The Sféars Experiment

I can only assume that this is (c) Columbia Pictures. 

It was a lovely morning.  The stillness was only disturbed by the hum of the purificator and the flooph, flooph, flooph of the wind generators majestically turning in the morning light. 

Two young boys set at the back of the amphitheater waiting for class to start.  Wearing the traditional youth or student eadaigh,  basically a sleeveless shirt worn over the tunic that hangs to the knees and is belted at the waist, Darvid and Chrisman had not reached puberty but were both strong, energetic and quite intelligent.  Young men didn't wear full-length eadaigh until they had finished school. The hem of their eadaigh were trimmed with a line of purple above a line of gold to indicate that both young men were advanced students of the bio-philosophy of alien species. They sat looking, in a conspiratorial manner, at two sféars sitting on the stone bench between them. They were engaged in a very serious discussion. The sféars were clear globes. In this case one was filled with green plants while the other appears to be filled with dead sticks and debris.

Maíre, Darvid’s big sister, strolled up. The boys had been so engrossed in their discussion that they didn’t hear her.

“Told you so,” she said, almost sing-songie.

Quickly the boys pushed the sféars under the hem of their eadaigh and looked up.

“It’s just me,” Maíre laughed. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when you get caught with those things.”   It was true. Students were forbidden to create Sféars. The globes contained planets on which a variety of life had been placed. They were originally created to study a species, help it survive or re-establish it after its extinction or the death of its own planet.  Unfortunately there were those who created Sféars for amusement causing the entire process to be highly debated. The Council of Elders were seriously considering making their creation illegal.  This reality was not lost on Chrisman and Darvid.  

“You put us up to it,” Chrisman snapped.

“Oh, like you couldn’t say ‘no’?”  The older girl, who was tall and beginning to show the blossom of maturity, laughed again as she sat next to her little brother.  She spread the skirt of her full-length eadaigh. The hem of her garment had three bands - gold, purple, gold - indicating that she was about to graduate with honors in bio-philosophy.  “Let me see.”  

“I don’t know what happened,” complained Chrisman as he pushed his dead sféars toward his friend’s sister.

“I know what happened,” Maíre said studying the two sféars.  “You didn’t listen to me. I told you …”

Before she could finish her sentence, a deep voice interrupted, “You told them what, Miss Maíre?” There was a pause as a large man in a full-length eadaigh and bright red cloak approached. “What are you three young déithe up to now?” he asked.

The three young déithe moved quickly to face the man. Again the boys pulled the sféars under the hems of their eadaigh. That wasn’t much cover. 

“Nothing, Headmaster Decius” offered Maíre, standing up. “I was just telling these two juveniles that they had transition all wrong and that the velocity of the mass is not a constant.”

“That’s very clever of you, Miss Maíre,” said the Headmaster, still looking suspiciously at the youth.  He had been headmaster of the school when the parents of these three children were themselves students. Their parents were cunning and mischievous and he expected nothing less from their children.  That’s when he noticed the lumps under the boys eadaigh. Besides, they had not jumped up in respect as had Maíre.  They were hiding something and he had a good idea what it was.  “But what is the relationship of the quantum transition to ecological balance?”

“What?!” exclaimed Maíre.  “Ecological balance?”

“You heard me,” Decius actually enjoyed it when his students pushed the limits of exploration, although he had no choice but to remind them that there are reasons not to go too far beyond those limits.  “Stand up, young masters.” 

The boys stood, as instructed, exposing the two sféars. 

“Now tell me again about the velocity of the mass?” queried Decius calmly reaching down and taking the two globes.  He held each, in turn, up to the light and studied its contents as he awaited an answer to his question. 

“I, uh, we were . . . well, we . . .” the boys stammered looking for words of explanation but none came out.

“It was my fault, sir.”  Big sister to the rescue. 

“And how is that, since I don’t see you with a sféar?”  The headmaster looked over the top of the two sféars at the young woman who was now stand as though a soldier at attention. 

“After the lecture on ecological balance and the introduction of the Daoine, these two brainiacs got into an argument,” she indicated the two boys who were now looking at their feet to avoid eye contact. “Chrisman was arguing that the daoine, with sufficient latitude and resources, would not only survive in an environment, but flourish.  Darvid claimed that they would only survive if they could develop beyond the environment.”

“That’s interesting,” said the Headmaster, keeping a stern face but admiring the intellectual efforts of his students. “Go on. How did that lead to sféars?”

“That’s where it became my fault,” confessed Maíre.  “I told them that they were both wrong. They were both trying to account for the very invasive nature of the Daoine and its seeming inability to cooperate within its own species nevertheless within an ecosystem. They were missing several variables, most importantly population.”

“Good point,” the Headmaster was intrigued. “So how does that make this your fault?”

“I told them that if we had two sféars; one set up as they proposed and one with population controls and developmental limitations; we would soon see that Daoine cannot be turned loose in an environment but must be strictly controlled.”

“So you three made the two sféars and proceeded to experiment on these Daoine and other species.”

“Yes, sir,” Maíre hung her head. “I know it was wrong, but look at the results.”

The four déithe stood looking at the two sféars. Decius pulled out a magnifying glass and studied the sféars.  In the lush, green sféar he could easily identify a number of species and untold vegetation. He had to look hard to find the Daoine.  The dead sféar looked like a desert ant-hill covered with Daoine. The small creatures had devoured everything. There was almost no vegetation left and no signs of other species. The Daoine were fighting among themselves for what few resources were left in the sféar. 

“That is cruel,” commented the Headmaster, looking at the dead sféar. 

“Yes, sir,” agreed the two boys.  “But we introduced them into an environment with everything all of the species needed to survive. We don’t know what happened?”

“I do,” Maíre interrupted.

“You knew before they started the experiment, didn’t you?” scolded the Headmaster.  This was where his job became hardest.  Maíre was one of the most brilliant bio-philosophy students he had ever taught.  She probably had a better understanding of Daoine than most seasoned scholars.  There was no way that she didn't know the outcome before she put the boys up to their experiment.  To put them up to the experiment created a serious ethical dilemma.  

“Yes, sir. But seeing the evidence was the only way these two smart butt déithe were going to believe me,” Maíre rebuttaled. Decius wondered if he didn’t see almost a gleam of defiance in Maíre’s eyes.  “In the prospering sféar the Daoine know the real rules of nature,” Maíre continued. “They were no less nasty and invasive when introduced into the sféar’s environment than the other group, but these Daoine soon learned.  I didn’t let them become so powerful that they had no natural predator.  My premise was that uncontrolled population, combined with the species’ natural invasive nature, was why they could not be introduced into new environments. With predators and a few other population controls, the Daoine showed that they aren’t as stupid as we thought. They soon began to learn to kill only what they needed for food and how to cooperate with other species and with nature for survival. As a result, they actually prospered albeit in much fewer numbers, as you see in this sféar.” 

“Conclusions?”  the Headmaster turned his attention again to the two young déithe.  

“Daoine are a very dangerous species,” Chrisman offered. “Perhaps we should eradicate them completely.”

“They are trainable,” countered Darvid, “but we can’t find any purpose to introduce them into any environment. They are unproductive and very invasive.”

“Good observations,” agreed the Headmaster turning his attention back to Maíre. “And?”

“And,” Maíre concluded, “while they can be trained to co-exist in an environment as small as a sféar, it probably takes controls, checks and balances beyond our ability to make it safe to introduce them into a global community.”

“So, I should punish the three of you for this stunt,” Headmaster Decius frowned. “But you have learned something very important and, as your punishment, the three of you will present this experiment to your classmates.”

By this time most of their class had arrived and gathered around listening to the discussion and looking at the two sféar.  Headmaster Decius smiled to himself as he walked away from the group of students. Sometimes you have to turn breaking the rules into a learning situation. 

The fact that they were not going to be severely punished for their experiment was not lost on the boys, but, being young déithe, they were soon a bit puffed up with pride as their classmates asked questions and admired their work. 

Maíre stood looking after their teacher. She appreciated that the Headmaster did not arbitrarily punish them because they broke a rule.  She had stood her ground and made her point. That felt good.  Nevertheless, as she looked back at the dead sféar being scrutinized by their classmates, she realized that it had been a cruel experiment.

She sat down next to her brother as the Headmaster called the class to order and began the day’s lecture.