After five years, Jones and his team
developed a new super soy bean (Proto-Synsoy). The seeds repel insects
and grow twice as fast as non-modified soy beans. After signing a five
million dollar contract, Jones buys a lab and continues his
experiments.
Several
Frankenstein experiments later, Jones creates the tangamato, a tomato
crossed with a tangerine. Surprisingly, the fruit proves quite
delicious, and a large corporation buys the genetic code to Jones'
tangmato.
At
first, Jones thinks the buyers intend on feeding the starving people in
third-world countries. After all, just one tangamato provides the same
vitamins and nutrients as one 8 oz. glass of V-8. However, the buyer
reveals his real tangamato plans.
Jones
strokes his chin before pushing his glasses against his nose. He never
knew why he did it. For some reason, he felt the gesture brought out a
masculine studiousness repressed by his gangly features. He cleared
his voice in attempt to get a deeper pitch: "So, are you going to feed
the less fortunate in third-world countries with my new fruit."
A
slight smirk streaked across the buyer's face. "Feed the less
fortunate? Hell, no, Jones. Christ, they are used to living with their
ribs poking out. Feeding them would change the evolution of things, and
soon they would get used to more. Why kill efficiency by overloading
engines that run on almost nothing."
Jones
felt a sudden surge of hot blood fill his face. He sucked in a little
air with his nostrils before speaking. "So, if you're not going to feed
the hungry, what are your plans."
The business man leaned back in his leather chair. The sun from the window revealed its brown shininess.
"What
does it matter what I do with tangamatos, Jones? You got your money,
and signed the contract. Now take your ideals and starving people with
you on the way out and close the door."
"Cameron,
wait, " Jones blurted out, jolting from his chair. "I need to know. I
developed tangamatos for a specific purpose in mind."
"Yes, I know. You made it so someone could buy it. I bought it. There is nothing more to discuss."
Yes,
there is," Jones pleaded, wailing his thin, rubber-band arms.
"Cameron, I cannot sleep at night if you I willingly sold the genes for
evil purposes."
"Evil
purposes? Jesus, Jones. Have you gone crazy? It's a tangerine crossed
with a tomato. What evil could a lab-made fruit unleash on a fool's
world? But I can tell you are a egg-head sleaze with a deluded sense of
principles guided by an indoctrinated moral compass instilled in you by
weak ivory-tower men who live their lives in a text-book fantasy. So,
allow me to straighten you out by giving you a slap of reality."
"I demand to know, Cameron!" Jones yelled, slamming his fist on the desk.
The businessman remained perfectly still as Jones meekly placed his hurting hand in comforting squeeze of his left.
"You
see. Let that hurting hand be a lesson, Jones. You can't go slamming
your pitiful causes in a world where it and its people are made of
rock. If anything, your little ethical hissy fit shows the inability
to face your weakness."
"My weakness?"
Yes,
you're human like the rest of us. And you tried fooling yourself into
thinking you made this stupid fruit for something other than
self-interest and profit."
"Cameron, I made this fruit to..."
The businessman raised his open palm, stopping Jones from talking. "How many buyers did you have, Jones?"
Jones lowered his eyes and continued to hold his hand. "Three," he muttered.
The businessman nodded. "Of the three, who gave you the best deal."
"Cameron, I only chose you because..."
"Who offered you the most money, Jones?"
"You did."
"Yes,
and there's the reality, Jones. Let the pain in your little hand
remind you that goodness is weak and selfishness is strong."
Jones rubbed his hand. His eyes dropped to floor.
"Well,
I can tell I've inflicted a wound on your big, virtuous ego. So, to
help you better deal with the sting, I'll tell you what I am to do with
your GMO."
"What will you do?"
A
grin appeared on the businessman's face. "I am not going to do
anything with it Jones. I am going to sit on it in hopes that someone
will buy from it me. And most likely, that person will sit on it until
someone buys it from him, and so on and so forth."
"So, the world will never see my fruit?"
"Probably not. At least not in our lifetime."
"Cameron, how can you do that?"
"It's
easy. It's mine. I bought it, so I will do as I please with it. Now,
it may help a lot of people or it may not, but the fact is I decide its
use, and, at this point, I am not going to do anything with it."
Jones became really still. He wanted to push his glasses against his nose, but stopped himself.
"In
fact, Jones, I'm sure there is someone sitting on the cure to cancer,
but, unfortunately, no one has offered the right price."
"I refuse to believe that someone would not part with the cure to cancer at any cost."
"If
look throughout our history, pride costs more than most can ever hope
to afford. Just the idea you possess something no one else has makes
more esteemed than God. And, in this cruel, sinking world, owning it
gives you that power. Why would anyone want to give up that power?"
"Recognition; validation" Jones said.
"Recognition
and validation are fleeting, Jones. In fact, that is who you are.
After a span of time, no one will discern the difference between a pear
and tangamato. It's just another fruit on a cart. Just like the cancer
bullet is another cure. People recall the cure but forget the doctor.
"No,
Jones. You're only upset because you think I robbed you of what was to
be taken from you— recognition. What I have done is give you taste of
the future when all consume the fruit but fail to give homage to your
brilliance.
"At
least you can rest comfortably knowing your vitamin-filled fruit will
maintain its superiority because of its scarcity. Only a select number
of us know it really exists, and that in itself makes it sacred. In
this way, it can only continue to gain value. My refusal to share it
maintains my power."
Jones turned his back and shuffled toward the door.
"If I were you, Jones, I would go spend some money and enjoy the life you made."
The sound of a door opening echoed throughout the room.
"Hell, make another superfruit,and I'll buy it," the businessman laughed as the door closed behind Jones.
For
your first blog, think about how you would feel if someone took your
idea and never used it. What would you try do? Steal it back? Or make
a new one. Write a paragraph and a half response to this prompt. Good
luck!
