Gethen and Keefe
"What's the point of this?" Keefe asked.
Gethen shrugged, gesturing to his notebook. "I'm trying to figure out how the genetics work with talents. I'm pretty sure I've figured out how they determine match status... but like. I want someone else to look it over."
"And you want... Me to?"
Gethen shrugged. "Your mom thinks you're shit-- I mean crap. I said crap. Crap at science stuff. If it makes sense to you, then I'm onto something, you know?"
Keefe tried not to take that statement to heart.
Gethen started talking, rather loudly. Gethen was rather loud. He made noise, rattled, growled, shouted. Keefe didn't think the man had a quiet bone in him. "So this is a Punnett square, you know. And the capital T stands for a talent, and the lowercase t stands for a weak talent. If you get two capital T's, you get a really strong talent, you're probably a TT combination, and with that you get--"
Keefe listened, quietly, letting the words he already understood, and had understood for years, wash over him. After Gethen finished, finally wearing himself out with his endless words, he sat back. "What do you think? Does that make sense?"
Keefe looked over the notebook's intensely detailed squares, and then flipped the page, moving onto even more complicated squares. He scanned them, quietly, assessing. "I think you've got the elemental powers backwards," he said. "Especially hydrokinesis. That one only makes sense if it's genetically recessive, and requires multiple genomes. Think about it. Hydrokinetics seem to come out of nowhere, from families that have maybe one hydro in their history."
Gethen blinked, surprised. "So," he said, not missing a beat, "You're saying you think Hydrokinesis, and maybe all elemental powers aren't capital T's at all?"
Keefe nodded, looking at it. "Or," he said, "It's a lot more complicated that just one gene that indicates whether or not you'll have a talent. Maybe each one of these also either has a dominant or recessive talent element. Heck," Keefe said, "Maybe there aren't just two genes, one for the talent, one for the ability. Maybe nearly every elf has a possibility to show every talent recessively. Cause," Keefe said, sketching a square. "Even if you have two talentless," he said, putting in lowercase T's, "There isn't a 0% chance that they won't have a kid who's got a talent. So, maybe everyone has every set of talent genomes, and it only comes across in specific situations and--"
"Fucking shit, Kid," Gethen said, yanking his notebook out of Keefe's hands. "You're onto something."
Keefe grinned, at Gethen, watching as the man hastily scribbled out a nearly endless string of letters.
"So you're saying a hydrokinetic could potentially have genes that look something like this?"
Keefe inspected the paper.
tthhiiPPRrSsVvLlNnDdWwQq
The string of letters fit into his envisioned string of DNA like visible drawings.
Keefe nodded, slowly. "Almost," he said, taking the pencil from Gethen, and erasing the capital W. "Two lowercase w's, though. And this," he said, "Is probably overly simplified."
"Fucking shit," Gethen said, again. "What the hell? You're crazy smart, Keefe! Why'd your mom say you were so fucking pathetic?"
Keefe blinked, startled. "I don't know," he answered, honestly.
Gethen grinned. "Well, hell. I've got a new genetics buddy," he said, brightly.
Keefe grinned back, his eyes sparkling.