The Robotanists

The Robotanists
A story of war, peace, and genetic engineering.
By: Frank Huber

Once upon a time, the human race faced extinction. They thought they would have bypassed all irregularities and hardships with the advent of technology and progress, but the same problems that plagued them since their rise to the top kept rearing their heads time and again. Humans finally saw their social, economic and spiritual woes from a different standpoint. The answer was not revolution, nor tyranny. The answer was in their DNA.
With the remaining humans wiped out from an apocalypse, and the last handful dwindling on the little dirty resources they could store with them, the humans put out a call for the best geneticist the world could offer. The plan was simple, take what we know of ourselves and our bodies and change the structure of it on a molecular level. Make us more peaceful, more productive, more giving and less sick. The call did not go unanswered, in fact, it was answered twice. There were two brothers that were gifted in the area of bioengineering. The older brother was named James. The younger brother was named John.
The few hundred humans were frozen in suspended animation as James and John were given the last of mankind’s precious resources. They were given all they needed to splice, combine, reject, inject, and unravel the fabrics of life itself. The brother’s could not agree on anything however, when one wanted to try upright walkers, the other wanted the creature to be bipedal. When one brother tried to make a breakthrough in neurochemistry, the other would push to give the new life form a more potent reproductive system. The brothers could not agree on what the new life on Earth would be. They decided to split. James went south, and John stayed where he was.
Finally, new life was created. James was free to make the perfect model for a vessel for peace. James attempted to improve on the form God had already given us. He took the human form and made it longer, leaner, more agile and baring less weight. James gave his creatures a new gland inside their minds, a piece of the brain that gave them what he called, “The Groupmind.” With this communal injection, the endgame for all the new creatures in the world would be the well-being of the entire race, not just the elite few. Where one suffered, all felt it, and would come to aid. James removed from his creations the ability to speak, instead forcing them to communicate more emotionally and thoroughly, these beings having and extraordinary amount of intelligence and grace that communication turned into a sacred thing, with nothing being said, save for the utmost precious words that people took the long time to say. James also considered the problem of resources. Humans were parasites, they lived too long for what they consumed, and how they consumed it was a waste of planet. James spliced into the DNA of his creatures the ability to photosynthesize through their skin, a life form that gleaned energy from the most abundant source of all, the Sun. A bottom feeder. A harvester of stars. This sunbathing idea was a backup for James however, as he put in them the hunter-gatherer complex as well, just with the added bonus of being unselfish. They only took what they needed. They only built what they used. It could’ve been said that James went too far. He found the sexual relationships in humans were causing too much stress and hard times. Also, the complications of producing and raising offspring seemed to be another thorn in his side. James took from the creatures the aspect of gender. He even took from them any discernable genetic difference. James’s creations reproduced asexually. The only time they would find it necessary to create another being was if one of them had been killed hunting, or by accident. James’s creatures were nearly immortal already, and with this mathematically precise resource counting, it seemed he had succeeded in fulfilling mankind’s need for sustainable life on the third rock from the Sun. James did not just create robots, though. With this new brainpower and lack of speech, his creations began a totally new strain of cultural phenomena. Their senses seemed to merge into one, a sort of constant psychedelic synesthesia. As resources were so readily available and the quick, shortened and to-the-point sayings that humans have didn’t exist for them, what resulted was something great. These creatures that James created, having speech taken from them, resorted to gatherings in the middle of the villages. These intelligent and beautiful people would all mash together in the center of the village squares and in the middle of their fields of food sometimes, and start to sway. James knew he had put into them the potential for extreme cultural growth, but he had thought that the removal of the sexual drives and the identical appearances would serve to stagnate random anomalies like these. James was wrong. The creatures were communicating, but as a whole, and not just to each other. They came together as a single entity and swayed and cooed into the night sky. James thought this was the pinnacle of his little civilization, something he never could’ve predicted, then he watched it evolve. First, they formed lines, grabbing onto each other by the shoulders, swayed back and forth, then broke off and twirled about happily. They broke from main choirs and began twirling and meshing with other groups, creating fractals that moved in and out of each other. The centers of these groups were those that served as the catalyst for the entire harmony of the song that was to commence. The dancers in the middle sometimes, the singers swaying in rings around the outside other times, and then the song would unfold. Each night they did this, but each night there was a new rhythm, a new force behind it, a new color that was plopped on the palette. The creatures sometimes seemed to be giving thanks to the universe for the life they had been given. Other times, it seemed as though they were longing for something outside their world, and other times still they would put on a show that didn’t have any point at all. Sometimes meanings were ambiguous. James was baffled. He had started a race of perfectly constructed peace-bearing people. They would farm their fields of fruits and vegetables during the day, hunt a few elk and deer and birds during the twilight hours, and perform these rituals at night. James decided not to interfere anymore with the evolution of his creatures. Eventually, the creatures of James grew long tails and fingers for easier climbing throughout the trees. Some of the creatures kept the longer features of limbs and tails, while another sect of them were more bipedal and heavy, working in the fields. This work was not necessarily hard, and they may have evolved for a different reason than the manual labor, because it was observed that the shorter and heavier creatures had much larger facial features, noses and ears and lips and eyes. Eyes so big they seemed like their own flashlights during the night time. It was these people that developed a new form of music. These giant sensual beings, made intricate harps and drums and bassoons. The music and dance and communal night time performances began to be what the entirety of the race was based upon. The songs of these people were what humans had always strived for in all our forms of art. The total expression of themselves in whatever they were doing, whether it was playing the instrument they had crafted for themselves, or the song they were singing in harmony with the rest of their race, or the dances that any creature could get up and do. It was all done as work and as play, for James’s creations were not only self-sustaining, but self-fulfilling.


With this, James died a satisfied man. He had made a peaceful race. His younger brother John watched the continued success of his brother’s and was determined not to be outdone. John came from a different approach to genetics than his older brother. James had done things with the utmost precision and care when it came to exact specifications. James had left nothing up to evolution except for the last outburst of creativity his own children had developed after all that time. John thought James a fool, because even he couldn’t predict what happened to his own creations. What if the plant-monkey-owl people had revolted and torn each other apart just as humans had? John did not operate on equations and formulas, John operated with concepts, impulses, and intuition.
All the while his brother had been continuously hampering with his docile, nameless followers, John had been experimenting behind closed doors. John did so behind closed doors because what he did inside was unbearable to watch. John would create an organism for sole purpose of seeing how it died. He would take note, and create again. He would do random sampling of various organisms DNA, splice them together and see if the creature lived. Over and over. Life with a sole purpose of death. John brought mermaids, chimeras, griffons, dragons, mythological and spectacular things to life, only to watch them choke, sputter, and puke themselves back to the nothing from whence they came. Humans had been the ultimate example of what not to do, right? John knew he had to go back to the drawing board. James would often come to see if his brother needed aid with anything, he would come into the warehouse where John kept his blasphemous excuses for life forms. John would yell and burst out in anger at his brother for making unannounced visits, as he would have to quell the shrieking quickly before James would suspect anything. James had always been the one to think inside the box, John knew that to make any real change in the world, things had to get worse before they could get better.
It is a lot for a man to be constantly creating life only to have it destroyed in a matter of days, the only purpose of that life being the scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad. John would take the reflex of a venus flytrap and splice it into a rat, then drop the poor thing in a tank of water with a dozen poisonous squid. The rat, drowning naturally, but having the open gaping mouth of the venus flytrap growing out its back, would chomp at the squid as they tried to consume it. The squid would wrap around the rat, and the rat would slowly die, the mouth of the unnatural flytrap snapping and tearing reflexively at their tentacles. John would write down reactions, durations, brain chemistry, stress levels. These sights were common for John. A man turns into the devil when it is his job to give and take life. James broke down life into the simplest sort of building blocks, then tried to put them back together again. John took life forms that already existed, and smeared them together, into a blurry haze of chaos.
After years of this torturous processing, the Nazi-like doctor came up with a system. John found that the successful reproduction of a species was dependant on two things: a total amalgamation of the best genes (like a carrier, or alpha male), and a very large able-bodied harem of females. What John wanted to create was an ever-expanding and ever-adapting group of organisms that was led by the best possible outcome of genetics. A lofty goal. To leave it up to chance however, John would have to make it difficult for any organism to simply live. When the new creatures were first born, John made them overly aggressive and without remorse. Beyond animalistic, the creations John fabricated in his labs were ungodly. At the very base of his system there laid a need to kill. To attain life, according to John, was to take it from something else. To James, life was a pure essence to be mended and molded into a shape that fit the spirit. To John, life was a position that only the worthy should be allowed to attain.
John exhausted his efforts trying to find the most deadly form of life on Earth. He would pit one mutant against the other, find the strong points of the two, combine them, and create a new being, one fiercer and more merciless than before. After a while, the beings ceased to resemble animals, instead looking like Gothic paintings of the middle ages. Some looked like drawings from Tolkien’s novels, others stretched the imagination just to look on them for too long. It didn’t matter to John if the being was clumsy or stupid, ugly or pristine, the only thing that mattered was if the creature could hold it’s own in a fight for it’s life, reproduce, and be free of decaying diseases. John would take the winner’s of these grotesque tournaments, and splice yet them together. What a prize. To battle against other mythological foes so daring and so strong, only to have your DNA, the very fiber of your being, wrought from within you, and strung into your mortal enemy, making you one. This is what John did, over and over again, until he had created what he wanted. Splicing winner into winner, deadly trait into deadly trait, John took the final syringe full of primordial data and injected it into a mechanical womb. But the result failed. John’s creations were too deadly. They were pure anger, writhing and clawing and biting and thrusting at anything they could see. John had created monsters that could run, jump, bite, climb, heal, roar, and fight until the last breath, just to breed and reproduce another one of itself to repeat it all over again, but there was something missing. There was no glue to hold all these powers together. Alone, these creatures would tear each other apart, destroying their impregnated females before they had a chance to birth the offspring. Infinite strength is nothing without control. So John stole something. John went to his brother’s colony of peaceful plant monkey owls. By this time, James’s creations had evolved even more, this time adding to the dances and songs made at night time. The creatures had found a way to lay down roots during these rituals, bloom like moon flowers, and literally become one with the Earth. As some of them would continue to sway and dance and play their instruments, some would finalize their evolution by extending their photosynthetic cells into roots, which penetrated the ground around them. These creatures would lay down these roots during a ritual, perhaps a song that particularly aroused them, or maybe this was their form of “dying”. Whatever it was, it was incredibly intimate, as the first one stood there with arms outstretched to the sky, his outer layer of skin calcifying and hardening, while his circulatory system turned into a kind of fingered root, reaching into the ground, gaining nutrients from the Earth, becoming a living, soul-filled, statue. What was left after rituals, were forests of James’ creatures, that would shed and bloom and spread nutrients back to crops which the younger ones tended to. Other creatures of James’s followed this lead, they would gather inside these self-enlightened jungles of life, and grow the same way. Entire populations would encompass the center of villages, wrapping around each other, planting themselves and outstretching their hands and feet to the sky. A huge, sprawling, living blossom of people was the result. These moon flowers, would rise and fall every night to the music of that particular village. Every night was a new snowflake, each night someone new would start the sway, someone new would start the dance, someone new would start the song, then the music, then the planting, then the growing and reaching. James’s creations were creating by themselves. This is what John stole. The reason for these insane shows of communal effort was the mysterious gland James had given his people. John took a creature of James’s, and studied it.
John scoffed at the body of his brother’s creation. The long skinny, pale, hairless body was so simple and weak he thought. So easy to kill. He extracted the gland, and copied it. This “group mind” was what was lacking from his pride of destroyers. John knew that once his race had a mentality of group first instead of individualism, they could easily prosper. John could not have predicted what was next.
The final experiment was underway. John chose to hold it outside for once, only miles away from the villages of the peaceful James people. John’s end result of the ultimate life form was breathtaking. Whatever environment the creatures were in, they adapted. Whatever terrain they had to cover, they adapted. Whatever food they had to consume to survive, they adapted. All within a generation. There was no set form or set image to John’s creation. They morphed at the slightest change of the elements. They would be born, grow to peak physicality, then die when there environment changed to suit the next generation better. The best would grow and breed and die, and the best would be born again. The first generation resembled a pack of lion cubs. Cute and cuddly as they were, they pounced on prey and had a gross appetite for anything and everything. If they saw birds and could not reach them, their offspring would have wings to soar into the clouds and catch them. If prey was larger than themselves, they would grow and grow until they were large enough to kill it, then they would reproduce and the offspring would be that size as well. With each new generation, the pride not only would double or triple in numbers, but the volume and size of the creatures swelled as well. After a few dozen generations of adapting and conquering, there were thousands of these giant changeling predators. At a certain level, they began to taper off, loosing certain traits instead of adding more. Eventually, the pride seemed to have found it’s footing in the world. There were great variations in the species, but John’s creatures were something to be reckoned with. There was always an alpha male, having generally the same traits and image as the last alpha male, with a few minor things changing from generation to generation, depending on what he had to adapt to. The final image was that of great-maned lion. A sort of yellow-eyed mass of snapping tendons and willpower. Though the image was that of an animal, the presence was that of a quick-witted leader. He could choose to walk upright if he wanted, but for running and pursuing he chose all fours. He had a large bright red mane that engulfed his whole person. His skull was three and half feet wide, his eyes blazed with yellow fury. His entire body was full of fast-twitch muscles, at a moments will he could thrust his four ton body full force into a straight line of destruction. His razors for fangs were hidden under his black lips and long whiskers. His bones were large and dense, for he was to be kept on the ground. Some of his kind, the likes of which he was the father, had hollowed bones and wings for flight. All resembled the alpha so some degree. All were lions in short, but different types. Some where swimming, gilled lions, while some were beaked and feathered Griffon-lions. Others yet resembled their master and alpha. As with evolution, not only the strongest and the bravest were the living, but the smartest too. Cunning was the only real aspect of the alpha’s life that distinguished him from the other males.
The two races were now complete. On one side we had the calm and nameless race of James, hunting, gathering, and the stars is what they need to live, keeping their population low and fertile, having lifespans that are immeasurable. The life of a Jamesian creature is fulfilling, as it spends it’s life gleaning and farming, then playing beautiful and original music, coming from pure inspiration. Then as a “death”, the Jamesian lays down roots in the middle of a village, and garners followers that form a flower of life, reaching upwards, releasing nutrients back to the soil, from which they grow food. They are part of a non-violent and self-realizing cycle of immortality.
“They have their kind of immortality, and we have ours,” said Oro, the alpha of the Johnites. John’s creatures not only learned how to speak, but they learned how to pass intelligence through the generations as well, through DNA. James fell upon it accidentally, as the Jamesian cycle is to bind together to form the life-tree, and the information gets passed back into the Earth, which then gets gleaned by the next generation. Oro explains to his offspring, “We do things differently. I am not at home in this body which you see before you.” He paces back and forth in front thousands of tiny mutant cubs. Spotted, striped, winged and gilled, all have purposes in his grand scheme but all can be traced back to the alpha, Oro. “This body is the reincarnation of all that our people have been through since our inception. Every battle scar and every shred of data that could be of help to us and our race is recorded and passed through to you, my children.” The Johnites had the group-mind gland implanted, which served for them to have a structured and composite society. Although, you cannot retract the years of turmoil and destruction that was inbred in them to give them the infinite strength that is available to such a terrifying race. The group-mind served only one thing, the preservation of the whole. The only reason for one Johnite to kill another is for adaptation. If Oro dies, and the next Oro is weak, then it is up to the other males in the race of the Johnites to fight for the title of alpha, and be father and Oro to them all. This is how it went for generations, the Lions of John spread and conquered, while the Plant-apes of James stayed in their psychedelic seclusions. John died, thinking all was well, but it was not.
The Lions and Plants lived together for a while, peacefully.
Then one day, the Lions resources ran out. The self-indulgent lifestyle of the destructive race of beasts led them to reproduce so quickly that they had to start hunting the People of James. The first time it happened, it seemed casual. The People of James simply watched as a hoard scoured the land. Each Lion was larger and more fearsome than the one in front of it. Some had horns, some had wings, some even had fins. They all had teeth, though. And they all got their fill. An entire village of the beautiful People of James. Gone. The Lions even waited for a ritual. They knew the People wouldn’t have a chance if they were busy being transformed by the Earth. And besides, they claimed they tasted better. Once, a single creature stepped forth and began laying down his roots, and without a word of protest, reached out to meet the Lions. The Lions not knowing what was happening, kept charging away, seeking to take the meek little dancers by surprise, as if they had to. With the silence of the night, yet the crunch of thunder, Oro and his Pride devoured the People of James. The original harmonies and flowing movements of the People were snapped off by the jaws of the beasts.
Oro watched as the last known resources on the planet, those belonging to the silly and droll monkey people, were taken. It was the rule of the world, Oro knew, that if they had to, they had the right to do it. His body, reincarnated a thousand times, adapted to everything this planet had to offer, the DNA perfectly in balance with his environment. As he watched the massacre, his sense of smell took him by surprise. He glanced over his shoulder, and he saw something.
The Jamesians were gathering food for the Lions. As the Lions of Oro tore them apart crotch to mouth, bodies littering the once sacred ground, a horrendous scene of gore, the Jamesian Plant People were emptying out their huts and treehouses of stores of their stockpiled foods. The food that they were to eat tomorrow. The food they took only for the next day, because that is all they were designed to take from their Mother Earth. The People of James rolled up the fruits and vegetables and grains and brought them in bushels to the feet of the Beasts. The Beasts, too hungry and full of bloodlust, paid the food no attention, instead leaping over the piles of what they were fighting for, and killing the innocent and beautiful Jamesians. Oro did not know what was overcoming him. He was the embodiment of power. He was this because he must be this, for his people, so they will survive. But what is going on? Why are these People giving us everything they have, knowing they will not live out the night? Some Lions of Oro did smell the food the Jamesians had prepared for them, stacked neatly in little piles. The Beasts gorged themselves as if they had stumbled upon on it luckily, or stolen it with a good helping of cunning and thought. Oro watched his hordes, full of rage and hate, as they destroyed the only thing on Earth that could keep them alive. The Jamesian’s were good for one thing, sustenance, and the Lions wouldn’t let them do exactly that, sustain them. At one point, when the food was gone, and the Jamesians had nothing more to offer, they emptied out of their huts and treehouses, and laid down on the grass, giving themselves up to sustain the other, more imperialistic race. A final, unselfish act, while awaiting their demise. The beasts just kept tearing them apart, not knowing what they did. All this Oro watched. As the last dozens of the Jamesians were be lapped up like dog’s water, circulatory systems of the plant people took root in the ground they were being sacrificed upon. With roots laid, they called out one last time to the night sky that had received so many pure songs. Oro watched this, and wondered softy to himself, would the other planets his race would inevitably conquer be as willing as this?