Lyndon waited on the crimson leather couch of Senator Hawthorne's trophy room, staring back at a mounted springbok. There were a half-dozen members of the antelope family on the Senator's wall, but it was the gaze of the springbok that unnerved him. There were more dangerous denizens of the den - the standing grizzly, for one - but the springbok had been so precisely recreated that it looked ready to burst from the wall; only the hollow of its eyes suggested lifelessness.
Senator Hawthorne could be heard in the next room, verbally eviscerating another visitor. The mid-term elections had been good for Senator Hawthorne's party. The best Senator Hawthorne was able to finagle was a swing vote within the Committee of Science. In a different year, that would have been a consolation prize; a 15% budget cut made this year particularly competitive. Like everything else, this gift turned sour in Hawthorne's view; with the major lobbies locked in, Hawthorne had a parade of tin cups knocking on his door, and the only joy he got was telling them 'no' in the most humiliating way possible.
Lyndon had not met Dr McKenzie, but he knew of her work: very exciting stuff that was geared toward leukemia research. Her sobs were already audible. Her meeting was not going well, and then he would attempt to follow with DNA research on endangered species, utilizing stem cells - the non-controversial kind, but only to those who paid attention to such things. Lyndon was doomed.
The door swung open; Dr McKenzie was left to compose herself while the senator stepped forward to face his next victim. Lyndon stood up, guarded; he towered over the senator. The two had a moment to study each other while the senator's assistant led Dr McKenzie away. Once the room had quieted down, a smile seeped onto the senator's face. "Please, be seated. How can I help you?"
Lyndon focused on the horns behind the senator's ears. "Did you catch that one?"
Hawthorne followed Lyndon's gaze to the 18-point buck. "That's a good eye you got there. I can't claim that one - I'm proud to say my son got that one. But his wife can't find a spot on her walls for it. Can you believe that?"
"Some people," Lyndon replied. "What about that elephant?"
"That photo was from a trip to Myanmar - confiscated from some poachers," he said, with a wink. "But that bear in the corner? Got her four winters ago, up in Alaska. That changed me. Discovered something in me that day... So, what do you want?"
"Did your assistants explain what my team does?" Before the senator could embarrass himself, Lyndon continued, "Because some folks just focus on the controversies that make it easy to say no. Ours is 'stem cell', although I swear to you now, it's not foetuses or even people! But we are geneticists, we are doing reconstructive DNA research-"
"So you're playing God!"
"No... Unless you call a dog breeder playing God. Or a horse breeder, or cattle breeder. We are using the tools of science to do what's been done for thousands of years. Perhaps even undo mistakes mankind has done. Tell me, senator, are you familiar with a creature known as a 'mastadon'?"
"Wooly mammoth? Yeah!"
"You know Russians are trying to bring them back? It sounds crazy, sounds like science fiction, but me and the guys on my team, we know that this kind of work is inevitable. Genetics is the new race to the moon, senator."
Hawthorne was sitting down now, listening intently. Lyndon had no intention of losing that momentum. "Now you don't have to tell me, senator- but ask yourself, how many of your constituents haven't been able to develop their land, their businesses, because they were encroaching on some endangered species habitat? Now what would you say to making the term 'endangered species' obsolete? What kind of resources would open up if protected species didn't need protecting anymore?"
"And the animal lovers still get their animals!"
"It's a win-win! We're not playing God, senator. We're trying to fix mankind's mistakes."
Hawthorne began rubbing his chin. "You have some interesting ideas. But is the government really supposed to be in this business?"
"Sir, the Russians are in the mastadon business. The Chinese are messing with lion/tiger mixes. The pace of this science is not slowing down, only our nation's ability to retain the lead."
"You make a good argument, son." Hawthorne poured him a drink. "But you can't spend government money on invisible things."
"Well, what do you want? We're restoring the bald eagle, and bringing back the passenger pigeon! What do you want, dinosaurs?" Lyndon downed his drink.
The senator paused in consideration. "Y'know, I wonder what it'd be like to bag a triceratops."
inspired by Discover magazine article, "Science: Sequestered and Shut Down"
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