The story you are about to read is entirely true, though you won't believe it. If I hadn't lived it I wouldn't believe it myself. I've changed a few names to protect some people whose privacy I respect. I've left out a few technical details to avoid going to jail for violating national security. Other than that, it's the straight scoop; as best I can remember it.
On July 2nd, 2004, a brief nuclear exchange took place on the Indian subcontinent. In a matter of days 25 million people were dead from radiation sickness. Little did I know at the time that this horrible event would alter my life in such a drastic way.
I was horrified when I saw the news breaking on TV. I new first hand the horrors of radiation sickness. As a young man I discovered some techniques for data compression and encryption that became national secrets. Hardware incorporating my algorithms was on board a prototype small nuclear submarine. The craft was unusual in that it carried no weapons, just super sensitive spy gear. It carried a crew of 50 and was virtually undetectable at sea. Being a "black" project, it was so secret it didn't even officially exist.
I was invited on the inaugural mission by the Secretary of Defense himself. Sea trials were complete and we were now headed under the polar ice cap. Given the small size of the sub it was powered by a nuclear reactor of a radical design. I'm a communications guy, not a nuclear engineer, so I can't really articulate the specifics.
We were running under strict radio silence, sending out a brief coded and compressed message once every three days indicating our location and status. We had just sent that message when disaster struck. A catastrophic failure of the reactor shielding occurred. It was later discovered to be a design flaw. At the time we weren't able to determine what happened. All we knew was that radiation warnings went off all over the ship. Within minutes the entire crew had a lethal dose of radiation. We were all going to die. Even worse, we were going to die alone, because it would be three days before the preprogrammed communications gear would allow a transmission.
Within hours everyone was very sick. Everyone but me. It was horrible, watching everyone die and not being able to help. I still have nightmares. The crew managed to get the sub to the surface, but we were not on any sea-lanes. On the third day the signal went out that we were in trouble. Within 24 hours a team of doctors was on a Navy aircraft carrier checking me. When I was deemed perfectly healthy the interrogation by the CIA began. It continued for a week.
There was no explanation as to why I was still alive, let alone unaffected by the deadly radiation. They thought I was a spy who sabotaged the ship. I agreed to lie detector tests, truth serum, and a battery of intrusive medical tests. Samples of blood had been taken of the entire crew before the mission. Now they were taking samples of all of my bodily fluids for study.
The science of the time was unable to explain why I was alive. It would be many years later before a sufficient knowledge of DNA would yield the explanation. I was cleared of suspicion after a year of investigation, but my security clearance was pulled anyway. My career as a government contractor was over. My file was labeled top secret and filed away. Unfortunately, it was later discovered by a KGB mole and turned over to the Soviets.
I had a series of high tech jobs over the next 20 years, finally hitting the jackpot with a communications company in Silicon Valley. Despite now being rich, and recently retired, nothing seemed to interest me. I never married or had children. I had a few long-term relationships, as I was certainly attracted to women, but they never seemed to work out. I was forever haunted by the accident on the submarine.
Two years after the nuclear exchange on the Indian subcontinent, I received a strange call at home. Having an unlisted number, this was most unusual. A man claiming to represent a biotech company I had never heard of wanted to hire me for a job that would make me rich beyond my wildest dreams. I was already rich, but I was intrigued because he seemed to know so much about me. I agreed to meet him at his office that afternoon. He was not far away, being located in Palo Alto.
I arrived at six o'clock as we agreed. I entered his plush office, which was of dark wood.
"Welcome, Mr. Jamison", he said, taking my hand and shaking it heartily. "I am Daniel Schultz."
"Call me Robert." I replied sitting down in the chair next to his exquisite desk.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" he asked, "I'm having one."
"Thanks," I said.
I took the wine and we began to talk. "You are a very special man, Robert." he said, smiling. He had a slight Eastern European accent, German perhaps.
"Everyone is special in some way." I replied.
"Not like you." he stated, his eyes narrowing, "Not like you. You have three genes unlike anything any other person we have ever studied. That is why you survived the nuclear accident"
A chill overcame me. No one outside of the military or CIA knew of that story.
"Remember the samples you gave after the accident? Blood, urine, saliva, semen. They used the semen."
I nearly choked on the wine.
Two female volunteers were impregnated with your semen. The children that were produced were notable in three ways. First, they were very bright, which is understandable. Second, they were very good looking, which is a surprise, as you are only average, at best. Most importantly, they were equally immune to the effects of radiation. They had your special genes."
"Where are they?" I exclaimed.
"Unfortunately, they did not survive a later ill conceived biological experiment. I'm sorry." He said.
My head was swimming. Could this really be true?
"I have business proposition for you. I'll pay you $10 million dollars for an exclusive five-year contract for all of your semen. I'll need an immediate answer."
"You are crazy!" I exclaimed. "This is preposterous!"
"Here is the original file. Take a look." he said. "I've got time to wait."
I began to read. The file looked authentic. It could be an elaborate hoax, but why? $10 million is a lot of money, even in Silicon Valley.
"If I understand your proposition, you are going to sell my sperm to create children who are immune to radiation." I said, "Am I right?"
"Absolutely, Mr. Jamison. "Given the unpleasantness a couple of years ago on the Indian subcontinent, your sperm is almost priceless to anyone wanting a child immune from the radiation of a nuclear device."
"I already have enough money Daniel. This is sick." I got up to leave, but the room began to spin. Daniel had apparently anticipated my rejection.
I awoke two days later. Other than a slight headache, I felt OK. The room I was in was large, about 12x20. I sat up on the edge of the king bed. I walked over to the attached bathroom. There was a shower, commode and sink. All of my normal toiletries were present; toothpaste, floss, soap, but no shaving gear. I rubbed my face. I was clean-shaven. I had to pee. It was then that I discovered that my entire genital area had been shaved.
I went to the door of the bedroom. It was locked. There were no windows. The ceiling was high, and I could see a security camera tracking me. It was too Orwellian for words. I sat down in the chair next to the bed and waited. I was glad in comfortable white pajamas. There was no clothes closet and no clothes, just a pair of slippers. It looked like I wouldn't need much in the way of fashion.
There was a knock on the door and it opened. Two lovely young women entered dressed in simple white garments of some sort. Not exactly nurses uniforms but similar. They wore white sneakers.
The taller of the two spoke first.
"Robert, welcome to the Institute. I hope you are feeling well. My name is Monique, and this is Tatiana."
"Hello", said Tatiana, extending her hand. I stood up and shook it. "I'm looking forward to working with you." she said.
"Where am I? What is going on?" I demanded, "And I'm not feeling well. I have a headache."
"The headache will be gone soon. An unfortunate side effect from your long journey. You are in the Ukraine. The Institute specializes in advanced reproductive technology for treating women exposed to radiation. It was set up after the nuclear accident at Chernobyl. It is a top-secret facility known only to those who fund it and those who work here. It is staffed entirely by women."
"Why am I here?" I asked. I feared I already had the answer, but I needed to hear it from them.
"As you've already been informed, you have a unique genetic profile." said Monique. She had a slight French accent, but spoke perfect English. "It is likely the result of a natural mutation, but one that is extraordinarily rare. You are the only example ever found. We need to reproduce your profile as widely as possible. Since you chose not to accept our generous offer, the Institute had no choice but to take unilateral action. I hope you will eventually understand."
"Tomorrow we will begin a week of testing in preparation for an extended period of high intensity extraction." Said Tatiana. " We have an elite team assembled for this project. I am the Project Manager and Monique is the Director of Technical Operations."
"I don't like the sound of 'high intensity extraction' and 'extended period' is even less appealing. Can you translate that into layman's terms?" I asked.
"Certainly", said Tatiana. "You will be sexually stimulated into producing large quantities of sperm rich semen which will be taken from you twice a day. The semen will be used to artificially inseminate thousands of deserving women around the world. There will be a much smaller number of elite women who will receive your semen in the more traditional way."
"What if I don't cooperate?" I said angrily. 'I'm not going to allow this. I won't be held a prisoner here!"
"Once you understand our process, I'm sure you will not resist our efforts. Ultimately, we don't need your cooperation for our project to be successful. With the information we already have about you, plus what we will gather from additional testing, I can assure you that you will produce the necessary quantities of product. Given what we already know about your sexual profile, the actual extraction should be relatively easy."
"Sexual profile?" I stammered, wondering what she meant.
"Yes." Said Monique. "Despite the fact that you never married, you are quite fond of women, especially pretty ones, and you have a strong sex drive. We have two teams of three women each. All six of them are extraordinarily lovely in the ways you prefer. They've been briefed on your entire history. An additional criterion is that each of them prefers older men. They've been trained in the latest sexual technology. Their sole mission is life is to satisfy you sexually beyond your wildest fantasies. I believe you'll give us product well beyond our projections Robert."
I swallowed hard. I didn't know what to say.
"Get some rest." Said Monique. "Tomorrow will be a busy day."
The lights came on the next morning promptly at 6 am. I took a shower and put on a fresh pair of pajamas. I bushed and flossed, but couldn't shave, as a razor was apparently not allowed lest I slit my wrists. I also noted that there was no way to hang myself either. I chuckled at the thought and shook my head.
There was a knock on the door and three young women entered. They were each even prettier than Monique and Tatiana.
"We are here to give you a shave. We are the members of Team #1. "I am Sherry, and this is Holly and Susan. Please sit in the chair."
I sat down as told, not wanting to risk being assaulted by the three Barbie dolls. Holly proceeded to shave my face with an electric razor while the other two watched, presumably ready to subdue me should I resist.
