“I am not a spiteful man, Professor. Still, I will never forgive Barbara for stomping on my self-esteem when I was just trying to be a good person. Never. Two years ago, she came by ‘to drop off some documents from her husband’. She arrived in the evening when almost everyone in this office had left. She knew I would be working late. I tolerated her visit. I served her some tea and gave her a tour of the place.
“Barbara kept bringing up old memories. She did not say so directly, but she was pleading for us to reignite a spark that had never been there at all. Maybe it would have developed at some point, but she had suffocated it before it could gasp for oxygen.
“Barbara stayed for more two hours. She spent the first one trying to convince me that she was responsible for changing my life. That I owed her something. Desperation had made her delusional. What did she think we were going to do? Ditch her husband and children? Turn back the clock? The regret in her eyes was heartbreaking. Only the memory of her heartless rejection helped me to overcome my sympathy. It was too late. How do you un-burn ash into a fresh log again? You can’t. Anyhow, the second hour of her visit was spent … I will leave that to your ‘botanical imagination’. What I will say is that I got the honey. She left with an empty hive.”
For a brief moment, Mr. Gweta was a different man. A vindictive satisfaction had replaced the warmth on his face. Professor Khupe studied his host with interest. Barbara had inflicted lasting wounds. However, Mr. Gweta was responsible for their permanence. Each time his body had tried to repair them, he peeled away the scabs so he would never forget the underlying injuries. Eventually, his body had relented. It stopped producing scabs altogether, and opted for a transparent gloss of scar tissue. After that, Mr. Gweta could enjoy his vindication at will. He did not need to strip away the healing powers of time whenever he wanted to access his bliss. All he had to do was summon Barbara’s face from his retinas.
It had never occurred to Professor Khupe that some people could only find restoration through re-traumatization. If the likeable Mr. Gweta was among them, what other surprises could he expect from his mysterious clients? What could he expect from the man who had sent him to see the lawyer?
The invisible serpent that had possessed Mr. Gweta slowly loosened its coils. The venom was still dripping from the fangs of memory as he drifted to the exoneration of the present. The charming man who had greeted Professor Khupe at the reception desk was back.
“This is the only subject that provokes this part of me, Professor. In fact, it’s not a part of me at all. My experience with Barbara grafted an additional limb onto my body. It is a foreign and malicious thing.”
“Then cut it off, Mr. Gweta.”
“I need it. It’s my compass. Without it, the profitable chaos of corporate law would sate the hunger that brought me all this finery.”
“Barbara’s rejection hit you hard, didn’t it, Mr. Gweta?”
“Not quite. It hit me hard because Barbara shunned my sperm for choosing to serve the poor. That incident marked the turning point in my life. Generally, I believe that it’s better to be driven by positive influences, but bad ones can work just as well. Sometimes better.”
Mr. Gweta smiled.
“For the most part, I love everyone.”
A friendly mischief was dancing in his eyes.
“Now you know more about me than most people, Professor. You should have been a priest. Your studious attention elicits confessions. Then again, this trait is common to all great scientists.”
Professor Khupe now knew why Mr. Gweta was so successful. Yes, he was highly intelligent. Yes, he loved the law. Yes, he had an obsessive work ethic. However, his secret weapon was his raw charm. Mr. Gweta made no effort to hide the mechanics behind his brazen compliments. His flattery was undeserved and overstated. And yet, it was hard to resist. The man had a chocolate charisma. Its low nutritional value did not stop people from eating it up. Maybe Ketiwe’s mother was not a Sperm Pirate after all? Maybe he had charmed her without brandishing his wallet?
“Well! Let’s get down to business, Professor.”
* * *
The Patent
“Let’s talk about the plants at Great Zimbabwe, Professor. My clients are concerned about what they read in the newspaper. This flame lily is guilty of tremendous mischief. They will not tolerate such botanical malpractice.”
“Why are they so concerned, Mr. Gweta?”
“No one likes a plant infestation, especially not my clients. Any plant that hunts and feeds on the dead must be a disease carrier for the living.”
“I doubt that, Mr. Gweta. There is no evidence that these plants are disease carriers.”
“Not all diseases come from bacteria and viruses, Professor. The worst often come from things you cannot see under a microscope. This plant is infested with an aggressive strain of such invisible germs.”
“I don’t get it. Would you care to elaborate?”
“I do not,” said Mr. Gweta with a smile. “So, is it true that Zuva Redu exaggerated what these plants can do?”
“Significantly,” replied Professor Khupe.
“That is comforting. And I understand that it may take between eight and ten years to develop seeds for a plant that has the capabilities described in the article?”
“Maybe.”
“Professor, I represent a client who is interested in developing such a plant. Specifically, the plant should be designed to ignore any nutrition in the soil except, of course, its prescribed diet. My client wants a flame lily with the focus of a heat-seeking missile. It must be so precise that it can weave through the catacombs of hell and strike a bacterium hiding beneath the armpit of a condemned baboon. Do you see what I mean?”
“Vividly.”
“Good. The plant must also be able to detect and travel to the source of nutrition from at least fifty metres away. Finally, it must only bloom when it finds that source. Not a moment sooner. What will you need to make that happen?”
Professor Khupe was taken aback.
“With all due respect, Mr. Gweta, you are overloading my brain. First, the scientific reality of what your client seeks is highly improbable. I would have said impossible if the plants I found had not dampened my confidence in such an absolute position. Second, even if it were probable, the effort would cost a tremendous amount of money. Third, I already have a job. I am not available to lead such an adventure.”
Mr. Gweta had a mystified look on his face.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” he said in a whisper.
“That’s okay, Mr. Gweta,” said Professor Khupe, relaxing a little.
“No, I am sorry that they did not tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“You were fired.”
Professor Khupe leaped forward in the sofa. It now felt too comfortable for such a sober discussion. Serious business needed a hard chair. There was none in sight.
“What do you mean, I was fired? I still had my job when I left the university this afternoon.”
Mr. Gweta took an envelope from his desk and handed it to Professor Khupe.
“Your funding ran out.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“That is impossible.”
“Not quite. The foundation that was paying for your research has found other priorities. They have terminated your funding forthwith.”
“Forthwith? No. We were guaranteed funding for at least three more years. The money was placed in the trust fund. The donor cannot revoke such an obligation so easily.”
“Usually, no. But there is a special clause in your contract. If certain events arise, the foundation may withdraw its funding without notice.”
“And what events have arisen?”
“According to the contract, the foundation is ‘released from its obligations when the beneficiaries engage in morally objectionable science’.”
“What have I done that is morally objectionable?”
“Studying plants that eat dead bodies.
Oh, it also didn’t help that you decided to tell the world about it in a sensationalist newspaper.”
“Come on! That’s ridiculous. The courts will not tolerate such a breach of contract!”
Mr. Gweta leaned back in his chair and lowered his voice. In a casual and pleasant tone, he sprinkled five consequential words over Professor Khupe’s outrage: “Mr. Hurudza drafted the contract.” The name immediately calmed the seething academic.
Professor Khupe knew that Mr. Hurudza had a hypnotic effect on the legal community. Even if that contract was actually a recipe for mazondo stew, the courts would still gaze upon it with reverence. How could anyone compete with a legal prodigy who needed no sleep and preferred breathing law than oxygen? Professor Khupe realized he had to fight on other grounds.
“I was terminated this morning?” he asked with more humility than outrage.
“No. You were terminated at seven forty this evening. But the termination is effective from the end of the teaching day at five o’clock this afternoon.”
“Hey! It’s seven forty right now! How can my dismissal be retroactive to five o’clock this afternoon?”
“It is actually seven forty-one right now. But you finished your class at five o’clock. You do not get any further credit because you did not work after that time.”
“But that makes no—”
“It does. You were fired the moment you triggered a ‘condition precedent’.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Think of it as a suicide pill that was built into your contract. When you walked in here, you still had your job. However, the capsule was designed to break if you made a specific choice. You made such a choice. The cyanide leaked. It killed your job. But that is not all. This capsule is special. It can kill things yesterday ... or effective from five o’clock this afternoon. Isn’t the law beautiful?”
Mr. Gweta beamed at Professor Khupe with his “best friend” smile. The lawyer had just demolished his entire world. And yet, he sat there looking un-hateable.
Professor Khupe fell back into the sofa. What was going on? His first instinct was to storm out of the office. His second was to cause a scene. But something told him neither option was a good idea. No, this was a time for diplomacy. After all, why would the invisible hands behind this fiasco send him to an amiable lawyer with golf-course hair? They could have made a different point by introducing him to the anonymous caller who had sent him here. Professor Khupe was not sure what point such a man would have made. However, he was certain that the interaction would not have involved attractive daughters or expensive couches.
Whoever these people were, they wanted to give him a chance. Mr. Gweta was the velvet glove covering the iron fist. If Professor Khupe cooperated, he would be stroked gently with the velvet. If he did not cooperate, he would be introduced to the fist. He had no choice but to play along. But he could not give up too easily. He had been called here for diplomacy. Diplomacy was about negotiating. Negotiating was about posturing. Posturing was about satisfying egos so that everyone could save face after the compromise. Professor Khupe injected a respectful defiance into his voice.
“Mr. Gweta, you only brought up this ‘condition precedent’ after I declined to do the flame lily research. Now I am losing my funding for my real work because I decided to associate myself with those very plants? That makes no sense.”
“It does,” replied Mr. Gweta. He said nothing more.
Professor Khupe leaned forward and looked Mr. Gweta in the eye.
“Are the foundation and this new client the same people?” he asked.
Mr. Gweta shook his head. It was not a response to the question, but an objection to it.
“I never discuss my clients. Their business is confidential. Including their identities.”
Professor Khupe looked away. His eyes fell upon a sculpture of a well-proportioned woman revelling in her femininity. It was tucked away in the corner beside a large potted plant. He turned back to Mr. Gweta and said, “I am listening.”
“Good!” replied Mr. Gweta, brightening up.
“You have been awarded new funding.”
“Really? Effective when?”
“Seven forty-four.”
“Effective now? I see. Go on, Mr. Gweta.”
“With pleasure, Professor. It is quite simple. Your most recent decision triggered a ‘condition subsequent’.”
“Goodness. Here we go again. What on earth is that?”
“A resurrection pill. The suicide capsule killed your previous contract. Your latest decision resurrected a much better version. You will have thrice the budget that you had this morning. You can hire more staff and buy better equipment. All your bills will come to me each month. Sounds good?”
The tough negotiator in Professor Khupe evaporated in a plume of compromise.
“Of course! That sounds damn good.”
“Excellent. Now to other matters. We need to have an intellectual property strategy. Specifically, we need to patent your research. Are you familiar with this procedure?”
“Generally. But as a botanist, I am more fascinated by the science than how the law applies to its innovations. The university works with the lawyers on the patents.”
“Exactly! That would be me. Basically, a patent is a property right granted by the government. In part, it gives an inventor the power to prevent others from making, selling, or importing a product that incorporates the protected technology. Other people can only do these things with the permission of the patent owner. Such permission comes at a price. Therefore, it is much nicer to be a patent owner than a licensee. It can be expensive for those on the latter side of the transaction. That is why we need to make sure that your research is protected by a patent. Otherwise, our investment would be wasted if anyone could free-ride on the fruits of our labour.”
As the impact of his newfound glory began to settle, Professor Khupe was beginning to worry. Scientific realities were clashing with the expectations of clients who felt they could bash a plant with their wallets until its genes complied with their wishes.
“But, Mr. Gweta, I am not even sure we will succeed. There may be no fruits after ten years. In fact, there may never be any fruits at all. The science is complicated. Horribly unpredictable.”
“Well, someone managed to make a carnivore out of the plant. All you have to do is to make that tendency more aggressive and selective.”
“True. But that raises another problem. The initial breakthrough was someone else’s work. Even if we succeeded, our own product would be based on that person’s research. Our patent would be challenged in court, no?”
“I doubt that, Professor,” said Mr. Gweta. His confidence was disarming. “Whoever developed these flame lilies planted them anonymously. He did not bother to file for a patent. If he intended to stake a claim over the breakthrough, that was a foolish thing to do. Such an action can amount to disclosure. That destroys the invention’s novelty.”
“What do you mean by ‘disclosure’ and ‘novelty’?”
“Good question. The patent system encourages technological development by protecting those who invest in creating new things. Basically, for an invention to be patented it must be new or ‘novel’. Otherwise the system would be granting property rights for existing technologies. Imagine if I could patent a spoon. Without creating anything new, I could prevent people from using the utensil to stir their tea or eat their ice cream.”
Mr. Gweta paused to make sure Professor Khupe was still with him.
“In patent law, ‘disclosure’ means making something known to the public for the first time. Disclosure can erode novelty if it happens before a patent is granted. Why? Because the invention itself is already known at the time the inventor tries to patent it. As a result, there is no innovation to protect. Think of the spoon in my previous example. You cannot patent it because it has been around for as long as the cup of tea. Makes sense?”
“Sort of,” replied Professor Khupe.
&n
bsp; “Let’s apply the concept to our case. Given what I just told you, the person who developed those flame lilies had no intention of patenting them. By planting the vines at Great Zimbabwe, they disclosed the invention. This disclosure was broadcast to the world when you decided to grant an interview to Zuva Redu. All this happened before the inventor filed for a patent. Even if he decides to do so now, the disclosure of the invention may mean that the genetic breakthrough can no longer be patented. At the very least, we can patent our improvements on the baseline technology. Mr. Hurudza will draft the necessary documents. If anyone challenges the validity of our patents or violates our rights, we will fight them in court. That is why we are paid so well, Professor. We are legal gladiators.”
The lawyer raised his fist in the air and brought it crashing down on the skull of an imaginary opponent.
Professor Khupe nodded his respect for Mr. Gweta’s powers of cranial destruction.
“Your firm of gladiators has done well, Mr. Gweta. No one leaves your amphitheatre in one piece. But who is the emperor overseeing the bloodbath?”
The question caught Mr. Gweta off-guard. He wagged his finger at his guest and said no more. Professor Khupe realized he had caused great offence.
“I apologize,” he said. “I am a scientist. My mind has been primed for curiosity. It cannot help tripping on questions. This often includes those that should not be asked.”
“Then you must restrain the questions that could arouse inconvenience, Professor.”
Mr. Gweta smiled. He was one of those people who could deliver a stern, but pleasant rebuke. With a shrug of his shoulders, he returned to the business at hand.
“I don’t know why this person planted the flame lilies at Great Zimbabwe. In any event, his motives are irrelevant from the patent perspective.”
Professor Khupe shifted in his sofa. Something about the flame lilies had troubled him for some time. Speaking with Mr. Gweta had crystallized his unease.
* * *
The Urgency of a Stifled Intellect
The Hangman's Replacement: Sprout of Disruption (BOOK 1) Page 13
