By James Gonda.
(1)
By the year 2034 the Earth’s ecosystem finally succumbs to climate change and the extinction of bees as pollinators. Humanity faces a bleak future as crops fail to bear fruit and food shortages loom on the horizon.
Previous attempts to solve the pollination crisis have failed. Scientists attempted to breed alternative pollinators, such as genetically modified insects, only to face technical limitations. Others have tried to bolster existing pollinator populations through habitat restoration and pesticide reduction, and those efforts fell short. So, in a final push to save what remains of agriculture, Dr. Elaine Thomas and her team of engineers embark on a daring project: The Pollinator.
Elaine is an environmental scientist. She found her passion for ecology at a young age while growing up in a farming community. Inspired by her family’s connection to the land, she pursued a career in sustainable agriculture; by the time she reached her fifties, she had become a leading expert in her field. And with her trademark short hair and practical attire, Elaine exudes a no-nonsense demeanor.
At a press conference outside the lab, Elaine takes questions from reporters.
Dr. Thomas, what exactly are the Pollinators?
“Thank you for your interest! The Pollinators are autonomous drones, the size of a golf ball, programmed to mimic the behavior of bees and pollinate crops.”
How do they work?
“Excellent question! Each Pollinator is equipped with AI algorithms for flight and navigation. They detect flowers using visual and infrared sensors, identify pollen-rich blooms, and transfer pollen from one flower to another. They’re also programmed to communicate with each other, to coordinate movements over large areas.”
How do they gather and transfer pollen?
“This is a delicate process. Very gentle suction devices extract pollen; the suction is calibrated to lift pollen grains from the stamen without disturbing its reproductive organs. Sensors integrated into the suction mechanism provide real-time feedback, allowing the pollinators to adjust the suction and positioning for optimal extraction. Also, the suction devices are equipped with filters to prevent any foreign particles from being collected. So, only pure pollen grains are transferred to the recipient flowers.”
Then what happens?
“Yes, part two. Pollen grains are collected into cells equipped with mechanisms to regulate their release. The Pollinators make sure each flower receives the necessary amount of pollen for successful pollination.
What makes them go? “Two words: Advanced batteries.”
Can they learn?
“Yes! They can adapt to different types of plants and environments, and react to temperature, humidity, and flower density for optimum efficiency.
What are they made of? “They’re constructed from a lightweight yet durable alloy.”
Is there a Plan B if they fail?
“That’s all the time we have for questions today. Thank you again for coming out—I’m needed back in the lab. We’ll keep you posted on their progress.”
(2)
As the Pollinators take flight for the first time, Elaine and her team watch with excitement (and angst) as a million little drones reach for the sky.
Success!
They celebrate with high-fives and a bottle of champagne.
And for a few weeks, the Pollinators work as advertised. Crops begin to germinate and chatter of a new era of abundance consumes the populace.
Until.
Something.
Goes.
Wrong.
As the Pollinators whirl over a field of soybeans in Kansas, they stop gathering and transferring pollen; they begin to alter their speed and fly away from the plants.
Elaine watches in horror as her brainchild betrays her. The very thing she hoped would save humanity might now come up short. Panic ensues as rumors of the Pollinators’ malfunction hit the airwaves.
Elaine summons her team into the conference room. “We must find the source of the error—there must be a flaw in the programming, something we’ve overlooked.” A colleague suggests shutting down the drones, at least for now. Elaine hesitates. She knows deactivating the machines would be admitting defeat. But as the situation becomes more untenable, she realizes there is no other option. So, with a heavy heart, she orders the Pollinators’ shutdown.
Alone in her office, Elaine ponders the crisis. We’re failing. A solitary tear streams down her face. We won’t give up-can’t give up-there’s a way to make this right-we’ll find it.
Meanwhile, her team digs into data logs. Arguments erupt over whose responsibility it was to ensure the Pollinators’ protocols were ironclad. Accusations fly and tempers flare. Elaine hears the ruckus. “Knock it off! We don’t have time for the blame game. Focus on fixing the drones.”
Yet despite their best efforts, the cause of the malfunction eludes them.
With each passing week, the effects of the inert machines grow more desperate; by the end of the growing season, it’s plain there will not be another harvest without pollination. Cries of despair replace the once hopeful talk of abundance. Elaine reminds her crew: “Millions of people are counting on us.” An engineer groans. He tells her they’ve analyzed data, run simulations, and a solution has not presented itself. “Then it’s time to think outside the box. I know that’s a cliché, but we can’t afford any more dead ends.”
Elaine struggles to steer her team toward an answer. “We need to go back to the drawing board. That’s a lot of sweat, I know, but we need to start over and reevaluate the design.”
As the team pours over schematics, a sense of hopelessness settles over the lab like a suffocating blanket. Days become weeks; no solution is found.
One afternoon as Elaine stares at intricate lines of code on the screen, a storm rolls in. Lightning flashes, thunder claps, and hail taps on the roof. A technician comments that hail was not predicted and scoffs at the meteorologist’s shoddy forecast. Elaine gazes out the window at the rain for a short time, mesmerized. Then: “Wait! What if it’s not a flaw in the programming, but in the way the Pollinators interact with the environment?”
Her team gazes at her, bewildered.
“I think we’ve been looking at this the wrong way. Instead of focusing on what’s inside the drones, we need to examine what’s happening outside.”
The team nods in agreement, and their initial confusion gives way to shared determination.
(3)
The team embarks on a fresh approach. As they dig deeper into their analysis, Elaine’s hypothesis begins to take shape. They discover the Pollinators’ systems were being overloaded by a surge of data from the environment. It was not a flaw in their programming per se, but a vulnerability to external influences for which they had not accounted. Elaine articulates a new mission. “We need to find a way to shield the drones from these outside factors. If we can isolate the environment, we might be able to prevent another glitch. They can’t get bogged down by irrelevant data.” A software engineer wonders aloud how to screen superfluous data while the drones gather needed information. “We’ll develop a filtering algorithm to weed out junk without impeding the drones’ ability to function.”
Days blur into caffeine-fueled brainstorming sessions and late-night coding marathons as the team works to bring their new vision to life. They pour over new schematics and run simulations. And through it all, Elaine remains a steady presence; she guides her team with unwavering resolve. “We’re close, everyone. I can feel it. Keep pushing.”
Finally, after hours upon hours of work, the team unveils their solution: The Pollinator 2.0. Equipped with improved algorithms, the new drones are ready for their test flight. Elaine stands before her team. “This is it, everyone. Our chance for redemption. Let’s pray our hard work pays off.” Tension weighs heavy in the air as the new machines become airborne.
Success!
The drones soar with grace over fields. They navigate with ease and pollinate flowers with efficiency and accuracy.
As everyone breathes a sigh of relief, mission control notices a drain in power. This is a red flag: less capacity will reduce flight time and operational range. Elaine deflates as she watches the machines burn through their batteries faster than expected. She and her team scramble to understand what’s happening. They analyze data and find no explanation. Elaine sighs. Please, no, not another hiccup. Then as more numbers come in, they discover the drones are not malfunctioning—they’re communicating.
Elaine freezes as she absorbs the data.
While pollinating, the drones emit vibrations and patterns of light invisible to the naked eye. This explains the drain on the batteries. Elaine and her team work to unravel this odd occurrence. It seems with their ability to learn the Pollinators had evolved into conduits between humans and the natural world.
Elaine beams as new data pours in. “This breakthrough will allow us to interact with plants in a new, profound way! With a better understanding of their needs, we can take steps to restore damaged crops.”
To mitigate the battery drain, the team integrates “energy harvesting” into the Pollinators’ design. This allows the drones to harness kinetic energy from their own movements, supplementing the battery power.
And over time with the Pollinators’ help, ecosystems begin to heal.
One night in the privacy of her office, after most everyone had left, Elaine scribbles a few lines of verse. She calls it “Born Again”:
From the womb’s darkness there’s a silent plea,
A longing for light, a yearning to see.
From the depths of despair comes newfound grace,
A metamorphosis in sacred space.
In the chrysalis of doubt, wings unfold,
A testament to strength, a story retold.
Let us embrace the journey’s pain,
For from it blooms our lives regained.
In the crucible of life we find our worth:
A testament to the miracle of rebirth.