Gene Mapper (20 page)

“I’m sorry someone like you, with your dedication and commitment, is always looking backward to a time that’s gone forever. This technology is real. Regarding it with fear solves nothing. So let me invite
you.
Work with us. Help us create a better future for humanity.”

“I thought about it, once. But I am who I am. I’ll keep resisting the overreach of technology.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sorry it has to be that way.” Gough turned to me. “I wonder if you really understand how much danger you’ve put the planet in.”

“I stand by what I said.”

“Then I’m going to dog you from here on out until you admit you’re wrong.” He put a raised index finger to his eye and logged out.

“So that leaves …” Yagodo looked down at Nguyen. She was still on the floor, eyes closed. “I guess it’s time for the boss to say his piece.” He squatted next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She batted it away quickly and sat up.

“You heard everything then,” said Yagodo. “It’s all over. You’ve got a date with the police.” Nguyen shuddered. “I knew you were a member all along. I never guessed you’d be willing to go so far though.” Her eyes widened.

“I guess I should apologize. I thought I could stop you before you crossed the line,” he said.

Kurokawa squatted next to them. “I’m sorry I had to get rough with you.”

“No, I should thank you,” she said. “I’m probably alive because you pushed me out of the way.”

“Can I say one thing?”

Nguyen looked gravely at Kurokawa and nodded.

“I don’t know why you hate genetic engineering. There was a time when I hated it too. All I could feel for L&B and the technology that did this to me was pure hate. It was years before I was ready to accept a world where distilled crops kept humanity from starvation. Super Rice Zero put twenty-six other people in a coma. Their families refused to give their consent for the modifications L&B performed on me. Today those people are still trapped in a world without time.”

“But how did you …” Nguyen’s voice faltered.

“I couldn’t return to that world of endless dreaming. I could’ve immersed myself in memories of a world of real tastes and real sensations. I could’ve held on to the memories of my parents. In dreams.”

Kurokawa unbuttoned his shirt and showed her the bar code on his shoulder.

“Time began seven years ago, when my body and brain were reconnected. The memories of my parents fade with every passing year. I had to learn to use my avatars to force this body to do my bidding. I won’t tell you what the rehabilitation process was like. Let’s just say that I hope no one else ever has to go through it.

“I can’t taste, I can’t sleep, I can’t feel unless I decide to. I can’t tell if I’m cold or hot except in terms of numbers. Whenever I see this bar code, it reminds me that augmented reality is keeping me alive.”

Nguyen was transfixed by the softly pulsing tattoo.

“Still, I’m grateful for every day. I don’t want to live in a past I can’t change. If happiness is waiting for me, it’s not waiting there.” Kurokawa buttoned his shirt.

“Nguyen, it’s time for you to choose. I’ll respect whatever decision you make. If you choose to believe in the future, no one will be happier than me. I hope we’ll meet again somewhere.”

Kurokawa stood up, stretched, and sat next to Thep, who had a fingertip behind her ear. She looked off into space, then nodded and stood up. “Kurokawa-san, I’m sorry I tore up your shoulder getting you out of that suit.”

“You had no choice.” Kurokawa shrugged.

“Mission accomplished. Flawless,” said Thep. “Nimol says the grasshoppers are dying. We’ve got a lot of cleanup to do. I’d better get back.”

“L&B will cover half the damages. Just send me the bill.” Kurokawa bowed.

I held out a hand to Thep. “Thank you.” Thep’s avatar put her hand over mine in the AR gesture for shaking hands.

“I can’t see what they did to your face, but you should get some first aid. Listen, there’s one thing. I ran a few simulations with the grasshoppers this morning. Every time, the jackpot hit around block C3. It might be random chance, but when you have time, why don’t we figure it out together?”

The feedback chip gave me a momentary sensation of touching her hand.

Yagodo was back at his desk, eyes locked on his workspace as he pecked away at his virtual keyboard. “Everybody’s leaving. I’m starting to feel lonely. Wait a minute … Mamoru, Takashi—if you get over to the Ambassador, you’ll have a ringside seat for the arrest of Gough Robertson. Kaneda just gave me a heads-up. Says he collared Gough himself.”

“At the Ambassador? He was staying at the same hotel!”

“His message to Takashi came from a suite on the eleventh floor. Nguyen could’ve been a little more careful with her hotel arrangements.” Yagodo glanced at her and chuckled. “I’ll contact the police and the media. They’ll be right on top of it. Except …” Yagodo rubbed his jaw and looked at me and Kurokawa.

“You two are a mess. Especially Mamoru. That bloody shirt is too conspicuous. Don’t worry, I have something for you.” He reached under the desk and pulled out a pair of aloha shirts and baseball caps. The shirts were fluorescent green with a pattern of purple flowers. The caps were pink, with appliqué catfish. He handed a set to each of us. Kurokawa groaned.

Kaneda was right. Yagodo had unbelievably bad taste.

The eleven-story Ambassador Hotel cast a sharp shadow over the traffic circle. It was noon, the hottest time of the day. The first traffic jam of the afternoon was gearing up.

The street and sidewalk around the hotel entrance swarmed with reporters and camera crews. Alerted by Yagodo’s tweet, they were there to cover the arrest of ecoterrorist Gough Robertson. The local news crews had been pushed out to the periphery of the circle and were arguing with a team from Qatar, who were setting up a huge camera array. Police in body armor stood in a ring on the steps above the sidewalk to keep the journalists from pouring into the lobby. Ho Chi Minh City was about to become the center of a story that would rock the world.

Kurokawa and I were watching the commotion from a coffee stand on the opposite side of the circle.

“Cà phê s
ữ
a đá.”

I ordered iced coffee using one of the handful of phrases Nguyen had taught me. I’d learned that adjectives follow nouns in Vietnamese. “Coffee” was
cà phê,
“milk” was
s
ữ
a,
and
đá
meant “ice.” Cà phê đá
was iced coffee, Cà phê s
ữ
a đá
was iced coffee with condensed milk.

“Cùng m
ộ
t, xin vui lòng.”

Kurokawa ordered the same thing. With his aloha shirt and flawless Vietnamese accent, I almost thought for a moment that I was looking at one of the locals.

“When did you learn Vietnamese?”

“I have an onboard translation engine. L&B’s engineers don’t fool around.” Kurokawa grinned and pushed up the brim of his baseball cap. The cap was too large and kept slipping over his eyes.

“So what was the deal with the English you were speaking to Nguyen?”

“Oh, that’s how my father used to talk. It fits the Japanese salaryman image. Maybe I pushed it a little too far.”

More vans were pulling up outside the hotel, disgorging more news crews.

“Barnhard is about to make his statement. Let’s watch it while we wait.” Kurokawa gave the invitation gesture. I blinked twice and closed my right eye.

A tiny, three-dimensional press conference setup popped into place on the white plastic table. A few seconds later, an eight-inch-tall Barnhard walked to the long table, lit by strobing cameras. The table was draped with a banner sporting the L&B logo.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I am Lintz Barnhard, vice president of L&B Corporation. For twenty years, I’ve been helping to feed the world with genetically modified crops. As you know, I’ve been a champion of distilled crops for many years. I’m here today to make a statement regarding recent events.”

Using a three-dimensional model on the table in front of him, Barnhard traced the events that led to the mutation of SR06 at Mother Mekong. He walked his audience through the development of DARPA’s bioweapon and Guardians of the Land’s plot to fake a “spontaneous” revolt by nature against distilled crops. He didn’t have a firm grip on the technology, but the passion driving him was undeniable.

“This attack on a technology that feeds billions is absolutely unforgivable. Completely and totally unforgivable. I also find it utterly reprehensible that World Reporting would subject an innocent engineer to what amounts to a witch hunt and a frame-up when all along they were in bed with terrorists.”

“Barnhard?” I chuckled. “More like blowhard.”

“Everything’s off the cuff. His people keep telling him to use the Presentation settings in Behavior Correction, but he hates the whole idea. Says he won’t work with a safety net.”

“Cám
ơ
n.”

The owner thanked us as she brought the tray to the table: the now-familiar chrome filters filled with ground coffee and hot water atop ceramic cups, and plastic glasses filled with small ice cubes. She set the tray down next to mini-Barnhard, then squatted by the ice box out on the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the buzzing crowd.

“All right, I think he’s getting to the point.” Kurokawa gestured toward Barnhard, who was just catching his breath after a long burst of invective against Sascha Leifens and Guardians of the Land.

“There’s one more thing I must tell you. Today, for the first time, I learned of the existence of a new life-form, one designed by man. This new creature … Please forgive me, I’m not used to this terminology.”

He leaned forward, hands on the table, and paused.

“This new animal is a completely artificial life-form. Its DNA was designed from the ground up by genetic engineers. It is not a single-celled organism, nor a worm or some other simple creature. It is an insect with a much more complex structure. It is capable of rapid movement and can reproduce in a natural environment. Furthermore, it can be programmed dynamically to display various behaviors. Earlier today I witnessed its ability to use bioluminescence and digital communication to solve complex calculations.”

The legs of my plastic chair squeaked on the concrete. I was unconsciously trying to distance myself from Barnhard. It would probably be a while before I could listen to laypeople talk about this subject without cringing.

“This is an astonishing development. I thought it would be ten—no, at least twenty years before animals like this walked the earth.”

Kurokawa stretched out his hand and paused the feed. “Sorry. They’re bringing him out. We can watch the rest later.”

He pointed to the hotel. A few seconds later, a fusillade of camera strobes lit the entrance under the awning like a sunburst.

The wings of the revolving door turned and Gough emerged, flanked by two police officers. He stopped at the top of the steps and surveyed the waiting journalists with jaw set and head held high, as though he could dominate them through sheer will.

I wondered how he felt about the relentless advance of genetic technology over the last twenty years. I wished I could’ve had the chance to ask him.

“He looks pretty defiant,” I said.

“Prison won’t change him. He’ll be back on the front line as soon as he’s out. It’s in his blood, unfortunately.”

One of the cops prodded Gough. He walked down the steps and into the sea of reporters. The crowd flowed around him as the camera strobes traced his progress. The traffic circle was ringed with curious locals.

“That’s it. Our investigation of the mutation at Mother Mekong is over. It’s been a busy four days.”

“Four days. That’s all …”

Less than a week had passed since I had met Kurokawa in the flesh for the first time. A project we thought might last a month was suddenly over.

A breeze lifted the sweet smell of local coffee to my nostrils. On either side of the frozen Barnhard, the dark brew was dripping from chrome filters, filling our cups.

“Shall we catch the rest?” said Kurokawa. He swiped his hand over the frozen image of Barnhard.

“—like this would walk the earth. At first, I found this frightening. What would happen if these creatures escaped into nature and out of man’s control? What if they displaced natural life-forms and took over the planet? These thoughts occurred to me as I watched the swarm of grasshoppers at the Mother Mekong SR06 site.”

I enjoyed Barnhard’s verbal attack on Gough, but his warning about the dangers of designed animals was making me nervous. The decision to turn potential danger into real danger had been mine and mine alone.

*   *   *

“More than twenty years ago, humanity was locked out of the Internet. This disaster was caused by the massive proliferation of computer programs. I’m sure many of you remember the chaos that followed.” Barnhard straightened up and folded his hands over his spherical gut.

“We succeeded in replacing the Internet, which was hijacked by computer programs, with TrueNet. But designed animals are not computer programs. They are not bits and bytes stored in memory. They breathe the air we do. They feed and reproduce just as we do. We will have to share the planet with them. How should we deal with this new form of life?”

I felt the urge to say something, but my lips and tongue were stuck together. Whatever I said would sound defensive anyway. I decided to keep quiet.

“Fortunately the engineer who uncovered the genome of these insects, which were being used as a weapon of terror, has released the development kit used to create them. His act of courage is an affirmation of faith in humanity’s capacity to make the right decision. For this I would like to thank him.”

I relaxed a little.

“To ensure that this courageous act was not in vain, L&B Corporation has decided to establish a new laboratory that will use the designed animal genome as a platform for research and development. We will solicit participation from everyone—not just genetic engineers, but engineers in other disciplines as well as architects, artists, religious leaders, and even those who oppose genetic engineering. We want to create a conversation that is as inclusive as possible, to consider how designed life-forms should be used and controlled. We will appoint the senior directors of this new laboratory shortly.”

Kurokawa swiped his hand over the image and Barnhard disappeared.

“Takashi, was this new lab your idea?”

“I made them promise to back us up, but the lab was Barnhard’s idea.”

“I didn’t have that image of him. I thought he was more—”

“More of a pushy, calculating businessman? That’s what he is.” Kurokawa laughed. “He’s also one of the industry’s deepest thinkers about the future. He has to be—one of the victims of genetically modified rice is a relative of his.”

“What? You’re joking.” Other than the people affected by Super Rice Zero, I had never heard of any GMO crop victims.

“Yes. That relative is me. As soon as they were finished modifying me, Barnhard adopted me. His support was the only thing that got me through the rehabilitation work. He was there for me the whole time, day and night.” He pushed the slipping brim of his cap back on his head.

“I’ll tell you more about it sometime. Right now—” He pulled out a one-page document and handed it to me. “I have another request.”

I read the first sentence of the document and blanched.

“Would you be interested in becoming the first Chief Technology Officer of L&B’s Designed Animal Laboratory?”

“Come on, Takashi. I’m nowhere near qualified.”

“Last night, with no one to help you, you faced two possible tomorrows. In one, the world is overrun by designed animals. In the other, humanity collaborates to guarantee the responsible use of those animals. You had the courage to trust the future. That’s the kind of CTO that L&B needs. That’s not just what I think. It’s what Barnhard thinks. He’s right. Please join us.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. You should ask Thep instead.”

“I talked to her. She told me she wasn’t sure she would’ve had the courage to make the decision you did. Neither am I. I really don’t know if I could’ve done it.”

Kurokawa looked straight into my eyes.

“Please accept this position, Mamoru. Of course I’ll be involved too. Let’s build a team. We’ll meet with Thep and get her on board. Unless I miss my bet, Yagodo will be too curious to turn us down. Let’s talk to him.” His eyes blurred. It wasn’t an artifact. “Do you remember what Gough said? You’ve opened Pandora’s box.”

I nodded and looked at my lap, embarrassed for all kinds of reasons.

“Let’s find the spirit of hope in the technology you unleashed on the world.”

Working with Thep and Yagodo again sounded like a dream. And Kurokawa would be by our side.

“Mamoru, your ice is melting.” I must’ve been staring wordlessly at my lap for longer than I thought. There was a glass of iced coffee in front of me. It held a healthy dose of condensed milk.

“It’s not good to drink too much of the water,” I said finally.

“That’s what Nguyen said. Come on, cheer up. I made this for you. Just the way Yagodo likes it. Let’s drink a toast.” His eyes were smiling.

“All right, but no fair turning your taste buds off.”

“You don’t miss a trick, Mamoru.” He smiled, pushed his cap back, and took off his glasses. He looked like a kid who’d been caught playing a prank. “This isn’t fair.”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t want to enjoy it all by myself.
Kanpa
i
!”

“Kanpai!”

I took a long sip. The taste of bitter coffee grounds and condensed milk filled my mouth, followed by the sweetness of the coffee. I massaged my temples as the cloying aroma flooded my sinuses. Kurokawa’s lips puckered. He stuck his tongue out.

It was truly awful. How did Yagodo drink this every day?

“See? Told you.”

“It’s even worse than I expected. Let’s lose the condensed milk.”

The owner noticed something was wrong with her Japanese customers. She got up and came over to our table quickly, looking concerned. I smiled at her as if to say
It’s not your fault.
Kurokawa and I nodded to each other.

“Cà phê đá!”