Biogenesis

by Tatsuaki Ishiguro

  At this point, no particular enfeeblement was noticed in the winged mice themselves. There was no change in the amount of bog moss consumed or in physical activity, as minimal as the latter was to begin with. In truth, precisely this was the pitfall of their experiment, which ran without a control group.

  A change suddenly occurred on the seventh day. Dr. Akedera was the first to notice it. The white flake sawdust under the winged mice was abnormally moist. There was no associated odor, however, and Dr. Akedera noticed that the cause was a clear liquid leaking from the eyes of the mice. A compositional analysis found it to be identical in makeup to normal mammalian blood. A second riddle –– that of the weeping winged mouse –– was thus solved in short succession.

  Dr. Sakakibara regretted on the same day that “We should have weighed the winged mice,” and his worries came true. A loss of blood in the form of tears sufficient to moisten the white flake would soon exceed the total body fluid level of a winged mouse.

  The mice were quickly separated, and that night was devoted to treatment. A long metal tube was attached to a syringe and introduced into the mouth, through which a physiological saline solution was force-fed, with sub-dermal injections also made from the back. The tears continued to fall, however, at a pace that only an intravenous drip (which was indeed attempted) could counter. Hard to discern at first even upon being pointed out and actively sought, by the ninth day it was clear that the liquid was dripping from the eyes. For a winged mouse, which weighed barely two hundred grams, a day’s worth of tears equaled about a quarter of its bodily fluid mass, and ten sub-dermal injections meant replacing all of its blood.

  “Looking at those tears, I wanted to cry myself,” Dr. Sakakibara recalled about that period.

  Dr. Akedera saw to the treatment, but for some reason Dr. Sakakibara suggested that the two mice be placed in an undivided chamber. There was the fact that “as they were, they would obviously die,” but there was another reason, simply a fancy, “all too human, in no way scientific, that the tears were a lamentation that they could not be together.” Since Dr. Akedera had always wanted to place them together, he naturally agreed. However, “Dr. Akedera had some idea of how the story was going to end, and I could not fathom his true intentions” (Dr. Sakakibara).

  When the two winged mice were placed together, they maintained a certain distance, which they closed only gradually. After a while, they began to flutter their wings finely, and their glowing intensified to the point of being visible under soft lighting. It was originally thought that, much as with fireflies, the vibrating wings’ glow emitted no heat. However, the results of spectral and infrared analyses indicated that the light was an infrared ray that partially fell within the human range; that it exhibited minute modulations in wave frequency; and hence that the wings might be a communication organ, just as dolphins employ a sound-wave language. Later, Drs. Akedera and Sakakibara sent the only data they still had of the winged mice to Mihoko Kobayashi, assistant at the Tokyo University Center for Languages, for a waveform analysis. Ms. Kobayashi used a mainframe computer to perform several types of simulations as well as language typing. In addition, she processed a massive amount of data under the working hypothesis that “The waveform peaks resemble a musical scale when digitized.” The result was an unofficial report according to which “Some typical patterns [see Figure 3] reminiscent of infantile utterances were identified, but a homological comparison with existing languages reveals their inconsequential poverty” (Assistant Kobayashi).

  Figure 3: The light emission pattern converted to musical scale values. Two types are shown here.

  Ultimately they were forced to conclude that it did not meet the criteria for a language.

  When the winged mice were placed in the same cage, not only did the light grow in intensity, but the volume of tears ameliorated dramatically as well, surprising Drs. Akedera and Sakakibara. Yet, the decline was due to evaporation from the radiated heat, and when corrected for this, the flow volume remained completely unchanged.

  “Dr. Akedera and I argued day after day, vociferously, about whether we should go public with the state of things” (Dr. Sakakibara). Their inability to come to an agreement led to forty-eight hours passing in vain.

  In the end, there was no choice but to adopt as their final conclusion Dr. Akedera’s hypothesis that “When two winged mice are kept in close proximity during a specific season (the experiment results determined that this is autumn), they enter into an irreversible death process.” When Dr. Sakakibara also accepted Dr. Akedera’s view that publishing a paper would not alter the outcome, their “criminal” deed progressed to an actual crime.

  At this stage, what appeared to be courting behavior was observed more than once –– namely, the winged mice bringing their mouths close together –– but desperate to preserve the species, the doctors lacked the time or inclination to scrutinize the mating process.

  “Even if a new life emerged, at the expense of two others it would still be a minus,” and “Death would likely precede birth in any case” (Dr. Sakakibara). Following that judgment, no research was performed on the content of the oral cavity, etc., related to procreation. The pressing issue was the loss of bodily fluids. In nuce, “We could not let them bleed to death” (Dr. Sakakibara).

  Dr. Akedera was consulting with a colleague from his applied biology lab, veterinary section lecturer Chizuru Sakamoto, on a regular basis with regard to treatment.

  “I don’t recall the details, but it was about treating mice, and I do remember that we went into specifics. Because normally you don’t do that for mice” (Lecturer Sakamoto).

  Furthermore, new hypotheses are listed in Dr. Akedera’s journal at the relevant date. He arranged the experiment results to create a type of storyline.

  1. Winged mice have a death switch.

  2. That switch is turned on when they face another individual.

  3. Once turned on, the switch will not be turned off even if the other individual is removed from proximity.

  4. Mating requires that two individuals be cohabitants.

  What can be derived from these facts is a physiological structure wherein “Procreation is linked directly to death” (Dr. Akedera). This is not unique, however, to the winged mouse, and holds for insects such as the cicada and the ant lion. Although it is more common among mammals for mating to take place when the organism is at peak vitality, for insects it is not rare for the moment to coincide with the cessation of life. Notably, even among humans, instances such as AIDS can bring procreative behavior into direct association with death.

  While “The infrared signal that winged mice emit might be serving as the switch for the irreversible process,” the question was now “what determines their lifespan” (Dr. Akedera). Conversely, previous observations indicated that there was a wide variation in winged mouse lifespans, with the maximum being much longer than expected. Although Dr. Akedera is not explicit, certain passages of his relating to cell cultures that we touched upon earlier hint at the possibility of a nearly infinite lifespan. Even now, with most of the mystery solved, no researcher would be ready to concur with the hypothesis. Perhaps it was only a dream of Dr. Akedera’s, and at the same time the root of his fear. Regardless, the fact remains that some of the incredible hypotheses that Dr. Akedera erected in quick succession regarding the winged mice have proven to be sound.

  In and of itself, the natural world admits of no laws or consistent narratives based on hypotheses. Attaching meaning to the natural world’s various phenomena and aligning them into convincing narratives merely serves human interests. No matter how quantitatively a law is expressed, it is a human application and nothing more. From that viewpoint, we notice that hypotheses failed to yield a single new fact in the course of the experiments. Hypotheses lacked the force to create a new reality. Yet, in a case as extremely unique as this, it would not have been strange if Dr. Akedera had begun to view his own narrative as the reality.

  The hypothesis that �
��Mating brings an end to the nearly infinite lifespan possessed by the winged mouse” (Dr. Akedera) does neatly describe an aspect of the winged mouse’s physiology.

  “The survival of winged mouse specimens despite their extremely weak procreative and defensive drives could only be explained if individual winged mice enjoyed long lifespans,” and “It is readily imagined that an increase in the count and density of specimens led to more frequent contact and, subsequent to a peak, a rapid descent toward extinction” (Dr. Akedera).

  Dr. Sakakibara recalls that around then he and Dr. Akedera had a highly interesting discussion. It arose from Dr. Sakakibara’s suspicion that “The number of specimens might never increase if procreation led to death not out of external factors but as an internal program.”

  Dr. Akedera had an immediate response to that, however. “A link between procreation and death posed no problem for population increases if two conditions were satisfied, a large litter and a brief gestation period.”

  During this crucial period, as far as saving the pair was concerned, it appears that Dr. Akedera made no decisive effort or contribution. His almost optimistic stance seems to have been undergirded by his hypothesis of a large litter prior to death.

  There are two different approaches to medical research and clinical practice. One can either grasp the conclusion intuitively and then search for pieces of evidence or, conversely, trace the surrounding pieces of evidence to close in on the conclusion. In Dr. Akedera’s case, it might be said that he apparently began with the latter, orthodox approach before gradually transitioning to the former, not always scientific method. In any case, the fact is that as the situation devolved Dr. Akedera was at least partially on the right track.

  Then that fateful day came, the eleventh of September. The total volume of tears so far was already untenable. On the previous day, Dr. Akedera had attempted a venal injection of low-molecular dextran, a colloid osmotic solution, via the tail. While this had been at the suggestion of the aforementioned Lecturer Sakamoto, the vein would be unusable for a few days if the attempt failed, so extreme caution was required. Likewise, intravenous treatment would be off limits for a few days even if the attempt was successful. Low-molecular dextran does wonders to increase the volume of blood flowing in the circulatory system, but in the case of humans, serious side effects are known to result from multiple doses.10

  The work began at two o’clock, and once a vein was found, warmed, and swollen, several ccs were successfully injected into Ai. Ponta, however, had thin tail veins to begin with, and the attempt, using both the right and left ones on the dorsal side and lasting an astounding two hours, ended in failure. Instead, the drug was deposited into the abdominal cavity for absorption rates superior to a sub-dermal injection but inferior to direct administration into a blood vessel.

  When the work was finally completed at four, it was Ponta’s condition that suddenly began to deteriorate first.

  Symptomatically, “No longer able to support his weight, his legs folded as if to rub his belly, and his wings lost tension and began to droop.” His ECG was being monitored through minute electrodes designed for small animals. The waveform (whose specific characteristics will be described below) gradually decreased in amplitude, reflecting that heart activity was weakening.

  Possible damage to internal organs due to the abdominal injection was suspected, but by five o’clock, when Ponta’s heart waves flat-lined, Ai was exhibiting similar changes including enfeeblement. Ponta’s body glowed for nearly ten minutes subsequent to his demise, then the light went out. A rudimentary cardiac massage was performed according to Dr. Akedera’s records, and the time of death, contrary to the official announcement, was 5:12 a.m. Then Ai’s death followed thirty-six minutes behind.

  When the security guard arrived at six, Drs. Akedera and Sakakibara were simply gazing at Ai’s body and its fading glow rather than attend to the consequences. Quotations of a highly sentimental nature would appear in the next day’s paper.

  “I sensed the moment when a species’ energy, spanning millennia, was no more” (Dr. Sakakibara).

  “I found myself thinking upon the many species of flora and fauna that vanish every day from this world” (Dr. Akedera).

  It was only at seven that the need to perform a postmortem and to preserve organs occurred to Dr. Akedera. Ponta, the first to die, had to be dissected first, but Dr. Sakakibara, concerned about tissue degeneration given that some time had already elapsed, strongly favored preserving the body whole using liquid nitrogen, and Dr. Akedera could not but cede the point.

  “He had no energy left to argue” (Dr. Sakakibara). Thus, by happenstance, it was Ai who was dissected.

  In truth, up until then, there had been no basis for the sexing of winged mice outside of the local tales. Waseda University’s Professor Tomokazu Kato and others held that the mating attempts had failed for that reason. Those specimens with smaller wings were believed to be female and labeled as such out of convenience, but dissections had failed to locate reproductive organs. While the researchers had come up with male-female pairs based on morphological differences, they had not sexed them for certain. The latest postmortem, however, proved the truth of the legends.

  The instant the abdomen was incised, what appeared to be a fetus enclosed within a clear sac emerged from the area directly beneath the wings. When Dr. Akedera cautiously cut the sac open with a pair of scissors, a yellow liquid spilled forth, followed by a transparent fetus without any apparent umbilical cord. The fetus was placed in a disinfected Petri dish. As soon as Dr. Akedera attempted to resuscitate it, the fetus convulsed. In actuality, it may have been attempting to get to its feet, but at that moment, to Dr. Sakakibara’s eyes, it seemed to have undergone a convulsion. As the fetus’ body dried, its movements became more and more marked. It was the last of its kind, knocking down Dr. Akedera’s hypothesis regarding a large litter but proving in part his theory about an abbreviated gestation period. After that, Ai’s organs were extracted in the hopes of preserving tissue.

  At eight, Dr. Sakakibara called Mr. Tamura, and after a brief discussion among the three of them, members of the press, as noted earlier, were summoned.

  The above represents the entire sequence of events. The issue of what happened to the newborn winged mouse remains, but I would rather present the matter in Dr. Sakakibara’s own words. I piece together only half of what was said to me as I sat at his bedside. It may not be the most natural piece of writing, but I believe an unedited account will grant the reader a more realistic sense of what had transpired.

  At the time of our dialogue, Dr. Sakakibara was running a fever as a result of pneumonia and hardly in his best condition, but I should like it noted that he was perfectly lucid.

  So as not to injure the fetus, Akedera-san used a pair of curved scissors to carefully cut through the thin amnion and open it.

  The fetus that emerged halfway out of the sac was in an inanimate state. No, it was not that I thought so, Akedera-san said that.

  I had assumed it would be dead and had given up.

  He said it would really die if we did not hurry and from there on he employed the scissors with a new speed and precision.

  The umbilical cord may have torn somewhere along the way and I recognized none.

  It appeared to me that the fetus steeped in amnion was not even breathing.

  Without saying a word, Akedera-san put on a pair of sterilized plastic gloves and started to dangle the fetus roughly by its tail and to knock it against the edge of the Petri dish.

  I thought he had gone mad and made to stop him lest we lose an important sample.

  After Akedera-san slapped it with the palm of his hand several times, the baby mouse suddenly convulsed to my surprise.

  I cannot describe the shock and joy I felt when I then saw it move ever so slightly.

  I could tell from the movement of its chest that the tiny little thing was slowly beginning to breathe.

  I was beside myself, but Akedera-
san still had a scary look on his face.

  A really scary look.

  In time, the baby mouse’s movements grew more pronounced.

  I could not believe it when I saw it trying to get to its feet.

  The baby mouse starting to move in the Petri dish was still moist from the amniotic fluid and did not even seem to know which way it was going, but it was unmistakably and fiercely asserting that it was alive.

  But Akedera-san dropped the heavy pair of scissors down on it like it was nothing.

  By the next instant the baby mouse already lay crushed in the transparent amniotic fluid.

  As translucent organs poked through its torn skin I wondered what had just happened.

  At first I thought he had dropped the scissors by accident, but Akedera-san’s expression remained unchanged.

  I was speechless.

  I could not believe my own eyes.

  No matter what I said, Akedera-san would not answer me.

  Naturally, Dr. Sakakibara was enraged by the sudden and unexplained action. But Dr. Akedera “offered no excuse or explanation” (Dr. Sakakibara).

  Thereafter, Dr. Akedera continued to refuse to discuss the incident. The two doctors’ relationship was sundered, but as Dr. Sakakibara was an accessory to the crime, he could not bring himself to publicly accuse Dr. Akedera in the coming days, either. By his own admission, however, it was not as if Dr. Sakakibara had mustered any clear resolve to do so, compromised or not.