by R E Kearney
“And what do you suggest? I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life in here.” Rita growls, as she twists to adjust her uncomfortably confining hazmat suit.
From behind, the voice of Pion interrupts their squabble. “Shengwu, I suggest immunization through genome editing or, perhaps, by turning off some t-cell inhibitors with immunotherapy. As soon as you have sanitized a sampling room to your satisfaction, submit individual samples for analysis.”
“A room should be sanitized soon. But, what will sampling the three of us accomplish Pion?” Shengwu is curious concerning her plan.
“By combining the genetic data obtained through the earlier samples of the ill and dead individuals, and your individual samples, logically it should be possible to develop an immunotherapy. Developing an algorithm editing your individual genomes should make it capable for your bodies’ own immune systems to self-inoculate you to protect you against the current Aethon strains. Depending upon genetic similarities, it may be possible to develop a genetic poison pill or a vaccine for others.”
“I want to go first. I volunteer.” Rita shoots her arm into the sky and then immediately lowers it, embarrassed.
Chuckling, Robert points toward Rita. “I think you should definitely sample Rita first. You know it was Hippocrates who said that it’s far more important to know what person the disease has than what disease the person has. And Aethon definitely has her even if she doesn’t have Aethon.”
Rita sullenly scowls at Robert. With her fingertips, she again searches her forehead for Aethon sweat.
Without acknowledging Robert’s attempt at humor, Shengwu guides Rita forward. “Sampling room one is sanitized, as is its related equipment. I’ll have some nurse-bots meet you in the waiting room and assist you. Relax Rita, you’re going to be ok. I will see to it.”
Shengwu ushers Rita into the waiting room. After she disappears, a few minutes pass before Robert watches her and a nurse-bot enter gene sampling room one. She is wearing a hospital gown. Experienced by her prior cancer treatment, Rita does not hesitate and climbs directly onto the sampling platform. She disappears into the scanner. Less than a minute later, she reappears with a wide smile and hops off the platform. After she leaves the room, the robot sanitizes it.
“Your turn, Robert.” Shengwu grasps his arm and directs him toward the waiting room.
Trading his hot hazmat suit for a light and cool hospital gown brings a long sigh of relief. As he steps out of his dressing room a nurse-bot rolls to his side. Together they enter the sampling room. An intense chemical odor stings Robert’s nose and eyes. The chemical smell is painfully potent on the sampling platform and in the sampling station. Robert closes his eyes as they begin watering. The chemical is actually an anesthetic powerful enough that he does not detect sliding inside the machine or the sampling needle inserting and retracting. Only when the nurse-robot announces that his testing is done, does he realize that he is out of the sampling tube.
Outside the sampling chamber, a nurse-bot awaits with a newly printed set of hospital scrubs and slippers. “These provide for your comfort and safety.”
Ignoring the robot, he searches the chamber for his own clothes. They have disappeared. Reluctantly, he slips on the scrubs. But, after stretching and twisting and bending, Robert nods his head in approval. The scrubs are comfortable. Shengwu has finally learned how to print his size.
When he returns to Shengwu’s workspace, Robert finds Rita intently watching Pion working in her lab on Venus. Pion is oblivious to Rita, as she and her AI computer intently analyze Rita’s RNA threads of life. She is consumed in her search for a genetic code cure. She is seeking a technique to restrict the ability of Aethon to replicate so it self-destructs.
“She told me she is modifying Aethon’s replicating polymerase so it fights against itself. Something about swapping out one amino acid in the polymerase for another, resulting in a checkmate effect on the virus. Do you know what that means?” Rita is confused and concerned.
“It means she is attempting to outsmart Mother Nature...” Robert remarks, as he retrieves his HEART hat. “…and if anyone can do it, Pion will.”
“While we wait, I’ll work.” Adjusting his headgear, he returns to digitally sniffing and analyzing the packets in the data stream flowing between Stamina Vitae and Venus.
Using the visual of the suspicious data packet he recorded earlier, Robert examines Shengwu’s latest communicated data stream. His search quickly succeeds. Among the packets of their recently transmitted genome sample data, he finds a duplicate suspicious packet. Line by line, he separates the packet into its elements. Cyber-espionage, he concludes. Somebody is attempting to steal Shengwu’s genome sampling information and his genome editing directions.
Reaching into his bag of cyber-security tricks stored in the Cloud, Robert accesses his hack back program. With a few mental commands, he transplants his genetic programming packet into Shengwu’s data stream. Dangling it like a fat, juicy worm before a hungry, bottom-feeding catfish, he waits and watches. The hackers are watching, too and strike swiftly. Perfect. As soon as their program invades Shengwu’s data stream, Robert’s program attaches itself to it. The cyberspies came to steal something and Robert generously feeds it to them. There is no escape from his Trojan horse. Robert injects his virus into their virus.
“And now we wait and we watch and we listen.” Robert chuckles quietly.
“Why are you so happy?” Shengwu interrupts Robert’s gloating.
“Oh, let’s just say I believe I just shot a rocket down the throat of a shark. If I did it correctly and my genetic programming works, they should be screaming in agony in a few minutes as their systems suffer melt downs. I only wish I was there to watch and enjoy. My hack back program includes my special signature that makes them remember me. As they self-destruct, their computers scream a sound that breaks glass and shatters eardrums.”
“So, you’ve eliminated them? No more hack attacks?” Shengwu asks excitedly.
Robert is cautious. “Possibly, but probably not. It depends on who they are, who they are working for, and what they’re attempting to achieve. I’ll be surprised if they don’t continue trying. That would be unusual. So, I’ve introduced my computer virus killer into your system.”
In an attempt to reassure Shengwu, Robert taps his forearm in front of his transmission chip. “The program I’ve injected into your system is provided with the eyes and brains of my AI computer. It’s called genetic programming. It’s alive and it will evolve to continue hunting down and killing any virus invading your system. It operates by itself. My AI will alert me whenever an unusual packet appears. And, I do expect that there will be more packets assaulting your system and challenging my virus killer. I doubt that these packets are from just one small, independent group that decided they don’t like you. They need a reason and a sponsor to be here. Who are your competitors?”
“Competitors? I don’t…”
Robert slowly nods his head. “Oh yes, I’m certain that you have competitors. You just may not know who they are. In my opinion, the programming packets I discovered in your transmission stream are seeking information. Somebody wants to know what you’re doing and how you’re doing it. Whoever they are, they want you to succeed, so they can steal your expertise. They’re depending on you. They need you. They cannot afford to destroy you. They’re thieves. Pirates.”
“Oh no Robert, that is bad. Very bad. You must eliminate them. No one must steal our algorithms. It would be a catastrophe, Robert. A catastrophe! Do you understand?”
“Well no, I’m not certain that I do.”
“One tiny mistake- that’s all it would take. One little error by somebody reproducing a stolen genome editing algorithm could mean the difference between creating a genome that kills Aethon and creating a genome that is a super and unstoppable Aethon. A plague that could wipe out millions or more.”
CAT SCRATCH FEVER
“Momma! Momma!” Scr
eams five year old Peter as he runs crying into his house. Blood drips from a bite on his right hand and claw marks on his right arm.
“Peter! What happened? Your hand. What happened to your hand?” Peter’s mother, Margarete, grabs his hand and rubs away his blood with her fingers.
“Ow, momma. Ow! You’re hurting me.” The small boy cries struggling to pull his hand free.
Pulling and tugging, Margarete drags Peter to their lavatory sink where she tenderly and carefully washes away his blood. She dabs his wounds dry with a towel. The bite in his hand is deep. Several drops of blood ooze to the top of his wounds. Peter begins whimpering.
“Here Peter, mommy will kiss it away. Mommy will make it all better.” Lovingly, she kisses each of his scratches and his bite. Peter’s sticky blood spots her lips. With her tongue, she licks it away and swallows.
“It still hurts momma. It still hurts.”
“I know honey. I know. Let me put some medicine on it and a bandage. Ok?” Margarete begins franticly searching the drawers of her medicine cabinet for medical supplies.
“I don’t know why that kitty bit me. I just petted it and hugged it. I was nice mommy. But, the kitty bit me. Why mommy?”
“I don’t know Peter. Some cats are just mean. Or maybe it was sick.” Halting her searching, Margaret examines his hand and arm again. “Peter, was the kitty sick? Did the kitty look sick?”
Scared, Peter begins sobbing and shaking. “I don’t know, mommy. The kitty came from the tent people.”
“Peter, I think we should go to the clinic. That kitty cat may have rabies. I want a doctor to look at you. Ok, baby?”
“No mommy! No! No! The doctor will hurt me. Give me a shot. No mommy.” Peter struggles to pull away then falls to the floor curling into a ball and refusing to move. “I want to see Wu! Wu knows what to do, mommy.”
“Please Peter, help me out here. Cooperate. I don’t have time for your nonsense, now.” Touching her wrist, Margarete summons transportation. “I know you like Wu, but she’s not a medical doctor. You need real medicine.”
Fifteen minutes later, Margarete and Peter are registered and huddling together in the clinic’s crowded waiting room. Autonomous medical robots and robotic nursing assistants slide from person to person gathering samples and statistics. To reassure young children like Peter, and equally apprehensive adults, the robots are anthropomorphized. Their heads are constructed to resemble non-threatening characters from children’s entertainment or cuddly teddy bears.
“Hello. Hola. How may I assist you today? Cómo puedo ayudarte hoy?” A teddy bear masked autonomous medical robot inquires of Margarete.
Pulling Peter’s right hand toward the robot, Margarete explains, “My son was bitten and scratched by a stray cat. I’m afraid the cat may have rabies.”
“You are requesting a medical image analysis for rabies. Is that correct?” The mechanical mouth in the medical robot’s teddy bear opens and closes not quite matching the words.
“Yes, a rabies test on my son Peter.”
“Are any additional analyses for other infections required?” Inquires the robot.
“No, just rabies. Rabies only. I don’t know anything else that it could be.”
“One test for rabies is ordered. For our records please state your complete name, your address, your occupation, your place of employment and the patient’s complete name.”
Seeking some privacy in the crowded room, Margarete leans close to the robot to answer. “My complete name is Margarete Consejero. My address is Calle Plaza Toa Baja. I am a patient counselor at Stamina Vitae. The patient is my son Peter Consejero. Is that sufficient?”
A sanitized shelf slides out of the center of the robot toward Margarete. “Infrared spectroscopic examination of the wound is required. Place the patient’s injured area on the extended examination panel with the wound up.”
Holding him by his elbow, Margarete gently positions Peter’s hand atop the examination panel. Peter whimpers and attempts to withdraw his hand, but cannot escape his mother’s strong grip. Above the shelf an arm with a golf ball sized sphere appears from the robot extending and lowering its spherical head close to Peter’s bite wound. From the sphere a spectroscope glows faintly for five seconds above his bite before going dark and rotating away. With a click, the sphere rotates to a new position, locks into place and begins spray coating Peter’s bite and claw wounds with antiseptic, artificial skin tissue. His wounds disappear beneath the artificial skin.
The examination and medicating complete, the panel slides from beneath Peter’s hand and retracts within the robot, as it begins reporting results. “Spectroscopic diagnostics indicate no presence of rabies. The examination detected the presence of a gram-negative bipolar aerobic bacterium not rabies. The antibiotic sulfamonomethoxine with trimethoprim was administered to the injured areas via the artificial skin application.”
“So, he will be ok then?” Margarete lightly strokes her fingertips across Peter’s repaired hand and arm.
“Future health cannot be determined from this examination. The application of medication and the artificial skin tissue is to decrease pain and prevent additional infection. Return for a second examination and treatment for recurring illness. This session is complete.” With no additional discussion, the autonomous medical robot’s teddy bear head mechanically smiles and slides away from Margarete and Peter to examine the next patients.
Slightly disappointed and still concerned, Margarete leads Peter through the crowd of other patients and out of the clinic. She is relieved that he is not suffering rabies, but she worries that the unidentified bacterium the robot reported is serious. But, she cannot request an examination of an unnamed bacterium. From working with Shengwu, she knows that without human curiosity, medical robots analyze only the conditions they are ordered to analyze. Without a name to correlate with a condition in its database, the medical robot is useless.
An auto-auto share vehicle sits available outside the clinic. They hurriedly climb inside to escape the heat. In seconds, they are returning home.
“Mommy…” Peter murmurs as he lays his head on her lap.
“What, honey?”
“…I don’t feel good. I feel hot.”
“Close your eyes and take a little rest, so the medicine can do its job. You’ll feel better after a little nap.”
“Mommy? Can we go and see Wu tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, Peter. Maybe. Now rest.”
Margarete stares at her hand. After brushing Peter’s hair and his forehead, her palm is wet from her son’s sweat. He is feverish. She is perspiring herself. She is scared.
GENOME GENERATION
“The genome editing directions for Rita are complete and have been transmitted.” Pion announces with a frown furrowing her face. “She can receive her engineered genomes, now.”
Noting Pion’s puckered brow, Shengwu asks with concern. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there is a problem. Aethon mutates quickly, so I don’t know how long an individual’s immunity will last.” Pion nods toward Rita. “Also, Rita’s Spanish-Taino Carib based Puerto Rican genomes are different enough from your Chinese-Anglo genomes and Robert’s African–French Canadian genomes to require different genome editing algorithms for each one of you. Based upon my calculations, I do not believe a universal vaccine created by editing genomes can be developed based on the samples you transmitted earlier or the samples from you three.”
“Well Pion, you know we mixed-breed mongrels are survivors.” Robert jokes, “Sometimes ugly, but hard to kill.”
Shengwu paces in front of Pion’s VR image, vigorously rubbing her hands together. She reminds Robert of someone desperately shining a lamp wishing to summon a magical genie. Except that Robert knows the magic genie Shengwu seeks to stop Aethon will not appear in a puff of smoke to grant three wishes. It may never appear.
“May I get my edited genome injection now?” Rita impatiently
and nervously begs.
Silently waving her hand, Shengwu sends her away. With a sigh of relief, Rita happily departs to receive her genome injection.
“Have you ever heard of Kisameet clay, Shengwu?” Robert quietly ventures.
“What?”
“Kisameet clay. It’s only found in British Columbia. It’s an old natural remedy used for centuries by the indigenous people on the central coast of British Columbia. They treated various medical problems from skin ailments to internal infections with it.”
“So what? What does Canadian Kisameet clay have to do with Aethon in Puerto Rico? Aethon is not a skin ailment.” Shengwu snaps.
Robert ignores Shengwu’s pique. “So, a team of researchers from the University of British Columbia in Vancouver found that Kisameet clay is effective fighting a selection of bacteria known as the ESKAPE group, which includes pathogens such as MRSA. Those same bacteria can also cause dangerous conditions like pneumonia and septicemia. Septicemia is involved in Aethon. Remember?”
“Yes, of course I remember, but what do you expect me to do, order some Kisameet clay from Canada? What is your point?” Thrusting both hands at Robert, Shengwu barks, “Get to the point!”
“Well I suppose that is a possibility, but my point, Shengwu, is that Kisameet clay is natural, yet complex. It is earth. Soil that consists of different minerals and an advanced microbial community. Its unique mix of chemical, physical and microbial properties is what allows for the antimicrobial activity and makes it more effective than any manufactured medicine. So, instead of attacking Aethon directly, person by person, let’s see if we can find a type of Kisameet clay here in Puerto Rico. Something natural.”
Shengwu pauses to consider Robert’s proposal. “Actually that’s a good idea Robert, except my research crews are out in the Caribbean searching for cone snails to extract their pain killing venom.”