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Family Values Trilogy - Part I by Erik Olsen The sound of the forest was almost deafening. Alex led the way, machete in hand, lashing out at the creeping branches and long, swooping vines like a man obsessed, like some modern-day David Livingstone on crack cocaine. He hacked and hacked, sweat pouring from his brow, staining his shirt as he took small, deliberate steps to clear the way inch by inch. Behind him, a lovely woman followed, his business associate Laura, whose face held an expression of annoyance. "Fucking mosquitoes," she said, slapping her arms and neck. "Thank God we're getting good money for this." Above, high in the forest canopy, a bird screamed. "You think this is bad," Alex said in between vigorous blows. "You should have been here in the rainy season. There were clouds of them." "Yeah, well, this is bad enough for me. Next time, I'll stay home." Alex stopped cutting, wiped his brow with his sleeve, and turned around. A mosquito was perched on the tip of his nose, its belly swollen with blood, its body moving to the pulsing rhythms of its Alex's heart. Alex reached up and seized the bug, feeling it pop between his fingers. He smiled. "You're insane," Laura said. "I thought you were the adventuresome type. I figured this would be your type of gig, seeing as you've done K2 and all." "There weren't any blood-sucking bugs on K2. Unless you count a few of the lawyers that came along." Alex laughed, "At least you haven't lost your sense of humor." "No, just a lot of blood." Alex dropped the machete on the ground. He took a bottle of water from a canvas bag strapped around his waist, removed the top, and took a deep drink. He handed the bottle to Laura. "No thanks, I've got my own," she said, breaking out her bottle. "Is this where we're going to stop for lunch?" "Sure. As good a place as any." "No, I can think of a number of better places," she said. There was some harshness in her voice. Alex shrugged, picked up the machete and the two proceeded to cut away the jungle around them, creating a wide enough area to sit on the ground. They removed their small day packs and opened them, each removing a sandwich and a small box of crackers. The space where they sat was hot, extremely humid; breathing the air was like inhaling rich fumes from the beginning of time. The jungle was poised over them like an animal. A monkey howled. Alex bit into his sandwich. "How many samples do you think we've got so far?" Laura asked. "Don't know. Maybe a hundred or so." "I think we could go on for days. It's really amazing. Even after 8 years of studying some of this stuff, I can't believe how diverse life is." "Yep, every time I come down here, I spot a dozen new plants and animals that I've never seen before." "And bugs." "No shit. The bugs. If only I'd studied entomology, then I'd know what was new. Problem is, they all look the same to me. That's why we've got you." He smiled at her in a way that was either patronizing, condescending, or sexist. She was unsure which. "I must be one of the few women you know that likes bugs." "The only one. Although it looks like you're not into all bugs. Mosquitoes for example." "True. Beetles are my specialty." "What's so special about beetles?" "God has an inordinate fondness for them." "I see," said Alex, champing his sandwich. "Whatever that means." "It means there are lots of them. More species of beetles, in fact, than any other order. They are the most impressive organism on the planet in terms of diversification. If you shook one of these trees, you'd find the ground covered in them. There are probably three thousand species in one acre of forest here." "Yeah, well, I'm a flora and fauna guy. Beetles and bugs don't hold much interest for me." She smiled, and tried to make her words sound belittling, "And you call yourself a doctor." "A scientist. I'm a scientist. And as such, I reserve the right to NOT like certain areas of biology, or chemistry or physics or what have you. There are even a few entire fields I loathe." "Like what?" "Like epidemiology." "What's wrong with epidemiology?" "Nothing's wrong with it. It's just that I don't believe it should be considered a science." "Well then what is it?" "If you have to give it a name, I'd call it the fruitless attempt to measure the unmeasurable." Alex paused, took a long gulp of water and flicked another mosquito from his forearm. "Or perhaps gambling is a better word. Except that the stakes are a lot higher when you're playing with people's minds and the direction of social policy." "Oh, I see," Laura said. "See what?" Alex said, almost angrily, with the tone of a man who was not often scrutinized. "You're one of those." "What?" "One of those who believes that nothing in the world can be understood unless it can be quantified." "Damn right I am. In a fucked up world like ours, we have to depend on numbers. Numbers are truth. And where we don't have numbers available, the worse thing we can do is make them up." "Oh, please." "Face it, the world is being screwed up by people who go with their hearts instead of their heads. People who think of the world in terms of...unquantifiables." He spoke the word as if it were poison, something foul sucked out of a plant he was examining for the first time. "There is such a thing as beauty, though, isn't there?" "Beauty? Sure there is. The beauty of the perfect solution to a problem. The beauty of discovering something that no one else has seen or thought about. The beauty of…" "What about the beauty of color, of shape and form. Of purpose." "Sure." "Sure what?" "There's beauty in those things. I'm not a fucking troglodyte. Like I said. I'm a scientist. I see beauty in other ways. You're a scientist too. I'm surprised you don't know what I mean. Then again, you're a woman, so I see the conflict." Her first impulse was to look at him rudely, to make it clear that she was not going to be pushed around, which is why she took up the argument in the first place. She felt as though she hadn't been tough enough so far. When they first arrived, getting out of the Cessna six-seater, she complained about the heat and the humidity. And then three days ago when they entered the forest, she complained about the biting bugs. They were everywhere, all the time. She never had to deal with bugs like this in Berkeley. Still, despite the bugs, she had to admit that now she was getting used to the jungle; there was something familiar about it she hadn't noticed before. She felt it was time to show him that she could handle herself. There were other things that bothered her. First of all, she was too keenly aware of the difference in their ages. And their experience. She'd only been out of grad school for a year, while he'd been with the firm now for about eight years. He was well-regarded, considered a top-notch scientist and a savvy businessman. A Stanford MBA. In fact, someone back at the firm told her that he'd been promoted to Senior Associate Scientist faster than anyone in the firm's history. Maybe this wasn't saying much, as the firm had only been around for a decade. But no matter. She knew Alex Duncan was smart and respected in their professional field: Pharmacological Medicinal Survey, or PMS, which was a fancy (and, in her opinion, sometimes appropriate) way of saying that they went poking around in the rain forest for substances that might aid mankind. Well, OK, to find substances that might help the firm, Laxwell Biotech Group, LAXB on the NASDAQ. Their study was also part of a broader scientific analysis, sponsored by the International Nature Exploration Project Team (INEPT) to determine the value of the rainforest as a resource for all humanity. Should we cut down all the rainforests or preserve them? It was an odd question. What kind of monetary value could you place on the rain forest? What was it worth, exactly? After all, 10,000 square miles were disappearing every year to the slash-and-burn techniques of the developing nations. But the advanced nations, who had already cut down the majority of their forests, wanted to preserve the forests because they were, in the words of one eminent scientist who often consulted for the INEPT committee, "the earth's lungs, our lungs". The world's best scientists and economists pondered the value of the rain forest and came up with elaborate equations to determine its value. Some of the equations used data from the studies like the one Laura was on. Although she understood all the math, Laura was something of an idealist. She wanted to benefit mankind. Alex was less heroic, he was after profit, increasing the value of his stock options. Whatever. All she knew was that this was her first real job out of grad school, her first trip to the South American rainforest. Which was why she wanted so much to prove herself to Alex. Which was why she needed him to know that she was strong. They sat for a moment in the small, cleared area, sweat dripped down their faces and backs. A mosquito hummed. "Let's move on, shall we?" "Fine by me," Alex said. Laura wanted to be alone for a moment, and so she paused and took a deep swig from her bottle. Alex picked up his machete and walked on, hacking his way through with the machete. She waited until the jungle closed around behind him and he was nearly out of sight. Alone, in the closed space, she then looked around, absorbing the symphony of green that surrounded her. The broad-trunked baobob trees that sunk into the moist ground, the creeping lianas that swirled up the trees like protruding veins, and the flowers that seemed to explode with color on their thin, bending stems. Hardy split-leaf philodendron, marantas, bromeliads, and orchids. Such an array of morphologies, all so appealing to the eye. And not just to the human eye; in fact, they were not designed for the human eye at all. These colors and shapes were meant to appeal to the eyes of insects, birds, monkeys. Color and shape. Diversity. There had to be such a thing as universal beauty, she thought. Qualities that appealed to all organisms no matter how intelligent. Qualities that can't be measured. What compelled an insect to alight upon a brilliant display of petals was more than just an urgent need for food. More than just a grouping of photoreceptors in the eye that could distinguish certain wavelengths of light. There was something else there, something approaching…appreciation. What compelled a bug or a bird to seek out color? Why was color so pleasing? And smell? And taste? She had to admit, it frustrated her intelligence to think about the - how did Alex put it? - The Unquantifiables. The scientist in her found these notions of beauty meaningless. There was no formula to employ, no regression analysis to run through a computer. She gazed up a tree at one of the flowers, a bright red epiphyte known as Heliconia Caribaea. It was a magnificent flower, with long red petals and a golden stamen. Strange. From this angle one of the petals looked like a knife dripping with blood. On the broad leaf of a Ti Plant, ordyline terminalis, she noticed a beautiful black beetle, like a perfectly symmetrical chip of obsidian. A jewel. A smile so faint it would not have been visible to anyone except someone who knew her well crept across her lips. How funny that I am having this conversation here, she thought. I studied for six years to come to a place like this, and now that I am here, I am having the most sophomoric of debates with my boss. How strange life is. How difficult to measure and make. To plan and figure and know for sure what comes next. What one should do. What it all means. She checked the bag of specimens that hung around her neck by a plastic strap. It was nearly full of the dozens of tiny plastic bags, each carefully labeled and each containing a single species of beetle she had collected. The specimens, taken to a lab where they would be ground up, their chemical properties broken down, tested and analyzed by scientists and technicians. "Ouch, fuck!" came the scream from a distance off. Alex's voice. She picked up her machete and ran through the jungle to reach him. The way was narrow and filled with creeping vines and plants that seemed to reach out, as if trying to stop her. But stop her from doing what? "Alex, what happened? Are you ok?" she called. She found him a moment later lying on the ground. There were vines around his feet and broad fern fronds spread over his body. His face was white and he was breathing heavily. His machete lay on the ground at his side. "I…I don't know. I don't know what it was. Something bit me, or scratched me. I don't know what. I feel dizzy. Everything is numb." "What was it, Alex? A spider? A scorpion?" "I don't know. I just felt a sting. On my neck and then on my leg. It was so quick. It hurt and then my muscles just gave way. I…I can't move. I'm paralyzed." His breathing became more shallow, so that each breath was a struggle. She kneeled next to him and lifted his head on her knee. His eyes were filled with fear. "I'm dying," he said. "No Alex, no. There is no way you are dying. It's just some kind of paralysis venom. I'll find out what it was and we'll get you help. It's going to be ok." She took her bottle of water and quickly removed the cap, spilling much of it on the ground, which seemed to drink it greedily. "Here. Drink this," she said, placing the bottle to his lips. "No. I'm going to die. I can feel it. I can't move anything. I can feel it moving through me. In my veins. My heart is going to stop. I…" he looked at her, and she noticed that his lips were turning blue. "Drink," she ordered, and poured some water into his mouth. He tried feebly to lift his head, but was clearly unable to do so. His skin was turning pale, as if someone had pulled a plug somewhere deep inside him and the blood was now spilling out. Glug glug glug. "Shit," he said. "Shit." His body convulsed and his teeth were bared. Tears streamed through his sideburns. "No!" Laura screamed, trying to pour more water into his mouth. It rushed over his cheeks, washing the tears down into the soil. He bared his teeth again and let out an awful groan, deep and guttural, filled with the heavy fluids that his body was secreting to fight off the poison. He looked into Laura's eyes and coughed, and then his heart stopped beating and he closed his eyes. Laura let the bottle fall so that the dark rich earth of the jungle drank the final contents of the container. She started to cry. There was an opening in the forest canopy above through which the sun shined down on her. The air was so heavy; it was thick like blood. There was no knowing exactly how long she sat there, but she did notice when she looked up again, that the sun had crawled away and no longer fell hard upon her. She had stopped crying, but was unsure when, exactly, that she finally realized it was time to go. She was sure now. She stood and gathered her things and picked up her machete. It was a long way out, but she followed the path they had hacked, and was glad that the going was much easier than coming in. In fact, as soon as she got back to the jeep, and started to drive back along the road of red mud, she had a strange feeling that the jungle had basically let her go. Copyright 2000 |