Launch Pad

by Shelly Bryant

  “What I do here in this lab is re-create biosystems using entirely synthetic organisms, utilising DNA from the original ecosystem as a template, then rewriting it to be more durable. This allows us to create a more sustainable ecosystem. And it will be one that we can control more directly, at least in theory. This technology allows us to write out the parts of an organism that are easily susceptible to destruction by industrialisation and urbanisation. We hope they will interact with our natural ecosystems to make them more robust. At the very least, these re-creations will prevent extinction, allowing all species in an ecosystem to live on, at least in synthetic form.

  “As you know, since its founding, our nation’s efforts to retain the jungle even in the midst of the city have been so successful that we’ve become the model urban garden-scape that other cities in the region have sought to emulate for the past two or three generations. I hope you won’t think me immodest if I suggest that we’ve served as a catalyst for the garden city movement that we’ve since seen developing all around the world.”

  As he notes several nods of approval, he begins to really hit his stride. “My role as rewriter is to parallel the preservation efforts that have been at the heart of Singapore’s values since the earliest days of our national history. But our approach is a little different from those governed by older preservation paradigms. Rather than the traditional approaches of preservation or conservation, I aim at re-creation, and I use synthetic skin, organs and…well, everything to accomplish this. The end result is a completely synthetic organism grown up from the rewritten DNA template extracted from the original, natural ecosystem.”

  A man in a business suit with a tie in garish colours clears his throat and interrupts Naga’s speech. “What exactly do you mean ‘synthetic’? Are you saying there are no natural, organic parts at all?”

  “That is precisely what I am saying,” Naga says, trying to keep the boastful edge from his voice. “The skin, the teeth, the organs, the bones and every single cell in the entire replicated ecosystem are all made of synthetic materials. Like a whole world of Teflon and polyester, if you’ll allow me to use that illustration.”

  The group laughs. As they fall silent again, a woman in a hijab catches his eye. She asks, “Why do you prefer synthetics instead of, say, clones or other organic or semi-organic re-creations?”

  “It is generally agreed amongst synthetic biologists that organic biosystems, and even partially organic biosystems, are unnecessarily complex. By starting from scratch—which is really what we rewriters are doing— we understand all of the intricacies that underlie the biosystems we create, and so can engage them more directly and with fewer complications.”

  “Then why do you still employ the term biology?” she asks. “Doesn’t that imply some organics?”

  “Well, because we replicate biological functions in our ecosystems, the original rewriters coined the term synthetic biology. The beings we create should function the same as the organic originals, but have a less complex genetic, and sometimes anatomical, structure.”

  “They replicate all biological functions?” the woman continues. “Does that include evolution?”

  “That’s an excellent question. In theory, yes, but of course we’ve not been at it long enough to see that happen yet. Remember that evolution—or at least speciation, which is probably more to the point in this discussion—is a very long process in organic biology. It should occur more rapidly with the synthetics, but ‘rapid’ only in comparison to the time spans counted in millions of years that are typical with organic ecosystems.”

  The woman nods, mulling over his explanation.

  As they reach the door, Naga stops and waits until he has everyone’s full attention. He wants the entrance to be properly dramatic.

  “From early on, we’ve managed to preserve the rainforest in the midst of the concrete jungle here in Singapore, mostly through wise urban planning by an early group of visionaries. What lies behind these doors is a re-creation of the underwater rainforest, a synthetic coral reef. You will find inside the aquariums in this room a complete biosystem. With appropriate funding from the nations represented in this gathering today, we can transplant this coral reef into the waters just off our shores here in the South China Sea. In this way, Singapore can continue its reclamation projects for building above ground without any net loss to the ecosystem in our seas. In the long run, we can reproduce this technology in other areas of the world that are suffering a similar strain on their natural biosystems due to the continued urbanisation of our globe.

  “And so now, let me introduce you to a perfectly reconstructed coral reef. And remember, all of the creatures you see here—everything from the coral and algae right on up to the largest sharks swimming in the waters—are all synthetic life forms.”

  With that, he opens the doors.

  The woman who raised the earlier questions gasps. Naga just looks on, bewildered.

  In the central tank, overshadowing the beauty of the multi-hued coral, a grotesque sight meets their eyes. The floor of the tank is covered with bones and skins of various sea creatures. The skins sag, looking like deflated balloons. Near the surface of the water in the central tank, a shark’s skin floats, as empty as those lying on the aquarium floor. It begins to wriggle. From behind the fearsome row of teeth, a pair of eyes looks out at the little group of international dignitaries. Naga wonders what could have survived not only being chewed to shreds by the shark, but also whatever force massacred all of the other creatures that were teeming in these tanks when he locked up the lab last night.

  The eyes move closer, peering out from the gap between the sinister teeth. A ghastly white blob of a face worms its way out from the great maw, followed by a loosely shaped, bloated body. It looks like a giant, sated leech.

  “Is that an eel?” a dashiki-clad dignitary asks.

  “It’s got to be several times as big as any eel or sea snake,” another delegate replies. “Isn’t that right, Mr Naga?”

  “What in the world is it?” whispers one guest, his voice quivering.

  “I…I think it’s the hagfish,” Naga finally says, his voice strained. He stands gaping, at a loss for what he should do in the face of this disastrous turn in his life’s work.

  “A hagfish? What’s that?”

  “It’s a very old life form, and something of a parasite.

  It feeds on the blood of its victims either by sucking it through the skin, or by worming its way into its prey’s body and devouring it from the inside.”

  All eyes turn to the woman in the hijab. She shrugs and adds sheepishly, “It was in the information package Mr Naga sent us. Surely I’m not the only one who read it.”

  Mr Chan seems to regain his composure at last, leaving Naga as the only member of the group still reeling from the shock. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s head back to the office and let Mr Naga lock the lab. We can discuss our business just as easily there.”

  “What business?” asks one of the visitors, now sweating profusely in his coat and tie. “You don’t think any of our governments would put that thing into our seas, do you? You can bet we’re going to do everything we can to stop you from putting it there too.”

  “So will we,” adds the delegate in the green dashiki. “It seems that your analysis of the potential pitfalls involved with evolution and speciation failed to consider all the possibilities. Who knows what would happen to our oceans with such unbridled technologies inhabiting them?”

  “Yes, well…” Mr Chan stammers, “we can talk in the office.”

  As the group turns and heads down the corridor, the guest’s complaints can still be heard. “Can you imagine the havoc that beast would wreak in the seas? It’s a synthetic parasite is all it is! It would wipe out entire ecosystems.”

  As the voices fade, Chan turns to Naga. “Billions of dollars in government grant money,” he hissed, “and all you can come up with is that bloodsucking monster? I don’t care what you do with that thing, as lon
g as you get rid of it and keep it out of our waters. I want you and that…animal out of here by Monday. And if I find even a hint of it in Singapore’s waters, I’ll have you hung for treason.”

  He slams the door behind him, leaving Naga alone with the underwater wasteland.

  Late in the evening, Naga sits in his now-empty office. There is a knock on the door. “Come in,” he calls, his response automatic.

  It is the tall man in the dark suit. The bright colours of the man’s power tie draw Naga’s eyes to his guest, even as his mind remains elsewhere.

  “Mr Naga,” the man begins. “I’m sorry for the way the situation developed today. It was obviously… uncomfortable for you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well. Yes. Still, my government would like to discuss matters with you. Perhaps we can help you salvage something from the whole ordeal.”

  “Salvage something? Like what?” Though not meaning to sound snappish, he can’t quite keep his voice free from bitterness.

  “Do you remember the questions my office sent you last month?”

  “Yes. But I am afraid your government will just have to put off its plans for that underwater theme park. You saw the results today. It looked more like the Kingdom of the Underworld than the Underwater Kingdom you wanted to create.”

  “But perhaps there are other applications of the technology?”

  “Oh. Well, I’m afraid expanding your Pioneer Days Wildlife Park won’t be any more feasible. Again, you saw with your own eyes what happened. Would you like me to rewrite lifeforms suited to the land of the pioneers for you, only to end up losing the organic wildlife that still remains there now? It would wipe everything out much faster than urbanisation already has. No, I’m afraid it wouldn’t work at all.”

  “Yes. I see that. Still…”

  There is an uncomfortable pause. Naga looks at the stranger’s face, wondering what he could possibly have in mind.

  “How about this,” the dignitary finally continues. “My government is willing to buy the surviving specimen off your hands. I’m sure you will have certain, er, financial losses to recoup. Tell me what you’d require on that front, and we will start from there in our calculations.”

  An image of Mr Chan’s irate expression flashes before Naga’s eyes. He has not yet had time to think of all the repercussions of the hagfish fiasco. He is not sure he is ready to consider the possibility of the financial ruin he could face. His reputation is certainly shot already. The chance to salvage something from his years of research suddenly seems very enticing. And Mr Chan did leave it up to him to find a way to get rid of it.

  “Well,” he says, “I haven’t sat down to crunch the numbers yet, but I could get that to you by tomorrow morning, I suppose. You’d have to agree to have it out of here by Monday, though. Oh, and I’d need a guarantee that we’d never see it in Singapore’s waters, of course. That will be central to the deal.”

  “Yes, yes. That will all be just fine. Let me clarify one point with you, though. There is absolutely nothing organic about the creature?”

  “Nothing at all,” Naga says. “That monster is one hundred per cent my creation, totally synthetic.”

  The man pulls at his tie and removes his jacket, clothing obviously designed for his homeland rather than the heat and humidity of this little island.

  As soon as his car arrives, he gets in and closes the soundproof screen between the driver and himself. He takes out his mobile phone and punches in the number.

  “He’s in. He’ll give us the numbers in the morning.”

  He listens to a series of questions.

  “You saw the video I sent earlier, didn’t you? Just the threat of releasing that thing into the sea off their coast will be enough. They’ll give us free passage to the port without any further arguments, I can assure you. No duties, and no discussion. It is a frightening thought to imagine what damage that beast could do to an economy so reliant on the waters off its shores as they are.”

  He drums his fingers on his knee as he listens to the worried response.

  “No, no, don’t worry. Beast is just a figure of speech. It is not an animal at all. Nothing organic about it. Mr Naga is very clear about that, and I pressed him several times both during and after the presentation. We are free from blame. This will not violate the ban on biological weapons at all… No, it’s not a weapon of mass destruction either. It’s just one fish. There’s not even another to mate it with—and I don’t know if synthetic organisms even can mate. No, I didn’t ask. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. This… thing will create a great deal of havoc, but it will be a havoc contained to the area we choose to target.”

  There is a long pause before the Secretary of Defence answers. Hearing her reply, the delegate smiles.

  “Yes. I’m sure Mr Naga will deliver his work to us without a second thought. Believe me, he wants to be rid of the little bloodsucker altogether… Yes, that’s right. No worries. Leave the rewriter to me.”

  He presses the red button on his phone and slips it into his pocket just as the car turns into the hotel car park. He gets out, makes his way through the glaring lights and blaring music of the casino into the hotel lobby. There, he hums a folk tune as he waits to hear the soft ding and the familiar sliding of the lift doors.

  The hovercraft jerked as it descended towards the hazy surface below. A droid with an orange band stretching from right shoulder to left hip waved the craft back up, then signalled for it to start a slower descent on a site several metres away. It was not a smooth landing, but the craft managed to touch down without sustaining any damage. The crew aboard started hopping from the open-faced sides to the ground.

  Lacuna did not want to be here. He was so not made for this sort of work. As he picked his way across the soil away from the craft, he muttered a string of curses.

  “If you think this is bad, you won’t last long out here,” said the droid who had guided their landing.

  Lacuna looked down his nose at the droid. “If you can handle it, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he huffed.

  “You look like you haven’t done a day’s honest work since you got off the assembly line,” the work droid said.

  “Let me tell you, you little scrapheap, I run a multimillion-dollar clinic in the heart of Singapore. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “I know exactly who you are,” the droid said. “You’re the bucket of bolts with the biggest ego ever known to robotkind. We all know who you are, and we know all about your clinic and how you prey on the poor humans’ insecurities, offering them so-called upgrades that are nothing more than meat-grinding scams. Like I said, not an honest day’s work since you left the factory.”

  “You might want to rethink that,” Lacuna said. “I’ve been sent over to take charge of this operation. What’s your name, scrapheap?”

  “Shi.”

  “Alright, Shi. I’ll overlook your insubordination this time.”

  “What insubordination? I don’t answer to some cosmetic surgeon just because he was flown in from some upscale clinic in Singapore. You don’t know the first thing about search and rescue work, do you?”

  “I was sent here to be in charge of this operation. If you look at the log, the orders come straight from the top, the Datuk himself.”

  “Yeah, I saw ’em. Why’d he send someone like you?”

  “I guess he trusts me, doesn’t he? He flies up from Indonesia whenever he needs work done. Everyone says I do the most natural work of any cosmetic surgical artist. He puts his own life in my hands, so why not a simple operation like this?”

  “It’s certainly not the sort of thing you’re used to.”

  “True, but if the Datuk thinks it’s important enough to send me, then we’ll just get it done, won’t we? Now, show me the site.”

  “I really don’t think you want to travel there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s nothing left but a big hole. The earthquake destroyed it all.”

&
nbsp; Lacuna fell silent, processing this. “Alright then,” he said at last. “Show me to my rooms. I want to get out of this haze and get some lubricant in my joints. I don’t want anything to lock up while I’m out here.”

  Shi stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “There’s ‘your rooms’. We each take it for an hour a day to check for hardware issues. I can skip my turn today. You can have my slot.”

  Lacuna looked in the direction Shi pointed. An army green tent sagged under a canopy of jungle overgrowth. Before he could object, Shi had wandered off and was now in intense conversation with the pilot of the hovercraft.

  Taking up his earlier string of curses, he continued as if there had been no interruption. Picking his way across the devastated ground, he came to the tent, lifted the flap and went in.

  When he came out of the tent, feeling only moderately relieved after a once-over with an oilcan, Lacuna saw Shi standing to one side, apparently receiving information from crew at another location. He looked the droid over. There was no attempt at synthetic skin to cover the metallic body, nor did the droid wear clothes. It was hard to even detect what the original colour of his body might have been. It was a dusty red over grimy black now.

  Lacuna looked down at the synthetic skin covering his own hand. He picked a fleck of dirt out from under the nail of his index finger on his left hand, then glanced at his watch.

  “What do you need that for?” Shi said, walking towards him. “Don’t you have an internal timepiece?”

  “The Datuk gave this to me,” Lacuna said. “It’s a Rolex.”

  “Rolex… Never heard of that factory. Are they local?”

  “Hardly,” Lacuna replied.

  “Then no wonder I haven’t heard of them.”

  “Were you receiving an update from one of the crews just now?” Lacuna asked.

  There was a long pause, then Shi said, “Yeah.”

  “Well?”