CryptoDNA [1]

His alarm sounded, followed by three pings to let him know that many messages were waiting. Jack rolled over, grabbing his phone off the stand and heading for the toilet. Blinking, he palmed his right eye. It was hazy, like a filmy shower door.

Taking a seat, Jack's stomach rumbled and a tension headache was working up his neck. The flu? he wondered, but a quick review of his phone's health sensors didn't show anything of concern. They weren't infallible, but they'd catch any substantial temperature increase.

Jack thumbed up the first message and squinted. Rsrv @ Ice House 8:30. Dinner with his brother, Earl. He flipped it to his calendar and pulled up the next as his stomach made a fuss. Package printed, ready for shipping. Track via Y8DK848785984. He tapped the code and it shot offscreen to his tracking software. His stomach emptied so hard he shivered.

"Good grief," he though out loud. "What is this?"

He thumbed up the last message. "j call me as soon as you feel sick destiny".

Jack stared at the message. What the hell?  He finished up and hit the shower, his headache growing as he washed up. Finished and dry, he told the phone to call a doctor through his insurance app, tossing on his underwear and a robe in case they wanted a visual.

A few minutes later, a doctor came online. "Mr. Rennon, would you please provide permission for me to access your local health files?"

"Sure," Jack settled at the kitchen table, settling the phone on a stand. "I, Jack Rennon, provide access to …" he glanced at the screen "...Dr. Rebeccah Wright, ID number RW4739B." The screen flashed an icon to let him know the data was unlocked and on the way.

The doctor looked busy, manipulating something he couldn't see. "Well, there's nothing out of the ordinary here. A slight elevation in body temp overnight, but only a degree. I may be a slight cold.  What are the symptoms?"

"Blurred vision, upset stomach…"

"Diarrhea?"

"Um…yeah. First thing when I woke up. And some abdominal pain."

"Go on."

"And a growing headache." He reached back to touch his neck. "It started down here and has been moving up into my skull."

The doctor worked some more and turned toward him. "iNurse is searching for causes based on your symptoms. Let's get your vitals. Please look at the camera and try not to move your head."

Another icon appeared on the screen, the medical icon, showing his phone was using sensors to gather data from Jack and the room. Both cameras had switched to infrared to get his general temps and also that of the room around him as a comparison, while pulling the temp from his thermostat and other sensors tracking room data.

It was also counting his heartbeats with the camera and microphone, the first estimating pressure and the second listening for abnormalities of rhythm. This was being compared to his resting heart rate from last night and even data over the last few days or weeks, depending on what she asked for.

"This is odd." Not words you want to hear from a doctor. "You're a bit elevated on everything, but just a bit. And there are some similar symptoms. Oh, wait, here's an alert." She leaned almost off screen, her nose cut off by the edge of the camera's view. "Oh. Okay." She turned back to the camera. "Have you received any odd messages asking for a call if you feel sick?"

"Yeah. I received one this morning." The doctor paused and then told him to take some ibuprofen and call the FBI.

-----
The specialist pulled the sensor out of Jack's mouth and released the cover into the trash. "Mr. Rennon, have you had any unprotected sex lately?"

"Well, yeah. Nobody uses protection any more. There's nothing to worry about." He'd had full inoculations when he was younger and an implant that killed his sperm when they were released. The only thing still going around was crabs and there was a hair gel for that.

The doctor sat on the swivel chair and turned to the agent, Special Agent Monroe. The man put down his phablet and wiped one eye. "Honestly, Mr. Rennon, we're just getting reports about viruses being used this way. They're custom and work around traditional viral inoculations. They won't kill you, or at least not quickly, but they can cause issues with other bodily functions and are designed to make the victim miserable enough to pay a ransom. We're starting to hear about this on the west and east coasts, though this is one of the first we've heard of in Baltimore." He paused to look at his screen. "When you contact the number, they're going to ask you to pay what they believe is an affordable amount for you. After that, they'll leave a drink somewhere for you to pick up. The cure will be in the drink."

Jack rubbed his eyes with his palms and looked at the doctor. "There's nothing you can do?" Before the doctor could answer, he leaned back looking down at his body and wondered out loud, "What is it doing to me?"

"We don't have much data on these stealth viruses. Samples in the lab have shown they spread through the body, making slight modifications to the victim's DNA in unprotected regions, which, in turn, create the symptoms you are experiencing from this strain.

"There is a cure in the works, but current DNA therapy is a lengthy process. Whatever method they are using allows them to provide a custom therapy in a very short timeframe. To fully answer your second question, the data we have tells us most of these go after vision, because there was no previous virus affecting that part of the body. So it wasn't hardened with inoculation against viral penetration. Your inner ear is another. It's hidden with your visual issues, but you're experiencing a bit of vertigo which is responsible for the headache.

"Finally, your stomach is bothered by something keeping your system from digesting properly. I suspect there's a secondary virus causing problems with your digestive bacteria. I don't think that will last long and I'm suggesting a bacterial booster and giving you a prescription for an antiviral that should get your stomach stabilized while your body works through this." He held out his hands and shook his head. "But there isn't much we can do for your vision and inner ear. You either pay or wait it out and see what damage you take. I can admit you to the hospital, but they'll just keep you comfortable in an expensive bed."

"But they have a cure, so it's got to be easy, right?" Jack rubbed his eyes again.

"Not necessarily, you see…"

The agent held up his hand. "May I?"

"Sure," the doctor leaned back.

"Mr. Rennon. I assume you earn a good salary."

"Sure, I do okay."

"I assume you met this woman at a nice place such as a restaurant or a bar or…"

"At an art show mixer."

"Perfect. She picks you out. Spends time figuring out if you're worth hijacking and then the takes you to her home, right?"

"A friend's apartment. Said she was house sitting."

"Exactly. Do you remember the apartment?"

"I do. Do you think we can catch her there?"

"Doubtful. Records indicate these people are using apartment rentals as hotel rooms. If she rented, it's probably under a fake identity. Anyway, she  gives you the virus…"

"But, how? How does she give me the virus?"

"She gives the virus to herself and then makes sure to contact the victim before the virus has modified to target her DNA. You have unprotected sex, contract the virus, and go home. She goes back to whoever is in charge, if it isn't her running things, and uses your DNA to…"

"How does she get my DNA? Did she steal a sample of my blood or some hair or something?"

The agent looked at the doctor, who looked uncomfortable. "Well, you had unprotected sex…so she sort of ordered 'to go' if you get my drift."

-----

An hour later, Destiny took the call on a burner somewhere in midtown. He raged, but she was all business. For ten thousand, your cure is already... He raged some more. Okay, twelve grand and…oh, I have your attention? Twelve thousand US dollars in equivalent cryptocurrency  and we give you the location of the cure.

Jack opened his cryptobank app and input the account she gave him. He sent a penny to test and she verified the sending. He punched in $11,999.99 and sent it through, gritting his teeth as he did. The FBI agent was listening next to him with a team tracking the transfer. It was anonymized and there was a long trail as the money was transferred through various other currencies in the next few minutes.

They would keep tracking packets and, if they slipped up and didn't launder it properly, the agency might be able to find someone involved and who knew what the NSA would turn up.

An hour after that, he was sitting in his friend's car guzzling  the cure in a lemonade left in a fountain. At least, he thought, it's cold.