Genetic engineering is pretty cool.
Genetic engineering. Now there's an interesting topic. Easily as interesting as motorised false teeth or ABC radio. And just like ABC radio, nobody really knows what will happen when it finally goes commercial. Will we be buying tomatoes the size of bowling balls? Will trees grow into predetermined shapes, like the Statue of Liberty, or Salman Rushdie?
These questions and more came to me while I was flicking between Halo and a show on SBS (coincidentally about genetic engineering). The British host was explaining the possibilities of GE, with one stand-out example: dolphins with hands instead of flippers.
'Why would a dolphin need hands?' I wondered. Fortunately, the program responded with some funky computer generated imagery, illustrating a dolphin planting explosives on a ship (oh, of course! They were French dolphins). Satisfied, I flipped back to Halo.
Then it hit me. Master Chief -- the guy I control, who frags aliens and drives his Warthog like Colin McRae on caffeine -- is genetically engineered. His speed, strength and sense of importance are all artificially enhanced. Mind you, his aim is pretty crappy (my dodgy right thumb) and he keeps running over his Marine buddies ('Hey, watch what you're doing!' they scream, just before impact). But this guy is really, really good. Like Universal Soldier, but with a better script.
I had my answer. Genetic engineering is good because it can turn us into superhumans.
Cool. I know I sure could use some superspeed catching the tram in the morning, and some superagility to help negotiate the lid off my Starbucks morning brew. Superbreath would help me clear the dust out of my keyboard. And supervision would let me set my monitor to the highest possible resolution.
Hmmm. To be honest, I'm reaching here. There are few situations in our everyday lives that would really require super abilities. I could just as easily catch that tram if they moved the stop closer to my house. And I wouldn't spill my coffee if I didn't drink it like a secret agent (you know shaken -- not stirred).
So, is genetically engineering people a waste of time?
I consulted 'she who has the final say on most things' about this. She said I was missing the point completely. Apparently women aren't interested in giving themselves super powers.
They're just want to make the small things they have bigger, and the big things they have smaller. Through the course of our conversation I counted the word 'cellulite' twenty-six times; the word 'buttocks' fifteen times; and the word 'boobjob' once, simply because I blocked it out the other thirty-two times (most guys see melons -- I see second mortgage).
Perhaps the most sensible things I heard were: if they can make margarine that lowers cholesterol, why can't they make bacon that lowers bodyfat; why can't they sell cereal that adds fat, but only to specific body areas; and can't they make the fat go to the top bit, but not the bottom?
Strangely, this made a lot of sense. I started to get excited -- what she was saying could be the biggest breakthrough since chips in a tube!
Of course, like all 'why didn't I think of that' ideas, there are some inherent flaws. What happens if a guy accidentally eats the chest-enlarging Corn Flakes? Does he skip work and shop for lingerie? Would there be an 'adults only' section in the supermarket? Would old people need to be supervised when buying All Bran, in case they bought All Breast by mistake?
Sure, there's no guarantee this technology won't be abused. Like all genetic engineering, the results of this breast-enlarging food would have to be very carefully watched and recorded. And now that I've determined my future job, I'll leave you with some sobering thoughts...
The year is 2050. You come home from a hard day at the cereal factory, leaping five stories up to your apartment and waving at the neighbour's dolphin -- which waves back.
You offer to cook dinner, but discover that a tree, shaped like Madonna, has broken the gas main. Instead, you use your heat vision to fry a single tomato (enough to feed a family of twelve). You finish the evening watching reruns of early 21st century TV programs about genetic engineering (what a laugh!) nestled comfortably into the beanbag that is your wife's bosom.
GE -- it may be more appealing than you think.
Issue: 133 | February, 2012