Super Genius DNA

Yang Gunyu was speaking with Young-Joon on the phone.

—What happens if we release the wastewater?

“The wetlands there are home to an aquatic insect called Hydrochara caraboides. It’s a type of beetle, and they are natural predators of mosquito larvae that eat one thousand larvae a day,” Young-Joon said. “If you release wastewater into the wetlands, it will change the acidity and the caraboids will be exterminated from the area.”

—Does that mean the number of mosquitoes will increase?

“Yes. It’s not a problem if mosquitoes disappear because caraboids eat other insects as well, but it’s a completely different story if the caraboids disappear. Other predators, like rice fish, also eat caraboids, but that’s not enough...”

—Stop.

Yang Gunyu cut Young-Joon off.

—Stop, Doctor Ryu. It was a mistake asking you. You’re just saying this again because you want to do the mosquito project here, right?

“I think you’re misunderstanding what I’m saying. I told you that I am going to do the project somewhere else.”

—...

“I am a little bit more interested in Guangdong, but that’s purely because Guangdong is structurally very vulnerable to mosquito-borne diseases. I’m just worried about the people there, and I have no reason to do it in Guangdong when you’re against it,” Young-Joon said. “But if you discard that wastewater, it will be a bio-disaster that will be pretty difficult to deal with. You might see swarms of mosquitoes that you see in Alaska in Guangdong. And I’m saying this because you seem to care about the environment in Guangdong.”

Yang Gun-Yu interrupted Young-Joon as he was speaking.

—I will take care of Guangdong’s people and the environment myself. Thank you for your concern, but we will be fine.

“... Alright. Then can I ask you a personal question not regarding this?”

—What? I don’t like having constant friction with you either, so I’ll answer it to the best of my abilities.

“Do you know anything about the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region? Have there been any incidents there recently or...”

—Nothing that I know of. And Guangzhou is a long way from Xinjiang Uygur. The distance from here to Uygur is ten times the size of Korea. I am busy enough with Guangdong’s affairs, and I don’t know what’s going on in the far northwest.

“Alright,” Young-Joon replied.

—Is there anything else?

“No.”

—Then I’ll see you next time.

The call ended.

“...”

Young-Joon stared at his phone, a little surprised.

Rosaline looked at him.

—You’re not very liked.

“They’re going to be in a lot of trouble if they run that factory.”

—They reap what they sow. But their announcement to the press today said that they’re going to discuss it with the people.

“They’re just buying time. They are going to start it because of how much money they spent on building it.”

—The mosquito infestation will reach disastrous levels soon, and they will call you for help.

“... What’s the likelihood of a dengue or Zika epidemic happening? Only having mosquitoes would be a nuisance, but an epidemic could be quite dangerous.”

—It depends a lot on how well the Chinese health authorities defend themselves. It’s a little hard to predict that with a simulation right now.

Young-Joon thought for a moment.

—Just abandon Guangdong. You did as much as you could.

Rosaline interrupted.

“What’s bothering me about Guangdong is that it includes Macau, Guangzhou, and even Hong Kong. Though, I guess Hong Kong has a separate border.”

—Borders are meaningless to mosquitoes.

“Yes. There are also Korean companies in Guangdong as it’s an economic hub with a lot of important cities. That’s why I wanted to start the project as soon as possible, but... We don’t have a choice.”

—There is one way to minimize the impact on civilians and businesses there.

Rosaline piqued Young-Joon’s interest.

“There’s a way?”

—Swarms of mosquitoes will appear after they throw away the wastewater, which will paralyze the economy and daily life for a while. There will be no point in using bug spray or repellent because they will swarm the moment you step out the door.

Rosaline explained to Young-Joon.

“Probably. You’re bound to get bitten since it’s a game of probability and you can only repel them so much.”

—Let’s make a new, stronger mosquito repellent.

“How?”

—I will tell you how the mosquito’s olfactory neurons work. The mosquitoes find and attack you as the byproducts of sweat evaporating from your body attach to the CpA receptors in their olfactory cells. But if you add a toxic substance to those byproducts, they won’t.

[Synchronization Mode: Mosquito repellent.]

“Thanks,” Young-Joon said as he expanded the window for Synchronization Mode. “I’ll try to contact at least the Korean companies in Guangdong.”

—And just do the mosquito project somewhere else.

“Yeah. I don’t think someone as stubborn as Yang Gunyu is going to change. Anyway, I’ll choose a different country for the project since we can just change the data and use it in another city once the AI is developed. Singapore contacted me, so I’ll do it there.”

And Young-Joon had a lot more to worry about, especially Xinjiang Uygur.

—What’s going on in that region?

“I have no idea.”

* * *

Young-Joon, who left the project meeting to Kim Young-Hoon and left the room, talked with Messelson on the phone. Doctor Messelson was having great difficulty understanding the research that was happening.

Messelson was talking to Young-Joon on the phone.

—It doesn’t seem like a biology experiment. I’ve never seen these kinds of experiments before in my life. They were trying to develop an artificial membrane with an electron transport system with lipids. They took cytochromes from chloroplasts in plant leaves and put them on the membrane.

Messelson complained to Young-Joon.

—What were they trying to do, recreate a primitive cell?

“...”

Young-Joon glanced over at Rosaline.

‘This experiment is totally to make you.’

Rosaline scoffed.

—But they won’t be able to. The event of life creation in the natural world is not of a complexity that the human brain can comprehend or predict, not even you, who has been heavily influenced by me.

‘Okay.’

Young-Joon went back to the call with Messelson, a little embarrassed.

“Was there anything else that was unusual?”

—They also made a virus.

“Anthracis is a bacteria, not a virus.”

—Yes, but there’s data about developing a virus. It seems to be a lentivirus, but they inactivated it by manipulation. I don’t know what it’s for.

“They would have used that for the GSC conference attack if it was more dangerous than anthrax.”

—I was relieved at that point, but the CIA found other material.

“What is it?”

—It’s in the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous region. They sent the virus there.

“Really?”

—I’m telling you this because the CIA said I could tell you, but don’t tell other people.

“... Alright.”

—The CIA is investigating Xinjiang Uygur right now to determine what this virus was for and what it was used for.

“Do you have a sample of that bacteria?”

—I have one.

“Could you send it to me?” Young-Joon asked.

—Sure. I will send it to you shortly.

* * *

Click.

Young-Joon was chatting with Rosaline about the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region when someone walked into his office. It was Yoo Song-Mi, his secretary.

“Remember the illegal organ transplants in China that use organs from prisoners of conscience?” she asked.

“Yes, I asked you to look into it.”

“We haven’t gathered much yet, and we can’t access most of it due to security reasons.”

“I think you could track down some medical papers.”

“Like you’re saying, we’ve been studying some Chinese organ transplant papers at the office.”

“Can the secretary’s office do that, too?”

“Of course. We don’t know the details like other scientists, but there are some things we can figure out as well,” Yoo Song-Mi said. “A lot of organ transplant surgeries happened in Xinjiang Uygur recently.”

“What?”

Young-Joon’s eyes narrowed.

“Since about three years ago, there have been about thirty thousand organ transplant surgeries in their hospitals. Most of the data in the medical papers point there.”

“...”

Young-Joon took a moment to think.

‘What is going on there?’

* * *

Anthony, an editor at Nature, also obtained similar information. He was currently in the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region. He was there to interview professors at the medical school.

“There have been a lot of organ transplants at Xinjiang University and affiliated hospitals nearby,” he said. “I was wondering if I could see the relevant data or meet the medical staff who performed the surgeries?”

“We cannot reveal information regarding the transplant because of the donor and patient’s privacy rights, and you must make an appointment to meet with the medical staff,” replied the receptionist at the counter.

“Then please schedule an appointment right now.”

“What is your name?”

“Anthony Perrison. I’m British.”

“And the reason for your visit?”

“I’m curious about the surgical process. I’m not very well.”

“Can I see your ID?”

“Do you need an ID to schedule an appointment?”

The receptionist just stared at Anthony instead of answering him.

“Here you go.”

Anthony gave the receptionist his ID. He could see his staff ID for Nature, but he took out his passport instead.

“... The doctor who was in charge of the operations is on vacation and not available,” said the receptionist as they typed.

“This ward alone had over five thousand surgeries last year. You guys must have more than one doctor, right?”

“The doctor who specializes in your area of discomfort isn’t in.”

“I haven’t even said where I had discomfort.”

“Next.”

The receptionist called on the person who was standing behind Anthony.

He stepped to the side, baffled, and looked around the hospital. It looked suspicious. The hospital was full of important patients, and there were some elderly patients in wheelchairs with an entourage in suits.

“Hey.”

Someone behind Anthony poked him in the shoulder.

“Ack!”

Anthony looked back, startled. It was a tall man with a muscular physique.

“You looked British. I’m Robert.”

Robert, a CIA agent, introduced himself in a British accent.

“Oh, hello. Are you British?”

“My mother is. I’m actually American. What’s your name?”

“Anthony Perrison.”

“Can we have a chat?”

Robert took Anthony outside to his car.

“You’re a reporter, aren’t you?” Robert asked.

“What?”

“You don’t seem like you’re very good at digging for information. Every media outlet is here, from Fox to CNN. The receptionist was just trying to check your ID, they weren’t actually going to let you meet someone. You were played.”

“...”

“It was so naive of you to go to the hospital administration to make an appointment. Where are you from?”

“... I’m an editor for Nature.”

“Haha, I see. I guess you don’t have to pry for hidden information in the scientific community since they just tell you everything if you ask. It’s pretty fascinating to see reporters from academic journals here.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s one of those things that’s been known for a long time, but it’s been hidden. There’s a huge concentration camp in this area.”

“A concentration camp?”

“Xinjiang Uygur is a predominantly Muslim region with very strong anti-Chinese sentiment. There’s been a lot of opposition to the Chinese government because of their religion, and there have been armed conflicts as well,” Robert said. “The Chinese government suppressed them all with force and created labor camps.” “Labour camps?”

“It’s called a labor camp, but it’s just a concentration camp that houses a million Muslim Uygurs.”

“... What...”

Anthony froze.

“What were you originally investigating that brought you here?” Robert asked.

“T... The illegal organ transplants of executed prisoners of conscience...”

“I see. But now, it's not something that should be handled by an academic journal. Worse things are going on than what I’ve told you. I can’t tell you much more than that. Stop traveling so naively in a dangerous place and go home,” Robert said.

“But if... If what I think is happening is really happening, it’s also a medical problem,” said Anthony, barely suppressing his fear. “The academic community also has a right and duty to know...”

Anthony spoke to Robert in a small voice.

“You will know sooner or later.”

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