The Cassandra Complex - Brian Stableford [32]
“And these are lucky mice?” Lisa asked, waving her hand in a broad semicircle to encompass as much of Mouseworld as she could.
“They are now,” Miller confirmed. “To begin with, all four populations boomed and then crashed, and then went through the whole cycle again—but after the second crash, the more adaptable mice had come into their inheritance. Since then, all four populations have stabilized. Imagine that: London, Paris, Rome, and New York, all marching in step toward a common goal! Inspiring, in its way, but no real cause for congratulations. The mice have been intensively studied, of course, to see exactly how they work the physiological tricks that allow them to stabilize their populations, in the hope that science might provide for humans what natural selection probably hasn’t—but given that we are so smart, it seems ridiculous to try to duplicate the admittedly imperfect methods of mindless mice, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “It depends. If intelligence produces a political solution to the problem, that would be a triumph. But if it doesn’t … mightn’t it be a good idea to have a biological solution as backup?”
“If only it were that simple,” Miller replied sadly—but he didn’t seem in the least scornful of her suggestion. “Alas, if our intelligence is inadequate to facilitate a purely social solution, it can hardly be expected to facilitate the social application of a biological one. People who refuse to use contraception for the sake of the common good are hardly likely to accept institutionally imposed sterilization, are they?”
“Actually,” Lisa said, grateful that the training she’d recently undergone was useful for something, “that’s not as obvious as it seems. People accept policing to the extent that they do because they admit the necessity of restraint and want it imposed uniformly and fairly. All motorists routinely break the speed limit and park their cars wherever they can, and they all get mad if they’re caught by radar or ticketed by a traffic officer, but they all accept the fundamental necessity of speed limits and parking restrictions.”
“That’s a fair point,” Miller conceded, “and the comparison is probably more relevant than it seems, given that so many people seem to care at least as much about their cars as their children. I can see that you’ll be a considerable asset to my seminars on the neoMalthusians. Maybe you can take them over next year. But you mustn’t allow yourself to become too entranced with Mouseworld. Whatever its running costs may be, they’re trivial compared to the time it can soak up. Whatever you do, don’t volunteer to help with the counting or the data processing. As far as the production of interesting results is concerned, the cities ran into the law of diminishing returns ten years ago. No matter how long they may continue, each hour invested in their observation will produce less and less reward as time goes by. You and I, Lisa, must concentrate our attention on events on a much smaller scale. DNA is the key to everything: all biological understanding and all bio technological possibility. Can we move on now?”
She couldn’t help noticing that it was the first time he had spoken her name. She was slightly ashamed of herself for caring, but she figured that she could probably forgive herself, if the need arose.
In spite of Morgan Miller’s advice, Lisa couldn’t help being fascinated by Mouseworld. She was relieved to discover that she wasn’t the only one and that its captivating influence wasn’t confined to fledgling research students. Chan Kwai Keung was already in his second year of postdoctoral study, having committed himself to the long rite of passage by which aspiring university scientists had to spend the early phases of their careers working on short-term contracts for derisory salaries. His stature was a little shorter than Morgan Miller’s, and no slimmer than Lisa’s, but he moved with an economical grace that made him seem far