Editorial Note
In 1905, The Washington Times ran this piece of speculative journalism on the manufacture of human life, built around the work of Dr. Jacques Loeb, a physiologist at the University of California known for research into artificial parthenogenesis. Writing fifty years into an imagined future, the author envisioned infants ordered to specification, sex determined in advance, and character engineered at the moment of creation. The tone is playful. The implications were not.
RECENT marvelous discoveries, instead of causing men to pause in their effort after the seemingly impossible, has only made them discuss the probability of even more wonderful successes. It has practically been decided that airships will in a very few years be on the market. But the manufacture of baby boys and girls is a still undeveloped field, although many scientists have worked in their laboratories to produce animal life by artificial means. Byron H. Newton, in the Chicago Record Herald has given a description of a baby factory as it may be found fifty years hence.
“The Loeb Manufacturing Co., Ltd., established A.D. 1950.”
Glittering in letters of silver above the massive structure, we behold this sign long before reaching the spot. Entering the grounds a bronze statue of the immortal Dr. Jaques Loeb looked serenely down upon us, and graven in its base were these words:
“Erected to the memory of Jaques Loeb, who solved the problem of the ages when he discovered the secret of producing human life through chemical process in the year of our Lord 1925.”
Here we are then, at last, about to enter the wonder spot of the century where human beings were chemically created to order, just as the bustling little factory farther down the street turned out automobiles and airships to suit the whims and tastes of those who paid for them. Naturally, each member of our small party felt a sense of eagerness to get inside the place and see for themselves, yet there stirred in each breast, I am sure, a half-formed assurance that the mind must doubt what the eyes were about to look upon. One of our women, a nervous little thing, shuddered as we set foot upon the marble steps, and uttered a hysterical laugh.
“If it’s a fraud,” she gasped. “I’m ashamed to be seen here, and if it’s true, I don’t want to know it!”
“Hush,” we said to her. “Come along and don’t make us all ridiculous.” She obeyed, but what she saw later nearly overcame her.
Huge Workshop of Humanity.
Just a word in description of this wonderful establishment. All told it covers about ten acres of ground and occupies the space where the University of California once stood. It was in the laboratory of this institution that Dr. Loeb worked out his immortal triumph, and it is fitting that the establishment bearing his name should be located here as if to perpetuate the sanctity of the hallowed ground. The main structure extends east and west and is built of the whitest marble. Many large windows let in a profusion of light, and the interior is very clean and well ventilated. This main building is occupied by offices on the first floor, with the incubating or developing rooms on the three upper floors. The laboratories and workshops are in the smaller buildings in the rear, being connected, spur fashion, with the larger structure.
Immediately upon entering we were met by a smart little fellow in livery, who elbowed us into a reception room. Here were good furniture, creditable paintings and an open piano at which sat a young woman playing something very soft and pleasing. Presently an attendant, a young man, came in and spoke to us good-naturedly. “If you are ready,” he said, “we will look through the place,” and our journey in wonderland began.
As we walked down the broad hall and turned into one of the passages leading into the outer buildings, a smell entirely strange to us was wafted into our faces. It was not the scent of an apothecary’s shop, nor was it the aroma of flowers, but seemingly the mingling of pungent odors and pleasant perfumes, which produced a sensation quite new to us all.
First Stages of Creation.
“The odor you get here,” said our guide, “comes from the laboratories, and will grow stronger as we proceed, but you will soon become accustomed to it, and I venture you will find it quite agreeable; most visitors do.” We discovered that the young man’s words proved true as we went on.
The passage we were traversing now came to an abrupt end, and in front of us were double glass doors, through which we saw the interior of a large anteroom. Leading out of that were many narrow passages, at the end of which were strange colored lights, and we could distinguish imperfectly the forms of men moving about apparently at work over crucibles and odd-shaped vessels. These small rooms had somewhat the appearance of a photographer’s darkroom, but just what the men were doing there we were not permitted to observe, nor did our guide explain, except to inform us that this was called the fundamental department, where the process of creation actually began. We were now about to pass into the anteroom when our guide paused and pointed to a group of odd-looking characters above the door. They were like hieroglyphics.
“What is their meaning?” we asked.
“That I can tell you only in part,” he replied. “These characters indicate to our workmen precisely what kind of protoplasms are produced in this section. It is necessary to have each laboratory plainly marked for the guidance of attendants and those who deliver the chemicals. In each laboratory there are many small rooms, such as you see at the end of these narrow passages, and in each place the cultures of different kinds of beings are made. This one is laboratory No. 1. The inscription above the door tells all our chemists and attendants what sort of children are produced in this place. As you can readily understand, a different combination of chemicals is required for each kind of children. If I told you more than that I would be revealing secrets which are sacredly guarded here.”
Ingredient for Blue Eyes.
“I suppose you use one ingredient for blue eyes and another for black?” broke in the nervous little woman.
“Quite so,” said the guide. “We divide human beings into seventeen general types and, of course, each type may be varied in minor essentials by treatment of the culture in formation and during the incubation process. What these classifications are and any details of treatment I cannot give you.”
We passed along and saw three more anterooms of the same character, but all having different hieroglyphics over the door. In each place we saw the little dark rooms and the indistinct forms of men moving about in their depths.
Next we returned to the main building and explored the incubator apartments. This department was divided into three sections. In the first section we found the primitive forms, practically the protoplasms as they came from the chemists’ hands. These mere kernels of human life were incased in glass vessels, lined with very soft rubber, and were kept in large cabinets where no light reached them and where the temperature never fell below 90 degrees. Beyond this, this, in the second section, we saw the chemical kernel grown to a fully developed infant, with row after row of pink little thinks lyning so still and comfortable in their warm glass houses.
Each Infant Is Numbered.
Each infant is numbered as the protoplasm leaves the chemist’s hands and retains that number until it reaches the age of one year, if not disposed of before that time. On the three hundred and sixty-sixth day of its life, if not sold, it is given what is called a “job number” and drops the incubator number. When the protoplasm is sent up from the laboratory to section 1 of the incubator department it is known what style of infant it will be, barring accidents of course, such as premature exposure to light, improper temperature and the like. Ordinarily it is only necessary to refer to the laboratory number of an infant in process of incubation to determine whether it will have blue eyes and light complexion or gray eyes and dark complexion. All this is determined by the ingredients.
The third section was the most interesting of all, as here we beheld the infants grown to mature babyhood and could realize the tangible truth of this marvelous process, the fundamental functions of which had hitherto mystified us. Here, too, we were shown through the “sales department,” which proved one of the most interesting sights of the establishment.
The sales department is in reality the retail store of the concern. In it we found babies of all grades and conditions, classified, catalogued and listed at market prices. They ranged in age from one month to one year. Babies not disposed of at the age of one year are transferred to another large building, known as the “jobbing-house,” where they are marked up or put in the bargain counter class, according as their development demands.
Money in the Business.
Women are in charge of the sales department, and many of them exhibited great cleverness in disposing of their stock. A crowd of purchasers, both men and women, swarmed the main salesroom, and the voices of the buyers and the crying and cooing of the infants mingled discordantly. First grade babies, from six months to one year, were selling yesterday from $50 to $100. Inferior grades brought $25 and less.
“Is there any money in this business?” we asked the head saleswoman, just as she had sold a bouncing fat baby to a well-known millionaire.
“Oh, yes, indeed,” she replied. “You see, the cost of production is trifling aside from the salaries of the chemists. They must be the most expert of their profession, and their pay roll is enormous. The materials used in the manufacture of an ordinary stock baby, wholesale rates, cost about six cents. From time the protoplasm leaves the laboratory until the infant is ready for sale the only additional cost is heating the incubators.”
“Do you supply special orders for infants?” she was asked.
“Certainly,” she said, with apparent pride. “That is where our work shows the most marvelous results. Our confidential order department is the most profitable of any branch of the business, and it is there our best workmen are employed.”
“How is that department conducted?” the nervous little woman asked.
Child by Special Order.
“Well,” said the saleswoman, “suppose you are a very wealthy woman and have no children. You picture in your mind the kind of a little girl you would like to have and send in your order to us. A deposit of $100 is required with such orders. After your order is received it is turned over to one of the special order chemists and he goes to work. When the infant is from one to three months old we deliver it to you, and it not satisfactory you are at liberty to return it, and the chemist tries again.”
“What becomes of the rejected infant?” was asked.
“Goes into the general sales department,” said the saleswoman. “You see for your deposit of $100 you are entitled to three infants on trial. If one is accepted you pay $500. If all three are rejected, $50 is returned to you.”
“Will you explain the process by which infants of a particular type are manufactured?”
“For that information I shall have to ask you to step down into the special order department,” she replied, “and while you will get there a general idea of the process, of course, you can understand that the real secrets of the work must not be revealed.”
She conducted us then to another part of the concern, where we found an anteroom with little rooms leading out of it, very similar to the places we had visited earlier. But here we found ourselves apparently in a concert-room. From one of the laboratories, with the colored lights, came the notes of a violin upon which an artist was playing Wienlawski’s “Legende.” This ceased and then came half a dozen measures as if produced by a symphony orchestra. That was followed by a beautiful organ prelude, and again the violin. A pale-faced young man with red beard and sunken eyes came out of the laboratory and spoke to our guide. After a few whispered words with her, he turned to us.
Wants a Talented Musician.
“We are engaged here upon a very important experiment,” he began. “We have received from one of the foremost musicians of the world an order for a violin virtuoso. Never having turned out any work of exactly this character before, naturally we are giving it a great deal of study and work. We get orders daily for physicians, tradesmen, engineers and the like, and have practically mastered that branch, but we find the higher arts much more difficult of development. An entirely different group of component parts is required for work of the latter kind.”
“Do you think you will succeed in making the virtuoso?”
“Certainly,” he replied, with manifest confidence. “I do not say to you that we shall succeed the first time. We may be obliged to waste considerable material and time in experimenting, but eventually, of course, we shall succeed.”
“How will you know when you have succeeded until the infant arrives at adult maturity?” he was asked.
“Oh,” he said, smiling aside at the saleswoman, “under our methods we are able to get absolute responses to certain tests at the age of three months. Of course, you understand that we have this music here to influence the protoplasm as the work of compounding progresses. It is kept constantly going night and day until the first stage of Incubation is completed.”
We passed to another place in the special order department, where there was great clamor of neighing horses, the clatter of cantering feet and the harsh voice of men shouting “Whoa!”
“They are at work here on the order of a very wealthy and very eccentric old man,” said the saleswoman, “who wants a boy who shall be a great horseman. Our chemists say it is a very easy job.”
Next we came where men were pounding each other’s faces with padded gloves, grinding their teeth and swearing, “This is an odd order, too,” said the saleswoman. “A big pork merchant in Chicago offered us $5,000 for a champion heavyweight pugilist, and the men are working overtime to get the order out by the first of the month to meet the contract.”
Determine Sex in Advance.
“And are the chemists able to determine the sex always?” asked the nervous little woman.
“Why, to be sure,” answered the saleswoman, with apparent scorn of our ignorance. “You don’t suppose, do you, that if you ordered a girl we would send you a boy? Well, I should say not. That would ruin our business in no time.”
We walked back with the saleswoman to her own department and left her there with many earnest thanks for the marvelous world she had shown us. Then we descended to the great correspondence room on the first floor, where another interesting scene awaited us. Scores of men and women were busy at their desks, and everywhere we heard the hum of typewriters and telegraph instruments. Folios of letters and telegrams from all parts of the country were piled up about us, and as a special favor to our party we were allowed to glance through one of the letter files for the purpose of noting how the business is carried on.
Some Youngsters Go Awry.
Here are a few specimens of the correspondence taken at random:
“St. Paul, March 25, 1953. Loeb Manufacturing Company, Limited, Berkeley, Cal.—Gentlemen: In October last I ordered from you a male child, red hair, blue eyes, small hands and feet, lively temperament, suitable for politics or legal profession. The rat and tan lobster you send me by express today has curly black hair, green eyes, and feet and hands like a fish’s fins. He’s as lively as an oyster—just about. If you consider this the right way to treat an old customer, then your ideas of business and mine are greatly at variance. Very truly yours, PETER BROWN.”
To which this soothing reply was sent:
“Peter Brown, Esq., St. Paul, Minn. Dear Mr. Brown: Replying to your favor of 25th instant, we greatly regret that our consignment, male child, special order No. 9,647, is not satisfactory. In explanation we are obliged to inform you that through no error of a new chemist wrong materials were carelessly used and the result is apparent. The mistake was discovered and it was not intended that you should receive No. 9,647, but, on account of an unprecedented rush of orders the child slipped through the shipping department and is now, we regret to say, in your hands. We hasten to assure you of our very sincere regret and ask that you return No. 9,647 at our expense, and permit us to fill your order satisfactorily. Thanking you for past favors and trusting that we shall enjoy a continuance of the same, we beg to remain, very truly yours.
“LOEB MANUFACTURING CO.
“Per L.”
And here are a few of the thousands of telegrams:
“Chicago, March 20, 1953.—If not too late, change our order of March 10 to auburn hair, hazel eyes, and make feet one size smaller. A. J. C.”
“Dallas, Tex., March 19, 1953.—Send U. S. X., C. O. D., before June 1, male, strong constitution, two sets double teeth, good eyes, suitable for ranching.
“JAMES JOHNSON”
“Boston, March 17, 1953.—Boy sent October last has crooked legs. Can you cure?”
This cold answer went back over the wire:
“We cannot make alterations in goods after leaving our hands.”
To Live on Earth Forever.
There remained now but one department open to visitors which we had not seen. This was the office of the superintendent, the venerable Dr. Jonas Manmaker, who, after the immortal Jacques Loeb, has probably accomplished more than any other man in perfecting the great work of chemical creation. His greetings to us were most cordial, and for half an hour we listened to his most interesting conversation as he pointed out to us specimens of protoplasms, photographs, and drawings, which illustrated the gradual evolution of the great discovery.
“Yes,” he said, “we say today it is wonderful; yet it will be but a simple thing as we shall look back upon it from the years beyond. That we are creating human life through purely scientific agencies seems almost incredible to our immature intelligence just now, but when science shall have shown us how to perpetuate indefinitely the life we are now creating, what shall we say of that? And that thing shall we do—I may say even now have we done it. But we must have the centuries to prove it.
“Even now I can look forward to the time when the creation of human beings will be limited by the statutes of the land. A new being will be created only when death occurs by violence, making a gap. The world will be filled with those who live forever. As science has shown us the secret of creation, so has it taught us how to overcome old age and decay, and the age when death will be forgotten is at hand.”
Transcribed from The Washington Times (Times Herald), Washington, D.C., Sunday, November 26, 1905.
