author: Nicole J. LeBoeuf

Notes from the author:

Italo Calvino wrote a short, enigmatic fable called “The Black Sheep.” I came across it recently among GuiaInfantil.com’s short fables for children and thought it must be a chapter out of Calvino’s famous novel, Invisible Cities. But no. Wikipedia tells me that it was originally part of his 1993 collection, Numbers in the Dark and Other Stories. In any case, it tells the story of how, in a city of thieves in perfect balance, the real criminal was the stubbornly honest man. As thought experiments go, it’s hardly a simple one, so simplifying it for children seemed an odd choice at best. But I read it for the Audio Information Network of Colorado’s Spanish-language parenting programming anyway, because why not.

Robert LeVieux’s last day on the job was everyone’s last day, too. But unlike everyone else, Robert didn’t know it was going to be his last day. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

It began like any other day at Panaceum Research Labs. He drove through the maximum security gate, which opened for him after he held out his building card for the laser to scan. He parked in his assigned parking spot in Lot B. Then he entered the building via Access Point 4, where a security guard verified Robert’s vaccination tattoo for the ninetieth time.

The vaccine had been part of his Day One benefits package. Department head Mr. Denley gave it to Robert along with the new employee intake spiel. Here’s your desk, here’s your computer, here’s how you access the database, here are all ten thousand and fifty pages of confidentiality and non-compete contracts for you to initial and sign, here’s what happens if you are found in breach of these contracts, and here’s your jab in the arm.

“Got mine as a kid, myself,” said Mr. Denley. “My parents were with Panaceum when they scored the patent.”

Robert gave a one-shoulder shrug. “My family couldn’t afford it. This the first job I’ve had where it’s one of the perks.”

“Ha. If any company had the neo-leprosy vaccine as a perk, it had better be the company that patented that sucker.” Robert winced. If any company’s employees ought to have been expected to eschew terms like neo-leprosy and neo-leper... Like most slurs, they compounded hostility toward their victims with a blatant disregard for factual accuracy: the disease he’d just now been vaccinated against was viral, not bacterial. “Can’t imagine the sheer level of vigilance it must have taken you to stay clean this long,” Mr. Denley continued. “Congratulations.”

“My mother gets the kudos, not me. She moved heaven and earth to keep us out of contagion’s way. Even so, my sister got it in her teens.”

“Ouch. That must have been rough.”

It had been, but Robert didn’t want to go into it. To change the subject, he began asking pathetically eager questions about the lab equipment, the funding, the personnel, the most promising lines of research. He must have sounded like a college intern. But Mr. Denley seemed delighted by this show of enthusiasm.

It wasn’t feigned. Robert had worked all his life to get here. The sacrifices he’d made along the way didn’t bear examining. It was all he could do not to jump up and down on the spot. The first moment he got to himself, he sent his sister an email telling her that he was immunized now, he could see her safely again after all these years, wasn’t that great? Plus he was the newest member of the team that was working on a cure for her.

In the six months since then, she never wrote him back. Not that this was surprising.

“Cure” was a slight exaggeration. His team’s goal was to develop effective treatments which would prevent symptomatic flare-ups, halt the deterioration of the skin and nervous system, and suppress viral contagion. They hoped to enable people with the disease to live longer, healthier lives and to more fully participate in society, while at the same time gradually eliminating the virus from the population. Probably. If the virus cooperated and didn’t mutate again. And if people cooperated and did all the smart, common sense things all the doctors and virologists kept telling them to do.

Robert had a lot of faith in science, but very little in people. They kind of sucked at common sense, and Robert’s sister was Exhibit A. She just had to go on that road trip, no matter what Mom said. Snuck out the window at two in the morning. Robert handed her down her suitcases, because he was Exhibit B.

“It’s just the other girls from my cohort,” Rachel had assured him. “We won’t stop anywhere that isn’t on the Approved List. Sabrina’s packing a half-gallon jug of hand sanitizer. We just want to live a little, for crying out loud. You understand, right?”

He kind of did. And for a few weeks he envied them. He’d have liked a temporary escape from Mom’s iron rule of disinfectant and near-total isolation, too. But not at the cost of contracting the virus.

He never asked for the details. Either they stopped somewhere that wasn’t on the Approved List after all, or maybe someone on the List shouldn’t have been. Maybe they’d picked up a hitchhiker; he wouldn’t put it past Sabrina. It didn’t matter. The important thing was, all four of them got infected.

Rachel let Robert know over the phone. “If Mom finds out, she’ll kick me out of the house, just like she did to Dad. Please, Bobby. I need you to cover for me.”

How Robert was supposed to do that, he didn’t know. The first flare-up always left the backs of the hands covered in a stiff, scaly layer of scar tissue that you couldn’t hide except with gloves. If Rachel showed up to dinner with gloves on, Mom would figure it out immediately. But the more pressing question was how Robert was supposed to do that on a clean conscience. “Why shouldn’t she, Rachel? You know a better way to keep from infecting her and me?”

“I’ll keep to myself. I’ll disinfect. I’ll take my temperature every morning and isolate during flare-ups. I’ll be careful!”

“If you were capable of that kind of careful, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now.”

There was a long pause, and then Rachel hung up the phone. And then she just never came home. Robert texted her from time to time, but she never responded. Sometimes he’d call instead, just to hear her voice on the recorded greeting. That at least told him the number still worked and was hers.

He was determined to make it right. He’d bent his education, his career, his entire life around finally joining Panaceum’s team of virologists. It hadn’t been easy or straightforward; certain career paths just weren’t available to you if you weren’t vaccinated. But he was going to get Rachel that cure, dammit. He was going to make it safe for her to come home.

When the two uniformed officers came into the lab where Robert was working, he didn’t pay much attention. His eyes and his concentration were glued to the electron microscope. He hardly knew they were there until they had him bookended. “Mr. LeVieux, please come with us.”

He knew better than to struggle. Only guilty people who wanted to wind up dead did that. But when they handcuffed him, he had to ask. “What’s this all about, officer?”

The one on his left said, “Your lawyer will explain everything to you in detail.” The one on his right said nothing at all.

They escorted him out of the building and into the back of a police vehicle. He wondered if the interior had been properly disinfected since the last arrest. Within the next five minutes, he was sandwiched between one of his team members and Mr. Denley. Robert hadn’t been obliged to sit three to a back seat since he was eight; it made him extremely uncomfortable. “What are they arresting us all for?”

“Security breach,” said Mr. Denley in a calm, businesslike voice. “The formula for the so-called neo-leprosy vaccine has been released on the internet. It’s, well, gone viral.”

“Seriously? But, that’s patented, top-secret information—we all signed the forms on Day One!” Mr. Denley’s expression didn’t change. It remained unruffled, unsurprised. He turned to his teammate. “But who would do such a thing?” She looked back at him, through him, just as calmly. Outside, others from his department were being marched into police vehicles. They went with dignity, their backs straight and their heads held high.

Robert began to understand. He looked down at his handcuffs. “But I didn’t do anything,” he protested quietly.

“No,” Mr. Denley said, voice laced with contempt. “You didn’t.”

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