_______________ THE BLUEPRINT Dylan Holmes _______________ 2019/Oct/06 When Mr. H had made a fortune selling overpriced planes to the department of war, he needed a place to stash it all, preferably where they would not ask for any of it back. And so he founded an institute for medical research, staffed it with a few business friends, and then absconded entirely. Frankly, not much was expected of that backwater place, and indeed not much came of it besides the interchange of donor money and steadily cashed paychecks. Still, to the annoyance of government inspectors, the institute was unimpeachable by design. Its charter stated transparently exactly how it was to be run. Its mission statement, moreover, was beautiful---some liar had devised it, undeterred by scientific obstacles or moral restraint. Its words spoke to the soul, declaring that they would hire the best scientists in the world and uncover the secrets of life itself. Never mind that any scientists who sought employment there were discreetly turned away. Predictably, the place had still done nothing for the world by the time Mr. H finally unceremoniously died, bequeathing the rest of his considerable wealth to it. I do not know whether the functionary in charge of his case had an inkling about what had been going on there and was moved by a sense of justice; perhaps it was just some fussy bureaucrat adhering strictly to policy. But in any case, the wording of the charter made it quite clear how the institute was to be run, and whoever was in charge made sure it was painstakingly followed to the letter. Accordingly, top scientists were hired from around the world, at great expense. Several necessary expansions were made to accomodate the influx of qualified, passionate applicants. And they were granted every possible request for equipment, for space, for time to think and write and imagine, and more. Within a very short time, these scientists began turning out results---real results, medical innovations, lifesaving insights. They talked constantly about feeling united by a sense of calling. When interviewed, everyone quoted the mission statement at least once. New money, real money, began flowing in when people began to notice. There was something magic about that place, everyone said. And of course they were right. Today, decades after the old swindler's death, his erstwhile tax haven has become one of the world's premier research institutions. It has spawned satellite campuses and inspired generations of researchers. Even now, its starry-eyed mission has only just begun. Somewhere in this story, there is a lesson. It could just be the ancient one about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction. But I think there is a gentler lesson here, a humbler one, more appropriate for these often overcast days. It is this: that even a blueprint for good can be a force for good. That hope and cynicism are simply a war over the imagination. That sometimes we pretend the world is better than it is, and we are right.