“Fundamentalists, creationists. I know the scene,” Weiss said as he adjusted his hat.
“Those, of course. But also people with sophisticated academic backgrounds. They think we are creating monsters that will be set loose upon the land. They agree that our environment is in a sorry state, but they see science and technology as the culprits. To a certain extent they may be correct. However, they do not understand that the world has crossed the Rubicon. The die is cast. The answer to our problems is not to turn away from science. The answer lies in more science, but an intelligent, refined science.”
Bianco gave himself a gentle shove in the direction of Jasmine. Weiss followed.
“Eventually, we will begin projects that will benefit from micro-gee,” said Bianco. “But for now, the great advantage of this station is that it is not on Earth. No government controls us. We allay the fears of the ignorant by being in space, out of their sight. And it avoids their court battles.”
The Japanese were very polite and not nearly as secretive as Weiss had expected from the previous night’s abortive visit. Hisashi Oyamo forbade Weiss to film anything with his Minicam, but ordered a tech to take the reporter on a tour of the module. Weiss was free to ask any question that came to mind. His problem was that he didn’t know enough about genetic engineering to formulate an intelligent question. The main activity seemed to be the spinning, shaking, cooking, and freezing of thousands of vials of colored liquids. In English that was clipped and formal, the tech explained that the liquids contained different types of genetically engineered microbes.
“Are they color-coded?” asked Weiss.
“Ah yes,” said the tech with a toothy smile.
The second stop was ELM. Despite his space-sickness pad, Weiss felt a wave of nausea as soon as he passed through the hatchway. He first suspected the hideous color combination of pastel salmons and blah grays rather than the clean whites and yellows of Jasmine. Then he realized an additional reason for his disorientation: the equipment was placed higher on these walls to accommodate people of taller stature. The desktops of the workstations were higher, as well.
Weiss was not offered a tour of ELM. As Bianco and Chakra Ramsanjawi slowly drifted along the module’s aisle, Weiss was confined to a corner under the humorless eye of a male tech. Weiss tried to cajole him into a conversation, but received only guttural German in response.
“Right. And you don’t know English,” said Weiss.
The tech bared his teeth.
This lack of hospitality was at odds with the demeanor of Ramsanjawi, who seemed to engage Bianco in warm conversation. Even the distance could not conceal the look of satisfaction on Bianco’s face. He was obviously impressed by the work of the Europeans as he had not been with the Japanese. Maybe it was continental pride, thought Weiss.
The last stop was The Bakery. Weiss had managed only a quick glance into the dimly lit module the previous night before being shooed away by Freddy Aviles. Under the bright fluorescents, the interior was a blend of pastel yellows and blues. The scheme was far less disorienting than ELM’s sickening decor, and Weiss wondered whether Americans shared a genetic predilection for these colors.
Thora Skillen rushed forward to meet them as soon as they cleared the hatch. Her handshake reminded Weiss of a slab of dead mackerel and her manner was as sharply abrupt as her features. She informed Weiss that he had the run of the module, but he could not film or touch anything. Then she quickly ushered Bianco toward her office, as if bursting to fill his ear with news. Or gossip.
Weiss parked himself in the center of the module. A centrifuge whirred to a stop, its arms slowly coming into focus and folding down as if exhausted. A tangle of multicolored tendrils appeared on a computer monitor, the three-dimensional image rotating as a woman worked the keys. Weiss decided that, except for the color schemes and the heights of the workstations, seeing one orbital lab module was seeing them all. Whatever Thora Skillen had been so anxious to tell Bianco was probably far more interesting than watching adults play with colored water.