World Hunger

By Brian Kenneth Swain

Vanguard Corporation, an agricultural company led by a greedy and mercurial CEO, has developed a new line of genetically modified seed products. Designed to significantly increase crop yields and resist drought, pests, and disease in the hopes of reducing hunger in Third World countries, the seeds should also earn huge profits for the firm.

Vanguards testing in Belarus, Colombia, and India initially goes well, but midway through the crops development, reports begin to emerge of bizarre insect observations linked to incidents of domestic animal slaughter, and eventually, the death of several people. The high-growth genetic enhancements engineered into the seeds have been transferred into the insects through their ingestion of the test crops.

The strains of these super insects are much larger, more aggressive, and increasingly resistant to pesticides and disease than their natural counterparts. As the insects become more plentiful and widespread, Vanguard desperately combats them while dealing with the media, environmentalists, the government, and other distractions. Meanwhile, scientists, entomologists, and field operatives frantically work together to eradicate the new species and deal with the fallout of mankinds apathy toward environmental meddling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 8, 2007
• ISBN: 9780595886371

Brian Kenneth Swain

BRIAN KENNETH SWAIN is the author of nine previous books, including the novels World Hunger, Alone in the Light, and Sistina; the poetry collections Secret Places, My America, and Chicken Feet; the essay collection The Curious Habits of Man; the short story collection The Book of Names; and the children’s book Hegel and Hobbes Have an Adventure. Brian is a graduate of Columbia University and The Wharton School. He grew up in Brunswick, Maine and now lives in San Antonio with his black chow chows Maya and Loki.

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Introduction

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Epilogue

Glossary of Terms

Bibliography

Also by

BRIAN KENNETH SWAIN

FICTION

Alone in the Light

POETRY

Secret Places and other Poems

My America

To Ma, who read the whole thing and told me it was great.

(What else was she going to say?)

Acknowledgments

Every aspiring writer needs a few first readers to provide encouragement and some good-natured feedback. Mine were Laura Brann, Daniel Cotler, Nick DeVito, Holly Varner, and Steve Vosko. I am extremely grateful to you all.

Introduction

World Hunger is a story the principal themes of which are the continuing scientific progress in and societal debate concerning genetically modified (GM) agriculture. It is, of course, a work of fiction and makes no pretense of actually advancing the debate in any scientific way. However, it is my hope that the story will offer a modest education into the issues attending GM agriculture, thus arming readers with a few more facts with which they can then go out and investigate further, arriving eventually at their own conclusions on the matter. Most certainly it is not my intent to engender in the reader a firm and unequivocal opinion as to the wisdom of pursuing and commercializing GM research. As with countless other societal debates, the pros and cons are far too nuanced for us to conclude that GM agricultural products are generally good or bad for humanity.

The scientists, corporate executives, politicians, and countless others who have devoted their lives to the advancement of GM products do so, for the most part, with the laudable goal of reducing human hunger and suffering, while, of course, pursuing profits, without which motivation precious little seems to get done in this world. Those who fight the advance of GM agriculture appear to do so out of an equally fervent concern for human health, as well as a substantial dose of environmental concern and, all too often, a mental model that views all corporate motives as inherently profit-driven and, hence, immoral.

Societal debates such as this one can be grouped into two major categories—those of a highly emotional nature, which, as a consequence, usually admit little objective scientific analysis (examples would include abortion and gun control). These are issues about which almost no one ever changes their mind, regardless of the facts or analyses that may be laid before them. The other major set of societal issues are those which, while important and strongly felt, do in fact lend themselves to a more objective assessment of fact (foreign policy, taxation). People are occasionally willing to examine all sides of such issues and make a determination based on the balance of data available at the moment. Unfortunately, although there is ample information extant on the subject of GM agriculture, it is rapidly becoming a societal issue of the former sort. Emotion appears to have the upper hand on objective analysis, and that is a pity, particularly since so many lives potentially hang in the balance.

World Hunger is a story in which bad things happen as a direct result of GM research and field testing. It would thus be easy to come away with the notion that this is an anti-GM book and that I am against all things GM. That would be an unfounded and, ultimately, incorrect conclusion. Indeed my greatest concern in creating the story, and one that returned to me repeatedly during the writing process, was that the book would be embraced as an anti-GM tract or polemic. Rather, it is my sincere hope that readers will take the story in the spirit in which it was intended—as an entertaining work of fiction that happens to offer some educational insights into a topic of current interest and timeliness.

For what it's worth, I am of the view that GM technology has a great deal to offer the human race, but that, like all scientific endeavors, great care is required in its implementation. Perhaps even greater than normal levels of evaluation and discretion are called for in this case for the simple reason that we are talking about a technology that ultimately ends up inside people's bodies. Add to that the likely irreversibility of some potentially adverse consequences, and good judgment would suggest a measured and deliberate pace of development, one that doubtless flies in the face of the typical corporate mindset. Still, having at our disposal the tools to increase crop productivity in starving nations, where pests, disease, aridity, and generally poor growing conditions are the norm, is an opportunity we cannot afford to squander out of fear, over-caution, or zealotry.

Each day that this debate continues sees the deaths from starvation of many thousands of children and adults—in a world that creates more than sufficient food to feed all of its inhabitants. There are ways to make this technology work to our collective advantage and minimize the environmental and health problems that concern so many. We owe it to ourselves to figure out how and get it done.

Brian Kenneth Swain

Helotes, Texas

Prologue

Tuesday, July 16, 2003—11:20 a.m.

Four-term New Jersey senator Byron Rappaport, chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, had a voice designed to intimidate his most seasoned political colleagues. Its effect on the uninitiated was nothing short of devastating. Rappaport's combination of obstreperousness and belligerence was legendary on Capitol Hill and a significant part of why he had never been considered a serious presidential contender, despite his success as a legislator. He had decided early in life to forego being liked, choosing instead to deal with others through a carefully honed combination of severity and pugnacity. Barett had not looked forward to the confrontation.

"So what you are telling us, Doctor Barett, the senator boomed from his central seat on the raised walnut dais, is that, despite your position as principal executive responsible for project Evergreen, you are unable to explain to this body just what it is that went wrong?"

Barett had the seat of honor in the center of the huge circular room. Between his chair and the dais there extended a long table, covered with a heavy, pleated burgundy cloth, on top of which stood a single microphone in a glistening chrome stand. Hanging high on the wall behind the row of politicians, a bank of klieg lights was aimed directly at the witness table. They were meant to provide illumination for television cameras, but leant, as well, a harsh intimidating air to the proceedings. In addition to Rappaport, four other senators sat at the dais, as well as the U.S. deputy secretary of agriculture and the deputy director of the World Health Organization. Barett had watched proceedings like this countless times on television, never once imagining that he might someday be the focus of such an inquisition.

Senator Rappaport … Barett began uncertainly, drawing back as his too- close voice made the microphone squeal slightly, Mr. Senator, what I meant to say … to explain … is that, while we were eventually successful in developing a compound that destroyed the insects, we have yet to learn precisely what biological mechanism was responsible for the mutations in the first place.

Thoroughness and common sense dictate that I ask why exactly that is, Doctor, Rappaport asked, leaning into his altogether superfluous microphone. Mercifully breaking eye contact for a moment, he completed the follow-up question while appearing to search for something in the pages of a thick dossier. Why would the chief researcher for the world's leading life sciences company not fully understand such a thing? he repeated for the benefit of his colleagues and the cameras.

It wasn't, strictly speaking, a trick question—not even an unreasonable one. It was, however, one that did not admit a satisfactory answer, no matter what caveats Barett might deliver his with. He was, after all, chief research scientist and the creator of Evergreen, a project that had, by the time it was shut down in late November of the preceding year, killed at least ten innocent people and put in very real danger the agricultural systems of several countries. It certainly seemed like the sort of question to which he ought to know the answer.

Leaning to his right and speaking in hushed tones with the attorney at his side, he returned to the microphone and replied, I'm afraid I cannot offer you a satisfactory answer, Mr. Senator, as much as I would like to be able to. The simple fact is that once we became aware of the … problems with the test crops, we focused all of our efforts and resources on developing a way of stopping the insects. As it turned out, that solution, while effective, did not require that we understand the original mutative mechanism. Vanguard has, of course, continued to investigate those causes since we concluded the eradication operations. Damn, that sounded a little defensive, he thought, even to me.

As Rappaport sat back to ponder his next salvo, a different voice filled the room, this time from two seats to the senator's left.

Doctor Barett, what is your opinion concerning the attitude and decision making of Chairman Chase throughout this incident? The speaker was Willis Bronson, Deputy Secretary of Agriculture, a man Barett had met at several Evergreen status briefings over the previous year. None of the affability he recalled from those occasions was now discernible in the man's tone.

I'm sorry, Mr. Deputy Secretary. I'm not sure I follow your question.

How would you characterize the degree of urgency he conveyed about the situation? The sorts of things he asked you to do … or perhaps not to do?

Barett pondered the question for a moment. It was very important, his lawyer had emphasized and reemphasized, to be thorough and cooperative. It was also important, as with any legal proceeding, to be responsive without offering information that had not been explicitly requested—make them do the work. Vanguard was already well on its way to being sued by each of the nations in which testing had been conducted. Barett was likely to find himself in many similar testifying situations in the coming months, and anything he said under oath at one hearing was fair game to be raised at another.

Let me begin, Barett said, by reiterating that Chairman Chase did not have a scientific background. He relied almost exclusively on his research teams to advise him on the status of all of Vanguard's research projects …

Which you, Doctor, with your very considerable scientific background, were charged with overseeing, Bronson interjected.

Yes, sir. That is correct. As soon as the magnitude of the Evergreen situation became apparent, Chairman Chase began receiving multiple briefings each day—sometimes from myself, sometimes from others on my staff. He made it very clear that we were to employ whatever resources were needed to solve the problem.

So, do you feel that the chairman's behavior was, in any way, designed either to keep information out of the hands of the media or to ensure that computer files or documents pertaining to Evergreen did not come to light?

No, sir. I would not agree with that characterization at all, Barett said, pausing thoughtfully. The committee was clearly fishing for evidence of a cover-up by Vanguard. While scientific accidents were not necessarily a crime, actively working to cover them up almost certainly was. And though he earnestly believed that this had not been the case, what was clear was that they had all been under strict instructions to avoid contact with the press, particularly after the first interview had appeared on the news in Delhi, India—the one that had initially broken the story. It would, though, be fair to say, Mr. Deputy Secretary, we tried to ensure that our official news releases were handled by the appropriate communication organizations within the company. This was, of course, no different from our policy under normal operations … Please keep in mind, sir, he added, momentarily forgetting the attorney's advice about volunteering information, Vanguard has spent something in excess of one point two billion dollars to fight this problem and to ensure that it does not recur.

Doctor Barett, Senator Rappaport said, returning to the initiative, we do not mean to suggest that Vanguard has skirted its responsibilities, now that the details of this unfortunate event have come to light. We are merely exploring the likelihood … the possibility … that this all might have become known sooner. If so, that might have, in turn, afforded you an earlier opportunity to deal with the situation before it got so completely out of hand.

Mr. Senator, Barett rejoined, setting aside for a moment the appropriateness of our external communications, I absolutely believe that we made every feasible effort to develop a solution, and to work with our international affiliates to then effect that solution with all possible speed and urgency. He looked from one set of eyes to the next on the dais for any sign of a sympathetic face. None was forthcoming, and Rappaport continued his diatribe.

Doctor Barett, it is my understanding that in each of the four countries involved in this affair, and for each of the new species of insect created by Evergreen, there were hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of individual specimens. I understand, further, that several of these new species were—how shall we say it?—rather mobile, and that some also periodically went into a hibernating state. I guess my question, Doctor, is what assurances can you offer this committee that you were, in fact, successful in eradicating every last member of these destructive new species?

Barett glanced in his attorney's direction, receiving a subtle nod in response. Mr. Senator, our lab tests showed conclusively that the Evergreen pesticides we developed and administered were effective against each of the new species. And that effectiveness has been borne out in all of our field eradication operations. Believe me when I say, Senator, that we have done everything in our power to eradicate these creatures—everything that we possibly could.

Chapter 1

Saturday, March 16, 2002—10:25 a.m.

Robert Chase's office suite was colossal. So too was his opinion of himself and the company he led, Vanguard Life Sciences. He sat in a handmade Moroccan leather chair behind a mammoth carved oak desk, peering intently into the eyes of Phillip Barett. Chase was a firm believer in eye contact; it allowed him to more clearly discern the unspoken thoughts of his interlocutor, and it was extremely intimidating.

"So how is the testing going?"

These were words Barett had grown to dread over the past few weeks. Chase leaned forward purposefully, arms folded on the polished desktop. His deep-set gray eyes were riveted on those of his chief scientist, who felt the pressure like a water cannon full in the chest. Barett paused a long moment before responding, leaving an opening that his opportunistic chief executive could not pass up.

Please tell me we're on schedule—maybe even ahead of schedule. Are we ahead of schedule, Phil? Because I am up to my ass in board members who think this Evergreen thing has cost us way too much and taken way too long. Please tell me the field-testing schedule is still on track.

Chase leaned back in his chair, relishing his subordinate's uncomfortable silence. He had called Barett in for a quick progress overview on Vanguard's research and development work with a radical new family of genetically modified crop seeds. Intolerant even on a good day, the CEO seemed particularly agitated this morning—probably due as much to the company's languishing stock price as to growing pressure from the board of directors. Barett spent as little time as possible here on the top floor of the company's thirty-story granite and glass headquarters tower. The rich, plush carpeting and opulent oak-paneled offices of the executive suite fit Chase to perfection but left Barett feeling tense and uncomfortable. The office and front foyer of the CEO's suite were easily as large as the entire lab in which Barett worked with a dozen other scientists and technicians.

He had walked in moments earlier to find Chase with his cordless phone receiver wedged awkwardly between ear and shoulder. The CEO had apparently been trying to navigate the company voicemail system while simultaneously thrusting a two-foot-long metal rod beneath the cover of a glass terrarium that stood in the corner of his office. Behind the glass lived a pair of huge Brazilian banana spiders that Barett frequently described to others as Chase's living allegory for life in the business world. Chase had spared no expense in having the terrarium built. It was a hundred-gallon reconstruction of the arachnids' natural environment, authentic in every detail, from the native South American vegetation to the carefully controlled temperature and humidity. Barett had walked into the office just as Chase was lowering a small white mouse into the glass cage and speaking in annoyed tones into the phone. Releasing the rodent and with-drawing the stick with its small noose, he had greeted Barett with a diatribe the scientist had heard at least a dozen times before.

Strong versus the weak, Phil—that's how it is. Eat or be eaten—no compromises. No bullshit, Chase had said, tossing the phone onto his desk and walking back to the terrarium, his wingtips moving soundlessly on the inch-thick carpeting. You see, he'd said, peering intently down at the cowering mouse, he's scared shitless, and rightly so. The spiders don't come after him right away. No, they'll let him sweat for hours until they decide that they're hungry. On top of that, the mouse doesn't know which spider will come after him.

Chase had developed a fascination for the deadly spiders shortly after the company had begun operations a year ago in Colombia. The pair in the terrarium had been a gift from a consultant named Rodrigo Dominguez, who now worked in Bogotá as Vanguard's local operations manager. Barett considered the whole thing creepy, and he had paid only perfunctory attention to the speech, moving quickly to one of the huge leather chairs in front of Chase's desk, not bothering to share in or encourage his CEO's fascination.

Robert Chase was chairman and chief executive officer of the world's largest and most profitable agribusiness and life sciences company. He was in nearly every way the antithesis of Phillip Barett, Vanguard's chief research scientist. Chase was pure Harvard Business School—button-down white shirts, custom- made suits, and bottom-line focus. Barett was an academic at heart—a Ph.D. in molecular genetics and developmental biology who had grown tired of the endless pursuit of research money. He had earned his doctorate at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and had subsequently joined the faculty there eight years ago. As his pursuit of tenure had intensified, though, Barett had found himself spending eighty percent of his final two years at MIT doing nothing but writing and chasing up grant proposals. Dedicating another ten percent of his time to administrative and personnel issues, he had found himself with virtually nothing left for actual hands-on research. Within six months of being awarded tenure, he had reluctantly decided that the combination of more research time and better compensation in the corporate world was irresistible.

Chase had lured him away from MIT with not only cash, but also the promise of nearly complete autonomy in the research conducted by the company. So long as the product pipeline remained full and flowing, Barett had been given carte blanch to hire his own team and spend whatever was needed. Relieved of the never-ending process of scrounging for resources, he found he actually enjoyed pushing the envelope of genetic science and helping others on his team to do the same. The only downside to his position was the need to interact periodically with his irascible boss. Chase lived in a world of project management flowcharts, international conference calls, and quarter-point stock price swings. He neither understood nor appeared to give a damn about the process by which raw science was converted into marketable products. In conversations like today's, Barett always felt they were speaking different languages.

Chase adjusted his large frame in the black, high-backed leather chair and glowered at Barett, who leaned forward preparing to address the CEO's questions. The gesture conveyed little of its intended purposefulness, however, since his chair was, by design, nearly eight inches lower than Chase's. Though the scientist was at least a head taller than his CEO, the distinction was effectively lost by the subtle but intentional arrangement of office furniture. Barett reached into his briefcase to extract a presentation document, and Chase chose that instant to shift gears—from intimidating boss to understanding colleague in whom Barett could confide anything. Leaning back, he clasped his hands behind his head.

Look, Phil, I know your team is working like hell. And I know you're as driven by this thing as me and everyone else in this place. I'm also astute enough to know that extra pressure from me is the last thing you think you need right now.

Pausing for effect, Chase continued in his uniquely condescending way.

Look, you're the ones who'll make this thing happen—you and Julia and the rest of the development team. I'm just here to take the credit and pocket all the money, he said, grinning broadly.

It was an ill-timed attempt at humor and ingratiation, a tactic for which Chase had become infamous in his twenty years with Vanguard. Because he didn't understand science, much less scientists, he spent more time than he liked ineffectively trying to relate to them, frustrated by their limitless thirst for scientific reputation and disregard for wealth. But world-class scientific expertise was neither fungible nor cheap, and he frequently, and often publicly, bemoaned the time, energy, and money expended coaxing results from them.

Give me the five-minute version now, Chase said. I know it's Saturday, and I'm sure you've got a basketball game or something to get to. I'll pop down to the lab later tonight for a firsthand look.

It's all right, Barett said, setting on the desk a five-page executive summary from his most recent update. I messed up my ankle again, so I can't play for a couple of weeks.

Chase nodded in uninterested acknowledgment as Barett began to explain the document.

Project Evergreen had begun as a garage project conceived by Barett and Julia Croft, a senior researcher he'd hired away from his old lab at MIT three summers ago. They had started back when Vanguard was riding high, the stock was up, and investment capital was flowing freely. The original concept had been to create a transgenic seed development process of sufficient generality that it could be simultaneously applied to a wide variety of crop species. For more than a decade, several companies, including their own, had been successfully developing and marketing a range of genetically modified, or GM, crop seeds—plant species with Byzantine names like Bt corn and BB/IR-72 rice. While extremely lucrative, these were all very specialized products, whose genetic blueprints were not at all transferable across species. But Barett and Julia had undertaken Evergreen convinced they could create not just a new GM seed, but a replicable process that would work on anything that grew.

The scope of the undertaking was grand, and its potential implications immense. Unlike current strains that focused on improving a single plant characteristic, Evergreen would deliver a process that resulted in seed varieties simultaneously more pest and disease resistant, faster growing, higher yielding, more nutritious, and drought tolerant. They had gotten the go-ahead twenty-four months ago, along with an annual operating budget in excess of fifty million dollars. They had since proven the concept and grown several varieties in tightly controlled lab and greenhouse settings. Now the time had come to conduct large- scale trials of several different strains under live field conditions.

So have we selected the test locations?

Finished this morning, Barett replied, and we're coordinating with the necessary field groups over the next couple of weeks. Take a look at page three, and you'll see a summary of the field trial plan.

You'll notice in particular that we're not testing anywhere in Western Europe—too much political exposure. And besides, we can accomplish everything we need by sticking with Belarus, India, and South America. We expect to be planting within thirty days. The gestation cycles vary, but on average these strains should be harvestable thirty to forty percent faster than their natural counterparts. We've chosen a very wide range of crop varieties, climates, and aridity conditions.

Chase rose awkwardly from the deep chair and walked to one of the expansive windows that ringed his office. Looking down at the rolling fields that surrounded the building, he probed further. And when do you expect definitive results from the international testing? Something we can go public with.

Page five lays out the latest testing and analysis schedule. We're in the ground by April twenty-fifth, barring any foreign government hang-ups. Shoots break ground roughly two weeks afterward, and we're ready for test harvests anywhere from late June through mid-July—depends on the crop … assuming no … problems.

Problems, as in technical problems? Chase asked, still staring out the window.

I was thinking more like political problems.

You mean like gardeners?

Yeah, like gardeners …

Vanguard's GM seed development programs were by far the most extensive in the industry. But while this earned enormous amounts of money, it also made the company a target for numerous environmental or green groups—activists who believed that agriculture was fine the way nature had made it and who vehemently, and sometimes violently, objected to industry trying to improve things, particularly for a profit.

The activist community worried that corporations would one day control the world's food supply. They believed industry would create superweeds immune to anything thrown at them. And they feared that companies like Vanguard were contributing to a steady reduction in ecological diversity. Some particularly destructive underground organizations went beyond protests and web publications, and had recently taken to attacking test fields of GM crops, almost always in the middle of the night. They called themselves the night gardeners or simply gardeners.

Vanguard was a primary target of these groups, a consequence of being the largest, most successful developer and marketer of GM products. Greens had been very active in fighting Vanguard's development of each of its individual products, and Barett could only imagine their reaction to what would soon be the public news of Evergreen's global field-testing program.

Chapter 2

Saturday, March 16—2:25 p.m.

Julia Croft was at home because she couldn't find a babysitter. Ordinarily she would have been at the lab, even though it was Saturday. The Evergreen schedule was moving into high gear, so weekends off were a luxury she and the team could scarcely afford, particularly with Chase breathing down their necks. Harry, her four-year-old son, was playing in the backyard while Julia took the opportunity to do a bit of cooking, a pastime she loved