The average body mass for an adult male dusky leaf-monkey is around 8.30
kilograms, and for the female it is around 6.5 kilograms. The dusky leaf-monkey
lives in the countries of Burma, Malaysia and Thailand. They prefers to
live in closed primary forests, but are also found in old-growth secondary
forests, plantation forests, and urban forests. They spend most of their
time in the upper canopy levels of the forest, where they consume leaves,
although they will also consume fruit and flowers. Social play in the
dusky leaf-monkey includes wrestling, sham-biting, jumping on or over,
chasing, fleeing, and tail pulling.
Over Amber Waves of Grain
This is how it started.
Two young physics students dressed in
long white lab coats and very adult-looking haircuts were running down
a long hallway, towards the door that led to the conference room at
the very end. The one named Silas waved his arms frantically as he argued
with the one named Phil, saying, "We still have to come up with a name
for the fucking thing! We can't just call it-"
"It's a hydrogen bomb," finished Phil,
jaw set purposefully, stubbornly. "There really isn't any other name
"But they already have one of those!"
Silas tended to speak with exclamation points no matter what the topic
was, so perhaps here, there should be two, like this: "But they already
have one of those!!"
"Does their bomb have hydrogen inside
of it?" asked Phil rhetorically and angrily. "If you open up the H-bomb,
will a bunch of tiny hydrogen molecules fly out of it like butterflies?
They're just going to have to rename their nasty little EasyBake Oven,
because that's what would happen if you opened ours."
Silas paused for breath, hand on the
doorknob, because they were finally at the end of the hall and outside
the door marked "Meeting Room A2." "Please don't mention hydrogen molecules
and butterflies to the grant committee. Promise me." He had an even
more panicked look than usual on his face.
"Move," said Phil, and pushed the door
open. Just behind the door was a small, square room, and in the room
was a long wooden table. Six very stern-looking people were seated around
the table, their costumes of suits and glasses so completely uniform
that it was hard to tell who was man and who was woman. One of them,
a man, got up and reached out to Phil and Silas.
"My favorite students," said the man,
Dr. Richards of the Physics Department. He laughed nervously. Normally,
he spent this time of day in a lab coat as well. "Sit down, Silas, Phil.
Tell us your something wonderful."
Perhaps it was the simplicity of the
weapon that made it everyone's number one let's-blow-something-up-with-this
piece of equipment. Besides, if you looked at it one way, it wasn't
really a weapon. The potential for such amazing, speculative things
as terraforming other planets and solving all sorts of the Earth's own
problems were in that bomb, that wonderful hydrogen bomb. In fact, the
scientific community was so enamored with Dr. Richard's (yes, poor Phil
and Silas got none of the credit, but that's how it goes in college)
that they renamed the existing hydrogen bomb The Big One.
The basic principle was this: Say you
drop a hydrogen bomb on some poor, unsuspecting desert country, or even
a green one. Sure, the target would be completely obliterated from the
explosion resulting from hydrogen and oxygen bonding on a massive scale,
but the aftermath would be water! No radioactive wastelands that needed
to be avoided for hundreds, if not thousands, of years-just pure, clean
water, as clean as if it'd bubbled up from the Earth itself.
It was hard to not like this bomb. Even
people who didn't like bombs jumped on the bandwagon to eliminate antiquated
nuclear missile projects and instead dedicate the country's ridiculously
huge military budget to perfecting the new-and-improved Hydrogen Bomb.
"I think-here!" Silas jabbed his finger
excitedly at the scrap of paper wilting in his hand. "I've got it! Man,
were we so off!"
"Obviously," grumbled Phil. He peered
to look over Silas's shoulder at the scrap of paper, a scrap that had
been ripped out of a notebook that was full of similar formulaic drawings
and schematics. "Oh, yes," he said after a moment. "Yep, that would
have been it."
"I suppose it'll all fall on Dr. Richard's
head, though, right?" Silas grinned. "That'll teach the fucker, stealing
from a couple of grad students."
"No, it won't," Phil gently corrected.
He was a much more gentle person to converse with these days. "Besides,
it doesn't really matter, does it? What's done is done, and there's
no reason to waste time pointing fingers are people who are probably
Silas scowled angrily. "We're going to
get out of this, you know," he said, very authoritatively. "This isn't
it. But I'll tell you what I don't need," he added angrily. "I don't
need you to tell me that we're done, that this is the end, that I-we-might
at well give up. No sir," he muttered, turning his gaze back to the
paper in his hand. "Now that we know what went wrong, we've got to find
a way to fix it."
Phil rolled his eyes and shook his head,
smiled, and laid back down on the pile of blankets that made up his
bed. The floor was still mostly dry on this floor, but there wasn't
any certainty that it would stay so for long. Outside, great, rolling
waves of fresh water engulfed the rest of the city, peaks on a sea that
stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction.