The Hangman's Replacement: Sprout of Disruption (BOOK 1)

by Taona Dumisani Chiveneko

  The public’s reaction to the paper ranged from lust and curiosity to outright disdain. However, few practised abstinence. Everyone paid attention when the latest edition rolled off the printing press and strutted down the runway. In this business, attention was survival. Zuva Redu was the ultimate survivor. It was also the most widely read newspaper in Zimbabwe.

  Many people would not be caught dead reading the paper. They simply tried not to be spotted while doing so. When they were caught, they always had a profound excuse. No one ever admitted their innate gluttony for scandal and gossip. Their justifications were always motivated by a greater purpose: “If you want to understand society, you must be aware of what it finds interesting. How can you do that if you ignore what the average citizen reads?” Whatever excuses they gave, few of these amateur sociologists could resist the empty intellectual calories that Zuva Redu fed Zimbabweans in all three official languages.

  Professor Khupe had known this when he agreed to the interview. But he had taken the risk anyway. The discovery of the strange flame lily plant at Great Zimbabwe was too fantastic to keep in a scientific journal. Though the other national papers had more integrity, Zuva Redu had the largest circulation. Its readership was also the most diverse.

  The decisive factor was the journalist whom the paper had proposed to conduct the interview. His name was Earnest Chokwadi. He was the only journalist at Zuva Redu who saw accuracy as a virtue rather than a bitter antidote to a defamation lawsuit. Earnest’s integrity and the wide circulation of the paper made the risk worth taking.

  They had spoken for an hour. Like any diligent scientist, Professor Khupe stressed the obligatory disclaimers. He had repeated several times that it was too soon to draw any reliable conclusions from the research. His opinions were muddy mixtures of experience, speculation, and incomplete evidence. Earnest Chokwadi had nodded with understanding as Professor Khupe qualified his answers. And now, this so-called journalist writes this nonsense?

  “Cadaver-Hunting Flower?”

  Professor Khupe had never used those words. The article had misquoted and overstated his findings. What a betrayal by a man whose last name meant “truth”. Professor Khupe wondered how many of his colleagues had read the article. Then he realized that even if only one of them had, all the botanists in southern Africa would know about it. After all, no self-respecting scientist would fail to share news of a colleague’s embarrassing misstep with at least one other person. Many of his fellow botanists would believe that he was misquoted, but none would understand why he had accepted an interview with Zuva Redu in the first place.

  Professor Khupe could feel his reputation draining through his toes. After reading the article for the fourth time, he felt a glimmer of hope. How many people would actually believe this nonsense?

  The phone rang.

  “Hello. This is Professor Khupe.”

  A male voice grated through the earpiece. Though it was deep and heavy, each word sounded like it had been smoothened by vocal chords lined with coarse sandpaper.

  “Are you the botanist who was interviewed by Zuva Redu?” asked the voice.

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “I need to ask you questions about the plants you found at Great Zimbabwe. Is this a good time?”

  “Actually, no,” replied Professor Khupe, glancing at his watch. He had tennis lessons in half an hour.

  “Good,” said the man. “Is it true that these plants can find dead bodies?”

  Professor Khupe could not put his finger on it, but the voice made him uneasy. It belonged to a man whose occupation involved asking questions that never went unanswered. A man who could command compliance without relying on the weight of a fancy title. More importantly, this anonymous caller would introduce himself to Professor Khupe in person if he did not get his answers over the phone. If there was ever a time to brush someone off, this was not it.

  “Well, not exactly,” replied Professor Khupe. “The article is an exaggeration of what I actually said. What I said was that—”

  “Can those plants find dead bodies?” repeated the man calmly.

  “Yes, they can find dead bodies,” replied the professor.

  The voice remained silent for a while before speaking.

  “But?”

  “But it is not that easy.”

  “Why?”

  “Let’s start from the beginning. If you place one of these vines in fertile soil, it will grow like any other plant. It will have no special motivation to seek out animal proteins. However, if you plant it in dry soil with low nutrition, it puts up a savage fight for survival. It will probably grow faster, become smarter, and demonstrate a predatory focus that no other plant is capable of.”

  “How?”

  “The genetic modification makes the plant more proactive. When planted in poor soil, its radars are triggered. It can detect a source of animal nutrition from several meters away. The vine will focus all its resources on a single purpose: growing towards the meal. But unlike ordinary plants with roots that grow in all directions, this flame lily sends out a single root. Only this ‘tap root’ can access the plant’s available food reserves to fuel the hunting expedition. Until the hunt is successful, the rest of the plant goes on a diet.”

  “So where do the dead bodies come into this story?” asked the voice.

  “As you may know, decaying matter releases nitrous compounds into the soil. The average plant will seek out this nutrition like a rat in a maze. It may be able to smell the food, but its homing instincts are based on trial and error. Its roots will meander in all directions and eat whatever they find in their paths. In contrast, these flame lilies operate like sperm. They are single-minded, precise, and motivated by a single life mandate: to consummate. If an animal dies within the plant’s detection zone, its tap root will grow directly towards it. No detours. When it reaches the carcass, the whole plant will stay alive for as long as there is something to ‘eat’. That’s how dead bodies come into the picture. If the plant smells a corpse, it will burrow towards it with a reproductive urgency.”

  “Thank you for the fertile imagery, Professor.”

  The caller shifted in his chair. Vinyl coating. Professor Khupe could hear it squelching in the heat.

  “So, tell me, did you find any bodies at Great Zimbabwe?”

  “Well, no,” replied Professor Khupe. “That is the problem with newspapers. They line up a series of facts and manufacture conclusions that are sensational, but far from factual.”

  “But according to your explanation, the plant grows towards the nearest source of food. The soil around the outer wall of the Conical Tower is dry and rocky. I am surprised that anything could even germinate there. Given what you have told me, the plant must have found some nitrogen? A corpse, perhaps ... ?”

  The man’s voice trailed away like a rumbling bed of rocks that were being dragged from the beach by a retreating wave.

  “Well, not exactly. The vines I found were quite small. If there were human bodies buried around Great Zimbabwe, the plants would have grown much bigger.”

  Professor Khupe hesitated. Undue speculation is the loose thread in the reputation of every scientist. If he tugged at it too hard, his entire career could unravel before him.

  “What I am about to say is based on an arbitrary estimation. I believe that a single human body would have created a pumpkin patch of flame lilies.”

  “So if the plants did not find human bodies, what were they eating, Professor?”

  “As I said in the article, I believe they found the carcasses of burrowing rodents that died underground. The nutrition from a single rat would trigger the modest growth we saw in those vines. Also, don’t forget that even when the tap root finally reaches the carcass, it will use much of the nutrition to recover from the effort of getting there. Only then will the remaining ‘food’ trigger growth in the rest of the plant. The smaller the food source, the lesser the growth. Judging by the size of the plants at Great Zimbabwe, none of them c
ould have been feeding on anything more than a couple of rats.”

  The man on the line remained silent for a while.

  “That is fascinating,” he finally said.

  “Yes. But the young journalist from Zuva Redu did not emphasize the speculative nature of some of my comments. There are many things we still don’t know. For example, a comparative modelling of the plants’ growth patterns indicated a detection zone of between three to five meters. We extrapolated on this finding to predict the size of the carcasses that corresponded with any given distance. So what does all this mean?”

  “I was hoping you would tell me, Professor.”

  “Well, of course I was going to tell you. It was a just rhetorical question.”

  “No rhetoric. Just answers.”

  The man’s tone did not change, and yet his impatience filtered through. Professor Khupe gulped. Before he could continue, the caller followed up with a non-rhetorical question.

  “Have you ever seen a dead body, Professor?”

  “No,” replied Professor Khupe.

  “Okay.”

  Once more, the man shifted in his vinyl seat. Though he lowered his voice, it sounded louder than before. He had moved the mouthpiece even closer to his lips. A rustling noise crackled through the line. It sounded like a clump of tumbleweed brushing against the door of a deserted hut.

  “Professor. There are two ways of proving facts. The first option is to use expensive scientific equipment. The second is to use a shovel. In my view, the latter is more reliable. There is no need for calculation or speculation. You just dig. Soon enough, you find what you are looking for. You can see it with your own eyes. You can hold it in your own hands …”

  Professor Khupe knew the silence did not grant him permission to respond. The caller needed to spend some quality time absorbing the beauty of his own hands. When the self-appreciation was over, he continued.

  “Instead of digging to find out what those plants were eating, you decided to uproot and interrogate them in your laboratory? At great expense, I might add. Why didn’t you dig?”

  “Of course I could not do that! As you know, Great Zimbabwe is an important national monument. There are severe restrictions on what scientists can do in the area, especially near the Conical Tower.”

  “So how could you make all your estimations without digging? Even a guess needs a starting point?”

  “We studied the levels of certain isotopes of nitrogen in the plants. We also studied the concentration and distribution of certain animal proteins. The levels were higher at the regions closest to the tap roots. They dropped sharply towards the tips of the petals. From this, we made inferences from known data on the growth patterns of regular flame lily plants. That information provided a reliable baseline for our projections. This was the ‘modelling’ I was trying to tell you about earlier.”

  “Don’t try. Just tell.”

  Professor Khupe bit his tongue. As a tenured resident of the ivory tower, he did not understand why regular people did not appreciate his scholarly language.

  “So, the bottom line is that your conclusions are based on speculation?”

  “Heavy speculation. Still, I believe there are no human bodies buried at Great Zimbabwe. We considered a series of complex scientific factors and arrived at the best conclusions we could.”

  “Like Zuva Redu did in their article?”

  Professor Khupe was fuming, but his response was measured.

  “No. In my profession we use speculation to arrive at interim conclusions, which are both responsive and adaptable to new data. Zuva Redu’s conclusions are always speculative and only adapt to information that boosts its sales.”

  “Of course, Professor,” said the voice with a hint of amusement. “Could you tell me something else? Do you plan to carry out further tests to prove that the proteins the plants ate were not human?”

  “No. We have no intention of feeding another foolish media frenzy.”

  “That is a mature decision,” said the caller. “So let’s suppose my neighbour wanted to plant one of these flame lilies in his garden. For fun. How could he get his hands on a few shoots?”

  “That would be difficult. Flame lilies are common in Zimbabwe, but these particular plants cannot be found in the wild. Someone developed them in a laboratory. Whoever it was must have planted them at Great Zimbabwe. If your neighbour wants some for his garden, he will have to find that mystery gardener.”

  “Could you give my neighbour the ones that you harvested?”

  “We only have seven samples. Three remain in our lab. The rest are with fellow researchers. Most are outside the country. They are undergoing further tests. We plan to keep them all. They are treasures to be shared with the world of botany. In fact, with the world in general.”

  “Of course,” replied the man. “So if it was possible to develop such a plant, is it also possible to produce seeds from this specific variety?”

  “Well, with only seven samples, that is unlikely. But, assuming the creator could be found and questioned, it may be possible to find a way to develop some. Seeds and bulbs would live longer than shoots. They would also be easier to store. But I must alert you to another fact that Zuva Redu failed to mention. More research would be needed to intensify the plant’s ability to detect and reach a carcass from more than five metres away. Genetic engineering is a complicated and expensive enterprise. It never produces results overnight. In fact, there is no guarantee that the effort would succeed.”

  Professor Khupe coughed like the dignified academic he was. It always felt good to punctuate his reflections with such a cough.

  “You have a cold, Professor?”

  “No,” replied Professor Khupe, masking his annoyance. It was a cough of decorum!

  The man continued.

  “Could this plant be trained to prefer human corpses over other animals?”

  “I doubt it. Assuming that were possible, the plants would still fail to find a corpse even after being planted atop a grave. Most soil is fertile enough to prevent triggering the mechanism that sparks the accelerated growth. The scenario described in Zuva Redu requires soil that is virtually sterile and a corpse that is reasonably fresh and close. Such conditions rarely occur together in the natural world. Creating a plant that could locate corpses in regular soil would require complex genetic engineering. I do not believe that anyone would bother to make the investment necessary to get the job done.”

  “What if someone was willing to do so? How long would it take to create seeds that would overcome the weight of your scepticism?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if you were to hazard a guess?”

  “I don’t like hazards.”

  “Ah, now we are getting somewhere. So tell me, Professor, if your life depended on giving an answer to my question, what would that answer be?”

  Professor Khupe looked at the ceiling of his laboratory. He had to pick his words carefully.

  “Eight to ten years,” he said firmly.

  “Good,” replied the man. “So, let’s say I had some of these seeds. How much could I sell them for?”

  “It’s hard to say. That would depend on the profit margin you wanted to add to your research and development costs. Another factor would be the market demand for such a product. A larger market would create economies of scale. Higher sales would lower the cost of each seed.”

  “Let me ask my question a little differently, Professor Khupe. Let’s say that I walk into a store and see a sack of sunflower seeds. It costs ten dollars. How much would a bag of my flame lily seeds cost in that same store?”

  “At least eighty dollars,” replied Professor Khupe without hesitation. The man at the other end of the line was pleased with the botanist’s decisiveness.

  “Good. Now, assuming the price was much higher. Let’s say a thousand dollars per bag. Do you suppose that there would be many people who could afford to buy a bag?”

  “Probably,” replied the profe
ssor.

  “So if my neighbour wanted a crop of these flowers, how many acres could he plant with a ten-kilogram bag?”

  “Well, assuming the seeds were genetically stable, you ... he could produce a yield of up to seventy percent higher than your average sunflower crop.”

  “By ‘yield’, are you referring to the seeds that the crop could produce or the volume of the entire harvest?”

  “The latter. If you ripped out the entire flame lily crop from the ground and put it on a scale, it would weigh about seventy percent more than a sunflower crop that was planted at the same time.”

  “Speculation?”

  “Unforgivable speculation.”

  “Well, you are forgiven. So, as things stand, we don’t have to worry about such plants unearthing distant memories all over the country?”

  “No. Zuva Redu has caused you needless concern.”

  “Who said I was concerned?”

  “No, I did not—I meant your neighbour ...”

  The voice was silent for a while. Finally, it spoke.

  “There is a man you must meet.”

  “What sort of man is this?” asked Professor Khupe nervously.

  “He is a lawyer. His name is Mr. Gweta. He has more questions to ask you about this subject. His office is at Karigamombe Centre in Harare. He is expecting you on Friday evening at seven. That should be enough time for you to get there after your Native Species class.”

  Professor Khupe swallowed hard. The man had bothered to find out his teaching schedule?

  “What does this lawyer want?” he asked.

  “He will tell you himself. Don’t worry, Professor. He is just a lawyer. Perfectly harmless.”

  The man shifted in his plastic seat.