Read Online Watermind by M. M. Buckner - Free Book Online Page B

microinvertebrates. The colloid’s largest component by far was ordinary water. And not surprisingly, its second largest component was a clear organic gel called proplastid—a kind of botanical ur-matter found in most plant and algae cells. In other words, swamp ooze.
    She remembered studying proplastid in graduate biology. It was an all-purpose gel that could morph into whatever internal “organelles” a plant cell needed to conduct photosynthesis, store sugar, even synthesize chemicals to grow and breed. This particular Devil’s Swamp brand of proplastid came from algae. CJ spotted hundreds of free-floating algae organelles in her sample.
    Of course, she found the usual laundry list of Devil’s Swamp pollutants, too: mercury, lead, cadmium, dioxin, perchlorate, petroleum derivatives—plus an ample load of toluene from the recent spill. Then there were standard river-borne contaminants: detergents, pesticides, dry-cleaning fluids, textile dyes, synthetic sweeteners, birth control hormones, ibuprofen, used motor oil. And the multiplicity of dissolved and particulate solids almost defied count. Among the clays, metals, asphalt, concrete, loam, and glass, CJ found copper ore from the Rockies and metamorphosed rock leached from the Adirondacks.
    But more interesting were the infinitesimal crystals that seemed to give the watery gel its shimmer. Each one was sealed in a film of proplastid—like watertight plastic shrink-wrap—and the chips were too fine and lightweight ever to settle out. Plus, there were so many different kinds. At first, she mistook them for extremely fine sand. But when one of the larger crystals passed through her analyzer, she detected a complex alloy.
    Fortunately, Quimicron owned a scanning electron microscope, so she isolated a few of the crystal specks forclose study. The first one she examined under the SE scope held a layer cake of materials: a sheer metal base, two diaphanous tiers of silicon doped with phosphorous and boron, another metallic film, a coat of plastic, and as a grace note, a whisper-thin sheet of glass.
    â€œIt’s a microchip,” said Roman.
    CJ jerked in surprise. “I don’t like people peeking over my shoulder.”
    â€œForgive me, but this is fascinating. Those particles on your screen, they’re semiconductor chips. That one”—he tapped the layer-cake speck—“if I’m not mistaken, that’s a photovoltaic cell.”
    He moved closer to enlarge the screen image, and when their arms touched, CJ scooted over to give him room.
    â€œLots of devices use photovoltaic chips like that. Solar-powered radios. Road signs. Outdoor lighting. This probably washed into the river from a landfill.” He adjusted the microscope to capture more views of different crystals.
    CJ found the variety of microchip designs astonishing. Sealed inside their clear proplastid beads, they were as different from each other as seashells.
    â€œMicrochips are used in everything,” he went on. “Cell phones, cars, coffeemakers. Landfills are full of them.” He pointed to another shape at the edge of the screen that curled like a snippet of transparent tape. “Let’s have a look at that.”
    She centered the glossy shred in the microscope. It, too, carried a shellac of proplastid, and along one edge lay a row of what looked like black piano keys.
    Roman smiled. “Three guesses what those are.”
    CJ wrinkled her nose. “Spider eggs?”
    â€œBar magnets.” He tapped the screen with his pen. “Small deposits of iron, magnetized to store information. I’m guessing that’s a bit of magnetic strip off someone’s credit card. What else is in your magic jar?”
    The SE microscope found plenty more gel-encasedparticles, and CJ’s experience with Internet searches helped identify them. Before another hour had passed, they tagged an alphabet soup of minuscule computer