Devil’s Harvest by Andrew Brown Read Free Book Online

Gabriel doubted that he would follow a word. He was dreading the introduction. He looked at the floor and took a slow breath. As the double doors at the top were closed, the pro-vice-chancellor was on his feet, beaming with self-congratulatory warmth, welcoming the gathered ‘folk’ to another ‘marvellous’ event. He managed to get Gabriel’s title correct and pronounced his surname without incident. But the description of the lecture topic was a mangled piece of marketing melodrama.
    ‘Associate Professor Cockburn will be giving us a taste of the cutting-edge research that is about to explode onto the world stage. Our understanding of evolution, of the very beginning of life, will never be the same again. We’re unlocking the greatest mystery of life on earth’ – Gabriel wasn’t sure where the inclusive pronoun came from – ‘and exploring the fundamental questions concerning life’s origins and the threats to our continued existence.’
    The lecture was actually titled ‘Spontaneous leaf albedo increase and the potential significance for bioengineering’. In truth, bioengineering was the least of Gabriel’s interest in the new strain of
Arabidopsis
, but the lecture was meant to cater to populist appeal, at the insistence of the pro-vice-chancellor. Gabriel was tempted to delve immediately into the latest results his research team had obtained from map-based cloning to isolate the mutation on nucleotide 2317 on chromosome V of the altered phenotype
irm2
. It would be like watching a Labrador shake the mud from its body, casting the dirt off to reveal the luxury of its coat beneath. But those few who understood the work, who appreciated the brilliance of the posited suggestion and the closeness of the race with the infernal Chinese, they were absent from the lecture, unwilling to subject themselves to its required lay-hype. Gabriel was deserted, alone before the steep-rising audience of his underlings. The lecture was obligatory for the postgraduates, but many of the undergrads had also sought to ingratiate themselves by attending, though already he noticed their lids drooping as their thoughts prepared to stray. Even the hammy introduction couldn’t stave off their impending boredom.
    There was a polite smattering of applause as Gabriel stepped up, thanked the pro-vice-chancellor and smoothed his notes out on the lectern before him. He looked up into the lecture hall and launched off, like an Olympic diver from the high board, all caution cast aside.
    ‘Global warming may constitute the greatest threat to life on the planet as we know it,’ he opened dramatically. ‘The challenge for us is that it cannot be combatted by one nation alone: its solution lies in the ability of disparate peoples, enemies perhaps, to unify and place their more immediate interests to one side. This makes the panacea more a political undertaking than anything else. But if we’re unable to unite, it seems increasingly likely that we will perish.’
    It was the obligatory politically correct opening, belying the competitiveness of his research. He followed up with the explanation of the two potential solutions to climate change: the reduction in CO 2 emissions and the reflection of radiation from the sun back out of the atmosphere.
    ‘The reduction in emissions is primarily the political issue,’ he explained, ‘while the reflection of radiation beyond the atmosphere is something that we, as scientists, are required to address …’
    Gabriel hesitated for a moment, embarrassed to be pitching his introduction at such a juvenile level. The pro-vice-chancellor was beaming and nodding as if in time to some unheard rhythm.
    Gabriel ploughed ahead: ‘The world has been presented with some absurd propositions. The Americans debated the idea of monstrous atmospheric umbrellas to shield the world from the sun’s rays. Japan proposed laying out fields, not with crops, but with mirrors to return heat back into space.’
    A pleasing