Two Solutions for Splicing [sci-fi short] [Draft 4] Thread - Writer's Club

"Here you are, sirs," the male waiter said pleasantly, carrying a tray of three drinks.

The ale went to Dr. Shultz, a scientist of American origin; he was strongly opinionated and focused during the work day. He could usually be found rambling while hunched over magnified cells. Dr. Livingston drank a martini that smelled of junipers; he said that he found the drink relaxing, but if any of us needed to be relaxed, it wasn't Livingston. I, having quite distaste for alcohol, received a full glass of iced tea. Its caffeine had long since been enough to stimulate me, but the flavor refreshed the memories of my youth. And thus we sat around our booth, each with our own peculiarities, and each with our own drink best suited to us.

"Texas two card hold'em to start it off," Shultz said.

"Ante in." I tossed a ceramic chip to the table's center.

At first it was talk of the daily sort. "How's that martini doing for you Livingston?" "Some nice weather we've been having." and so on. Our conversation became more involved at about the same rate that I acquired chips, and as usual, this was fairly quickly.

The waiter returned with a fresh glass of iced tea, slightly displaced from the original one's position. The glass was on top of a sort of informal coaster, a manila folder marked with many years' stains from its use. The folder had at one point been labeled "Unfinished Business" in a humorous tone, but now that label was too worn to read. The folder itself contained work that I planned to continue through the weekend. But now it was nothing more than memorabilia of a once busier life.

"So, the spread of disease is getting worse you know." Shultz redundantly offered conversation. It was a conversation of our field-cellular research-but not of an area we were so familiar with that all debate would be in futility.

"It seems that the old parable is only partially true," I said. "Everything man touches isn't necessarily destroyed," I reclined into the chair with my cards firmly against my chest. "But every attempt of undoing one evil only results in three more in its absence."

"I wonder if it was such a smart move to begin with. All of this gene splicing nonsense gives me goose bumps." Shultz said before returning his face behind his emptying stein.

"Really, the practice is quite fascinating," Livingston said. "Take the best of man and enhance it. We've been doing it for millions of years. The surviving humans mate, and produce stronger and better offspring taking the best of both mother and father. It's evolution, it's brilliant. The difference between prehistoric time and now is that originally only the strongest survived, and now anyone can. Without faking evolution through genetic engineering, we will fail to remove the weakness of man and cease development. As more people are modifying their DNA, more people are being born with superior developmental capabilities. But because jungle rules' are no longer part of society, the engineering is necessary for humans to evolve at the rate that we would have."

"I disagree." I said. Livingston raised an eyebrow. "In the previous century, mankind had been fighting quite a few issues, Cancer, Alzheimer's, Ebola, and AIDS. Each one had its own set of problems. The plan of genetic altering was that with only a few changes, some of the worse diseases can be cured. One inoculation, one small fee. I'll agree that the removal of these diseases is beneficial for mankind, but over the years since the original use of genetic engineering, it has become a tool of vanity instead. Parents can choose skin tone, hair color, eyes, build, and mental capacity of their child. Once the child is born, it will have potential neither parent could have naturally given it. Sure, the parents will still influence personality." I said. My sarcasm was a little darker than usual. "Even though none of us will be dying of cancer, we are slowly loosing what makes us unique. With only a half century's progress we are far from the human species that we once were, already we have started to show signs of conformity. If society is to continue as we know it today, splicing must stop."

Shultz was quick to respond, even interrupting Livingston who had opened his mouth. "If conformity ever becomes a problem," he leaned forward to increase the probability of being heard, "society can always open up some sort of gene database. The world, even now, is absurdly diverse. All the government would need to do is issue DNA collection and-" Shultz was cut off by our glares.

Livingston set down the deck. "Sometimes your negligence worries me. While popular modifications are being implemented, resulting in conformity, just as many new variations are being developed to counter this effect."

"With every change we encounter dozens of errors that then need to be corrected. Clearly it is a cycle that can only fall apart eventually, and better now before we are too dependant on it. Our immunity systems are becoming similar, and with the more similarities, the more likely a new strain of a previously cured disease will eliminate mankind. Several cities in California have already been quarantined."

My turn to deal arrived without mention; I chose to change the rules. "One eyed jacks are wild."

We each managed our seven card hand and decided which to toss first. The game was not particularly difficult, so our focus wasn't entirely responsible for our silence. It was clear I struck a nerve bringing up the quarantine. Now that I thought of it, my decision to mention it had been a foul argumentative move. There was very little to strike out against; I brought more guns to a fight than needed. Not to mention the way my argument cut off the conversation.

Several hands of cards passed, my pile of chips decreased, and I received my third glass of tea. Shultz broke silence first. "Suppose all genetic engineering was stopped. Suppose we tried to individualize. It might stop the mutation of diseases, but even then, we still have the present ones to worry about. So, at best we can only stop with just as many diseases present as when we started." Shultz thought aloud. Livingston and I knew well enough to sit and wait for him to reach his conclusion before debating. "That's it. Isolation. The cities are allowing this to happen, they're maintaining hundreds of diseases and a thousand strains of each." Shultz's words became unintelligible, but only because of their decreasing volume.

With his fingers, Livingston extracted the last olive from the empty glass of his only martini of the night.

"As far as I can see, there are only two options. Either expand so there is enough variety to prohibit conformity, or completely end the research and pursue other solutions." Livingston plainly evaluated the issue; we felt no need to respond. Our poker game continued without further mention of the topic.

Copyright Andrew Yoder 2008

Edited by: Mclogenog

For some reason this story setup reminds me a little of Nathaniel Hawthornes "The Experiment of Dr. Heidegger". You story just lacks a hint of the truth, which may not be what the reader and characters experience. Overall, good impression, well written, but not conclusive with a very open-ended feel.

Thank you for the review. The paper was experimental for the sake of examining minimalistic setting description and developing characters through dialogue. In that respect, I think that this study was successful. As a short story on its own, it is a bit peculiar because there is no plot really, there is no conclusion. I'd like to think that it is like some of Mark Twains apparently random ranting short stories, but that is giving myself too much credit . All of this, of course, is justification for what needs improvement. Thank you again for your review, I'll try to implement your suggestions with the next draft.