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Welcome to Gondwanaland
By:
J. L. Haines
“Move that scanner five centimeters vertically and hold it still.” Elfreth Penrose’s voice grated through the intercom speaker.
“In position,” Miranda Lippincott replied. He sounds different today, she mused. Last night, he’d been the eminent Chairman of the Department of Molecular Biology, the attentive mentor to the Whitman Fellow in Biorobotics.
Penrose bustled through the office doorway at the back of the lab. “Huff is on his way over. Move out of the way, Miranda; I want to see this.” He strode across the tile toward the experiment in its open glass container.
Professor Wilson Huff stood at the outer hatch to the airlock and pointed to its keypad. Lippincott waved her left hand at Huff, showing four fingers.
“Good morning, Doctor Huff. It’s a great day for our little shop today.” Penrose shook hands with his senior biochemist.
“After eighteen months, I wouldn’t miss this,” Huff chirped.
“You remember Doctor Lippincott: she’s been monitoring the subject since midnight.”
Yes, and I’ve been trailing you both for twelve months, grading papers and teaching undergraduates and running your lab for you, Lippincott brooded. While you, Chairman Penrose, were entertaining the Board of Trustees of Wistar at your beach home -- with your wife.
“Well, Miss Lippincott, how does it look?” Huff addressed the top of the researcher’s head.
“The vibrations have increased in frequency,” Lippincott replied. “The unit appears to be intact, and temperature and pressure are constant. We expect a sharp change in pressure as the subject completes the growth cycle.”
“Is that the entire experiment in there? It looks like a glass coffin.” The rectangular ceramic tray just fit into the glass box.
“Yes, Professor, and the lid is secure.” The housing was bulletproof glass. Lippincott envisioned fearful tellers watching security cameras.
“How will you know it’s ready? This is the first one, isn’t it?”
“The unit itself is strong enough to make the transition, but we will stimulate it if necessary.”
“The enhancements can be used even before the subject is fully developed,” Penrose explained. “What it is, augmented, would run to four times more powerful extremities. Come in to my office, Wilson, and let me show you our readings.”
The two men walked into the room behind clear glass walls. Lippincott saw Penrose pour his best bourbon into two glasses. She turned back to the experiment.
Four probes penetrated the thick lid. The tank reminded Lippincott of the glass cage in which her brother had kept his snakes. He would brandish Elaphe guttata in her face and declare it Agkistrodon contortrix. Lippincott had recognized the difference, soon loathed reptiles, and now detested her brother. The probes held sensors measuring temperature, acidity, electrical current, and oxygen saturation. Buteo jamaicensis was the host egg for the implanted Velociraptor genes. She inspected the titanium electrodes running to the control unit beside the tank.
She patted the side pocket of her lab coat. It was there.
Penrose and Huff walked out of the office. “These nanobots will change its nature, put a sting in it. Unlike the chrononanos with a fixed expiration, these will be immortal. All we need do is control the upgrades.”
Huff watched the researcher adjust the gyroscope. “Do you have sole control? What about her?”
“Her fellowship ends this semester. Miranda will be leaving the project. And besides, she’s been exposed to the chrononanos.”
“You infected her?”
The gray mane nodded.
“But how?”
Both snowy eyebrows lifted.
“You mean . . . ?”
The dark beard dipped again.
“And your wife doesn’t know?”
The white tips of the mustache quivered.
“Penrose, you dog.”
“Doctor Lippincott, is there any progress?” called Penrose.
He turned to his associate. “I want us to be in control of this thing before it breaks the shell. The nanos enable its target selection.”
“Sensors read decreasing acidity within the shell. Temperature has risen point two degrees.” Lippincott leaned over the incubator and read values from her scanner. “Professor Penrose, I believe the shell is at capacity. I’m reading higher pressure along its longitudinal axis.”
Penrose took a laptop computer bag from the worktable. “Wilson, here’s our marketing brochure. The child demands a pet Velociraptor, the parent buys the unit, we issue monthly upgrades, and the parent pays the licensing fee. As the units disperse through the local population, they acquire targets automatically. The upgrades only buy the customers thirty days of protection.”
“So, we keep control of the nanobots, and only license the upgrades?”
Penrose radiated schadenfreude. “We’re selling happiness. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”
Lippincott removed her face mask and slipped it into her side pocket. “Professors, I think our subject is beginning to emerge. If you’ll come over to the incubator, I’ll check the video feed.” She walked over to the concrete wall and adjusted the largest of an array of switches. “Power is on.”
Penrose clamped his right arm around Huff. “Come on, Wilson, we’re finally there.” He led his associate to the tank, and heard the ceramic tray clatter against the glass. “Look at that, Wilson, the shell is cracking.”
Lippincott returned to the incubator. She grasped two wires from the probes and, holding them in her right hand, slid her left hand into her pocket.
“Where’s the camera aimed, Miranda? I should be next to the unit.”
“You have to be the focus of attention, don’t you, Professor? It’s always you, not us.”
“Miranda, what do you mean by that? This is an important moment for all of us. Why are you holding your mask there? What is that?”
“One hundred thousand volts, Professor.” Under the white mask gleamed the handgrip of a stun gun. Lippincott attached one wire to each contact. “You could have taken me to your beach house. You could have shared your life with me.” She pulled the trigger. “I’m sorry, Elfreth, it’s been too much work and not enough play.” She aimed the contacts at his neck and watched the charging signal light.
The End