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Saturday, January 23, 2016
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
A Tale of Scientific Experimentation
Middle Management
Part One
by James F. Gaines
copyright 2004 James F. Gaines
originally published in Riverside Reflections
Gabi opened the lab door and peered
in. Izzy was in his normal seat in front
of the batracian experiment, listening to his beloved frogs through the
earphones. Even without the electronics,
Gabi could hear their harmonic chirping through the enclosures.
She walked up to her berapt fellow researcher and
tapped him on the shoulder. He was so
accustomed to her presence, to her return at this precise hour, that he merely
smiled vaguely in her direction and waved his hand without breaking his focus
on the batracians.
It was not until Mike returned from the avian
compound that Izzy lifted off his earphones and triumphantly exclaimed, “Did
you ever hear such beautiful music in your life? They’ve organized their calls into chords, into
chords! I can’t wait to tell the
Boss. Where is he, anyway?”
Mike spoke up and explained, “I passed him on the
way back from the aviary. He was headed
down to the mammalian experiment and he didn’t look very happy.” The strapping ornithologist walked over to
Gabi and gave her a lingering look that was returned in kind.
Izzy paid little attention because he had known for
some time that they had become intimate.
“I’m hoping he will finally close down that primate thing.”
“It hasn’t been going at all well, that’s true,”
noted Gabi. “But what interest do you
have in it?”
“Protein.
That’s a lot of animal protein that should not go to waste. Just think what my batracians could do with
that kind of protein source! They’ll be
creating symphonies in no time.”
“But what if the Boss doesn’t agree? After all, we can’t go around closing down
operations just to feed to your frogs.
Why did you design them to be carnivorous, anyway? The Boss warned you about that.”
“Don’t be silly, Gabi. There’s no reason to throw away perfectly good
biomass. What do you think, Mike?”
“I agree with Gabi. It seems a little bit ghoulish
to be making those mammalians into a menu for your subjects.”
Izzy pouted.
“So why don’t you modify your eagles and falcons into herbivores if
you’re so keen on achieving ecological balance?”
“You can’t make that comparison,”? retorted
Mike. “There’s got to be priorities for
higher order avian species.”
“You two should have followed my lead,” said
Gabi. “My cephalopods are
omnivorous. When there are no fish
available, they convert to feeding on algae.
Very sensible.”
“But Gabi, dear, that’s fine for sea creatures,”
answered Mike. “But how can you expect
big birds to feed on vegetation? Eagles
and hawks are at the top of the food chain.
We can’t let them start gobbling down spruce trees or it would put
everything in their environment topsy-turvy.
The smaller species would soon starve.”
“That’s why the sea is such an advantage,” Gabi
said, shaking her blonde locks.
“Liquidity, freedom of exchange between different levels.”
Izzy chimed in.
“That’s where I have you both beaten!
My amphibians can have the best of both worlds. Of course, they can’t fly yet. But they already sing and communicate better
than your birds ever could, Mike. And
Gabi, all your octopi can do is primitive touch communication and color
changing. I submit that my creatures are
the highest achievement of this lab.” He
pushed back his glasses as if to make a point.
Gabi shrugged her shoulders in her delightfully
ingenuous way. “Well, I don’t see how we
can resolve this argument.”
A suave voice cut in from behind them. “I can.
You’re all a crew of idiots and all your animals belong in the trash
bin.”
Unbeknownst to the trio, a fourth scientist in a
spotless lab coat had silently entered the room during their conversation.
Izzy eyed him suspiciously. “Ah, the great philosopher is back. Where have you been, Nick, while we were
working?”
“You call that work, you four-eyed geek? Those frogs of yours are on the edge of
extinction. You want the mammal protein
because you still haven’t got their metabolism properly engineered. I offered to give you the benefit of my
genetic knowledge, but you have floundered around, screwing up the math,
letting all sorts of dangerous recessive traits develop, while you rhapsodize
over their stupid chants.”
Izzy blushed.
He did not know which made him more upset, the personal insults or the
truth of Nick’s assessment of his beloved batracians. With his usual incisiveness and acid wit,
Nick had bored straight to the weakness of Izzy’s project. He slouched back over his desk and tried to
work once again on the biochemistry that had been puzzling him.
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