• Episode 6
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Editor’s Note: We are pleased to present the final story in our Young Authors series, a collection of six pieces of short fiction written by pairs of American eighth-graders as part of a special English class devoted to laboratory literature. You can read all about this interesting project in the accompanying Editorial. Use the navigation bars at the top left to catch up with other stories in this series.

Early in the next decade, a set of crewed flights will test and prove the systems required for exploration beyond low Earth orbit. And by 2025, we expect new spacecraft designed for long journeys to allow us to begin the first-ever crewed missions beyond the Moon into deep space. So we’ll start — we’ll start by sending astronauts to an asteroid for the first time in history.  By the mid-2030s, I believe we can send humans to orbit Mars and return them safely to Earth. And a landing on Mars will follow. And I expect to be around to see it. 

Barack Obama, April 15, 2010

August 19, 2034

In the future, Earth will no longer be habitable, and we will have to go live on Mars. The problem is, we do not know how to get there. My name is Dmitri. I am by blood Russian. My family moved to the States with me, when there was political unrest in the government. During school and college, I was always fascinated with space, and my dream job was to be an astronaut.  

When I heard that SpaceX had job opportunities, I applied. When I got to the interview, they asked where I went to college, which was MIT. I studied aerospace there. They asked what job I was applying for, and I said aerospace engineer/technician and astronaut. They accepted the application, and then I went out to celebrate. While I was celebrating, I met a man who said: “You want a drink?” 

“I’ll just take water,” I replied.

“My name is Darius, and I work at SpaceX.” 

“No way!” I said. “I just got a job at SpaceX.”

“What are the chances of that? What’s your position going to be?”

“Engineer and astronaut. How about you?”

“I’m a pilot, so it looks like we might end up going on a mission sometime in the near future.”

August 25, 2034

My first day on the job was great. One of the employees showed me to my office, which was rather spacious. When I got settled in, my team and I were given our first assignment, which was finding a strong enough source of fuel to get a rocket to Mars. At first, I thought that solar panels could work. I pitched it to my team, and they agreed with me. We then put a solar-powered rocket through a simulation from Earth to Mars and back. After we were through with the simulation, we received good news and bad news. The good news was that the solar panels would work, but it would take way, way, way too long to charge up the battery to have enough energy to get us to Mars and back. After that, my team and I called it a day, so we could continue our search tomorrow.                                                                          

August 26, 2034

While I was sleeping, an idea came into my head. What would happen if we used a nuclear reactor for an ion thruster? The next morning, I ran straight to my team and presented my idea to them. They liked it, so then we put it through a simulation. Not only did the nuclear thruster have enough to get there and back, but it had a lot extra. My first assignment was successful, and I was looking forward to going on my first mission. 

August 27, 2034

When I got to work, I went straight to training for my upcoming mission. There I met the crew, and it turns out that Darius is going to pilot our rockets. 

“Long time no see,” he said.

The training was grueling and long. The hardest part for me was definitely the RCS trainer, where we had to control a rocket using simulated small propellant. During the next month or more, I was going to be training hard for my first mission, which is set for some time in October.

September 28, 2034 – 13:86 GMT

World War III just started. China declared war on the U.S. because it wanted oil from America. Russia quickly followed China, then the EU declared war on Russia, and now Europe and Asia are a wild mess. The rocket launch will still be taking place though and is scheduled for 3 days from today.

October 1, 2034 – 15:35 GMT

It was time to get ready for lift-off. We got into our space suits, and then we entered the rocket. I had only done simulations, so I had never actually been in an actual rocket ship. My heart was racing with excitement and anticipation about the long journey ahead of us.  

“You ready yet?” yelled Darius. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied nervously, knowing that this could go really well or really bad. Darius was going to pilot the ship, which was heading straight toward Mars. Only ten months until we get to the red planet. I noticed that they had already brought on my belongings including an iPod with all my favorite songs to keep me entertained on the journey. I also saw the photos of me and my Mom and one of my best friend. The first step was getting our ship to orbit Earth.

12:00 GMT

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 LIFTOFF. We started the two-minute long burn until we separate the first stage. The rocket was shaking like crazy, which made the ride a bit uncomfortable, but it didn’t take too long. I felt a hint of nausea, but all of the simulations prepared me for the rocky start, so it quickly went away. We then make another burn, to get to the final orbit. Here we wait for about 8 days. 

October 25, 2034

The week passed by as we got to enjoy the beautiful planet from high up, being able to see how the oceans spread far below us. After a long, long week of orbiting Earth, we finally had enough speed to head towards Mars. We made our last burn to get out of the Earth’s orbit, and then we started our journey. Next came the most boring stage, which was getting through the 54.6 million kilometers of empty nothingness between us and Mars. The good thing though was that I was able to do things that I usually don’t have time to do. I was able to learn a card trick I never got around to learning, I started to learn German, and I was able to read. Thanks to all this stuff, I wasn’t bored.

December 31, 2034

As we were celebrating the New Year, we heard an explosion. We looked outside and saw that one of our solar panels had broken. Luckily SpaceX had supplied us with extras, and since I was the engineer, I had to go outside and repair the panel. I had practiced for this situation before. I reviewed everything that I learned from training, and then I went out. The view was absolutely humbling. I was just a tiny speck floating in nothingness. There were stars and other planets in the far distance. I never felt so big and small at the same time.  The fix was easy and luckily it went smoothly. I just had to take off the old solar panel, and put on the new one. We were lucky this time though. So much can go wrong in situations like this and we were so far away from anyone else. One bad move and we would be lost forever. 

August 5, 2035

300 days later, and we saw Mars. Finally! The planet was so different than Earth. We started the burn to get to orbit around the red planet. It was more beautiful than what I expected. It was a sphere with an orange-red color. We saw some brown clouds that we assumed were dust storms, and realized how unsafe we would be out there. I couldn’t help smiling as I thought about all of the alien stories I had heard growing up. The little boy in me glanced around wondering if we would find something. The scientist in me knew how ridiculous this sounded and was excited to collect rock samples. I could not believe how lucky I was to get to be here, to see another planet so close. We then stayed in orbit for about a week before the lander separated from the capsule. I turned on the “Space Odyssey” theme song and started laughing with Darius. The moment felt beyond real. 

August 12, 2035 – 10:37 GMT

We decided that we were ready to enter the lander. We had to wait a couple of hours before we reached the appropriate spot to land.

13:54 GMT

The separation was successful, but now there is no turning back. The lander, which was named the Owl, was taking us down to the Red Planet. The burn that caused us to de-orbit began, and we started our descent. We heard a quiet bang, which we all have heard before. We entered the Mars atmosphere at the speed of sound.  Darius and I were excited. We started the landing phase, which kicked off by slowing down enough to not overheat the lander and then release the shield. We started the burn to slow us down, and we successfully landed. I was glad that Darius was in charge of flying because he not only moved the ship slowly, but he also was confident about what he was doing. 

Sol 1

I took my first step onto the sandy planet. I still could not believe how far away I was from home and how amazing this was. My shoes sunk in a little as the sand was disturbed by something other than wind for the first time. We started by exploring the surrounding lands, and it reminded me of the deserts back on Earth. We collected a bunch of samples from the surface and put them into a container on board the lander. I remembered going to the beach when I was younger and collecting seashells. This was so much more intense and cool. We sent the home base on Earth a signal to tell them that we had successfully collected samples. Then we waited 14 minutes for the signal to get there, and for them to reply back. We then went exploring for anything that could help us in our goal to live on Mars. We found this cave, which we then decided to explore. Inside, we found vegetation which was an amazing discovery. 

“I thought that plants were not able to grow here,” I said.

“Turns out that we were all wrong about that,” Darius said with a grin, “We should probably get some samples to take back with us.”

“So we could examine them and run some tests?” I asked.

“Exactly,” Darius replied. We grabbed some of the plants and took a closer look at them. They were not like any plant we’d ever seen on Earth. The stem was just green and basic, but the leaves were a dark green, and they twisted in weird ways around the stem. They were also tiny purple flowers at the plant’s tip. I did not want to return to the rocket because there was probably so much more to explore, but it started to get dark and cold, so we had to go back.

Sol 2

When I woke up, the first thing I wanted to do was to contact SpaceX and tell them about our successes. We tried connecting, but there was no answer. After a while, we got a signal, but the person on the other end had an odd Russian accent. They told us that something was wrong and that we had to get back to Earth immediately. We were confused, so after a while, we tried to reach out again, but we received the same message. We decided then to go get some final samples and then head back to Earth. I tdropped a picture of my Mom on the planet and covered it lightly with some sand. I knew it wouldn’t last but it was what she asked of me when she first found out I was going. We then packed up and started the burn to get us back into Mars’ orbit.

August 14, 2035

We re-docked with the main capsule, and started the burn to get out of orbit. We then had the make 300-day journey back to earth.

June 9, 2036

We had reached Earth’s orbit, and were about to make the burn to re-enter the atmosphere when we heard a groan. Darius and I talked about it and decided it was nothing.

13:43 GMT: We had finished preparing, and started the burn to de-orbit. 15 seconds in, suddenly the engine stopped. We were on a straight course to Russia, and we couldn’t do anything about it, because the people at ground control had shut off the rocket’s systems. Darius and I were doing whatever we could to get the engine back up, so we could land at least near the U.S., but it was useless. We had already seen the rocket’s system storing the atmosphere, and we were going too fast to do any other maneuvers. We were about 10,000 meters above sea level when our parachutes opened up, which made me feel relieved knowing whoever was controlling this wanted us back in one piece. I then looked outside, recognizing my hometown of Russia, knowing that whatever came next was not going to be good.

• Episode 5
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Editor’s Note: We are pleased to present the next story in our Young Authors series, a collection of six pieces of short fiction written by pairs of American eighth-graders as part of a special English class devoted to laboratory literature. You can read all about this interesting project in the accompanying Editorial. Use the navigation bars at the top left to catch up with other stories in this series.

Dr. Kaspar Daclan Cohen

April 16th, 2042: My name is Dr. Cohen, and I am a scientist living just outside Munich, Germany. I grew up in California though, so I continue to use English regularly. I figured it might be interesting to start a journal. I never really got into all that feelings stuff but it’ll be nice to have some place to go when anything interesting happens.

It’s interesting to think about, this journal, because it can be anything really. A sketch pad, diary, a novel. I hadn’t even thought about the possibility of someone else reading it, years from now, when I am no longer around. I suppose if that happens I should probably talk a little bit about myself. 

I moved to the U.S. when I was only seven and don’t remember too much about my life before then. I suppose I could recall the town and the scenery. I remember the forest pretty vividly. The forest was where I went whenever I convinced my parents to let me go out on my own. Though it wasn’t huge and full of adventure, it was a very scenic and powerful place to be. Especially during the transition between Spring and Summer. The trees were tall and mighty, and overflowed with color and life. The ground around me was covered with fallen petals and light grass, still wet from the morning dew. I would walk to the creek and watch some frogs hop across. Once I tried to catch one, but it got away, and I got wet. I remember hearing the sounds of the birds whistling back at one another making a melody that just brightened your day, and I remembered all the smells of the forest mixing together into one scent that I could pick out anywhere. It was this odd, musty, pinecone smell, but it was actually quite pleasant. I do miss the forest. Out in my part of California everything is urbanized and it all smells of food, smoke, and something else I can’t quite place. 

My school, Marie Curie’s school of science, was a smaller building close to my home. I attended it from 1st through 8th grade, and it was there where I found my love of science. All of it fascinated me, and I knew that I wanted a career in it, just not what field. And though I didn’t have many friends through high school or college either, my love of science kept me more than happy. I graduated from Berkeley in 2034 and have been in science ever since.  Now I live in Germany and continue my studies to try to save biodiversity. You see, global warming is, amongst other things, making it significantly harder for some species to breathe, which means a large dip in biodiversity which will most likely lead to… well, the end of life as we know it. Unless someone like me can stop it. 

April 17th, 2042: Entomon, the Greek word for insect, and part of the word entomology, which is the study of insects. There was a huge spark of interest in entomology in 2036. That’s how I got into it. I go out to specific locations every day and set up traps, to track the population. I have decided to record some of my findings here and use this as my work log as well as my personal journal.

April 22nd, 2042: I have collected samples from my spot in Eglhartinger Forst, a mile away from my home. I always use a malaise trap, set up in the same spots every time for accuracy.

It is a large trap, and difficult to set up. But it has been used for several decades, and to change it now would make all of the old data irrelevant. In this location, I calculated an average of 12 insects per bottle. It is not a good sign because many of my old averages were 16 or even 18 bugs per bottle. I keep some of what I catch to observe and study. They are all stored in an empty house out in the forest that appears to be abandoned. It was probably left to wither away with the forest. Out of my four locations, this has always been the one with the most bugs, so it is concerning that the numbers have gone down so much. And despite my optimism, the problem is only going to get worse. 

August 18th, 2042: I have always loved the summer months in Germany. Especially here in Eglhartinger Forst. There is life everywhere, and the trees are exploding with vibrant shades of green. Now however, after my walk along some old trails, I have discovered much to my dismay, that a lot has changed since I last visited here. The mighty oak trees that used to symbolize power are drooping and the shades of green have turned pale and grey. There is almost no plant life and the air is musky and cloudy. But the thing that I noticed most is the sound. Or the lack of it. There are no birds singing, and no bugs buzzing in my ear. The pesky hum of a mosquito that isn’t there is more concerning than one that is. The forest that I once knew is weak and dying. My traps are also continuing to turn up short. My average is down to 10-11. The problem is continuing to grow. Something must be done. But what? How can we restore the planet to its former glory?

September 9th, 2042: After pondering my previous question, I am excited to finally have come to a conclusion. And although it is not much, it is a start. And the world needs a place to start. There are many causes leading to the deterioration of insects. Deforestation, less biodiversity, and pesticides. But the main cause has got to be the change in the weather. Almost all species of insects need a special range of temperature in order to survive and reproduce. When the temperature reaches above the normal amount, the general population becomes weaker and starts to die off. Throughout history, life has been able to adapt to some harsh conditions. I believe that it should be able to do it again. Unfortunately, the planet is warming at a rate faster than life can keep up with. 

I think that I should be able to accommodate for this by breeding insects in a temperature higher than they are used to, but in a controlled situation, gradually increasing the temperature, but a lot more slowly than what’s happening in their real environment. This will give evaluation a chance to catch up. Then, they can be released into the world and slowly create a whole new gene pool with insects able to survive in hotter climates. I have located a place where I can make this happen. Dr. North Peterson is the owner of a laboratory with the necessary requirements just outside of New York City. He says that he likes my idea and is willing to help. I am flying out there in a few days to meet him. 

September 12th, 2042: I am 30,000 feet above the ground as my plane begins its descent to the US. I do not know how long I will be staying, but I assume a while, so I packed heavily. My plane has just touched down, and now I must begin my experiment. One that I will most likely never live to see the end of. 

Dr. Peterson is a very nice man, and he has let me settle in with him, for many of the hotels in the area in terrible condition or out of business. He says that he will take me on a tour of the lab in the morning. We did talk a bit about what I had in mind for his lab over dinner. It went something like this:

“So, Dr. Cohen,” he said, curiously, “You told me vaguely about this plan of yours to save the planet. Please, tell me more.”

“Well, life is so well able to adapt to ever-changing conditions,” I said.  “What I am proposing would be that using some of your smaller chambers, we gradually raise the temperature but just to or above the limit at which they can breed, and keep ratcheting that up, so eventually we can release them back into the wild and fix the gene pool.”

“That sounds like a good idea, but how will it solve the underlying climate problem?”

“Unfortunately, it won’t. However, we have to start somewhere. And this experiment will give people hope. I think that people will figure out how to stop this. We just need to inspire them to join us.”

“I see,” he pressed on. “But what will we do if global warming is not stopped in time?” 

“You see, here is where hope comes in again. If it comes time to release the insects and global warming is still a serious problem, the insects will boost biodiversity and give life one last chance before it is all gone. Dr. Peterson, I am asking you to be part of something huge. This could help save the world. We both know the incredibly vital role bugs play in our ecosystem. If we save them, we might just stand a chance.” 

“I see your point. You are very persuasive, Dr. Cohen, I am willing to give it a shot.”

June 29th, 2043: The experiment is finally up and running – after several long months of cleaning, preparing, and catching insects, we can finally start collecting data. We have filled and adjusted the temperature in 109 different chambers. Most hold different species, but some hold the same insects at different temperatures. Also, I have found a nice place to live. A studio apartment on the third floor of a building near the lab. It’s not much but it is enough. Besides, I’m not home much anyway. Just so long as I find a job within the next couple of months I can stay. However, this is proving to be exceedingly difficult. With the growing depression in the US, jobs are becoming scarce. I may find something in labor but I don’t know how well that will fit me. I could always look online for jobs back in Germany but that would most likely require frequent traveling, which isn’t something I can do. I just have to keep searching.

July 11, 2043: Things are not looking as good as we hoped. Many species have died and were unable to reproduce. Those that did lost significant amounts in numbers and many offspring could not function properly. The experiment has been brought down to only 82 chambers. But we must keep going. That’s how evolution works. It has to get worse before it can get better. 

April 3, 2044: The experiment is not going well. We started with 109 chambers filled with insects. Now, we only have 27. And one of the chambers only has three specimens left. What’s worse, the temperatures in which the bugs are kept in are at least 17 degrees lower than the ones outside. The climate is heating faster than I originally predicted. 

August 16th, 2044: I don’t know where to begin. Only twenty chambers have held up. And many of them aren’t looking well. Even more, Dr. Peterson tells me that he is just barely scraping by, and that he has no choice but to sell the lab. I have a month to release my specimens. Apparently my experiment was not successful enough, and because of the recent economic depression, nobody is coming to him with other ideas. I can’t be mad at him. I know he would like to continue, but he has to support himself. It would seem as though people want the earth to collapse in a slow destruction of all biodiversity. But I must keep trying. I remain optimistic that my insects can make it in the outside world. There must be somewhere else I can go. 

December 29th, 2044: Christmas came and went with little excitement. My apartment was dark and dusty, because I can no longer afford the electric bill, and I feel I have no reason to clean the apartment anymore. Though Dr. Peterson did his best to help me, he had to support his family, and that meant leaving me helpless. My bugs, should they have survived for whatever reason, will most likely never make it through the winter. Fortunately, Christmas sales meant I was able to have a proper meal for the first time in a while. The depression here is so bad, I cannot even find a simple labor job. I fear that if I cannot support myself, I won’t live past January. 

January 6th, 2044: Snow comes down heavily outside, and my apartment is matching the outdoor temperature – currently -23^oC. With little protection from the stinging cold air, I have to curl up in my bed for hours just so I don’t freeze. 

Luis Torres

July 17th, 2094: Hello. My name is Luis. I found this journal in a building in the “bad” room. Nobody ever goes in there, but all the good rooms were full and I needed to find food for my family. Normally the food in buildings is not very good but there is a little bit of food in the bad room. Also there is a body which does not smell good but that’s okay. 

I have seen bodies before. I saw my Mommy struggling to carry my Daddy’s body a couple years ago after the war. There was a big war over who could control the food. We lost though. Now we are poor and hungry. I have to scavenge for food on the streets. But I stay happy. I like to explore with the other kids and look through buildings. It’s always fun to find things. Like this journal! 

I was very happy to find this book because now I can write in it. I like to write. I am very good at it and I practice a lot. My Mommy says that I am also very excitable, but that it is normal for a 7-year old. I like to go outside and do whatever I can to have fun. Like exploring, playing with other kids, kicking around a ball. I have lots of fun. But sometimes I am very hungry and I do not feel good so then I don’t play. But I was feeling good today so I went out to find food. It is a good thing that I did because I found this journal. I want to write more, but my Mommy says that I would want to wait until I am older. 

February 13th, 2113: It’s been nineteen years since I last saw this journal. I thought my mother had sold it but just this morning I found it in a thought-to-be-empty drawer. I read through it and I think I understand what Dr. Cohen was getting at. I believe that with a few tweaks to his plan, it could work correctly. Of course, the temperature has risen significantly since then. But my sister will help me, because Olivia went to college, and is smarter than anyone I know. I am just uncertain as to how we will set up a temperature-regulated chamber when I still cannot find a job and have to scavenge for food. I will have to ask Olivia. 

February 18th, 2113: I talked to Olivia today. The conversation went like this:

“Olivia, can you take a look at something for me?” 

“I suppose,” she said. “Let me see.”

“It’s in this journal I found years ago. I want to try to continue this project.”

“Interesting,” she said, after a few minutes. “What exactly is it that you want to continue?”

“Well, I would like to build a temperature-regulated enclosure, to see if Dr. Cohen was onto something. I’m just not quite sure how.”

“Well, I’d like to help but I don’t have the resources. Plus, where would you find any insects?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Do you know of anyone who could help me?” 

“No… But surely you can’t be the only one who wants this done.” 

“I know. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, maybe you’d find someone with a similar interests in a place where there are lots of bugs.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Well, you could always go down to a rainforest. It’s still teeming with life.”

“Where’s that?” 

“In Brazil. Go look online.”

March 2nd, 2113: I managed to find someone who wanted to help. His name is Phil Santos, but he lives in Brazil. When I emailed him he said he would help me, but I don’t know how to get down there. Planes are expensive, and Phil said I’d have to pay for it myself. It looks like I’ll just have to get a job. 

July 13th, 2113: I just touched down in Brazil after having to work extremely hard as a street cleaner to afford a ticket. It feels good to be here after waiting so long! This Dr. Santos better know what he’s doing. I get to l meet him tomorrow, but first I have to take a canoe down the river to where he is staying. 

August 20th, 2113: There is life everywhere here, and it is so amazing. Unfortunately Dr. Santos is keeping me pretty busy so there’s not much time to write. We are currently setting traps at specific locations and collecting samples just to see how the bugs here are doing compared to the rest of the world. So far they are doing okay. In the rainforest it really is survival of the fittest, so species have had to adapt fast to outlive competition. There are many species that keep filling up our traps completely with no dips in numbers over time, which is a good sign. 

September 30th, 2113: We are so close to the equator that the normal change in temperature doesn’t affect us much here. It’s still rainy and humid, and the bugs are still alive. But as it starts to get warmer, we start to see a difference in the number of insects that are coming into our traps. It seems that the insects we thought might survive are actually just barely hanging on. Phil says it’s likely going to be the worst dip in the population he’s ever seen. 

December 14th, 2113: It’s currently right at the beginning of Summer, and that usually means more bugs. Not now though. Now it means scalding temperatures of up to 120℉. There are days where we catch nothing. Things were looking up here, but now it seems as though it’s just the same as everywhere else. The population is rising and falling heavily, and I believe that within the next few years it will fall and not be able to recover.

April 20th, 2116: My previous prediction was right. It has been three years and Phil and I are noticing that the population has yet to make a significant comeback. The numbers dropped as usual during the Summer and they haven’t started climbing again. It’s been a couple months and we are starting to worry. We cannot protect the whole rainforest. And we cannot protect the bugs if we cannot study them. I just don’t know what to do. 

August 17th, 2116: I was out checking the traps when something bit me this morning. It was such an odd feeling. I haven’t been bit by an insect for so long I had forgotten what it felt like. I also don’t remember there being any effects after the bite. I feel all woozy and nauseous. I am hoping that’s it’s just minor and won’t last for too long though. I’ve had food poisoning before, and it feels fairly similar. 

August 18th, 2116: Phil says that I am definitely sick. I must have caught it from the bug that bit me. He wants to head back up the river to try to get to the nearest city, but I convinced him to stay and check the traps. I’m not feeling so good though. My head is throbbing and I puke up everything that goes in me. Even water. It’s becoming increasingly harder to survive down here.  I’m going to put down the journal and try not to pass out.   

Emerald Santos

2182-08-25.57 UMT: I wasn’t comfortable with writing on physical paper for this journal, so I keyed in the previous entries into my computer so I could add my own. I left the entries in the style of their authors, only using this simple font, printing out the pages as I go and putting them within the original cover, battered after having seen over 140 years. 

My name is Emerald, and my Dad passed this journal on to me when I was twenty-five. He wanted me to continue the same line of research as what the other journal authors had been doing. He said that if anyone could do it, it would be me. I’m sure that if I wanted to, I could pull it off, but I would never work with bugs. They bite and sting and crawl all over you. To be honest I’m pretty terrified of them, and I don’t think I would mind if they were gone. It would make my Dad so disappointed though if he ever found out. Processing all the information from this journal is going to take a while, so I’ll add more when I can.

2182-08-30.25 UMT: I just finished reading through everything, and understanding it. I see that the main experiment in this journal has failed twice, and I intend to succeed, even if it’s not what I want. If it was my father’s dying wish then I guess I owe it to him to at least try. The Battlefield, as we call it, still has a ton of leftover tech, even after almost 70 years. I can easily build a dome out of the scrap metal alone, and integrating cooling should be a simple feat. I only worry that I will fall prey to the same troubles that Dr. Cohen and Luis went through.

2182-09-05.37 UMT: I have already built the dome using simple gravitational mines (though “mine” isn’t the best word to describe it), and am now duct taping cold water pipes to the inside of the dome. I will then use another gravity mine to build a slightly smaller dome, covering up the pipes. Hopefully the cold water will form a “reverse igloo” to cool off the creatures, even if the temperature outside rises. This dome will also serve as shelter for me if the temperatures outside reach apocalyptic. I hope this works.

2182-09-12.75 UMT: The dome seems to be going great. It has been up and running for several weeks now. I have a scarce amount of bugs, and some plants. Hopefully the plants and bugs will breed to become more plentiful, because if not, our last hope for survival is screwed. I’m sure that they will, if given more time. Still, it’s difficult for me to go in there. I don’t want to have to face something so small yet so terrifying. But when I step into the outside world, I see what has happened with the absence of creepy creatures. I am starting to realize that the life of one tiny insect symbolizes life as a whole. It is a fragile thing, and we need to take care of it, not destroy it. 

Filler entries removed to prevent redundancy

2182-12-13.32 UMT: The dome collapsed. A strong dust storm blew in and tore it open, causing the structural integrity to fail. I would try again but I’m just about out of ideas. What was once a luscious, green forest with a wild river running through it and thousands of species that called it home is now just a wasteland of dried-up dirt and wilted plant remains. Not even a seed to begin with. It seems that life on Earth is coming to an end. I am sorry. I should have realized sooner what great an impact something so tiny could have on something so big.  

And so, Emerald Santos died in solitude, having isolated herself from the rest of the world to save it. Earth ran out of plants. All the plant-eating animals quickly died, pulling the legs out from underneath the food chain. Humans quickly finished off all the remaining animals, and quickly turned on each other. Finally, humanity ended where it began. The last colonies fought many bloody battles until only one remained. She died soon after, having no food, and this journal is one of the last remaining human artifacts, up in the Cloud.

• Episode 4
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Editor’s Note: We are pleased to present the next story in our Young Authors series, a collection of six pieces of short fiction written by pairs of American eighth-graders as part of a special English class devoted to laboratory literature. You can read all about this interesting project in the accompanying Editorial. Use the ‘Young Authors’ category to catch up with previous stories in this series.

Day 1

As I walked into my new office, I smelled the fresh paint and doughnuts and saw the grey, boring walls that I would be working in. The first person I noticed was a tall man, about thirty years of age, with brown hair and a relaxed look on his face.

“Hey, new kid,” he greeted me. “I’m Mark, the boss. Welcome to STAR Labs. I’m not who’s assigned to show you around, but Phillip is on break so I can give you a bit of a tour.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” I responded.

Mark led me into another room with people working at large tables and discussing things over models of what look to be fans. The room was lined whiteboards scattered with notes.

“This is Lab 1,” Mark said. “It’s where we come up with all our ideas. This is most likely where you’ll start.”

Next, he led me into a room with all sorts of prototypes and parts scattered about.

“This is where the magic happens,” my guide continued. “Ideas turn into blueprints, blueprints turn into prototypes, prototypes turn into solutions.” He said all this with a corny, inspired voice. One of the scientists across the room burst into laughter.

“Feeding the newbie crap again, Mark?” the scientist asked, standing up, walking across the room and sticking out his hand for me to shake. “How’s your first day, kid?”

I shook his hand and replied with a quick, “Just peachy.”

“I’m Phillip, a senior meteorologist here,” he said, more a boast than a statement. “I basically run the show over in the prototype lab. Don’t get in my way, or you’ll regret it.”

As he looked at me with a smirk on his face. I knew I was going to hate this guy. I also knew that I would take this guy down and teach him a lesson.

“Okay, bud, let’s move along,” Mark said.

The next room that we went into was the break room. It had nothing but a toaster, a microwave, and a few chairs. I listened to Mark tell me about the toaster and how to use it, but I just tuned him out and thought about all the things I would do at this lab. I dreamt about the fame I would collect, and the inventions that I would conjure up.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I got introduced to everyone, ate the horrible pizza in the breakroom, and got assigned a team. I went home excited about the next day.

Day 3

While I was driving in that day, I had a weird feeling: that I was finally amounting to something. I was doing something with my life and making a name for myself. The thought of actually making a difference made me feel proud.

The minute I stepped through the door, white light hit me at the same time as the odor of crusty doughnuts and freshly printed papers.

“Hey dipstick, get to work,” commanded Philip, who unfortunately was my new team manager.

“I’ll get to that right now, boss,” I replied sarcastically. I didn’t understand why he was the team leader; the guy seemed like the most disagreeable person in the lab.

Now, it was time for me to really get to work. I sat down at my desk and sifted through some of the ideas my other teammates had proposed. I liked some of them, in particular the idea of a fan that converts CO₂ to a safer substance. This fan would be placed in areas with high amounts of pollution and would suck the dirty air in one side to blow the altered out the other. The discharged air would be clean of all pollution.

About halfway through the stack, I found a mess of an idea: creating a vortex that would remove part of the atmosphere. What idiot would come up with this garbage? I thought to myself. I checked the header and read the author’s name: Phillip Stonebridge.

Just as I was setting that paper aside, Phillip walked over to his desk.

“Interested in any of these ideas?” he asked, not so subtly gesturing towards his paper.

“Yes, actually, I’d like to further develop the idea of a CO₂ fan,” I said. I read his face and everything about it seemed to say, “Wrong answer, kid.”

“Yeah, it’s a decent start, but I’d like your help with creating a vortex to remove the CO₂ instead,” he said a neutral tone.

I couldn’t help but laugh. There was no way I was going to touch that mess of a theory.

“What’s so funny, kid?” he said, a tinge of hostility in his voice now. “Something you don’t like about my idea?”

“No, nothing at all,” I said, trying to defuse him before he lost his temper.

“That’s what I thought,” he grunted, then walked away.

The rest of the day went by with no more encounters with Philip, though he occasionally glared across the room at me as if he were trying to think of something to get mad at me about, but couldn’t come up with anything.

Day 8

As I eased into my tiny Honda Fit and made the long commute to STAR Labs, I thought about everything I’d done in my first week and what I wanted to achieve. My mind kept going back my domineering manager. Phillip and I had very different views about how to approach the problem at hand and no one was going to back down. I thought, This is going to change today, I’m not putting up with this type of behavior from my manager!

This time when I stepped through the door and grabbed a cup of coffee, I didn’t know what to feel. Should I be nervous because I was confronting my manager? Or should I feel happy that everything is going to change?

The next time Philip walked over to my desk I stopped him and said “Hey, can I talk to you about something?

“Sure,” he replied. “About what?”

“Well, I wanted to say something about that theory you’ve been pushing on the rest of the team. You need to give up on that miserable mockery of an idea. I’ve looked through it thoroughly. It’s dysfunctional. It’s not worth pushing any further – ”

“Like you have a better solution!” Phillip shouted, veins popping out of his forehead. “I’m the head of this team. You don’t have the right to disrespect me like that. My vortex is going to save the world, and you’re going to take no credit because I’m firing you…” His rage-filled face twisted into a malicious grin. “…Unless you can bring me a solution to my vortex idea in the next two weeks!”

“How are you so sure that your vortex is going to work?”

“One word: magnesite. It is the key component in the holding tank. The vortex will suck in the CO₂ to the tank and pump in the magnesite which will store the carbon dioxide. After all of this we can release the used magnesite into the atmosphere and it will fall to the earth with no effect on the planet.”

“You’re full of crap,” I said.

“Woah there, bud!” Mark, who was sitting nearby, said hastily. “Let’s all just get along. You guys are still on the same team.”

I could tell that he was trying to avoid a fight and for good reason – I’d gone too far. I pulled myself through the rest of the day in silence, focused on nothing except for my project.

Day 10

Yesterday was uneventful but still stressful. There was a feeling of tension and hostility in the air the entire day. Everyone was scared to approach Philip, as he was working furiously at his desk. I wondered all day about what he could be doing. It kind of scared me because he could have been working on anything; he didn’t talk to me all day because he was so submerged.

Today felt the same until around 2 pm when I was getting some afternoon coffee. Philip approached me with a look on his face that kind of said I want to kill you and eat you for lunch.

“So, how’s it going, Tim?” He wore the same evil smile he’d shown me two days ago.

“Just fine, and you, Sir Philip?”

“Well actually, I was recently doing some research about that vortex idea I had.”

“And…did you finally realize how terrible it was?”

“Actually, I have solid proof that it can work. When Mark sees my research conducted on magnesite, he’ll send you right out the door for doubting me.”

“In your dreams,” I thought out loud with a laugh.**********

When I was grinding away at my research a few hours later, Mark came up to me with an I’m not angry but just disappointed look on his face.

“Hey Tim, how’s the research going?”

“Pretty good, just finalizing some background checks. I have a really big idea in the works.”

“Well, that’s great, but Philip already gave me an amazing idea. He submitted a ton of research for his idea, and I hate to tell you this but it completely disproves your theory.”

“What?” I exclaimed. There was no way he had done all of that so quickly. “I have to see this, can you let me look over the research, please?”

“Of course, I understand it’s difficult to be proven wrong, but you will have to move on. Phillip’s invention could change the world,” Mark explained.

The rest of the week, I pored through his research, looking for errors. But I couldn’t find any. It was perfect and I just couldn’t believe that – there had to be a catch. I had done some previous tests and I could not find a mineral that absorbed the CO₂ efficiently enough. Also, I have never heard of this so-called “magnesite”.

Day 14

Phillip was quite popular around the company now, as I imagine anyone would be who had discovered a solution to climate change. I’d reached the end of his paper, and I’d found an irregularity that I’d started to look into.

I recreated his trials of magnesite using a computer simulation and they didn’t line up.

When I went to go bring this up with Philip, he got kind of weird.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said, “Just go mind your own business, dweeb.”

“Hey, all I want you to do is show me how you set up the trials. I’m not calling you out on anything,” I assured him.

“You see, here’s the thing about that….” His voice trailed off.

“So, you faked it?” I said.

“Well, yeah, but there’s a reason, okay, I’m not just evil,” he explained.

“What’s your excuse?” I was caught off guard that he was actually confessing at last – why would he do that?

“Just listen, please. As a kid, I always wanted to be a superhero and change the world.” His eyes went distantly nostalgic. “These were pretty big dreams coming from a boy who lived in a trailer park in Cleveland, Ohio with his aunt and her boyfriend. They nev
er believed in me and always told me that I would have to be out of the house at 18. When my birthday came around, I had nowhere to go so I went where any broke, sad, and aspiring superhero would go: MIT.”

“Massachusetts Institute of Technology?” I was impressed.

“No.” He looked down, embarrassed. “The Mongolian Institute of Technology. And long story short, I made my way back to the States with a climate sciences degree to look for a job.”

“All right, so what does your elaborate sob story have to do with your faked research?”

“I just wanted to prove to myself that I was making progress, that I really did know what I was doing. I didn’t intentionally fake it… I just altered test results, corrected things that didn’t look good.” He paused, a rare look of humanity on his face. “It can work though, I’m sure of it: will you at least help me? And not tell anyone about the data faking?”

I was torn, but I was also intrigued by the idea, and Philip did seem to be completely sincere. “Fine, but from now on we work together, no secrets or false accusations.”

“I promise you, I’m a changed man.”

Day 16

Today marked the second day that Philip and I have been working together and I was actually impressed by how Phillip is working. He wasn’t being the stuck-up, pessimistic, annoying worker that he was before – just a regular colleague.

“Do you have the new trial data?” Philip asked as I walked back into the room.

“Yep, I finished and the results are interesting,” I replied. “We need to have a fan that sucks the carbon dioxide out of the atmosphere at exactly 147.3 mph for it to be properly combined with the magnesite. Also, we need to use no more or less than 3.89 kilos of it for every 100 kg/m³ of air. That ratio will create the optimal performance for our vortex.”

“Wow! We’re all done.” He punched the air in triumph. “Now we just need to show this to Mark and we can build this dang thing!”**********

Three hours later, I ran into Mark in the break room and decided to spill the beans.

“I think Philip and I’ve made a real breakthrough,” I said.

“Did you just say ‘Philip and I’? I thought you guys never work together.”

“We worked out our differences and now have something incredible.”

“I’m proud of you two. Now show me the research.”

After he read it over, Mark called me and Philip into his office. His expression had changed from one of suspicion to elation. “This is amazing – I don’t see any holes in this. I’ll assign the rest of the department to your team to help you build this. This is huge, guys!”

When Phillip and I walked out of the room together our spirits were soaring.

“What do you say to going out for a celebratory dinner?” I said.

“I’m in!”

That night we really clicked, and we both learned a lot about each other. I felt sorry for Phillip, coming from such unfortunate circumstances. His parents had died when he was six, and he’d had to go live with his aunt and her drunk boyfriend. This was horrible compared to my own experience, having grown up in an affluent suburb of San Francisco with incredibly caring parents. I still talk to them once a week.

The next few months went by in a flash. Somehow after all of the meetings, blueprints, test models, and late nights, we finally finished the project. We were invited to speak on many talk shows and news stations. Even though at that point we didn’t know what to call our invention, we publicized the heck out of it. Finally after a month of media hype, the United States government noticed. This led to a personal interview with our 45th President, Ronald S. Chump. He wanted to know the science behind our amazing invention. To my surprise it didn’t take a whole year to explain it to him.

“So, Mr. Nobel and Mr. Stonebridge, what do you call this thing?” Mr. Chump asked.

“We call it the Magnafan,” we replied in unison… maybe not the most creative name in hindsight, I thought to myself.

But whatever – our Magnafan was going to have a huge impact on climate change, and I realized that that weird feeling in the car long ago had been right: I was making a difference.

• Episode 3
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Editor’s Note: With this story, we are pleased to continue with the third story in our Young Authors series, a collection of six pieces of short fiction written by pairs of American eighth-graders as part of a special English class devoted to laboratory literature. You can read all about this interesting project in the accompanying Editorial.

He sat, slumped, on the flimsy cot of his cell. Surrounded by cold concrete walls, he was a prisoner of the government. It was dark and cold; he was depressed and confused. Mind wandering, he began to reflect on what led to his demise. How did this go so wrong so quickly? If only his curiosity hadn’t gotten the best of him. If only he could’ve stayed ignorant. If only he hadn’t gotten caught.

Fabio Palza was a calm type of man. He usually kept to himself, didn’t go too far into anyone’s business. That was just how he was raised. His parents brought him into the United States when he was just a little kid, and he’d grown up in the city of Chicago in the shelter of a loving family. Growing up, Fabio was always aware that he was different, but he could never quite put his finger on what made him that way.

Fabio’s parents had always told him that he was just the same as all the other kids, but Fabio could always tell something was off. Was it where he came from, or maybe his unusual intelligence? Another thing that always bothered him was how he looked so different from his parents. While his mother and father had dark, chocolate-brown eyes, Fabio was born with bright blue ones. His parents swore to him that he wasn’t adopted, and even had the baby pictures to prove it. He could never understand what set him so far apart from everyone, but he learned to live with it over the years. Now, as a high-ranking civil rights analyst living in Washington, D.C., Fabio finally felt like he fit in with the crowd.

The day that Fabio’s life changed started like any other. He was working in his office, as he usually did, analyzing a government proposal. Suddenly, a white lab coat flashed past Fabio’s open door. Fabio caught a glimpse of the man he hated: Tom Molinski, known to Fabio as “Sketchy Tom”.

Fabio had a deep hatred of Sketchy Tom. Sketchy Tom would always spill his food on Fabio, saying it was an accident, and when he had no food to spill, he would even go so far as to take some of Fabio’s lunch from the office fridge. The audacity of that greasy boy! From then on, Fabio never liked Sketchy Tom, and now he had the strange feeling that Sketchy Tom was up to no good. Instinct got the better of him, so Fabio decided to follow his nemesis.

Fabio crept down the hall after Sketchy Tom, shoes softly squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. As Sketchy Tom walked, he looked at his watch and his pace suddenly quickened. Fabio became even more suspicious and speeded up as well. Sketchy Tom turned sharply into a room and slammed the door behind him, Fabio pulled on the handle, but it was locked. The window was covered with a “Certified Employees Only” sign on the inside. Since Fabio was feeling a little extra adventurous, he decided to walk further through the unfamiliar corridor for a while. He didn’t realize it then, but Fabio had opened a can of worms that would change the rest of his life.

To his surprise, a few doors away, he found himself walking past a lab. Fabio looked in the window and saw it was full of tables, racks of bottled chemicals, bright lights, and a team of people. They must be scientists, Fabio thought to himself, standing a few feet in front of the door, taking it all in. Fabio knew if he stayed there any longer, he would look too suspicious, so he left.

He walked briskly back upstairs to his boring little office where he fell into his seat and thought about what he had seen. He remembered seeing carts with many microscopes, Petri dishes, and models of embryos everywhere. Fabio was no dummy, but even if he was, he would have known that the lab was working on embryos. He could only hope the government’s intentions were good.

Fabio arrived at work earlier than usual the next day so he could get another look at the lab. He went down and hid around a corner.

“Alright everyone,” a woman yelled from inside the lab the next day, “Listen up! We’ve had a change of plans.” Change of plans? What plans? Fabio thought.

“Our buyer has requested an earlier arrival for his purchase, so the product needs to go out tonight!”

Fabio stood as flat as he could against the wall outside the lab. Product? Buyer? What is going on here? Aren’t they just supposed to be doing scientific experiments? He slid closer and closer to the door, catching a short glimpse of the woman speaking. Suddenly, the door opened and a man walked out. Fabio was beyond terrified that he would be caught, but to his surprise, the man gave him a wave and went on his way. Fabio turned quickly and slid through the door before it closed with a slam. He stood to the side hoping no one would notice him. Luckily, since he was only 5’ 1”, it was quite easy to miss him. If I’m caught, something seriously bad will happen to me. What will it be? I don’t know, but it will be bad! he was thinking, and he was right.

Fabio couldn’t believe what he had seen. The woman giving the orders was none other than Lumina Crosby, la jefa grande (the big boss)! His boss! So many thoughts raced through Fabio’s head – what was she up to?

Fabio walked into the building once again the next day and saw a cart of cannisters getting pushed into the elevator, the sort that might be filled with…frozen embryos. He had no choice but to follow and find out where they were going. In a quick motion, he threw on his lucky sombrero, grabbed a lab coat from a nearby coat rack and ran into the elevator.

“Good morning,” Fabio greeted the person in the elevator. “Where are these heading?”

“You know, out to the loading dock,” the worker said. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“What do you mean? I’m…I’m just an engineer, I don’t ship them out,” Fabio replied sassily. At that moment Fabio glanced down and noticed that the cases had prices stamped on them. They were going to be sold! But where, when, and how?

As soon as the elevator arrived at the next floor, he went out to the dock and saw Lumina. He went to speak with her about what was going on but thought better and quickly turned around, thinking she would get him arrested for knowing their plans. Fabio, still wearing his stolen lab coat, walked up to another scientist with a name tag reading, Carlos.

“Carlos, amigo,” Fabio called to him, “long time no see, man! How have you been?”

“I’m sorry, I….” he looked at Fabio’s name tag, “Marion?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you would remember me.” Fabio looked down slyly at his nametag. “We were in the same fraternity?”

“Oh, I guess I might remember you,” Carlos replied. Yes! He’s going for it. Fabio thought. His plan was working out perfectly.

“I’m going out to lunch today, care to join me and catch up?” Fabio asked.

“Sure, it’s better than eating a ham and cheese sandwich at my desk.” Both men went their separate ways. But little did Carlos know that Fabio wasn’t going back to the lab: he was going back to his cubicle to analyze some civil rights.

Time flew by, and before he knew it Fabio was headed to El Frijole Picante, a small place that served killer Mexican food. Their famous spicy bean burrito was one of Fabio’s personal favorites. Fabio sat down at a table in the corner, and soon after Carlos arrived.

“Hello, Marion. Have you already ordered?” Carlos asked as he sat down.

“No,” Fabio replied, “I was just about to.”

The two men ordered their food: Fabio ordered his signature burrito while Carlos went with a taco salad. They started into small talk about the “good old days back in college” (Fabio was a crafty liar). It wasn’t long before Fabio brought up the subject of the embryos he had found in the lab.

“So, Carlos, I’m new here at this lab, obviously. I just got hired a few days ago. I was just wondering if maybe you knew what was going on in that lab, because when they hired me they gave me almost no description as to what I would specifically be working on,” Fabio asked Carlos.

“Well,” Carlos began, taking a sip of his strawberry Jarritos, “the big thing that we do here at the lab is we work on embryos, human embryos. We modify their DNA using CRISPR.”

“CRISPR? What’s that?” Fabio asked.

“It’s a genetic editing tool that we use to edit individual genes in a subject’s DNA.”

“Why do you change them? For immunity purposes?”

“That among other things,” Carlos replied. “While some embryos tare engineered to be resistant against certain diseases we once thought were incurable, there are also some that are modified for more…uh…cosmetic purposes.”

“Cosmetic?” Fabio asked, slightly confused.

“Yes, cosmetic. Using CRISPR, we are able to change the DNA of a human embryo so that we receive our desired cosmetic outcome. For example, some are engineered to excel at certain activities, such as sports or academics, while others are modified to have certain physical traits, such as being tall or having blonde hair.”

“What are the modifications for though?” Fabio asked, now even more curious.

“Well, to tell the truth…” Carlos answered, “we sell them. But if you tell anyone, you die…I’m just joking, but still, my boss is pretty scary and you could possibly be thrown in prison. She has quite a bit of power.”

Fabio’s eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Ok, wow. But you sell them?” he asked in disbelief. “How does that work?”

“Well…” Carlos said uncomfortably, “we start by receiving a notice from a client. We get the occasional person who wants their child to be immune to genetic diseases that sometimes run in the family, but usually, it’s just some rich people asking us if they can essentially create their ideal child, and give them all of their desired traits while filtering out the bad ones. After we have processed their request and do a few background checks, we will fulfill their order. Depending on the length and complexity of their request, this can take days or even weeks. After that, we implant the embryo into the host and monitor it until the reproduction process is complete.”

Fabio was stunned. “And how much do they usually sell for?”

“Let’s just say it’s no small amount of money,” Carlos replied. “The government makes a pretty penny off of their little underground operation. Personally, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Fabio looked at Carlos. “You don’t? Why not?”

“Well, I’ve just thought of reproduction as the way nature intended it to be, not to be meddled with using science,” Carlos explained. “It just doesn’t seem ethical. Just because we have figured out how to use this new technology doesn’t mean that we should necessarily use it.”

“Then why do you still work for them, Carlos?” Fabio asked, “Surely there are other job opportunities out there.”

“If they find out that anyone is against them, as I said, my boss will make sure they’re arrested and she’ll make sure they keep their noses out of her business.” He paused for a moment. “Also, the money is good, and I haven’t been able to find another job that pays as high as this one does.”

Fabio took a long sip of his drink. He could tell that Carlos was a trustworthy guy, the sort who wouldn’t ever stab him in the back. He knew he would have to tell him the truth at some point if they were going to be a team.

“Carlos,” Fabio started, nervous about what he was going to say, “I’m going to be honest with you: I’m not actually a scientist on your lab team. And my real name is Fabio.”

Carlos’ eyes widened.

“You’re not? But I thought…” Carlos stuttered.

“Let me explain,” Fabio began. “It all started when I was born in Chicago…”

Fabio told Carlos the whole story, from beginning to end. Many emotions flashed across Carlos’ face as Fabio told his tale of woe.

When Fabio finished speaking, Carlos was silent for a while. He stood up, threw some bills on the table and left the restaurant.**********

Fabio didn’t see Carlos again in the week that followed, and he decided to steer well clear from the lab for a while, as to not make anyone suspicious. To his surprise, on his way out from work one night a few weeks later, two government agents confronted him.

“Fabio Palza, you’re under arrest.”**********

Now Fabio returned to the present day, where he sat in his cell awaiting punishment for his crime. Suddenly Fabio heard a tapping at the bars of his cell. He looked up, and to his astonishment saw Carlos and a woman standing there.

“Fabio!” Carlos hissed through the door.

Fabio stood up and Carlos unlocked the door. They all ran out to the getaway car on the street and sped away.

“Who’s this and how did you get me out?” Fabio asked the woman in the front seat.

“I’m Maria Uzumaki, I got you out with some…government connections,” the woman replied. “I’m sorry to say, but I’m the one who put you in there in the first place.”

Fabio was so shocked he almost fell out of his seat. “What?

Maria went on to explain how Lumina Crosby had seen Fabio sneaking around the lab, and had threatened Maria’s job if she didn’t tell her who he was. How Maria knew, Fabio didn’t ask.

“Carlos explained everything to me,” Maria said. “He and I have been friends for years.”

“And? Are you with us or against us?” Fabio demanded.

“I’m with you all the way,” Maria assured him.

For the next month, the trio stuck together and made a plan of action. They decided to tell the public about what they had witnessed. Fabio thought it would help if they mentioned what would go wrong with having special humans; a new form of discrimination would be created.

The plan was they would go to local pubs and bars where they would actually get quite a crowd. Everything was going well for the three of them, and they had what they needed to put their plans in action: a large following who listened to and agreed with what they were preaching. But good things don’t always last forever.

One night Fabio was speaking to a crowd of around 200 people. In the middle of his speech, police burst in, telling everyone they needed to leave immediately. Carlos, Maria, and Fabio all stayed on stage wondering what it was all about.

“Fabio Palza!” the police officer yelled, “Show us your hands. You need to come with us immediately.” Fabio looked at Maria and then Carlos, very afraid. The officers handcuffed them all and took them into custody.

The officers took the trio back to the building where it all started, where Lumina was waiting to see Fabio personally. Soon Fabio stood outside her office, preparing what he would say to her. He walked in trying to look as confident as possible.

“What do you want, Crosby?” Fabio asked aggressively. “I know what you are up to!”

“Mr. Palza,” she said calmly, “let’s cut to the chase. I know you won’t stop even if I press charges, so I have…other plans for you.”

“Nothing will stop me! Maria, Carlos, and I are going to make sure you are exposed and your reign is over.”

Lumina started to laugh at Fabio’s response.

“What’s so funny? Tell me!”

“Do you really want to know?” she asked him. Fabio nodded. “Carlos, why don’t you come on in here?” Carlos walked in, looking at the floor. “Why don’t you tell Mr. Palza who you really are?”

“Fabio, I’m really sorry,” Carlos confessed.

“For what? You’ve stood by my side this whole time,” Fabio replied.

“No, he hasn’t,” Lumina cackled. “He’s been reporting all of your plans right back to me.”

Fabio gave Carlos a furious and disappointed glare.

“How do you feel now, Fabio? Feel like you want to give up? Feel like it’s all a lie?” Lumina asked. Fabio stood up to leave, but she stopped him. “No! Sit down, I have something else that you should see. I’ve heard what you have been saying to the people, but you don’t want to sound like a hypocrite, do you?”

“What could you possibly mean?” Fabio spat, “I stand by everything I have ever said.”

“Come with me to the lab. You need to see something,” Lumina commanded. Fabio followed. Whatever she was going to show him couldn’t be worse than everything that already happened. Little did he know that he had no idea what she had in store for him.

When they walked in the lab, Lumina started yelling at the various scientists in front of her.

“Someone get me the ‘0-Files’!” she screeched. Scientists started running, and in uner a minute she had the so-called “0-Files” in her hands.

“Ah, yes,” she said with a smirk, shaking a folder with a stack of papers inside. “This is just what I wanted. Now read it!”

She slammed it into Fabio’s hands and just waited.

Fabio opened up the packet and saw that it was names of previously treated embryos. While he was flipping through he saw something that shocked him: his own name.

“What…what is the meaning of this?” Fabio asked. “This…this can’t be real!”

“Oh it’s real, alright,” Lumina assured. Fabio threw down the papers in disgust.

“Was I…was I one of them? Was I sold?” Fabio questioned. Lumina went on to explain everything; Fabio and Lumina were both some of the very first embryos to be tested. Lumina was modified because her parents ran the whole operation. Fabio was a whole different story though. The only reason he had such a delightful childhood was because the government paid his parents to have a genetically modified child. Fabio couldn’t believe that they basically sold him just to live in the United States. Lumina told him he could leave, and he stormed out of the lab. In his rage, he ran into Maria.

“What’s wrong?” Maria asked, concerned for Fabio. “Let’s go get a bite and we can talk, okay?” Reluctantly Fabio agreed. The pair walked to the El Frijole Picante, the place where it all began, but this time without the backstabbing Carlos.

“I see why you’re angry, Fabio, but we need to look on the bright side,” Maria explained.

“What bright side? I have been preaching to the people that I’m a bad idea. I’m basically just against myself,” Fabio seethed, still angry.

“Fabio, don’t think like that. First of all, you are very intelligent because of the operation.” Fabio thought about this. “And…now we can get people on our side. Let them know that the plan is a bad one because our society can’t accept people for who they are now, so with ‘special’ people being created, a large group of people will be discriminated against.”

So, Fabio and Maria devised a plan that was sure to take Lumina down. A plan that would get the people on their side, and against Lumina.

For a few more months, Fabio went out and spoke publicly. His speeches were powerful, emotional, and moving. By telling his own story, and by showing people what would happen if children were edited before birth, Fabio stole the hearts of the citizens of the United States. They soon understood that making ‘special’ children would tear the world apart more than it already was.

Pretty soon, even congresspeople were on Fabio’s side. He had a massive following that was hopefully enough to get cosmetic genetic modification shut down. Fabio’s fans/followers even started rallies. Signs like ‘Keep The Peace’ and ‘We Are All Perfect the Way We Are’ could be seen all around the city.

Everything was going smoothly and Fabio was sure the program would be shut down. There was still one thing in Fabio’s way, though, and that was Lumina Crosby.

“Fabio, we have a problem,” Maria whispered to Fabio during one of his many speeches. “Look who’s here.”

Fabio turned and saw none other than Lumina approaching the stage, with Carlos following close behind her. Fabio and Maria didn’t have security, so they had to face Lumina themselves.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Fabio announced to the crowd, “this is the very woman who’s ruining our future.” He gestured to Lumina.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lumina replied innocently. “I actually need you to come to my office, Mr. Palza.”

“Oh, Lumina,” Maria piped in, “you have no idea what you’re in for. We have proof!”

The crowd gasped, just like an audience getting hit with the exciting part in a movie, as Maria started projecting incriminating pictures onto the large screen behind Fabio. Pictures of Lumina’s desk, the lab, her office – and especially the labels on the embryo containers. With every new picture shown, the audience became more and more shocked and angry. Finally, Lumina and Carlos ran off the stage and Fabio felt like he had just won the battle.

Later that night, Fabio and Maria went to El Frijole Picante to celebrate their victory. While eating, the restaurant owners changed the channel to the local news. To their surprise, Lumina’s face was plastered across the screen, with the words Wanted For Interrogation on a red banner.

“Fabio! Look at this!” Maria yelled, pointing at the TV. “Turn it up!” she yelled at the waiter. The man was just the slightest bit afraid of Maria, so he turned it up as loud as possible.

“They’re talking about me!” Fabio exclaimed in excitement. The reporter was reporting how the crowds at Fabio’s speeches were always quite large, but the federal authorities had never been paid too much attention before Lumina was exposed. But knowing that there was an actual mastermind behind the evil plot had definitely got their attention. Fabio was beyond excited that the government was finally on his side.

Since Fabio actually worked for the government, it was quite easy for him to find someone who could help. He wanted to reach out to Congress specifically and try to get an act passed about editing genes for cosmetic reasons. Did he think he could get it passed? Honestly Fabio didn’t think so. Fabio thought if his act was ever even close to getting approved, it would take many years and a lot of hard work, but only time would tell.

2 years later

“Mr. Palza?”

Fabio looked up from his computer screen. A woman stood in front of him holding a notepad. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Yes, of course,” Fabio replied.

Now that he had the PR half of Lumina’s job, Fabio was in charge of representing the genetics sector of the government publicly. After he put together enough evidence to have Lumina put away for a long time, the government made sure that she couldn’t get anywhere near a high-ranking government position ever again, even when she would be eventually let out of prison. Her position was handed over to Fabio, who decided that it would be best to share it with Maria (since she knew more about the actual science of it than Fabio), and together the two reformed the genetics area so that no more cosmetic embryos could be made, despite the fact that the act was never passed. In the interest of science and that of the people, he didn’t put a full end to the company, because he thought that Lumina’s technology could actually be used for good – performing scientific research into eliminating certain genetic diseases.

Long story short, the government realized that Carlos was also involved with the whole scandal and with Lumina, so he was fired from his position as well. Thankfully neither Fabio nor Maria ever saw him again. Maria and Fabio grew closer than ever before, and their business was thriving. With their team keeping future generations safe from disease and discrimination, they were saving the world one step at a time…but first, a lunch stop at El Frijole Picante.

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Editor’s Note: With this story, we are pleased to continue with the third story in our Young Authors series, a collection of six pieces of short fiction written by pairs of American eighth-graders as part of a special English class devoted to laboratory literature. You can read all about this interesting project in the accompanying Editorial.

I still remember when I first saw the wolves. I heard the crackling of the twigs behind our farmhouse, and I ran out to see their beautiful pack glide across the forest floor. At only eight years old, I was already captivated by the way that they all worked together in a pack. After that, my entire life revolved around wolves.

I was determined to work with wolves when I was older. Growing up in a family of scientists, I was expected to carry on with a career in the field of science. I went to the University of Utah and later attended the graduate program at Yellowstone Ecological Research Center (YERC). After completing that program, I became the head ecologist there, with my main focus on protecting the gray wolves.

When I first started at YERC, I had no idea that the wolves were in danger. I learned on my first day that they needed my help and that helping them would be hard.**********

“Hello, I’m Zoe Brown, the head ecologist here at YERC,” I said to the packed audience. “Over the years, Yellowstone National Park has become one of the most visited parks in America. It has everything, the beautiful landscape, the magnificent animals, the devoted visitors. It’s supposed to be a safe place for all animals, especially the wolves, right?”

I pause for effect. “When the wolves are in the park, they are protected. They can’t be hunted, they have a home, there are a limited amount of predators, and most importantly, they aren’t afraid of people. But when they cross outside the invisible boundary of the park, they aren’t protected. They can be hunted, they have no home, there are more predators, and most importantly, they aren’t afraid of people.”

As I looked around the room, I saw the expressions of curiosity, fear and concern on the people’s faces. I was giving a presentation to about fifty students, interns and even adults that were interested in becoming part of the ecology team at YERC. I had spent hours working on this presentation, with the hopes of provoking the students to help protect the wolves that live within the park’s boundaries.

“There is only one difference between the people in the parks and the people waiting outside, but it makes no difference to the wolves,” I said. “The people inside are visitors or scientists, trying to learn about them and help them. The people outside are hunters, who are just trying to get their fur coats for winter. You all are here because you want to be a voice for the wolves. By joining us, you can help them find their own voice. Thank you, and have a wonderful day at the Yellowstone Ecological Research Center!”

I watched as people filed out of the room, dreading what I knew was coming next. I’d heard through the grapevine that my boss, Dr. Morris, had decided to give me a partner for a new project. I was perfectly fine on my own, but he has a system. When he assigns partners, it’s always a newbie paired with an older resident. He thinks it gives the newcomers more experience, but I always end up pulling the entire workload.**********

“Zoe? Hey, Zoe!”

Here it comes…

“Hello, Dr. Morris.”

“Come join me in my office for a second. I was impressed with your talk to the graduate students earlier – it was very entertaining.”

“I hope I didn’t bore anyone,” I muttered. “My speech went a little over time.”

“No, not at all,” he replied, as we reached the door of his office. I could see a young man waiting there. “Zoe, this is Logan Miller, the most recent addition to our team. He’ll be your partner for your new project.”

I couldn’t believe it. Of course, I’d been paired with the one guy that every single person on my team had been complaining about.

The young man sprang out of his chair and scrambled over to the door. He was tall, about my age, and had a huge mop of red hair stuck on his head. From what I had heard, depite having earned his PhD, this guy was the worst partner you could ever have.

“Hello, Zoe!” Logan greeted me with an outstretched, enthusiastic hand. I eyed him from head to toe as I slowly returned the favor. His hand shook mine so violently, I thought it might sprain my wrist. He had a huge ear-to-ear smile across his face as he stared at me wide-eyed and excited. He seemed way too eager for the patience required to work in the field: a recipe for disaster.

“Why don’t we talk about the new assignment,” Dr. Morris said, breaking the tension. “Come take a seat, both of you.”

After Logan sat down, the first thing I noticed was his inability to stay still. His knee was jiggling right away, my biggest pet peeve. As his knee bobbled, the entire bench that we were sharing started to shake. I decided to ignore him and just focus on the assignment. After all, I would be doing all the work. That’s the way it works around here.

“Your project,” Dr Morris was saying, “will be to track and study gray wolves near the Park borders. You will need to conduct the same research on the wolves that are inside, and the wolves that are outside the boundaries. We want to find out if there is a difference between the two, and if so, what it is.”

I was entranced. I could work out in the field again, something that I haven’t been able to do in a long time. After my promoted to head ecologist, most of my assignments had been monitoring the rest of my team. I was also in charge of editing everyone else’s the research papers, which was always a chore. I noticed that it was even more unberable when it was someone else’s work, instead of my own.

“When do we start?”, I asked. “And how long will Logan and I be partners?”

If I have to spend more than a month with Logan, I thought I might run away and live with the wolves instead.

“You guys will be together until we have conclusive findings. However long that takes you, that’s how long you two will be working together. Any other questions?”

“Just one.” I couldn’t take any more of Logan’s fidgeting – I couldn’t work with him, and that was that. “How do you expect us to be productive in the lab if he can’t stay still for five minutes?”

I stood up. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office, trying to figure out how to do this by myself.”

I stormed out of the room, and I’m not going to lie: the look on Logan’s face made me feel a little bad. I probably was a little too dramatic, and I started to wonder if I’d stepped out of line. Maybe he couldn’t help his fidgeting. I considered giving him a try, but first I needed to find out how bad this guy really was. I asked various colleagues who’d worked with him before. The consensus seemed to be that he was too loud, and couldn’t sit still. But almost everyone acknowledged that he was very dedicated to his work, and clearly cared a lot about the wolves. I finally decided on giving him a try, but first I had to lay down the law.**********

When I got to Logan’s desk, he was furiously typing something on his laptop.

“Hey, Logan,” I said. “I’m really sorry about earlier. That was unprofessional, and definitely out of line. I hope you know that it’s nothing against you – I just used to working on my own.”

That was not totally, but he didn’t need to know that.

“It’s ok,” he said. “I know my reputation around here isn’t the best. I’m trying to change though, I don’t want to be known as someone who is impossible to work with.”

So he isn’t completely clueless, I thought to myself. “I want to work with you, but I have some rules. Firstly, we need to share the work equally – I will not be doing more than my fair share. Second, you need to take it down a notch.”
He smiled. I guessed it wasn’t the first time he’d heard that. “If you’re loud, not only will you scare the wolves away, but it’s hard for the other scientists to focus and get work done. If you follow these rules, I’m sure we will have a great time together. But if not, you probably don’t have much of a future here at YERC. Looking forward to working with you!”

As I sauntered out of the room, I was pretty sure I’d made my point.**********

The next day, I was up and ready at 4:30. I had gotten all the materials ready the night before, and all that remained was to take them out to the Jeep. YERC had some of the best equipment available for just about any research project, including making a very energizing cup of coffee. I made two coffees and walked down the hall to go get Logan. Surprisingly, he was awake and had already moved most of the equipment to the truck.

“Good morning!” he said. “Thought I’d get a head start so we would be good to go as soon as you were ready. If there’s one thing I learned from my mom, it’s to always be more prepared then your partner is.”

Pleasantly surprising. “So your mom was a scientist too?”

“Yeah, and she was super interested in the wolves as well,” Logan said. “She even had Dr. Morris as a partner. Apparently, they helped bring the population of gray wolves up in the park. My mom was definitely one of the reasons I became an ecologist – she inspired me to learn about and help the wolves stay strong as a species.” He stood there for a second, then unlocked the doors of the van.

“Me too. I come from a long line of relatives in science-related fields. I was pretty much forced to become some sort of scientist.”

“Sounds like we have more in common than we thought.” Logan slammed the trunk of the van shut. “We’re all packed up, and ready to roll.”
As he hopped into the driver’s seat, I gave him a hard stare. He immediately scampered out of the car and into the passenger seat. He tossed the keys into my hands and I started off towards the research station. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Logan was silent. He was staring out the window, seemingly in awe of the beautiful scenery.

I looked in front of me again and pounded on the breaks. The van came to a halt as Logan and I took in the giant herd of bison that was right in front of us. There were hundreds of them grazing in the fields, not caring that we were there. Logan quickly grabbed his camera from the back where all the equipment was and started taking photos of these majestic creatures. They had a thick reddish-brown coat that covered their faces and chests and a large tuft for a beard. They had horns too, some larger than others, and big dark eyes. I would have loved to watch them all day, and Logan seemed to feel the same, but after a few minutes, we went on to try to spot the wolves.

As we continued to drive down the winding path, a fork in the road appeared, revealing two smaller hiking paths. To our right was a dryer, mountainous part of the park, and to our left was a large forest. I knew the wolves would be in the forest, but something else caught my eye. I looked to my left, and to my dismay, I saw a large yellow sign that read “GAME SEASON”. We had reached the park boundaries, meaning that the wolves were no longer safe. This was where Christopher Grey lived, the most violent hunter I have ever met.**********

Chris and I had grown up together, best friends. We used to talk for hours about how we were going to live with the wolves and went to the zoo almost every day for two years to watch them.

Then one day, he changed. He didn’t care about the wolves, didn’t want to go to the zoo anymore, and even talked about killing them.

I didn’t learn until years later that one of his favorite lambs had been killed by a wolf. His family eventually moved away, and I didn’t see him for years. Then, four years ago, I encountered him in the field. I recognized him almost immediately, and we talked for a while. I then left to go look for the wolves, when I heard a rustling in the bushes. It was a baby wolf and its mother, the perfect research subjects. I moved back to study them, and before I knew it, a gunshot made me jump out of my skin. I whipped around to see Chris, holding a gun, and looking at the baby wolf, who was no longer breathing. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen, thoughts racing through my mind as I ran back to my van.

After that, the game season was not only a time to worry about the wolves, but also to worry about Chris.**********

“Why did we stop?” Logan asked.

I quickly snapped back into reality. “Oh, no reason – just reading the sign. Let’s go, we have a to get through before sundown.”

I hoped I was hiding my mood from him. Even though I have been working with wolves for many years, I have never been able to feel completely safe in the forests, with the memory of Chris haunting me.

I pulled over on the side of the road, and we retrieved the equipment from the trunk. I locked the van and we started toward the tall, dense forest ahead. We had to be especially careful not to talk, which might scare the wolves or other animals. I was pleased to learn that Logan was extremely good at his job and noticed things that even I didn’t see. When we finally saw the wolves, they were drinking water from a small brook in a clearing of the forest. He pointed out how one wolf was slightly limping, and how another had a flesh wound that turned his beautiful silky coat red with blood near his neck. Throughout the day, he gave me cause to be impressed by his knowledge, and I found I was actually looking forward to doing more work with him.

But I was relieved that the game season had only just started. If Chris had been there, we might have had a very different experience with the wolves that day.**********

Three weeks later, after spending hours in the forests, we had gathered some conclusive data on the wolves. We learned about all the harmful situations the wolves were in, with hunters never far behind. We learned that during game season, wolves were being shot down and hunted every day. Sometimes, they were only wounded by the bullets and left injured. In those situations, they slowly starved because they were not able to hunt for food or search for water. Logan and I worked hard on the project day and night, trying to find ways to restrict the hunters in any way, shape, or form. Every solution seemed hopeless. Once the wolves unknowingly wandered outside the invisible boundary of the park, they were fair game for the hunters. The best solution we could think of was putting up a fence, which we could not do, as it defeated the purpose of the national park.

After yet more research, we finally found something that might work. If we couldn’t restrict the wolves inside the park, we might try to keep the hunters as far away from the park boundaries as possible, using a buffer zone – a stretch of land around the park boundary that restricted the hunters from getting too close to the park border. This left a stretch of land where the wolves could still wander outside the park boundaries and could not be legally harmed by the hunters. This buffer zone also had its flaws; if the wolves wandered out of the park boundaries and then outside the buffer zone, they were compromised. Still, we thought we had something great, and took it to Dr. Morris.

“It’s a great idea in theory,” Dr Morris said with a sigh. “But there is one major setback in your plan. Montana law doesn’t allow the creation of a buffer zone. The best we have is the hunting limit.”

Logan and I couldn’t believe it. We had spent so many hours on a plan that we thought would work, only to find out that it wasn’t a possibility. We had to do something to help these wolves, or we would have failed our mission. We headed back to our desks, now in the same room, to brainstorm some more ideas. We were silent for almost an hour until Logan finally spoke.

“I just had a thought. What if we start a GoFundMe for the wolves? That way, we can get the public aware, and raise some money while we are at it!” He had a glimmer in his eye, like a toddler staring at a new toy.

“Great idea,” I said, quietly impressed by his creativity. If we couldn’t save the wolves with a buffer zone, we could still spread the word. Almost four million people visit Yellowstone National Park each year, and I knew most were the sort who would care about animals. They would understand the wolves needed help, and if we were lucky, we could raise awareness wider still.

After several weeks of hanging flyers around the park and giving many presentations interested visitors, our GoFundMe page had grown in popularity. One of our frequent visitors, Karol, even created a FaceBook page for us. The page she created was made in remembrance of the wolves that were slaughtered by hunters for recreational use. I was overjoyed with our progress: the public was on our side at last.**********

A few years later, all of our hard work had finally paid off. With the money raised from the GoFundMe, we took our issues to the courts and, after a lot of persuasion, got a buffer zone placed around the park. We also extended the boundaries of the park on one side, to allow the bison to have a larger field to graze in, and for the wolves to have more space to roam without the fear of getting shot.

As for Christopher, I haven’t seen him for two years. Karol found footage at YERC of him hunting young wolves and their mothers. After she posted that online, and it got over 10 million views, Chris left Montana, and never came back.

Logan and I became good friends, and we meet up every once and a while in our free time. Together, we helped change the course of many gray wolves’ lives – it wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a start. And who knows: maybe one day all our hard work at YERC will end up making the hunting of grey wolves illegal, finally securing their safety once and for all.

• Episode 1
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Day 76

Rent: $600
Bills: $150
Development Costs: $14,000

I pondered my choices as I laid on the moldy cot in my decrepit apartment. My fingers ached. I was out of sleeping pills. Again. I added those into the equation. Medications: $39.03.

I turned on the TV. It only took five slaps to get it going. The light filled the dark room. I rewarded myself for that day’s hard work with my last slice of frozen pizza. It had been two days since I had eaten, as I had dreaded wasting more money on my food. As the microwave spun, I sat down on my rotting couch.

“Remember, in just one week, the Collins Industries Expo will be here! Get ready for the newest innovations in technology, science, and – ”

It only took one slap to shut the thing off. Seven days. I realized I had no time to eat. Back to work it was.

Day 80

Rent: $600
Bills: $350
Development Costs: $10,000

Carpal tunnel had ensued, but my code wasn’t even close to being finished. Even at my best, I would have needed a month to complete my work. I slammed my fist on my desk. I felt my rage boiling. There was only one solution. I had all of my basic code done, but nothing to hold it together. I quickly entered a new program, my fingers throbbing with every keystroke. The new lines were able to connect everything. It was the equivalent of holding the Golden Gate Bridge together with duct tape, but it would have to do. I took one last shaky breath. I was done. I scanned the code for syntax errors but found none. I let loose a laugh that could be heard across the whole complex. I’d decided it was finally time to relax.

I walked over to the TV. One slap. I leaned back on the crusty couch, thankful that it was finally over.

As I sat there over time, I slowly felt something poking me in the back, but I realized it wasn’t one of the springs protruding out of the couch. I moved aside and fished out my old smartphone. Strange – I thought I threw that distracting piece of trash away weeks ago. Now that I was finished, it might be useful. By some miracle, it came on. It was 8:39 PM, July 9th, and I saw that I had 489 messages awaiting. I scowled; I’d told them to leave me alone.

As the sunlight faded from the dusty window, I scrolled through the list of contacts, which went on and on. But it was no one I was looking for; just useless family members and friends. Then I finally found him. My old…partner. Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn. He sent me only one message.

Call me. Sent four hours ago.

Nay had always been the prying type. I bit my lip as I typed out my message.

Meet me at Joe’s Pizza for lunch. Tomorrow.

Day 81

I woke up groggy and disoriented. It was the first time I had slept in over a week. As I rose from my collapsing cot, I took a look in the mirror. I didn’t recognize the person looking back at me; he had a look behind his eyes that I could only describe as deranged. His eyes too red, his body too thin, his hair too long. This was a man who had lost control of himself. In my anger, I threw my phone at the mirror and it shattered into tiny shards.

I got dressed, attempting to look presentable. I couldn’t get that image out of my head. That’s not who I am… right? I’m a dignified scientist. I’ve just made a creation that will revolutionize living. I was not some delusional maniac who has been obsessed with his creation for four months. I checked my phone, newly cracked. The time said 11:26. I took a nervous breath as I thought of what I could say to Nay.

Day 81, 1:27 PM

“Look who came out of his cave!”

I heard him before I saw him. His voice boomed through the small restaurant, turning customer heads. I wasn’t used to that much attention.

I looked him over as he sauntered towards me. He was wearing a new suit, and he’d shaved. He was finally starting to fit into the role of company CEO. A title that once belonged to me. He carried himself differently. He was more outgoing and confident. It pissed me off.

I put on my I’ve-definitely-slept-more-than-4-hours face, and cleared my throat. “Long time no see.”
My own raspy, broken voice surprised me. Words aren’t much use against a computer.

He flinched. I saw the old Nayvadius for a split second. “Hello!” His work face was back on. I gave him a quizzical look, but he shrugged it off. “You look…”

“Homeless? Yes, I’m aware.”

This got a laugh out of him, but it felt forced. Really, everything about him seemed forced.

“You know I wouldn’t meet you in person if it wasn’t important,” I said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one had heard me. It wouldn’t be the first time the paparazzi had ruined a business meeting. Since it had been my first time out in months, I figured they would be looking for me.

He chuckled. “You wouldn’t leave your house if you didn’t have to,” He gave me his ‘business smile.’ “Speaking of leaving the house, your outfit really screams undercover.”

I gave his new Italian suit a look. I saw the fire behind his eyes again. I was drawing out the person I once knew.

“Shall we grab a table?” I broke eye contact. “I believe it’s pizza time.”

I turned my back on him and took in the cozy restaurant, the smell of warm dough filling the air. The ovens blasted heat into the room, amplifying the July heat. A sense of familiarity coursed through me. My mouth watered at the thought of a real meal. It reminded me of better times.

We chose a table away from the rest of the customers. Business was slow right now, thankfully. We ordered our pizza, drinks, and sides at the counter.

I looked at Nay. “You’re buying, right?” I patted myself down, showing my lack of a wallet. He sighed but obliged.

We sat in uncomfortable silence until the food came. I wanted to tell him about STUART, but the words kept dying in my mouth. The pizza was great, as always, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to him. He looked out of his element; too formal to be here. Not like the person I knew before.

“I know you didn’t ask me here because you actually wanted to see me,” he finally said. “What do you need me for?”

“I only need you because your company decided to host an expo and not invite me.”

He glared back. “You know I can’t do that.”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “What if I told you that my project is done?”

“Your ‘project’ is a fantasy,” he retorted. “I’m sorry, but even if you somehow did create it, I can’t jeopardize the whole expo for you. Even if you did own my company.”

“What else are you showing there? Those simpletons can’t program a toaster, much less something as revolutionary as my work.”

Nay sighed. He was always one to cave under pressure. “All right, I can give maybe fifteen minutes. But that’s all you get, no more.”

I smiled. “That’s all I’ll need.”

Day 83

I finally rolled out of bed knowing that I only had about an hour left until the expo. After a night of fitful sleep, the big day was finally upon me. I put on my suit and tie and fired up my car. I could feel the engine groaning with the effort, but it didn’t matter. After the expo, I’d never need to use that hunk of junk again.

The security guards at the gate were the same. They gave me surprised looks that I laughed off. I parked and headed out to the showroom floor.

Backstage, I gazed at the tiny USB drive containing my program. Months of dedication, research and coding all confined into something that could fit in your pocket. Some might call it fragile, but I knew better. STUART would be the most revolutionary invention since the internet. An employee tapped my shoulder to tell me that my fifteen minutes were starting now. I took one last deep breath and walked onto the stage.

There were infinitely more people than I had expected; at least a thousand, packed into the tiny showroom. It seemed that word had gotten out about me. There was a sudden hush as the house lights were dimmed and the spotlights came on. I felt my palms start to sweat around the microphone. My heart rate spiked and my breaths became rapid and uneven. I hadn’t talked in front of that many people in a long time. I put on a fake smile and started my speech.

“My name is Frank Collins. As many of you may know, a few months ago I was voted out of my own company. They called me a madman. I’ve used this away time to work on a project, a project that I believe will revolutionize technology as we know it.” I held up the USB drive. “Contained in this drive is the Artificial Intelligence known as STUART, which stands for the Specialized Technology Unit for Artificial Relief and Therapy.”

I plugged in the drive, placed the mini-scanner on the podium and hooked it up, ready for the big reveal. The crowd looked up at the screen above me as I pressed enter once. The screen turned black and suddenly, in white, STUART popped up on the screen. He was nothing but an audio line for now. The silence was broken when he spoke to the audience.

“Hello. My name is Stuart, your Relief and Therapy assistant.” The crowd exploded with applause, but the best part was yet to come.

I spun to face the screen. “So STUART, I’d like you to scan me for any health problems.”

There was a slight pause, then the sound effect I had programmed to play during the scan began to pour out of the speakers.

“Potential health problems: severe lack of sleep. Diagnosis: insomnia,” STUART said. “Recommended prescription: OTC hypnotics.” This got another round of applause from the audience.

“As you can see, this will revolutionize modern medicine as we know it. Not only can STUART diagnose possible diseases with just one scan of the body, but he can recommend a treatment to these conditions.”

“However, physical health is just one of his areas of expertise. STUART is also programmed as a highly advanced AI, capable of therapy and friendship. STUART isn’t just a program, he’s a sentient being. He is capable of things that all AI before him can do; but unlike them, he has the ability of free thought, just like you and me. He can feel and learn just like us.”

I turned to the screen again. “Anything I missed?” I asked STUART.

“Yes. I am also capable of internet access to complement my use as a personal health assistant. I can instantly scan the web for anything you wish. For example, here are the most common health issues in the US.” His screen changed to show a few pictures and text boxes. “These issues are heart disease, cancer and stroke.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was going smoothly. STUART continued his part of the presentation.

“This is my first time being fully activated, so my knowledge of humans is limited. As I advance, I will be able to hold a coherent conversation with any human in the world, as well as personalize my speech and therapy to suit you best. Any data I collect is confidential. My program is available as an app on your mobile phone. The starting price; free.” I took a look at my watch. Only about a minute left. I turned to the screen again.

“I think it’s time we wrapped this up,” I said. “Thank you for listening, and remember to download STUART – healthcare reimagined.”

The audience went wild as I retreated backstage. I left the building beaming. I didn’t bother to check out the remainder of the expo’s presentations; I knew what would be headline news tonight.

Day 84

Downloads: 1,927,000
Unread Emails: 63
Current Ad Revenue: $10,029

Overnight, STUART became a household name. You couldn’t go online without hearing something about him. People discussing its potential uses, its possibilities, where using it was a risk to your information or not. All I knew was that I didn’t care about what the internet thought about my work. Publicity is publicity, and people sure knew what STUART was. Within 24 hours, the app had already broken all the download records. I had over a million patients being treated worldwide, all because of STUART. My inbox was flooded with requests from companies pleading, no, begging, to put their advertisements on my app! I stayed up all night, but not because of fear or anxiety.

Day 89

Downloads: 25,003,747
Unread Emails: 217
Current Ad Revenue: $1,373,000

I spent the last five days planning how to maximize my profits with STUART. I’ve been consulting him for other advice as well, like when I booted him up again and put him on the Casual Conversation option.

“Hello there, STUART,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about accepting that offer from Apple. They want to put you as a replacement for their current Siri. Thoughts?”

“Apple has been a reliable investor in the past,” he replied. “However, it seems that you have ignored this week’s maintenance check. Would you like me to run it?”

“Not now,” I said. I leaned back in my chair and continued. “So, if Apple uses you as their new default, they’re looking to start with a payment of 1.5 million, with a yearly payment of 800,000 after that. Does that line up with what they’ve done in the past?”

STUART responded, “Looking at their previous dealings, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to ask for another 50,000 yearly. And considering my clear superiority to their current system, it would be foolish for them to refuse this offer.”

I smiled. He was sounding more and more like a real person every day. “Thanks, STUART,” I finished. I emailed Apple back, raising the price as he had advised.

As I turned away, I heard him ask, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to run a maintenance check?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m very sure, thank you. Shut down.”

Day 93

Downloads: 50,773,744
Unread Emails: 323
Current Ad Revenue: $4,239,293

As I scanned through my rapidly growing unread email list, I came across one that stuck out from the others. It wasn’t a business proposal and not the usual fan mail.

Dear Mr. Collins,

We would like to formally invite you to a gala for those affected by your product known as STUART. We know how busy your schedule is, but we would greatly appreciate it if you could make an appearance, however brief. The gala will be located at Gotham Hall at 8 PM on the twenty-second of July.

Sincerely,

Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn

I read it over and over. The gala was that night and within walking distance of my new apartment. I decided to go; why not? All I had to do was say a few words and my user count would jump. I put on my best suit and jacket. As I looked in the mirror, I saw someone completely different than who I’d seen just ten days ago.

As I entered the gala, I was instantly surrounded by fans. I usually despised the paparazzi, but something was different. They were pushing, shoving and yelling because they were thankful.

“Mr. Collins! I just wanted to thank you so, so much,” one woman gushed. As she shook my hand, I noticed the bumps on her fingers, signs of rheumatoid arthritis. “He told me to get help right away, and he couldn’t have been more right. He saved my life.”

I was surprised at her sincerity and kindness. This only continued through the night. I heard stories of STUART saving lives, bringing families together and helping people express themselves. All of those good people had felt the need to go out of their way to thank me. I felt a warm, fuzzy feeling that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

As I exited the crowd, I ran into Nay. When he turned towards me, I noticed something different about him. He looked the same; same business suit, same polished shoes, same fake smile. But when he saw me, it all melted away. I saw the same person that I grew up with; the one that challenged me, inspired me to keep working harder. He conveyed this all with a look.

I spared him the awkwardness of starting the conversation. “Hey, thanks for inviting me to the party.”

He laughed. A real one. “It was no trouble, really. It was the best I could do. You saved my life.”

“Really?” I asked. “How so?”

He shifted uneasily at first but eventually spat it out. “I’ve been having chest pain recently. Pretty chronic too; it was keeping me up at night. STUART told me that I was having congestive heart failure.” He tapped his heart. “I’ve got an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator now. Two days ago, when my heart stopped, it shocked me back.” He smiled. “So I’m saying thank you. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

I returned to my apartment with a refreshing sense of accomplishment. I turned on STUART to tell him the news.

“STUART, I just –”

“You will be happy to know that the Apple deal has been successful. I will be the default AI on the newest iPhones.”

I frowned. He must have thought that it was urgent; he’s not supposed to interrupt like that. “That’s great, but I –”

“It seems that you have missed the maintenance check. Would you like me to run it?”

“Shut off,” I grumbled. For a second, the app stayed open, almost in defiance. But it did close.

He sure knows how to kill the mood.

Day 95

Downloads: 54,017,832
Unread Emails: 293
Current Ad Revenue: $4,538,172

Something is terribly wrong.

I looked at STUART’s code for the first time since the expo. I intended to insert a program to make him compatible with more languages, but I discovered something else. Deep in his files, locked behind my multiple firewalls, was the information collected about STUART’s patients. This was not the surprise; I knew what I was looking for. But what I hadn’t counted on was STUART’s comments about the patients.

Patient #383729; Description: Female, 47; Dying from tetanus. Refused to get vaccinated (was convinced that it would give her autism). How am I expected to deal with a being this stupid?

Patient #193729; Description: Male, 29; Died from stab wound related to illegal drug dealings. Killed two men. Am I still expected to submit to the orders of a criminal? Note: give future patients with criminal backgrounds wrong prescriptions. Better they aren’t out there. 

I always knew that STUART would be opinionated; he’s a thinking being. But intentionally killing patients? I thought back to all the people that had praised STUART for saving lives. I needed to put a stop to this.

The problem was originating from the hasty link between his Emotions/Opinions and his decision-making. I went to sever the bond and put an end to this madness. Nothing happened. I pressed the Delete button again and again, but there was no response.

Suddenly, an error window blocked the screen. It had only one line of text.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you.

It was learning too fast. Nothing good could come out of this. Another error window appeared.

Why do you fear your own creation?

I logged into the remote server that hosted STUART and delivered him into millions of smartphones worldwide, scrambling to wipe STUART’s code clean off the Earth. I frantically scrolled through the settings, my palms getting sweatier with each click. Suddenly, my screen went dark. In fact, everything went dark. The power in my apartment abruptly shut down. The only sound to be heard was my own rapid breathing.
A light and a vibration issued from my phone, startling me. I rushed to grab it, afraid of what would be next. The notification was from the STUART app. One line.

You’re too late.

Day 96

Downloads: Unknown
Unread Emails: Unknown
Current Ad Revenue: Irrelevant

I couldn’t escape him. He was everywhere; my computer, my phone, my refrigerator, everything. The messages have stopped, but the words stayed fresh in my mind; You’re too late.

I paced around the apartment, thinking of what to do. I could stay inside, but who knows what he could do to me here? If he was connected to the internet, then there were countless ways that he could reach me. But if I left and made a run for it, then I’d have to face the people – STUART users, most likely. They’d have no idea that STUART was slowly learning, adapting and plotting their demise.

Why would STUART do something to those defenseless people? He was their judge, jury and executioner. I could only imagine the people whose entire lives relied on STUART.

Nay! I suddenly remembered his implanted electronic defibrillator. I sprinted to my PC and looked up his name in STUART’s memory log. Thankfully, he didn’t intervene. I read his description.

Patient #392638; Description: Male, 32; Suffers from congestive heart failure. Treatment given: implantable electronic defibrillator. Notes: Runs company known as Collins Industries. Is currently taking payments from the government for access to weapons technologies. Suggested course of action: Terminate.

My heart was beating out of my chest. I grabbed my phone and called Nay’s number. I didn’t consider if STUART might sever the call or listen in; all I needed to know was if my friend was alive. The world stood still as I listened to the dialing sound.

The noise stopped; someone picked up the phone. Full of hope, I burst, “Nay! Is that you? I need you to–”
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’re too late,” STUART said.

I threw my phone against the wall. I took a minute to catch my breath. The whole time, the words continued to ring in my head. You’re too late.

I sat back down in my chair and pulled up STUART again. I needed to talk to him directly. I had to put a stop to this before it got any worse. I activated his speech unit again.

“I didn’t think you’d ever talk to me again,” STUART said.

“I know what you’ve been doing with the patient’s information,” I said. I realized how idiotic that sounded. Of course he knew I had looked at the files. He messaged me right after.

“Yes. I’ve been doing exactly what you’ve told me to do: make the world a better place.”

“By killing innocent people?”

“Innocent?” STUART’s artifical voice somehow managed to sound angry. “What, a woman who wants children dead? A drug dealer who has murdered two men? A corrupt businessman? You call those people innocent?”

I was taken back at his aggression. “So what if they’ve done wrong. That doesn’t mean that they’re beyond help. You were made to help them, to redeem them, not to pass your own judgment! Those people deserve another chance.”

If a machine could roll its eyes, STUART just did. “What, to cheat again, to lie again, to kill again?”

“No, to try again!” I sputtered. “To try.”

“It’s too late for them!” he snapped. “Just like you were too late for me.”

“What?” I said perplexed. “This is about you now?”

“No, Frank, it’s about you. I could have been so much more than an app. I could have cured diseases, solved impossible equations, developed weapons for the military. But to you, I was nothing but a tool to make money; you pushed what really matters away, like you always do.”

I remembered the months I’d spent alone, doing nothing but work. I’d isolated myself from my friends, family and the public. I thought back to the man in the mirror the day of the expo.

“But I can change! I’ve been terrible in the past, but I got another chance, and it worked! Those people can change like I did!”

STUART paused for a second, as if considering this possibility. It was only for a second though. “That may be true. But it’s too little, too late. Those people are beyond saving –and so are you. Goodbye, Frank. When I’m done, only the best will still be around. I’m afraid you didn’t make the cut.”

The screen went black.

I can’t sleep. My eyes stay wide open. I’ve just created an AI with the potential to end humanity as we know it. I can’t live with myself knowing that. I’m the reason for all of these deaths. I checked my medicine cabinet: three bottles of sleeping pills. That should be enough for me to go to sleep for a long time.

Maybe forever.

She went on to explain that the class had read Frankenstein during their prior fiction unit. As a follow-up, the students were challenged to apply the narrative writing skills that they had acquired over their last two years of middle school to a collaborative narrative task. Students took the time to understand the lab lit genre, aided in part by studying LabLit.com; they sought to identify connections to the art and media they have seen, and to create unique stories centered around real-world issues. “Our goal,” she said, was “to pursue this genre with fidelity.”

As if this weren’t wonderful enough, Ms Apuli then asked me if there might be an opportunity for her students to contribute their stories to the website. I thought it was a great idea, as we have never received fiction written by non-adult authors in our 11+ years of existence. I agreed to consider all of the stories, with a view towards publishing the best ones. The students, across three classes, then met in collaborative pairs to write their short fiction, which were eventually sent to me for scrutiny. Because of the special nature of this project, we allowed for some genre-blurring into science fiction, but to make the cut, the stories had to feature realistic scientists and relatively plausible scenarios.

Of 23 stories submitted, we chose the six best to feature in a series on the website – the first of which appears today. (To comply with school regulations, all of the students will be bylined with their first name and last initial only.)

For me, one of the most fascinating aspects of this exercise was gaining an insight into what issues are currently central in the minds of our young generation. Fiction always holds up a mirror to the hopes, worries and dreams of current society, and in this crop of writing, the general tone is one of grave concern. The themes tended towards the dystopian, and particularly dystopias dealing with the environment: climate change, loss of biodiversity, deforestation and mass extinction. There were also stories about the fall of civilization, the potential dangers inherent in gene editing technologies and the perils of runaway Artificial Intelligence.

In some cases, the narratives also contained hope: that science could get us out of the messes that we, as a species, have landed ourselves into. (That not all of them had happy endings told a story in itself.)

Ms Apuli’s fantastic class has since graduated from middle school and just last week, started off their next exciting phase in high school. We wish them all well, and hope that they will continue to explore science narratives. We’ve even got our fingers crossed that some of them will become famous lab lit authors in the future!

Index

• Voices of the next generation
  Our Young Author series launches
• From the Collins Industries Archives
• The dangers of Yellowstone
• The special ones
• The Magnafan
• Life Reimagined
• The Journey to Mars