I knew it the moment I said it.
“All right, all right,” I said hurriedly. “Did you find an exhausted Somnorific inhaler? Near the bed? Anywhere in the bedroom? In the apartment?”
“No. No sign.”
“I checked with Lieutenant Oliver. His ems didn’t find it either. They took Instaroids of the scene in the bedroom. No empty Somnorific inhaler.”
“Is it important?”
“Yes. But let’s get on with it. I’ve got to catch a train. What about the IMP samples?”
Now, I shall be as brief as possible. Microbiologists interested in pursuing the subject further are advised that more than a hundred references exist on film spindles. The journals of the American Society of Microbiology might be a good place to start.
As I had told Paul Bumford, the idea of microbiological identification of the individual began as a forensic concept, the purpose being to establish the presence of a suspect at the scene of a crime. I felt this was of peripheral importance. Microbiology, I was convinced, could be used as exact means of personal identification of the general populace, far superior to appearance, physical measurements, fingerprints, voiceprints, hair, teeth, blood type, etc.
All humans are hosts to an incredible number and variety of microorganisms. Some exist within the skin, some without. Some are pathogenic. Most, fortunately, are inert or beneficial. Indeed without the “good” protozoa, bacteria, fungi, and viruses, we simply could not exist.
IMP, Individual Microbiological Profile, was a project concerned only with the external microbial populations that humans support on skin, eyes, nasal passages, genitalia, throat, anus, mouth—whatever organs of the body are exposed to the atmosphere.
After two years of research, the IMP Project (a temporary horizontal organization drawing specialists from all my teams) selected the fifty most common permanent and semi-permanent microorganisms to be found on the human body. Each was given a quantitative rating of 1 to 10, depending on the profusion in which it was found on a particular object’s surfaces.
We then took IMP samples from every member of the Department of Bliss—quite an undertaking when you consider there were more than half a million in DOB service. And “taking an IMP sample” involved analysis of saliva, sputum, perspiration, semen, vaginal scrapings, skin scrapings, nasal and throat discharges, urine, and feces. Fortunately, most of these analyses were automated.
Having coded IMP’s for the 500,000-plus DOB personnel, we fed the information to our largest DIVRAD computer and asked for duplicates. There were none. That was encouraging, but hardly surprising.
We were about to start testing computer retrieval of IMP information. If the blind tests were successful, I intended to suggest a campaign, low-key at first, to make microbiological analysis obligatory nationwide. We would then include every American’s IMP in his file in the NDB (National Data Bank).
“I was able to get a good IMP of Harris from his apartment,” Paul Bumford said. “His dirty laundry, sink, bed, atmosphere, rugs, toilet seat, and so forth. What I couldn’t get, Mary furnished from the corpus. But we already have Harris’ IMP on file. I presume you want a blind identification test. Right?”
“Right.”
“But why an IMP on anyone else I could find?”
I didn’t answer his question. “Did you get an IMP on the unknown blond ef?”
“A partial. Fairly accurate, I would say. Thirty-two definite factors out of the fifty. Nine possibles. That leaves nine unknowns. And where does that leave us? Nick, do you think the blond ef is in service in DOB? Is her IMP on file?”
"Could be. Harris was in DOB. It’s possible his user was, too."
“Possible, but chancy. There’s something else on your mind. I can tell.”
I paced around, looking down at the floor, hands jammed into my zipsuit pockets.
“A crazy idea,” I muttered. “You’ll laugh at me.”
“I’ve
“All right, all right,” I said hurriedly. “Did you find an exhausted Somnorific inhaler? Near the bed? Anywhere in the bedroom? In the apartment?”
“No. No sign.”
“I checked with Lieutenant Oliver. His ems didn’t find it either. They took Instaroids of the scene in the bedroom. No empty Somnorific inhaler.”
“Is it important?”
“Yes. But let’s get on with it. I’ve got to catch a train. What about the IMP samples?”
Now, I shall be as brief as possible. Microbiologists interested in pursuing the subject further are advised that more than a hundred references exist on film spindles. The journals of the American Society of Microbiology might be a good place to start.
As I had told Paul Bumford, the idea of microbiological identification of the individual began as a forensic concept, the purpose being to establish the presence of a suspect at the scene of a crime. I felt this was of peripheral importance. Microbiology, I was convinced, could be used as exact means of personal identification of the general populace, far superior to appearance, physical measurements, fingerprints, voiceprints, hair, teeth, blood type, etc.
All humans are hosts to an incredible number and variety of microorganisms. Some exist within the skin, some without. Some are pathogenic. Most, fortunately, are inert or beneficial. Indeed without the “good” protozoa, bacteria, fungi, and viruses, we simply could not exist.
IMP, Individual Microbiological Profile, was a project concerned only with the external microbial populations that humans support on skin, eyes, nasal passages, genitalia, throat, anus, mouth—whatever organs of the body are exposed to the atmosphere.
After two years of research, the IMP Project (a temporary horizontal organization drawing specialists from all my teams) selected the fifty most common permanent and semi-permanent microorganisms to be found on the human body. Each was given a quantitative rating of 1 to 10, depending on the profusion in which it was found on a particular object’s surfaces.
We then took IMP samples from every member of the Department of Bliss—quite an undertaking when you consider there were more than half a million in DOB service. And “taking an IMP sample” involved analysis of saliva, sputum, perspiration, semen, vaginal scrapings, skin scrapings, nasal and throat discharges, urine, and feces. Fortunately, most of these analyses were automated.
Having coded IMP’s for the 500,000-plus DOB personnel, we fed the information to our largest DIVRAD computer and asked for duplicates. There were none. That was encouraging, but hardly surprising.
We were about to start testing computer retrieval of IMP information. If the blind tests were successful, I intended to suggest a campaign, low-key at first, to make microbiological analysis obligatory nationwide. We would then include every American’s IMP in his file in the NDB (National Data Bank).
“I was able to get a good IMP of Harris from his apartment,” Paul Bumford said. “His dirty laundry, sink, bed, atmosphere, rugs, toilet seat, and so forth. What I couldn’t get, Mary furnished from the corpus. But we already have Harris’ IMP on file. I presume you want a blind identification test. Right?”
“Right.”
“But why an IMP on anyone else I could find?”
I didn’t answer his question. “Did you get an IMP on the unknown blond ef?”
“A partial. Fairly accurate, I would say. Thirty-two definite factors out of the fifty. Nine possibles. That leaves nine unknowns. And where does that leave us? Nick, do you think the blond ef is in service in DOB? Is her IMP on file?”
"Could be. Harris was in DOB. It’s possible his user was, too."
“Possible, but chancy. There’s something else on your mind. I can tell.”
I paced around, looking down at the floor, hands jammed into my zipsuit pockets.
“A crazy idea,” I muttered. “You’ll laugh at me.”
“I’ve
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