The Lost World - Michael Crichton [59]
The computer screen showed a scrambled hash of static. At the bottom was a command line that read: “Multiple Frequency Inputs Received. Do you want to Autotune?”
Arby didn’t know what that meant, but he was fearless around computers. Autotune sounded interesting. Without hesitation, he typed “Yes.”
The static scramble remained on the screen, while numbers rolled at the bottom. He guessed he was seeing frequencies in megahertz. But he didn’t really know.
And then, suddenly, the screen went blank, except for a single flashing word in the upper-left corner:
LOGIN:
He paused, frowning. That was odd. Apparently he was required to log into the trailer’s computer system. That meant he would need a password. He tried: THORNE.
Nothing happened.
He waited a moment, then tried Thorne’s initials: JT.
Nothing.
LEVINE.
Nothing.
THORNE FIELD SYSTEMS.
Nothing.
TFS.
Nothing.
FIELD.
Nothing.
USER.
Nothing.
Well, he thought, at least the system hadn’t dumped him out. Most networks logged you off after three wrong tries. But apparently Thorne hadn’t designed any security features into this one. Arby would never have made it this way. The system was too patient and helpful.
He tried: HELP.
The cursor moved to another line. There was a pause. The drives whirred.
“Action,” he said, rubbing his hands.
Laboratory
As Thorne’s eyes adjusted to the low light, he saw they were standing inside an enormous space, consisting of row after row of rectangular stainless-steel boxes, each fitted with a tangled maze of plastic tubing. Everything was dusty; many of the boxes were knocked over.
“The first rows,” Malcolm said, “are Nishihara gene sequencers. And beyond are the automatic DNA synthesizers.”
“It’s a factory,” Eddie said. “It’s like agribusiness or something.”
“Yes, it is.”
At the corner of the room was a printer, with some loose sheets of yellowing paper lying beside it. Malcolm picked up one, and glanced at it.
“It’s a reference to a computer database,” Malcolm said. “For some dinosaur blood factor. Something to do with red cells.”
“And is that the sequence?”
“No,” Malcolm said. He started shuffling through the papers. “No, the sequence should be a series of nucleotides. . . . Here.”
He picked up another sheet of paper.
SEQUENCE
“Does this have something to do with why the animals survived?” Thorne said.
“I’m not sure,” Malcolm said. Was this sheet related to the final days of the manufacturing facility? Or was it just something that a worker printed out years ago, and somehow left behind?
He looked around by the printer, and found a shelved stack of sheets. Pulling them out, he discovered that they were memos. They were on faded blue paper, and they were all brief.
From: CC/D-P. Jenkins
To: H. Wu
Excess dopamine in Alpha 5 means D1 receptor still not functioning with desired avidity. To minimize aggressive behavior in finished orgs must try alternate genetic backgrounds. We need to start this today.
And again:
From: CC/D
To: H. Wu/Sup
Isolated glycogen synthase kinase-3 from Xenopus may work better than mammalian GSK-3 alpha/beta currently in use. Anticipate more robust establishment of dorsoventral polarity and less early embryo wastage. Agree?
Malcolm looked at the next one:
From: Backes
To: H. Wu/Sup
Short protein fragments may be acting as prions. Sourcing doubtful but suggest halt all exogenous protein for carniv. orgs until origin is cleared up. Disease cannot continue!
Thorne looked over his shoulder. “Seems like they had problems,” he said.
“Undoubtedly they did,” Malcolm said. “It would be impossible not to have them. But the question is . . .”
He drifted off, staring at the next memo, which was longer.
INGEN PRODUCTION UPDATE 10/10/88
From: Lori Ruso
To: All Personnel
Subject: Low Production Yields
Recent episodes of wastage of successful live births in the period 24–72 hours post-hatching