many women as possible and reach them even in locations that would normally block signals—underground bunkers, remote areas, shielded facilities—VLF provides the perfect solution." She tapped rapidly on her tablet. "Militaries already use VLF to communicate with submarines deep underwater and thousands of miles away."

"That's…" Gabriel's voice trailed off, horror evident in his expression. After a moment, he continued thinking aloud. "It would be ideal for range and penetration, yes, but the bandwidth would be extremely low."

"Correct," Phoebe shrugged. "But depending on what they're trying to transmit, that might not matter. Simple instructions wouldn't require much bandwidth."

I considered our limited options. "The MRI room in the institute should shield us even from VLF. The radio frequency shielding is designed to prevent external signals from interfering with the imaging." I looked at Gabriel. "Could we set up a temporary lab there? It would give us a safe space to work."

"Yes, I can arrange that," Gabriel agreed, then his expression shifted again, panic briefly visible in his eyes. "Should we start getting as many women as possible into shielded rooms? My wife—"

I raised a hand to stop him, understanding his concern but needing to maintain our focus. "There are several problems with that approach. First, if we start gathering women in shielded rooms, we risk alerting whoever is behind this that we've discovered their plan. The element of surprise may be our only advantage. The virus wasn't particularly hard to spot. If I did, others likely did too. Yet there has been no public discussion of it anywhere. Whoever is behind this likely has the resources to keep it quiet."

I moved to the whiteboard, writing as I spoke. "Second, there simply isn't enough shielded space on the planet to protect a significant percentage of women. Besides, most MRI rooms are not designed to shield against VLF, only higher radio frequencies. Our main MRI room is, thanks to Mu-metal shielding, but this isn't standard in most hospitals. They're usually shielded by a simpler Faraday cage, which won't do much against low frequencies."

I paused, meeting Gabriel's eyes directly. "And third, we don't know with certainty that shielding will help. The virus has already altered brain structure. We can't rule out the possibility that there's a failsafe mechanism that would trigger adverse effects if the expected signal isn't received. By isolating ourselves in the MRI room, we're already taking a calculated risk."

I could see the worry in Gabriel's eyes. Not just the abstract concern of a scientist facing a global threat, but the personal fear of a man thinking about his wife. I softened my tone slightly.

"I understand you're concerned about Wendy. But bringing her here wouldn't necessarily protect her, and it might put our investigation at risk. Our best chance, everyone's best chance, is for us to work quickly and discreetly to understand what we're facing and develop countermeasures."

I placed my hand briefly on his shoulder, an unusual gesture for me, but the situation warranted it. "If we're fortunate, we may have more time than we think. The virus is present, but the transmission hasn't occurred yet. That gives us a window of opportunity."

Gabriel nodded slowly, his expression resolute despite the fear I could still see behind his eyes. The weight of what we'd discovered hung heavy in the air between us.