The Banana Accident

I had that dream again last night. I guess it's more of a memory - remembering that moment when I was standing on the tarmac at the Tarkov airport, lost, and about to make the dumbest decision of my life.  If I had a time machine and could use it only once, that's where I'd go, no question about it.

It was the same day as the big banana. I bet a lot of people wish they could time machine back to that day, assuming they are still alive.

When your job has you handling secrets and classified info, you begin to view information itself differently. Information becomes an obligation, a responsibility, a liability. Secrets are a hassle, and knowing more just means more work.  I can't speak for CIA agents and folk like that, but for me, handling classified material in the military, it didn't take long to develop an anti-curiosity. I don't know, and I don't wanna know. 

So between that and the isolated habits I acquired in Sudan, my world had shrunk to what I could touch, what I could see in front of my face at the moment, and little else.  I didn't realize how blind I had become, but Tarkov was about to show me. 

USEC had a lot "resources" (their term for people) in Tarkov. More than people think.  Many were acting as 24 hour bodyguards for TerraGroup Lab scientists and their families - and there were a lot of scientists. Others, like me, were assigned to low-profile security detail at the TerraGroup campus or their various labs and offices scattered in the city. As I said before, for most of my USEC career in Tarkov the only thing in my sidearm holster was a magnetic wand, for scanning visitors.  I was just a receiving clerk, watching TerraGroup employees badge in, signing in visitors and assigning them escorts, wanding in people to secure areas.  I didn't know, or want to know, who these people were or what they were working on. But even I, who saw nothing, couldn't help but notice that security was tight, and extensive.

Most of the USEC resources lived in and around Tarkov. But campus security had a small barracks and that's where I was stationed. One night I woke up because one of the "resource managers" (USEC term for officer, someone in the command chain) was banging on doors, putting together an emergency detail, double quick.  But he didn't bang on our door, so Jerry and I stayed put and went back to sleep. 

I got dressed that morning, holstered my wand, and went to see if there was coffee made. None of the late-night detail had returned yet.  But just as I was stepping out the door the campus security manager was shouting to Jerry and I and the others to double time into the basement. The basement is where the armory was kept.  I'd never been down there before.  All the lockers were open, many of the weapons already taken. I was handed an M4A1 carbine, magazines, body armor, a riot shield, and hustled out. We slung the weapons and in the early morning light began setting up barricades in front of the campus entrances.  And not a moment too soon, a crowd was forming already. 

A crowd of angry Tarkov residents was yelling and cursing at us. As the morning sun rose, the crowd grew. They were mostly muttering, chanting, and yelling at that point - but you could feel the tingle of danger and violence. Their strength and anger were waxing.  We were not wasting time. While the crowd was gathering, the barricades were reinforced.  Parked vehicles replaced metal railings. Fencing was going up, more resources arriving, and stress levels rising. 

I had so many questions. Why are these angry people here? What has happened? Where did we get all this fencing? Can I get some coffee? And I realized that I only had myself to blame - if I had been paying attention to anything out there in world I might not be inexcusably clueless at ground zero of what was coming.  What was coming?

Many of the USEC managers, directors and vice-presidents are ex-combat vets and officers, but not all.  One of them was walking the perimeter, and by just looking at him you could feel the unease radiating off him. His gait, the way the body armor sat on him, it shone like a light emitting discomfort. He came over to me, "Umm, is everything ok over here? Can I get you anything?" he asked.   

"Answers", I thought to myself, and I mentally ticked through all the questions queued up in my head. "Some coffee would be great, sir" I said. 

He brightened at the prospect - coffee seemed achievable. "I'll take care of it!" he squeaked and took off on his mission.

The crowd began to throw things, they began to push against the barricades. Braver ones tried to go around or over. Now the conflict was beginning. We'd already been warned about aiming weapons at them, or shooting, and many of these guys had done turns in Iraq in their pre-USEC days, so they knew the drill. I followed their lead. We pushed back, threw the intruders out. Some who could speak Russian were on megaphones commanding the crowd to keep its distance and stay calm.  But it was worsening. The crowd became more aggressive, grabbing at shields, throwing more objects. More and more of them attempted to climb or squeak by the barricades. We were busy throwing punches and throwing them back.  I don't remember anyone giving an order, but weapons were raised and aimed.

This went on for hours. It was hot. Every minute things escalated just a little bit more, the strain was increasing steadily, but the perimeter was holding. My Russian was still not good, but it wasn't hard to gather from the shouting that they were angry about children. A bunch of children had been killed, or something. By USEC? By TerraGroup Labs?  That didn't seem possible. 

The campus is big and has a lot of entrances. The crowd had mostly formed outside the main entrance - and that's where I was, standing out on the sidewalk surrounded by USEC resources, cars, fencing, barricades, and angry Russians. But apparently some of the crowd had found another way in, through some windows maybe. Suddenly there were angry Russians brandishing sticks and bottles pouring out of the building behind us. Shot were fired, the crowd howled, pandemonium ensued.  The intruders behind us fell back in the face of the gunfire, but the outside crowd hurled themselves at us in a redoubled effort.  Fencing was falling, people were surmounting the vehicles. It was bad. I hadn't fired my weapon yet, but I knew I didn't have enough ammo.

A helicopter took off from one of the campus buildings, fleeing the campus. The crowd looked up, and to everyone's horror a surface-to-air missile launched from somewhere in the surrounding city hit it. It fell out of the sky and crashed at the far edge of the crowd, killing dozens. The crash didn't explode, but the smell of aviation fuel engulfed us. I was sure were were all about to be immolated. 

The crowd vanished. I guess we discovered a new crowd-control technique, it was certainly more effective than everything we had tried.  We secured the area. Police and ambulances arrived. Except for the helicopter passengers, no one from USEC or TerraGroup had been severely harmed. 

I overheard people talking about a bear attack.  All of that and also a bear? Wish I'd seen it.  But then I abashedly learned they meant B.E.A.R. which is some Russian extra-military group. They were being blamed for shooting down the helicopter. They had attacked one of the other lab sites last night, which had led to the banana accident.

"Banana accident?" I asked.

"No, shit-for-brains, what the fuck is wrong with you?   Bio-Nano accident."

"That sounds bad." 

"Yes, it's bad. Real bad"

But the crowd hadn't yelled anything about lab accidents.  How were children involved? My pride stinging over bears and bananas, I didn't have the courage to ask any more questions.