posted 08-30-99 11:59 AM ET        

I read in a July edition of the Chicago Tribune and then heard on NPR that international and private concerns will have the human genome mapped out by 2001. One private researcher said that by using public data available from the US, Europe, and Japan that his group would have the genome mapped by late 2000. Although the private researcher would make all data publicly available, certain portions and techniques would be proprietary and would be patented, of course�

This raises a whole host of thorny ethical questions. Mapping the human genome is the first step toward human genetic engineering. While the promise this holds is almost unlimited, so are the potential horrors.

Hydro

P.S. Attentive readers may notice that this was a post in the SMAC serial Spartan Chronicles on the Apolyton site. I originally intended this to be an independent piece, but later modified it to fit the SC storyline. Hope you don�t mind�

**********************************************

University Base?

*****

The datapad on my waist beeped.

I ignored it.

It beeped again, and also vibrated insistently.

I turned off the interactive holo and took off my VR goggles and gloves.

'What is it now,' I thought irritably as I grabbed my datapad to shut off the incessant noise. 'Can't it see I'm busy!'

The pile of holopads, which had links to my latest project's genetics results, lined my desk. I was getting way behind in my review schedule. The new Fusion Lab at University Base was surely a boon and a curse. A boon, since it massively increased my research into recombinant DNA and its application to the Human Genome, and also a curse because the increased workload is killing me. Adding to my woes was the fact that I was senior enough to get stuck with all the assessment and review, but none of the real interesting work, but junior enough that I couldn't pawn the drudgery off on others.
I activated the datapad.

<�Andre Sergeivitch, your board meeting with the University Genetics Council starts in 20 minutes. The location has been changed to Mendel Sector of the University Base Fusion Lab, Main Meeting Room 23, Level 3B�>

'Mendel Sector? Damn. What time is it? Time flies when you're having fun� ' I thought as I pondered the sea of holos waiting for me, beaconing me, taunting me!

I prepared to leave. 'Another meeting is sure to increase my productivity,' I fumed. 'They had better have my favorite kind of chocolate donut. Or at least some Chiron Crunchies.'

'My coat, where is my coat. I can't go to the meeting without my Vice-Deputy Director of Genetics white labcoat. Officious bastards. Ah, there it is, under my palm. When did my palm die? All my plants die. Mmphf, a geneticist that can't keep a plant alive. Very amusing. Now my datapad. Got that.'

My thoughts were racing around the office as fast as I was. I was a little late, as usual. That is why I programmed my datapad to be SO annoying. Otherwise I would be late.

'OK. Datapad, coat, what else? Better review the agenda.'

I put on my coat and paused by the door, and started to activate my datapad, then noticed I hadn't turned it off. Hmm, bad form. I punched the link on my reminder message and scrolled through the agenda. Well, not too bad. I didn't have to make any presentations, but I did need to scan Jeffrey and Libby's work.

'No problem,' I thought, 'I can do that while walking to the meeting.'

The door for my office opened soundlessly as I approached, and I turned left down the hallway. Even absorbed in my review I couldn't help but notice how spacious and efficient our state-of-the-art Fusion Lab was. The hallways were finished in a sterile-looking off white ceramic that deadened noise, and was easy to maintain. Even aesthetics had been attended to, since the hallways curve slightly so that you couldn't see just how almost endless they are. There was no illumination, since the ceramic panels seemed to phosphoresce, yielding a pleasant shadowless lighting. A UoP invention? More likely it was a Morgan invention, from our theoretical work. At least those blood-sucking Morganites paid their royalties, if it was in the contract, of course. I turned back to my datapad and hurried down the hallway.

'Well, it looks like Jeffery and Libby have an update on the recombinant clone problem,' I thought as I perused their document. 'Made some progress. This latest batch seems better, at least. I wonder if they have consid� OOPPHF'

I stopped abruptly, having run into someone, and I dropped my datapad, which clattered to the floor.
Startled, I looked up. A Bob looked back, and then withdrew, cowering against the wall. I couldn't tell which kind of Bob, though. He was pushing a broom through the halls and collecting any trash in the area. We didn't really need that done, since mechanicals are so much more efficient, but it was all a Bob is good for.

"Turn around, Bob," I ordered.

Reluctantly, the Bob turned around, this third leg dragging uselessly along the floor as he turned. He had his face turned toward the floor and he backed up from me a little. I saw that he was Bob 23. Ok, that explains it.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"I'thhh clleaaning florthh," he said wetly, eyes averted.

I looked him over. He wasn't too bad for a Bob, especially not a 23. His coveralls showed his vestigial arms, in addition to the two that worked. His fingers tightened rhythmically on the handle of his old fashioned mechanical broom. He did lean to the left, but that was a normal part of a Bob's physiography. We did that to make room for the extra ligaments and shoulder blade. Too bad it didn't work.

I scanned the hallways, in front and in back. All was clear.

"Bob 23, extend your right arm, and put your palm up," I said clearly in a neutral voice.

Bob slowly let go of the broom handle, which then clattered to the floor. Bob 23 was startled at this. He slowly extended his arm and opened his palm, as if taking the time would make me forget what was necessary. He screwed shut his good eye so hard that his generous cheek seemed to meet his eyebrows. An anticipatory tear rolled down his cheek.

I put my hand in my labcoat pocket, found what I was looking for, and placed it firmly in Bob's hand, then closed his fingers around it. Bob stood still for a moment, then gasped. He must have been holding his breath. Then slowly opened his fingers and looked in his hand.

A crooked smile formed, or what passed for one on his face. He immediately brought his hand to his mouth, and started chewing. Smacking and gurgling, he looked briefly at me, and then started capering around. He reached out and reverently touched my hand, which I didn't withdraw. He gurgled over and over, "Thanxs you, Mastea, thanxs you."

Who knew a sugar cube could do that?

"The hall is clean. You've done a good job. No pain stick for your today."

His saliva grands must have been in overdrive, since a large dollop of saliva dripped from the abscess through his left cheek, rolled down to his chin, and impacted the floor with a wet splat. It was tinted with blood.

Interesting.

No more time for clones, I have to get to my meeting.

I picked up my datapad from the floor and hurried down the hallway, not bothering to review anymore. I didn't have time. As I approached the Tubes I heard a strange low thumping. I was going that way anyway, so I kept my eyes pealed.

The gently curved hallway showed me the source of the sound not more than a minute or two later. It was an Alice. She was standing by the ceramic walls by her pushcart, smacking her tall, elongated head against the wall. Her entire 2.5-meter willowy frame reverberated with the rhythmic impact. It was a wonder that it didn't break her birdlike neck.

I toggled my datapad to record mode, "Note to Jeffery: another Alice has regressed. Suggest sending her line to recycling."

As I entered the Tube and turned around I could see the front of her head. Her large, bulbous eyes were glazed over. Too bad. That line had had so much promise.

*****

"Well Libby and Jeffery, you're making fine progress. I congratulate you and your team, and know that you have my full support in your efforts," I enthused. They had done a great job. Some of their new lines were significant improvements.

"Thank you, sir," Libby responded, beaming. "We certainly don't deserve all the credit; we'll share that with the team. However, we have found an innovative use for our washes that I think you'll be interested in. It touches on the problem you noticed with the Alice line."

"Anything to keep me away from the paperwork," I responded, and that got a couple of appreciative chuckles.

The rest of the Council begged off, but since this had direct bearing on the team's progress I used it as an excuse to delay my project holo reviews. We took the Tube over to Bio, and Libby took Jeffery and me through security, where the guard was asleep, as usual, into the ChironBio wing. I hadn't been in the main lab before, and it was rather peculiar. The main room had the standard banks of datalink ports and remote equipment. In the central portion of the expansive room there was a 10 meter circular chamber with reinforced glasssteel all the way around. I approached the chamber and looked in. The floor of the chamber was a good 2 meters below ours, and there were holes roughly the size of melons along this perimeter. It looked a lot like a surgery observation room.

Two men and two women walked into the room from a side entrance, visible from across the glass enclosure. They walked over to our group with big smiles on their face.

"Hello Doctor Sergeivitch! Libby told me she might be able to convince you to view our experiment. I'm glad you could make it. It turns out your little clone problem is our solution. We have been working for months on experimental animals and have had nothing but failure. I'm sure this will be more successful. Do you need a little background before we begin?"

"I am reasonably familiar with your work, and am quite interested," I replied. She certainly had piqued my curiosity.

"Well, it is quite innovative. We are just about to begin, so please stand near the observation window."

We moved as a group toward the window. One of the men split off and went to the nearest Fusion Lab datalinks and activated the console. There was immediate activity in the chamber, as one, then two, then a dozen clone heads appeared through the holes along the base of the enclosure. Some of the clones I immediately recognized, like the glassy eyed Alice. There were a couple of Bobs, who were moving around uncomfortably, not understanding, as usual. One of our most embarrassing failures, a worker prototype Richard 01, was thrashing violently. I had just ordered the entire cell culture for that line destroyed. Even a couple of our now elderly but pliable Simons were put in. All the researchers were chatting excitedly.

"We are about ready to go. Please put on these metal inhibitors, since the specially engineered glass may not be a foolproof filter," Dr. Amy Daran explained.

I took the metal mesh, which looked a lot like a hair net. I don't have much hair left anyway, so I had no trouble fitting it and getting it snug. Libby, with her billowing red main, struggled a bit until Jeffery helped her with the back.

"OK, Gerald. Start up, and activate recording devices," Amy ordered.

I moved toward the glass to get a better view. Nothing happened for a moment, then I felt a little ill at ease. The clones started moaning, mewing, or screaming. A few, like the stoic Bobs, were silent. Alice's screech was not entirely blocked by the glass, or perhaps it was recorded and piped in.

Then I noticed a trap door opening in the ceiling, and greyish-pink confetti started falling out. As the confetti hit the floor it began to writhe, then form a ball.

It was a mindworm, probably a hatchling.

The mindworm immediately split into pieces and crawled with frightening speed to the clones. The clones' reactions were interesting. Alice just kept on screaming, until the mindworms jumped and started to burrow into her ears, nose, and mouth. Several bored their way through her huge eyes, causing them to burst. She thrashed her head back and forth in a futile effort to remove the worms. The Bobs just looked at the mindworms at they approached, moving back and forth a little, their eye getting wider and wider they approached. As they began to spring they closed their eye and started mouthing 'Mastea! Save me! Mastea! Poo Bob!' and the like. The worms crawled into their mouths and ears. Finally, after a mere five or so minutes, the clones slipped into a terror coma and ceased moving. Their heads were covered in writhing worms, which were still burrowing in. Small rivulets of blood flowed out from their orifices, creating small pools under each head as it lolled to the side.

Amy turned toward us, "Truly amazing! The best results so far! Your clones will probably advance our mindworm-breading project by months!"

"Yes, very impressive," I replied, as I started to take off my neural inhibitor.

"No, Doctor, don't do that until Gerald gives the all clear," Amy said.

I stopped, not wanting the backwash of the worm terror to seep into my psyche. "What is the signal?"

"Gerald will have a area-wide bell sound. We want to keep it simple." she replied happily.

RRRRIIIIIINNNGGGG

*****

RRRRIIIIIINNNGGGG

<�SNORT�>

"Uh, what?" I said as I woke up. I looked around groggily.

My office was a little dark. Where am I?

Unsteadily, "Lights, full," I told the room. Instantly the room was fully lit up.

What was going on? I'm not in my office.

RRRRIIIIIINNNGGGG

That was my insipid datapad. Blasted thing! I grabbed it from my waist and activated it.

<�Andre Sergeivitch, your farewell ceremony from with Military Governor Helen Tobias will occur in 20 minutes. The meeting will occur at�>

"Stop! Yes, yes, I know," I yelled.

What a vivid memory: a memory of happier times. I'm not at University Base. I'm at Assassin's Redoubt, under Spartan control, finishing up my Tree Farm project. They are my employers, not my colleagues as in times past. The University of Planet ceased to be almost 20 years ago.

A usual, I don't have much time to waste. Gotta get cleaned up for my sendoff. The Spartans are big on ceremony, especially the military types. No use avoiding it. Can't say I have much to complain about. I've been treated well as a senior scientist. Some Spartans even call us former-UoP scientists pampered, and I suppose they're right.

Still, not all UoP scientists were well treated. One scientist in particular had been singled out: Doctor Amy Daran in the UoP ChironBio group. It seemed the Spartans thought her activities were 'crimes against humanity' and 'genocide'. Against clones? HA! It is very ironic that the same people who will happily use an army and kill 10,000 civilians during wartime will get squeamish about some excess clones! They were nothing more than property! And defective clones at that. Even the Gaians would appreciate the fact we were recycling, and making mindworms to boot! Absolutely amazing! The sad thing was that she and her staff was executed by firing squad after a highly publicized show trial. The MorganVids portrayed it using the approved Spartan spin, proving how corrupt and unethical the now defeated UoP was.

Truly sickening.

The lone voice of protest came from the UN representative, who said that her crimes were heinous but that they were opposed to the death penalty 'as a matter of principle'. Obviously, he was happy she was going to die, too. The Spartan citizenry did not dissent, nor did anyone from the conquered University: they were too terrified.

Well, time is fleeting and I'm almost ready. Gotta run! It wouldn't do to be late to my party, since the Governor would skin me alive.