Gene Mapper by Taiyo Fujii Page B

in RealVu. That’s why you’re useless when the going gets tough. You and your pathetic avatar.” Barnhard was speaking scornfully to someone off camera. They must’ve been in a hurry if they couldn’t take the time to edit.
    Barnhard adjusted his collar. “Sorry. I am Lintz Barnhard. As you know, I am vice president of L&B. I am also leading the team that is investigating the mutation at Mother Mekong’s site in Cambodia.”
    What about Enrico? He was the project manager and the liaison with Mother Mekong. I knew Barnhard was meddling, but now it looked like Enrico was completely out.
    “Unfortunately, as I’m sure you’ve heard from Takashi Kurokawa, my hands are full dealing with clients and the regulatory agencies. I’m not involved in the scientific side of the investigation. Regrettably, I will have to leave that entirely to the three of you.”
    I’d seen Barnhard many times, though not in the flesh, but he never looked anything other than bored or irritated. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him the way he looked now—apologetic, almost pleading. The mutation at Mother Mekong was eating him up.
    “Mr. Hayashida and … Mr. Yagodo, was it? I’m depending on you.”
    Barnhard’s projection took a step forward. Now he was embedded in the coffee table with both hands out in a supplicating gesture, staring at an empty wall with an expression of such intense sincerity that I almost burst out laughing.
    Yagodo started to move the table, but Kurokawa stopped him with a quiet “That won’t be necessary.” He didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously either.
    “Distilled crops are facing an existential crisis,” intoned Barnhard. “I am a vice president of this company, but to be blunt, I don’t care what happens to L&B. There are twelve billion mouths to feed on this planet, and we can’t rely on natural plants if there is any hope of meeting their needs. If distilled crop acreage reverts to these outmoded sources of calories, we’ll lose more than half the world’s supply of wheat, rice, and soy. The topsoil is already close to exhausted as it is.”
    Barnhard wrung his hands mutely. For a few seconds, he seemed to have lost the capacity to speak.
    “If that weren’t bad enough, a world dependent on natural food means unrestricted genetic modification. No one knows where that might lead.” He looked down, closed his eyes, and shook his head.
    “I’m sorry … Mamoru. Isamu.” He sighed and looked up. “As I told Takashi, I want you to go to Mother Mekong. Find out what’s happening. Takashi’s …” Barnhard hesitated. “He is … different, as you see. He needs your support.”
    His head dropped again, pleading to a blank wall. The look on his face was close to agony. He didn’t seem to be faking it. By now he had advanced to the center of the table and seemed to be growing out of it. I suppressed another chuckle.
    After an awkward few seconds, Barnhard seemed to pull himself together. He patted his lapels, straightened up, and gave a brisk nod toward the wall.
    “I’m depending on you, Mamoru. And Isamu, I thank you for your help.”
    Yagodo looked at us, openly puzzled. “Maybe the translation engine is too good. We could listen to the English.” He stroked his chin and gave Kurokawa a sidelong look. “Takashi, you’re not an L&B employee, are you?”
    “No, I’m freelance. True, most of my work is for L&B.”
    “When Barnhard was talking about you, he made it sound like you were a member of his family. Maybe it was the engine?”
    Kurokawa nodded, but his expression was hard to read. He put the video file in his briefcase.
    “That whole thing about going to Cambodia sounded odd, you know? Like he was asking Mamoru to ride shotgun for his son.” Yagodo’s voice had a slightly sarcastic edge. Kurokawa stared at him intently. From my angle, his glasses partially hid his expression, but his jaw was set.
    “Maybe it did sound that way. As you say, it must be the