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“So, Mr. President, this small island’s humble appearance disguises an epic legacy. The fluke of its natural history has helped hide it from the eyes of science. Its remoteness has kept it out of the path of human beings. From the air, it looks like the typical caldera of a volcanic island. Its imposing cliffs have fended off tsunamis from meteor impacts, as well as the few travelers who may have come across it, for millions of years. Recent seismic activity, however, indicates that the island’s substrate is weakening. This accounts for giant fissures in the island’s escarpments that have allowed access to the island’s interior for the first time.”

The lanky scientist pointed toward the window.

“The vegetation covering the majority of the island seems to be a bacterial symbiont that absorbs a variety of minerals and photosynthesizes. Combined with other organisms that use acid to scour the vegetation off the rock, this is probably what carved out the island’s bowl-shaped topography, disguising it as a volcanic island in satellite images.”

Livingstone glanced at Geoffrey and the other scientists seated around the table. “When the supercontinent Pannotia existed, the ocean was nearly fresh. Many believe this played a role in the rise of complex life during the Cambrian explosion. Complex
life might also have evolved in the vast freshwater inland seas of Pannotia before migrating down rivers into the open seas. This island seems to have carried life on a separate journey from that evolutionary explosion all the way to the present day.”

“Don’t give me the labor pains, just show me the baby, Dr. Livingstone,” the President said, to some laughter around the table. The President’s advisors did not laugh.

Livingstone cleared his throat. “To put it in perspective, Mr. President, Australia was isolated seventy million years ago, and look how weird kangaroos and platypuses are. Life on Henders Island has been isolated almost
ten
times that long. For all practical purposes, it might as well be an alien planet.”

Geoffrey felt almost physically dizzy. Thatcher, he saw, was looking at Dr. Livingstone with an expression of awe that bordered on delight.

The Secretary of Defense spoke for the first time. “So I guess that means we can rule out biowarfare programs—this isn’t the Island of Doctor Moreau?”

There was a general release of laughter.

Dr. Cato nodded. “Right. And it’s not from outer space, or a so-called lost world frozen in time, or a land of radioactive mutants. Scientists in Romania recently discovered a cave sealed off for five million years. The cave contained an entire ecosystem of thirty-three new species. The base of their food chain is a fungus growing in an underground lake in total darkness. Thermal vents at the bottom of the sea have revealed ecosystems previously unimagined that might reach back to the first single-celled organisms. The ecosystem on this island has been evolving much longer than any other land-based ecosystem on Earth.” He gestured toward Nell. “Dr. Nell Duckworth, one of our project leaders, will now summarize what we know about life on Henders Island. Dr. Duckworth?”

Nell rose and Geoffrey looked at Nell in surprise, after the humility of her introduction, to discover her authority here.

Nell’s expression was quite serious, grim, even, to the point of bleakness.

“Normally, island ecosystems are fragile and vulnerable to ‘weed species’—alien flora and fauna that destroy native species.” She advanced through some images. “Mosquitoes, mongoose, gypsy moths—even house cats have decimated island ecosystems.”

She clicked the wireless mouse and brought up a blue screen that read
PLANT TESTS.
She clicked again: six potted plants appeared in split-screen on the large monitor. “Here is some time-lapse footage of some of Earth’s most formidable plants— like kudzu, leafy spurge, giant dodder—after being exposed on Henders Island.”

In speeded-up motion the specimens on the screen were strangled, dismembered, dissolved, and devoured by Henders vines, clover, clovores, bugs, and animals. The pixilated massacres resembled stop-motion scenes from the original
King Kong
movie. Specimen after specimen shown in the windows on the screen was raided, razed, and replaced with sprouting Henders varieties.

Grumbling rose from the audience.

Nell raised her voice, keeping it authoritative and firm. “None of the over sixty plant species we tested lasted more than twenty-four hours. Most perished in less than two hours.”

Geoffrey noticed that many of the scientists at the table looked as shocked as he felt, and many of the military officers had clenched their jaws defiantly. The President and his advisors, he noted, seemed to have seen this incredible footage before.

Nell clicked the mouse. A title appeared:
ANIMAL TESTS.
A split screen showed a series of animals filmed in slow motion as they battled Henders counterparts.

“After matching common Earth animals with Henders species in artificial laboratory conditions, we found the same result. Rattlesnakes, pythons, scorpions, jumping spiders, tarantula hawks, cats, army ants, cockroaches…None of these lasted more than a few hours. Most lasted only a few
minutes.”

The officers, civilians, and scientists alike were agitated and indignant to see the familiar monsters hunted down and slaughtered so easily. Even if they were deadly and troublesome species, they were
our
deadly species, and a certain loyalty was offended
by the sight of their swift destruction. The Henders species seemed to move at a different speed, always attacked first, and responded to any resistance or counterattack with a frightening escalation of violence.

Thatcher glanced at Geoffrey and then looked back at the screen. A smile widened under his red mustache.

“Jesus H. Christ!” said one of the Navy brass across from Geoffrey. “Sorry, Mr. President. I hadn’t seen this until now.”

“That’s all right, Admiral Shin.” The President nodded. “That’s why you’re here. I’m seeing some of this for the first time myself. I empathize with your sentiment.”

“Laboratory conditions are not ideal tests,” Nell continued. “Henders species are even more lethal in the wild. As we found when we released some common specimens equipped with cameras.”

Footage of the ensuing carnage played behind her.

“Mr. President,” interposed Brigadier General Travers, who sat across the table from Geoffrey. “This is potentially more deadly than any military threat we have ever encountered, sir.”

Thatcher forgot to chew his last peanut as he stared at the screen: he swallowed it whole as a Henders rat bit off the head of a pit viper.

Geoffrey kept looking from the screen to Nell and back. He could not believe what he was seeing—but it seemed impossible to him that this could be faked or that this woman would be participating in some deception.

He blurted out, “Is this how every species on the island—I mean, there must be
something
that is
nonaggressive
in this ecosystem! I’m sorry, Mr. President—Geoffrey Binswanger of Woods Hole.”

Nell answered Geoffrey’s question directly and calmly. “Henders Island’s entire ecology consists of weed species, Dr. Binswanger. Earth’s most lethal flora and fauna are no match for any of the Henders species we have tested. If any of them were to spread to the mainland, they would soon wipe out everything in their biological niche. And each species here can occupy a wide variety of niches throughout its life cycle.”

High-speed and slow-motion clips on the screen showed a pine tree, a praying mantis, a flat of wheat, Africanized bees, crab grass, and a mongoose—all ravaged and scavenged by Henders opponents.

“Every insect is outmatched. Every common plant is shredded. Every predator from our world is slaughtered and consumed, bones and all,” Nell told the hushed room. “There are animals that reside in the island’s lake that are bigger than T-Rexes, and there are land predators twice the size of African buffalos. There are mite-sized creatures equally lethal. We haven’t even been able to find nematodes in the soil—in their place we found tiny armored worms that eat detritus and aerate the soil. These armored worms devour nematodes for breakfast. We have found no species from the external biosphere here at all except for a few fungi, molds, and bacteria that appear to have adapted to subsoil environments.” Nell was silent a moment. Then she added: “Nothing from our world can survive here.”

“Now, come on!” protested Sir Nigel Holscombe. “You’ve got to be joking!”

“Sadly, no,” replied Dr. Cato. “Extrapolating from the data we’ve collected using the most conservative computer model projections, if this biology mixed with ours, human trade would distribute Henders species to all five continents within a decade. Every living thing the human race takes for granted, from cows to apple trees to dogs and the fleas on their backs, would go extinct within a few decades.”

“We would be the oddballs, living on islands with kangaroos, kiwis, and giant tortoises, Sir Nigel, praying that species from the mainland never reached us,” said Nell.

Exclamations of shock, awe, and disbelief exploded around the table.

Geoffrey leaned forward, fascinated by what he’d seen and heard. “So why hasn’t it happened yet?”

“Yes, and are we safe on this island?” Sir Nigel chimed in. The old scientist looked deeply rattled and excited, simultaneously.

“Fourteen hundred miles of ocean surrounds Henders Island in
every direction,” Dr. Cato replied. “I’m told that a cameraman is the one who discovered that saltwater is toxic to Henders biochemistry. Like insects and birds, these species invaded the land by switching from excreting ammonia—which is very soluble in water but toxic if stored in the body—to excreting uric acid. As a result of their terrestrial compromise, Henders creatures lost their ability to hypo-osmoregulate—to keep their blood less salty than seawater. Since they can’t get rid of excess sodium, calcium, or magnesium, exposure to saltwater causes a magnesium buildup in their blood like a fatal dose of anesthesia.”

“Many Henders species spray pheromones when they sense salt to signal danger,” Nell told them. “This is what is known as a Schreck reaction. It has been observed in rainbow trout that release an olfactory marker when one is attacked, triggering the whole school to scatter.”

“A pheromone repellent,” Dr. Cato continued, “saved the cameraman when he jumped in a saltwater pool and was coated by it. Saltwater is a reliable secondary repellent to Henders animals, hence the perimeter of fountains we have set up around the base. So, Sir Nigel, to answer your question, we are quite safe here, and our vehicles are now equipped with tanks of seawater as well.” Dr. Cato gave his friend a reassuring nod.

Geoffrey shook his head, still unable to reconcile this with everything he knew about sustainable ecosystems.

“Dr. Cato.” The President’s face was grim. “What is your bottom line?”

Dr. Cato glanced darkly at Nell before answering. “Sir, the bottom line is this: if the oceans had not continued to get saltier since Henders Island was isolated about six hundred million years ago, life on Earth would probably be
extremely different
today.”

“So far we’ve been very, very lucky,” Nell said.

All turned to look at the President.

“Well, we obviously can’t cover the world in salt,” he said.

“No, sir,” Nell agreed.

Thatcher Redmond looked around at his colleagues. “Mr.
President, are we actually contemplating the
destruction
of this ecosystem? If that is what you’ve asked us here to condone, sir, I simply cannot think of a more horrific legacy for America. Or for the human race!”

Geoffrey found himself agreeing with Thatcher. “This ecology might yield benefits we cannot even begin to imagine, Mr. President.”

“It is a matter we have considered, Dr. Binswanger,” the President said. “Unfortunately, I must weigh potential benefits against potential hazards, which in this case appear to be extremely serious. Don’t you agree?”

Geoffrey frowned.

Thatcher bristled. “If the Navy were to keep guard around this island, how could anyone transport live specimens off it? How do we know these computer models are correct? We have not had nearly enough time to make such scientific conclusions with any certainty, with all due respect to Dr. Cato and his team!”

The President nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Redmond. I’d like us all to hear what the Secretary of Defense has to say about the capabilities of the United States against this threat.”

The secretary, a spry silver-haired man wizened by warfare, looked irritated as the camera panned from the man behind the big desk to him.

“Well, we can’t simply strand and support such a large investment of assets in the middle of nowhere indefinitely,” he stated. “There are other threats in the world and a limited budget to deal with all of them. And no matter what we do, there are innumerable ways specimens could be smuggled off the island. High altitude airdrops and balloon-released specimen carriers would be exceptionally difficult to detect. Corruption of those entrusted to keep guard, even accidental transference…” He shook his head grimly. “The variables are too many. And even one incident, judging from what we have just heard here today, would be sufficient to compromise global security. No one could ever put the genie back in the bottle.”

“Dr. Cato,” the President asked, “what do your computer models project might happen if even a few of these species reached the outside world?”

Dr. Cato nodded at Nell and she clicked a handheld mouse that put a new graphic on the screen.

Next to a silhouette of each Henders organism was a computer-generated globe over which spread a series of graphic wildfires from different points of origin: Portland, Los Angeles, Panama, Sydney, Nagoya, Hong Kong, Kiev, Morocco, Durban, Salerno, Marseilles, Portsmouth, New York Harbor. The spreading crimson waves left a blackened Earth that represented total extinction of native species. A date ticked in the lower right corner showing the estimated year that each species tested would cause global collapse: 2037, 2039, 2042, 2051.