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Authors: Samuel Franklin
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BOOK: Primal Estate: The Candidate Species
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Then there was the question of Tony. A nice enough guy; he might tell somebody, he might not, but that wasn’t something Rick could have controlled. If Synster had been surveiling them, he’d do something about it. If not, Rick would have to figure out how to manage him. Otherwise, he’d possibly have a group together in case an opportunity presented itself. But Rick doubted it would.
The longer he thought about it, the more Rick doubted he’d be able to do anything with the people Tony put together. The concept was goofy, he thought. Rick recognized his whole encounter with Tony and the way he’d conducted himself had been under the influence of the trauma he’d just experienced. He’d been tortured and stressed in a very foreign place, and even though it hadn’t been for that long, only a few hours, it had stressed him enough to influence his judgment.
The longer he thought about it, the more Rick doubted he’d be able to do anything with the people Tony put together. The concept was goofy, he thought. Rick recognized his whole encounter with Tony and the way he’d conducted himself had been under the influence of the trauma he’d just experienced. He’d been tortured and stressed in a very foreign place, and even though it hadn’t been for that long, only a few hours, it had stressed him enough to influence his judgment.
The question remained. How could he get rid of the Provenger? How could he stop Synster, a superior being, who had superior technology, had been planning this whole thing with supercomputers and advanced biology, and had abilities of surveillance and weaponry beyond anything Rick could ever imagine? Rick rolled down his window and looked out into the trees on the edge of his field that he’d seeded days before.
A magpie landed in a tree right next to the truck and called out. The moon was just coming up, and Rick could discern the distinctive black and white coloring of the feathers. He’d never seen them out at night before. Strange. This bird always plagued Rick, announcing his presence to the world whenever he was hunting. It would sometimes fly in and perch somewhere over his head and scream to all the animals in the area that he was there. This night the bird sat and looked at him, tilting its head to get a better view.
A magpie landed in a tree right next to the truck and called out. The moon was just coming up, and Rick could discern the distinctive black and white coloring of the feathers. He’d never seen them out at night before. Strange. This bird always plagued Rick, announcing his presence to the world whenever he was hunting. It would sometimes fly in and perch somewhere over his head and scream to all the animals in the area that he was there. This night the bird sat and looked at him, tilting its head to get a better view.
The magpie made him think about the animals of the desert and how they interacted. Sometimes they were enemies, sometimes allies. The magpie made him feel very much more like a member of Earth’s animals, rather than a human separated from the others. Rick thought about the cougar that had stalked him. If only I could be so cunning. Then he thought about the one that Synster killed. He hoped it wasn’t her, but he suspected otherwise.
Rick looked out over his land. In the distance he could barely see movement along a tree line. First, he thought he saw a tail, then a face, then the whole cat. He believed he saw a mountain lion working the edge of his field not two hundred yards away. It stopped and looked directly at him, and Rick thought of Synster’s hunt. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Rick refocused his eyes and looked again. He thought he saw the cat walking into the cover of the trees as sleep overtook him.
Rick looked out over his land. In the distance he could barely see movement along a tree line. First, he thought he saw a tail, then a face, then the whole cat. He believed he saw a mountain lion working the edge of his field not two hundred yards away. It stopped and looked directly at him, and Rick thought of Synster’s hunt. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Rick refocused his eyes and looked again. He thought he saw the cat walking into the cover of the trees as sleep overtook him.
Images were suddenly crystal clear, smells formed landscapes filled with life, and sounds revealed the motives of plants and animals alike. Gliding through a forest making no sound, the structure of presence had its own existence. The hunt was not forced and fatigue was blind. Rick was stealth and patience, and silence was the spoor of the ghost. He felt his place. His dream was of existence, not as a man but as an animal of Earth.
“Dad, Dad!” Rick woke to Carson yanking on his sweatshirt. For the second time that night, he’d been ripped away from his peaceful unconsciousness. His heart did a little dance in his chest, and before he could think, he said, “God dammit, boy! You scared the shit out of me!” But Rick had something on his mind that he knew was important. He had to write it down.
“Dad, you okay? I never got a call from you, and I couldn’t get through, so I came out.”
“Dad, you okay? I never got a call from you, and I couldn’t get through, so I came out.”
Rick needed to focus on what he’d seen and couldn’t talk. “Carson, go back to the car, I’ve got to write something down.” Rick found the pen in his pocket, grabbed a scrap piece of paper out of the glove compartment, and wrote down four words.
I am the lion.
Carson drove his father home, helped him into bed, and turned out the light.
I am the lion.
Carson drove his father home, helped him into bed, and turned out the light.
Chapter 16
The dEbriEf
“I think that went well,” Synster told Streyn as they sat in his office on the science deck. “Rick is a careful man and he won’t do anything stupid. You saw how he took a photo of himself with the window in the background? Humans can fake that type of picture, so he didn’t take it to prove anything to anyone else. He took it to prove to himself where he’d been, to eliminate the possibility that he’d imagined it, or been fooled in some way. He’s smarter than he lets on.” Synster had a lot of issues to deal with and was trying to console himself that things would go well. Inside, he was wound tight.
“I hope so,” Streyn replied. “He’d better be because with conditions the way they are, we’ll barely meet our quotas. I know the third world sample statistics are suitable, but they are still so close to our margins, we have no room for error.”
“I hope so,” Streyn replied. “He’d better be because with conditions the way they are, we’ll barely meet our quotas. I know the third world sample statistics are suitable, but they are still so close to our margins, we have no room for error.”
“We’ll reach our quotas through harvests from the less developed nations,” Synster stated confidently. “And by the time we have reached the optimal sustainable harvest from those nations, we’ll get the medical community and the developed nations’ governments to correct the errors of the last seventy-five years.” Synster, trying to think of ways they’d been lucky, asked, “Can you imagine if the subsequent run of the Algorithm hadn’t been done? Can you imagine this Project without the Finishing Protocol? We’d be finished.”
Streyn admitted, “What concerns me is that the Algorithm suggested a course of action to serve one purpose, but instead it served to benefit us in a completely different way.”
Streyn admitted, “What concerns me is that the Algorithm suggested a course of action to serve one purpose, but instead it served to benefit us in a completely different way.”
“Continue.” Synster was especially interested in Streyn’s analysis of the issue, since he was the one who led the Finishing Protocol.
“Well, the Algorithm identified the goal of the Finishing Protocol as making wheat universally available for consumption soon before our harvest in our high population areas. It would allow two full generations’ time for wheat to become dominant in these diets, and assure us the carcass fat content we desire. While this was certainly accomplished, one side effect was that the human turned to drugs for the illnesses that resulted, making them inorganic and therefore undesirable. The other side effect was to make wheat available to developing nations, something that wasn’t our focus. It is what has saved this project. It was a huge digression. Very disturbing. We can’t rely on luck to muddle our way through this Project.”
“Well, the Algorithm identified the goal of the Finishing Protocol as making wheat universally available for consumption soon before our harvest in our high population areas. It would allow two full generations’ time for wheat to become dominant in these diets, and assure us the carcass fat content we desire. While this was certainly accomplished, one side effect was that the human turned to drugs for the illnesses that resulted, making them inorganic and therefore undesirable. The other side effect was to make wheat available to developing nations, something that wasn’t our focus. It is what has saved this project. It was a huge digression. Very disturbing. We can’t rely on luck to muddle our way through this Project.”
Synster considered the implications of this. Streyn was right. It was a huge digression. The Algorithm had told them to conduct the Finishing Protocol to make wheat more productive to grow, as well as a little more addictive. This would fatten large population groups prior to harvest. It did. But it simultaneously made them sick and subsequently drugged by their doctors. The only large groups left for harvest were in developing countries not part of modern pharmaceutical distribution systems. It would be a longer and more troublesome harvest. This kind of error was very disturbing. Could there be a major flaw with the Algorithm?
Perhaps, Synster thought, there was something they’d missed in the Algorithm’s motive. Their method of getting the proper breed of wheat to the humans had been complex and had many risks. They’d had to conduct their intervention covertly. They couldn’t just deliver a bag of properly hybridized wheat seed with a sign on it that said “Use this really great stuff!” without raising some suspicion. And they could plant it somewhere and wait for it to be discovered; it couldn’t reproduce independently. They had to spoon feed it to the humans so they would think it was their own.
Perhaps, Synster thought, there was something they’d missed in the Algorithm’s motive. Their method of getting the proper breed of wheat to the humans had been complex and had many risks. They’d had to conduct their intervention covertly. They couldn’t just deliver a bag of properly hybridized wheat seed with a sign on it that said “Use this really great stuff!” without raising some suspicion. And they could plant it somewhere and wait for it to be discovered; it couldn’t reproduce independently. They had to spoon feed it to the humans so they would think it was their own.
“Streyn, I want to test my thinking of the Finishing Protocol. Give me a concise synopsis of your perspective of the development and execution of this Protocol.”
“Certainly.” Streyn cleared his throat, reflecting on his own involvement. “As we gradually phased out of gravitational dilation during our arrival, initial scans of the populations indicated that strong cultural influences, even in high population density areas, had prevented the full adoption of wheat products, to the extent that it would limit the optimal fat marbling in those populations during harvest. Since the completion of our phase travel would encompass many years on Earth, we ran the Algorithm with the new information and determined that in post industrialized societies, a reduction in the price of wheat flour would result in its almost universal use by food companies as well as adding to availability for animal feed.
“Certainly.” Streyn cleared his throat, reflecting on his own involvement. “As we gradually phased out of gravitational dilation during our arrival, initial scans of the populations indicated that strong cultural influences, even in high population density areas, had prevented the full adoption of wheat products, to the extent that it would limit the optimal fat marbling in those populations during harvest. Since the completion of our phase travel would encompass many years on Earth, we ran the Algorithm with the new information and determined that in post industrialized societies, a reduction in the price of wheat flour would result in its almost universal use by food companies as well as adding to availability for animal feed.
“They would reformulate wheat flour into a large variety of foods tuned specifically to the flavors humans crave most, to which they are most likely to develop addictions. This phenomenon would be strong enough to break the cultural bonds with traditional food choices and render these new products a universally-used commodity among diverse cultures in high-population areas. The best way to reduce its price would be to increase its yield. So the Algorithm’s intent was primarily to break culturally-guided food habits by decreasing price by increasing yield. It would serve as a pre-harvest fattening program.
“To that end, in August of 1950, Earth time, I took a team in to begin this project. Since we wanted Kylamity Base anyway as a safe haven for terrestrial Provenger operations, we took corvettes of the First Brigade – my cousin, Ryolf, is their commander – and established the base on the North American continent in the mountains of what is called the State of Idaho. Great hunting up there, by the way.
“To that end, in August of 1950, Earth time, I took a team in to begin this project. Since we wanted Kylamity Base anyway as a safe haven for terrestrial Provenger operations, we took corvettes of the First Brigade – my cousin, Ryolf, is their commander – and established the base on the North American continent in the mountains of what is called the State of Idaho. Great hunting up there, by the way.
“From that location, I established Class II contact with scientists Orville Vogel in Pullman, Washington, and Norman Borlaug in Mexico City, Mexico, as selected by the Algorithm. Both were working on methods to advance the productivity of wheat agriculture and appeared to be on the correct path for our needs. Over the next fifteen years, we fed them information that guided development of the strains of wheat we needed to make it a universally, economically desirable product. Vogel contributed the dwarf wheat aspect while Borlaug hybridized Vogel’s contribution with his work on the problems farmers were having growing wheat in tropical and sub-tropical environments. You know, drought and diseases.”
“Stop!” Synster interrupted. “That’s it. Tropical and sub-tropical environments! The location of most developing countries on Earth. If the Algorithm had suggested some scientist working in North America, then the strains we prompted them to develop would have been adapted only to temperate climactic environments, theoretically.”
“Stop!” Synster interrupted. “That’s it. Tropical and sub-tropical environments! The location of most developing countries on Earth. If the Algorithm had suggested some scientist working in North America, then the strains we prompted them to develop would have been adapted only to temperate climactic environments, theoretically.”
Streyn interjected, “Borlaug was working in North America when he was identified by the Algorithm. He moved to Mexico later, before we got to him. I don’t know why the Algorithm didn’t see that.”
“The only answer would be that the Algorithm was hampered by its information collection during the phase cycle, so it was not as complete as it would have been otherwise. We were making choices and decisions on old information and acting on it at a much later date. Elements had changed between the data collection and your deployment. There were too many confounding variables. We should have run the Algorithm again immediately before we made contact with Borlaug and Vogel, for the best outcome.
“The only answer would be that the Algorithm was hampered by its information collection during the phase cycle, so it was not as complete as it would have been otherwise. We were making choices and decisions on old information and acting on it at a much later date. Elements had changed between the data collection and your deployment. There were too many confounding variables. We should have run the Algorithm again immediately before we made contact with Borlaug and Vogel, for the best outcome.
“So with the development of highly-productive tropical and sub-tropical adapted wheat, we inadvertently saved the project. If I recall correctly,” Synster continued, “so that Borlaug could increase the rate at which he could crossbreed, you suggested he get two crops per year by growing one in northern Mexico then another in the more tropical south. This led to a sub-tropical adapted wheat. Isn’t it great how things always seem to work out right?” Synster mused.
“Yes. You know, he didn’t initially want to try the double crop per year cycle. He thought that the wheat grain needed more time to rest before it could germinate. Remember how I convinced him?” Streyn asked.
“Yes. You know, he didn’t initially want to try the double crop per year cycle. He thought that the wheat grain needed more time to rest before it could germinate. Remember how I convinced him?” Streyn asked.
“Yes, that was an amusing story.”
“That was an exciting time.” Streyn missed it.
“That was an exciting time.” Streyn missed it.
“You told me just last week.”
“Yes,” Streyn realized, feeling a little silly. “For me the incident was years ago.”
“Yes,” Streyn realized, feeling a little silly. “For me the incident was years ago.”
“We’ll have to record our observations of the Algorithm’s quirks and assure there are notifications for future runs.” Synster paused. “So now we have massive populations in developing countries that would have otherwise yielded little. Now one out of every three at harvest age has the correct body mass index for our quotas. And, for the most part, they haven’t been medicated yet. I’ve reviewed some of the information generated by Earth media. You know what they’re attributing the weight gain to in third world regions?”
“With meat and fat being the most expensive foods available, please don’t say meat and fat.” Streyn winced.
“With meat and fat being the most expensive foods available, please don’t say meat and fat.” Streyn winced.
“Meat and fat!” parroted Synster. “It’s amazing. Borlaug made wheat cheap and easy for them to grow. They even called it the ‘Green Revolution’. They lauded him for saving millions, if not billions, of lives. They gave him the Nobel Peace Prize for providing the world with grain. And when those millions of people augment their traditional diets with flour, what do they think is making them obese? The two major groups that don’t cause obesity, meat and fat!” laughed Synster.
“You know,” Streyn suggested. “I’ve had my concerns about these humans being too clever, but I don’t think I have much to worry about.”
“You know,” Streyn suggested. “I’ve had my concerns about these humans being too clever, but I don’t think I have much to worry about.”
“We shouldn’t let those in the third world live too much longer, should we, Streyn?” Synster grinned at him. “Otherwise, all the profit will go to Earth’s drug companies and not to us! We’ll have to triple our efforts in these affected nations.”
“Already working on it,” Streyn assured.
“Already working on it,” Streyn assured.
BOOK: Primal Estate: The Candidate Species
3.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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