The Gaia Hypothesis was a theory proposed and developed in the 1960s and 70s by two scientists, one British and one American. It posits that Earth itself is a living, self-regulating planetary organism—an integrated lifeform made up of humans, animals, plants, bacteria, fungi, viruses, rocks, minerals, and other materials.
At the time, it was a groundbreaking and highly controversial idea, widely resisted and even criticized by the mainstream scientific community.
Of course, today, some aspects of the Gaia Hypothesis have gained acceptance, such as the idea that lifeforms, including humans and microorganisms, influence the planet's climate.
Although the scientific community still debates the hypothesis, ever since its inception it has become fertile ground for a range of theories, spawning countless science fiction works, environmental philosophies, and even cults.
After all, the Gaia Hypothesis aligns perfectly with the Western tendency to deify everything. Gaia, the theory's namesake, was the primordial Earth goddess in Greek mythology—born of chaos, the first deity, and seen as the primal natural force behind all creation.
If Earth is a massive lifeform, it must have its own will. Thus, any human act that harms the environment becomes, by default, a form of sacrilege. From there, it's a short step to more radical interpretations.
While the scientific elite still argued over the validity of Gaia, particularly under fire from Neo-Darwinists, outside the ivory tower, countless individuals had already co-opted, twisted, and rebranded the theory for their own ends.
The most recognizable examples include the film Avatar, Western environmentalism's push for carbon neutrality, and the more extreme fringe: those who view humanity as cancer upon Mother Earth.
After giving the group a crash course, Jack continued with a grimace, as if he were passing a kidney stone.
"Bottom line, the good news is, Dr. Rachel Horton—being an educated physician—hasn't gone so far as to believe that all of humanity needs to be exterminated to save the planet."
"Just give us the bad news already," Danny groaned, unable to take Jack's suspense.
"The bad news is, she thinks humanity has already exceeded sustainable population levels, severely disrupting Earth's ecological balance and hindering the planet's ability to self-regulate.
Dr. Horton believes that the smallpox virus was one of Earth's natural methods of rebalancing itself. Humanity's eradication of smallpox, in her view, created a dangerous imbalance. That, she believes, must be corrected."
Jack pulled up a paper and read a quote from the Bible. "'The four angels who had been kept ready for this very hour and day and month and year were released to kill a third of mankind.'"
"She thinks she's enacting divine will," murmured Hetty, who had somehow materialized in the conference room yet again, her presence like a ghostly whisper.
"She intends to recreate the plague as prophesied in Revelation. Gentlemen, she departs the country tomorrow afternoon, meaning she'll likely act before midday. Stop her—by any means. I trust you won't disappoint me."
With that, the tiny woman—whose aura was inversely proportional to her size—vanished from the room as quietly as she'd entered.
A long silence followed until Danny finally exhaled like he'd forgotten how to breathe. "Okay... now let's figure out how to stop a deranged doctor from ending humanity. But seriously, is your boss always this... ninja?"
"You're afraid of Hetty," Chen Hao said, seeing right through him.
"Oh no, Hetty is a deeply respectable elder. I... I respect her. Yes. A lot," Danny stammered.
"No, that's fear. Jack respects her. You're terrified," Chen Hao winked, and the rest of the room nodded in amused agreement.
After the brief joke, they got back to work. First, they notified the TSA to increase airport security even further, especially to prevent repeat identity impersonation attempts.
Of course, flying abroad involves customs, so the odds of sneaking through were lower than domestic flights—but not impossible. The real concern was someone smuggling the virus out of the country.
However, based on Jack's profile, Costa Rica didn't seem like a target zone for an attack. More likely, it was meant as a place to hide.
Next came the task of scanning all major public events happening tomorrow morning—indoor and outdoor alike. The bigger the crowd, the higher the risk.
They worked through the night. By dawn, everyone was exhausted. Information kept pouring in from all directions, but none of it pointed clearly to Rachel Horton's location.
"Okay, it's almost 9 a.m. We're running out of time," Danny said, pushing his laptop away and rubbing his strained eyes. "We must be missing something."
"You mean sleep?" Chen Hao yawned behind his hands, triggering a chain reaction. The whole room broke into a chorus of yawns.
Jack, brewing yet another pot of coffee, looked out the window at the bright morning sun. The tension weighed on him, too. "Alright, how about we all throw out ideas—maybe something unexpected will click."
Danny wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. "It's still Christmas break—concerts, fashion shows, mall sales, tons of big gatherings. But doesn't it strike you as odd? There'll be even more public events on New Year's Day."
"Why doesn't she just lay low until then? A New Year's Eve attack would have max impact. L.A. will be flooded with visitors from all over the world. Why now?"
His question made everyone pause.
Karen pulled her thoughts together. "You mean, she's already selected a specific target? A well-organized event set for a fixed date?"
"Maybe she wants to hit LAX before leaving," Hanna frowned. "It's full of international travelers."
"No, it's too risky," Danny disagreed. "Airports are always under heightened alert for terrorism. It's the worst place for an attack like this."
Jack's eyes lit up. "You said she might've planned this for months, right?"
He pulled up a credit card record. "This is from over two months ago. She spent a large amount at an office supply store. I called to confirm—she bought at least 300 Parker pens, notebooks, and other student supplies. Think that's connected?"
"You mean... she's targeting children?" Danny paled.
"No," Chen Hao shook his head. "Smallpox loses potency quickly in open air. It's not ideal for transmission."
"But if it's applied to clothing, it's a different story," Karen said, clicking on the next file. "Here—an order for 300 custom T-shirts."
"She's mimicking what the Spanish did—giving infected blankets and clothes to Native Americans," Hanna muttered, realization dawning.
Danny slumped. "She probably already donated them to a school."
"Wait," Jack opened the order's attachment. "These T-shirts have logos."
"'Future International Leaders'?" he read aloud, then typed it into a search bar.
"High school graduates from 36 countries are gathering for a series of lectures and workshops to promote cross-cultural understanding, tolerance, and friendship..."
Danny froze. "She's giving virus-laced shirts to kids from around the world—so they'll bring it home to their families?! She's insane!"
"We have to cancel the event. Now."
Hanna reached for his phone, but Karen stopped him. "It's too late. The event started 20 minutes ago."
—
The "Future International Leaders" event was being held at Hancock Park, adjacent to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, right in Wilshire Division's jurisdiction.
When the team arrived, the place was packed. Stalls under canopies lined the plaza, distributing souvenirs and brochures. At least 300 teenagers of every race and color filled the area.
John rushed over to meet them. "Only two patrol cars have arrived. The others are en route. Should we initiate the bomb threat protocol?"
Jack sighed. "Too late. CDC is on the way. Lock down all exits. No one leaves."
John hesitated. "The organizers already agreed to seal the venue. But most kids are still outside in the plaza."
"Then seal off the surrounding roads. No vehicles in or out. Tell your guys to mask up and glove up."
As Jack and John discussed logistics, Danny spotted two boys carrying bags of T-shirts.
"Put those down!" he shouted. The startled boys froze.
Chen Hao approached, badge in hand—"HPD" or not, nobody cared. "Police. Where'd you get those shirts?"
"Over there," said one of the taller boys, clearly not American but fluent in English. He dropped the bag and pointed to a nearby booth.
A smiling middle-aged white woman was handing out bags filled with T-shirts and supplies.
Who else could it be but Rachel Horton?
"Stay here. John—call in backup, now!" Jack reached for his earpiece, but it was already too late. The commotion drew attention.
Rachel Horton turned toward them, her face instantly shifting to panic. She bolted.
"Karen, Hanna! Blue canopy in the southeast corner—she's running!" Chen Hao called out.
"Federal agents!" Jack shouted, but the panicked crowd blocked his path.
"Damn it!" Jack leapt onto a table and sprinted across a row of canopies like a hurdler.
"Beige knit jacket! Black pants!" he called, describing her clothes.
"We've got eyes on her!" Deeks and Bly reported. "Too many people to take the shot! Careful—she's getting in a car!"
Horton jumped into a silver SUV and started the engine.
Two little girls stood chatting in front of the vehicle, oblivious. Karen and Hanna rushed in, grabbing them out of harm's way—but missed the shooting opportunity.
"F**k!" Jack cursed. The SUV peeled away—but just then, a Dodge Charger in LAPD livery slammed into it from the side.
The California-style PIT maneuver spun the SUV 180 degrees. The left front tire snapped off and rolled into the bushes.
Jack sprinted up, tore open the crumpled driver's door, and dragged out the dazed Rachel Horton. He cuffed her without ceremony.
"FBI. Rachel Horton, you're under arrest."
Karen and Hanna opened the SUV's trunk and found a silver case.
"The vials! They're all here—and empty!" Hanna announced, gloved hands carefully opening the case to reveal nine glass vials identical to the ones they'd recovered in Hawaii.
John climbed out of the slightly dented Charger, dazed from the airbag but upright. He looked at Horton's devastated expression, stunned.
"Why? How could you do this to children?"
Rachel Horton looked like any other middle-aged white woman. Her face even bore a hint of compassion.
She met their eyes with that same pitying look. "You don't understand. This world is on life support. We are the disease. I just wanted to give Earth a chance to fight back."
"You'd slaughter billions to do it?" John asked, horrified.
"It took tens of thousands of years for humanity to reach a billion people. Now it grows by a billion every ten years. It's simple math."
Even in handcuffs, Horton still tried to spread her message.
"Tsunamis, earthquakes, cosmic radiation, nuclear war, genocide—nature and humanity both have countless ways to destroy. The fact that we've survived this long is a miracle.
But while people like you cling to despair and seek validation through destruction, there are others who look up, who see the stars and the sea as humanity's future."
Jack stared at her with contempt and gave a short, mocking laugh.
"And I don't know whether you're deliberately ignoring the pace of human technological progress, or you just think these things are as simple as a math equation.
But if you can't solve the problems in your life, there's always one choice—go quietly. Just don't get in everyone else's way."
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