Accidental Creatures by Anne Harris Page A

Martin had spent the better part of the week preparing for this visit. He had probably also rid the lab of anything he really wanted to see.
    “The biopolymer being produced in test vats shows some remarkable properties,” said Martin. “Look at these electron holomicrographs.” He walked to the holomicroscope. In its viewing platform rested a shallow pan containing a vibrant blue strip of biopoly. He fiddled with the dials of the scope until a three-dimensional holographic schema of the biopoly’s cellular matrix appeared in the air; vivid green, yellow and blue shapes representing mitochondria, endoplasmic reticulum and secretory granules.
    “It’s an aromatic amino acid with a fullerian side group — a bucky ball with trapped silver ions,” said Martin enthusiastically. “It’s extremely versatile and has a high rate of synthesis.”
    “What?”
    “It grows fast,” said Slatermeyer.
    Was that all? Graham rolled his eyes and shook his head.
    “And that’s not all,” interjected Greenfield, “Because of the trapped silver ions, it conducts electricity very efficiently, making it quite suitable for a range of applications where other biopolys have been ruled out.”
    Hector walked over to the biostat cabinet and took out a tray. “Here, feel it,” he lifted out a handful of the stuff and held it out to him.
    Gingerly, reluctantly, Graham took the stuff in his hands. It was faintly warm, smelled yeasty and felt smooth, but what struck him most about the stuff was its color. A bright, deep blue that almost seemed to glow. It had a power of its own, that color. It was the color blood would be, if blood were blue, and there was something at once beautiful and repellant about it.
    Graham handed it back to Hector. “Well,” he said, clapping his hands together, “what say you show me the vats where this miracle material is being produced.”
    Hector glanced at his two assistants, and then back to Graham. “I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
    “Impossible? Nonsense, I want to see the vats now. All this lab business is very well, but you must admit, it’s a bit off goal for the project. Remember the project? It wasn’t to make new biopolys. It was to cut labor costs. Now take me to those vats.”
    “We can’t,” said Hector. “We’re in the middle of an isolation study. Any interference now would put the project back months.”
    “An isolation study? What for?”
    “To determine the long range impact on productivity.”
    Graham gritted his teeth. “When will the test be finished?” he asked. Martin hesitated. Graham could see him thinking it through before he answered, “By the end of the month.”
    “The end of the month. And you’re absolutely sure it’s necessary.”
    “Oh yes, if we’re going to provide you with any figures at all concerning long term production levels.”
    Graham nodded. That was exactly the data Martin’s report had lacked. He didn’t trust him, didn’t believe him, but to interfere directly with Martin’s research at this stage would only antagonize him. He didn’t want Martin going to Anna, telling her that he, Nathan Graham, wouldn’t let him do his job. Especially since he had worked so hard to rid himself of his reputation as a heavy operator, a legacy from his production days.
    “Very well Dr. Martin.” Graham glanced at his watch. “I’d like to discuss the project with you in further detail, but I have a dinner appointment at the club this evening. Perhaps we can do lunch, tomorrow?”
    Intense and prolonged attention might cause Martin to disclose whatever it was he was hiding, just to get Graham off his back.
    “Lunch? Um, sure.”
    oOo
    Hector threw himself into the back of his maglev and sank into the soft, butter colored vathide cushions which ringed the ovoid riding parlor. He activated the navigation system, and it showed him a holographic list of frequent destinations. He closed the list and called up an area map, keying in the route to his