iGEMers guide to SynthBioPunk

The aim of this blog is to share snippets from the lives of people who live in a world where Synthetic Biology has integrated seamlessly into their everyday lives. We get to see how everyday things such as food, health, fuel, advertising, pets, entertainment and clothing have been revolutionized due to advances in this field. We also get to see the state of The Registry.

Intertwined with these aspects that apply to the general population come the personal stories of the characters involved:

K. is a biopunk working for a beer company and doing some tweaking in his spare time. He complains about a lot of things, but also embraces the perks that personal augmentation can bring. Underneath this seemingly bland life he hides a noble purpose, showing that even the little guys can dream big and, if they try hard enough, their dreams might see the light of reality.

A. started working for the Department of Health and Security after many low-end jobs and is tasked with making sure that synthetic biology is not abused. A bioterrorist attack has already happened in the past, so the government is doing its best to prevent such a tragedy from ever repeating itself. She is trying to fight the good fight while constantly being amused by how the simple things in life have changed.

S. is a child who marvels at all the wonders Synthetic Biology has brought us, and can enjoy these things without having to worry about how it all works underneath the surface and what ramifications its misuse can have.

We follow these stories that culminate in an event that will change the lives of the characters forever - whether it be for better or for worse will be up to you, the reader, to find out.

9:30 AM, The Aftermath, The Future

A.

I watch from my lab as the new department sets is gears in motion. They are good people - people I shared the vision of developing world-changing devices with during a summer at University. It amuses me to see that even though we never got out bio-electric interface to work, the industry took to the idea and developed it into what is now an indispensable piece of technology that is found everywhere. Maybe this time we can actually change the world for the better, given the resources and time Boss has graciously put at our disposal.

There is a nagging feeling of guilt in my brain - I stopped receiving my free beer shipments after the incident at the conference - could it be that K. actually went to that conference? He always used to make fun of me for enjoying attending and talking at such occasions, said it did not fit his style and he’d rather find out about advancements from the web. I still send him invites from time to time just to grief him. Then again, I haven’t talked to him in years and boy, can a lot of things change in a few years. Biohackers turn into heads of department and heads of department turn into corrupt biopunks.

And the great wheel of life keeps turning.

9:47, That Fateful Day, The Future

K.

The pain is all that remains. Crawling in a puddle of my own blood I’m on the verge of losing consciousness. At least they ignore me now, and the pain is starting to go away. I close my eyes and fall into the warm cloud of my own thoughts. Is it my fault? I wanted to change the world for the better, give people the freedom they deserve. I started my own DIY lab, I had plans for the future, everything was supposed to turn out fine. But not anymore.
I didn’t ask for it, I never wanted to be a self-proclaimed freedom fighter. But someone has to when the knowledge and technology is taken away from the people. Is this the consequence of my own choices and actions or of the very thing I was fighting against - the laws and restrictions that were supposed to stop slaughters like this one?
As I cease to feel my legs I hear a voice saying "you owe me one mate" and loud sirens somewhere in the distance. I try to reach for the nameless murderer but he disappears as I hear a gunshot. And another, followed by a loud cannonade. It doesn’t matter. I’m already dead. Someone drags my body, the body of a deadman. My clothes are being ripped off, the sirens seem to fade and get louder at the same time.
I feel wet drops on my bare skin, rain falling down on my shoulders. It's raining... It always rains in hell.

3:20 PM, That Fateful Day, The Future

A.

‘This is how it will be - I will keep working for you, doing what I’ve been doing for the past five  years while you will fund a new department to develop cheap, easy to administer implants that ward people from the most common pathogens. I’m tired of seeing so many people suffer from the things whose existence most of us have nearly forgotten about already. Nothing can help make up for the lives you’ve taken but at least you can give some other people their lives back, or a chance to live at all.’ The pharmacology industry could have done this years ago but that would have meant that nobody would be paying them lots of money for the well-established, easy to afford drugs, so they’ve been heavily subsidizing our other projects to stop us from doing it ourselves.

‘Silly girl, you have no right to make demands of me, it is my money and I can do what I want with it. I own you, too, and I could make sure you will stay silent about this. Permanently.’

‘Actually, you’ll find that the money comes from the taxes people pay. They were paying you to protect them and instead they paid for their own deaths. And as I said, get rid of me and the consequences will be dire.’

After a long moment, he realizes that he is defeated. Might as well cut his losses and give in, this can only end badly for him if he tries to outsmart me, and he knows it. ‘Very well’ , he says, ‘I await a list of candidates you suggest for this department. Leave now.’

3:12 PM, That Fateful Day, The Future

A.

Once I’ve recovered from my bewilderment at what’s been going on under my nose, I start to think of what else I could do to not only prevent this from happening again but also to actually reverse this somehow and turn it into something good. I knock on Boss’ door, poker face on, good thing I’ve done as much public engagement as I’ve done biology.

‘Enter’, a voice ragged from so many cigars, says.

I stroll in, walking slowly but with a lot of determination in each step, my face calm as the most placid lake. I sit down, place the evidence in front of him, and say ‘I know everything’.

A quick glance at the documents, a split second of fear in his eyes, then that smile, that horrible, reassuring corporate smile creeps across his face as he reaches for the button to summon security.

‘Wait. Get rid of me now and soon everyone will know how you’ve been using them as guinea pigs. Let’s be civilized about this. Let’s talk business.’ My voice didn’t even shake, not once, that’s good. His hand hovers over the button for a few seconds before returning to the desk. At least they put someone clever in charge.

9:38 AM, That Fateful Day, The Future

K.

It’s too late to run now, the harm is already done. As the latent toxins become activated I feel the infection unleashing its full potential upon my body. The stinging pain in my stomach nearly paralyses me as I fall to the ground and beg for death. The thin fog of the protein activating gas spreads throughout the conference centre. More and more people fall into violent convulsions, some of them start spitting and vomiting blood. Everyone reacting in a slightly different way, each organism trying to fight off the pathogen. There’s a morbid beauty in all this. I try to crawl towards the exit, hoping that it’s not too late for me, that maybe I can be saved. 
I feel a glimpse of hope as I see people in hazmat suits enter the building. They look around, I cannot distinguish the words they're speaking but as they walk further into the building, ignoring the carnage, it doesn't take me long to realise what's going on. They are here to use the chaos caused by the outbreak of the microbes. This was a precisely planned attack and now they are harvesting the crops. God knows what their target is, nevermind the collateral damage. Maybe that’s my chance, they don’t care whether I live or die, so I try to crawl past them. One of them gets closer and kicks me in the stomach. The pain is overwhelming, the blood I vomit covers my body and hands...

2:24 PM, That Fateful Day, The Future

A. 

This has to stop, now. Countries should be working together on preventing any dangers to their people, not secretly working on ways of developing weapons of mass destruction and testing them out on their own people - or any people, for that matter. I thought that after the fuel crisis was solved, there would be nothing more to war about. Old habits die hard, I guess. 
What should I do with this newfound information? If I run to the Biohazard Trust, there is a large chance Boss has some story ready with which to frame me and pin this all as my doing; that would be the end of the road for me and I’d get to sit in a cell for the rest of my life, at best. If I sit here and pretend to be none the wiser, my own personal integrity will be at stake. There must be a golden mean. And there is, I just need to copy these files onto several chips and give them to people I trust with the instructions that they should go straight to both the Biohazard Trust and every major media outlet as soon as none of them hear from me for more than a week.