EXCLUSIVE EITHER/OR

 

ROWLAND E. BURNS

 

Good things come in small packages —but so do bad things!

 

“You Mr. Levine?” the youth at the door asked.

“I’m Dr. Levine… Dr. Saul Levine.”

The visitor glanced down at a small package he held. “I guess this is for you, then. You expecting some slides from photolab?”

“Yes! Yes, of course I am. Give them to me. The press conference is barely twenty minutes away.”

“So take them, Mr. Levine,” the boy said as he shoved the package toward the older man. He slammed the door a bit too hard on the way out.

Levine hardly noticed. The scientific community was held in little respect by most young people and he had become accustomed to the fact. Besides, the boy had long hair which marked him as more conservative than most. It was the skinheads that caused almost all of the trouble.

The researcher snapped on a small high-intensity desk lamp and began candling the slides. Most of the details checked with his memory on each of the twelve, and the only error, that he found was a missing arrow on number eleven.

Levine thanked the artists’ aloud, thanks that would never be heard since the room was empty except for himself. There would have been no time for corrections since only seven minutes remained before the press conference.

Levine reboxed the slides, took off his lab coat, and slipped into a sports jacket which he had carefully chosen for the occasion. A glance in the mirror told him that he could be reasonably satisfied with his appearance, satisfied except for his totally bald head. At times he had been mistaken for an elder skinhead.

The official publication of his work… the lab’s work… was due to appear in Nature the following day. There would be hell to pay with the editors for this premature press conference, but with the magnitude of the discovery and his reputation there was precious little that they could do about it.

Levine detoured to give his slides to the projectionist and then stepped onto the stage at 10:03, a time that he considered optimal. He decided that the audience looked bad. Aside from his staff and coworkers there seemed to be few mature reporters; the bulk of the audience was composed of skinheads. Apparently most of the media had underestimated the importance of the announcement and had assigned junior reporters.

Before starting his speech, the scientist carefully cleared his throat out of range of the microphone. It was impossible to tell if there were any women in the audience what with the shaved heads and unisex clothing. He decided to drop the traditional speech opening of “Ladies and gentlemen…”

“Thank you for coming” Leyine began. “Today I shall announce a discovery of major importance that will have a profound influence on the future of the human race.” The audience sat unmoved.

“Since this discovery is in the field of genetic engineering, it would be well for us to review a few of the discoveries of the last few years as background material.”

“Basic understanding has progressed very rapidly in the last decade, though practical fallout has lagged. Perhaps one of the most spectacular achievements has been the elimination of mongolisin and leukemia, as a pair, for all infants whose mothers have undergone treatment.”

“That was one of yours, wasn’t it, Doc?” a skinhead with a feminine voice shouted.

“I led the research activity, but it was a product of the University laboratories” he answered. “But to proceed with the matter at hand, our assignment this time was of quite a different nature. The University was contracted to determine whether or not it is possible to breed only human beings which are incapable of harming other human beings!”

That hit the audience, especially the skinheads. Absolute pacifism was one of their tenets, as it had been with their predecessors, the Hippies. The shock was heightened by the fact that the research had been done in absolute secrecy.

“You mean there ain’t gonna be no more wars, ever?” one shouted.

“Hear me out,” Levine replied while wondering how someone with such a total lack of grammar could possibly claim to be a reporter.

“Don’t give us that crap, Doc. Did you make it or didn’t you?” It was the girl again.

“Young lady, my associates and I have spent the last seven years of our lives on this project. ”If my rate of presentation doesn’t suit you, please leave. I can stand the loss.“, The audience quieted, apparently waiting for him to continue.

“Bob, if i can have the first slide,” he whispered into the auxiliary microphone.

An idealized view of human genetic material appeared on the screen. Levine used the first few slides to explain the “association centers” concept which had first been proposed by Greyhan in 1978, specifically Calling attention to the red box which accounted for the pair of diseases that he had mentioned earlier.

“I am sure that most of you are aware of the widely held theory that human beings are, genetically, a collection of viruses. All our characteristics stem from the addition of one or more virus to the genetic pool. When Slater first proposed this theory it was met with almost universal ridicule; since that time it has been almost absolutely established that every mutation is the result of a viral addition.

“One of the direct results of Slater’s… uh… theory is that any genetic manipulation will result in at least two modifications of the test subject. Of course 2, 4, 16, et cetera, modifications are also possible. Very often the second modification is quite undesirable.

“Thus, our problem was at least twofold. The first problem was to determine the center which is associated with hostility and the second task was to determine the other change—or changes—which would occur in humans if hostility were to be removed.”

“If you can stop war, what else counts?” came the shout.

“Hostility is a very basic drive; it served to provide food in earlier days. We had no idea what else might result,“ Levine answered.

“But did you do it?” the same heckler persisted.

“If there is another outburst of that sort, I will terminate this conference!“ Levine glared at him.

In the ensuing silence Levine launched into the details of the isolation of the association center that accompanied hostility. He argued, briefly, the logic of how whole segments of the molecule had been eliminated from contention and outlined the computer calculations which had occupied several hundred hours of computer time. A new slide appeared on the screen, a brilliant red rectangle situated in the lower left-hand corner.

“There . . . there is the point of our quest,” the researcher almost shouted. “By standard manipulations it is now possible to produce humans who will never hurt one another.”

The room broke into chaos, chaos quieted only when one of Levine’s assistants started clicking the room lights on and off.

“Wait, wait. You’re forgetting the second half of the problem. We can eliminate war but we don’t want to… the price is too high… it would mean extermination of the species!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” It was the loud girl again.

“What it means is that one of your favorite cliches is, genetically, impossible.” 

“What cliche?”

Levine almost whispered.

“Make love, not war.”