The Immortality Factor (66 page)

The reporters sitting around me were kind of disappointed.

“I thought he was going to go for the jugular,” one of them said to the reporter sitting next to him.

“Hey,” she answered, “they're scientists, not lawyers. Be happy you got as much fireworks as you did.”

“Not much.” He got up and joined the crowd filing out into the corridor.

Assholes, I thought. Here Arthur took apart any and every objection against
moving ahead with the regeneration program and they're grumbling because he didn't stage the last act of
Il Trovatore
.

I had planned to sit where I was, at the reporters' table, and not fight the crowd out in the corridor. I didn't have any deadline to meet, no story to file.

I looked over at Arthur. He was just standing there, in the front of the room, a kind of sad, dejected look on his face. I got up and went to him.

“I've lost him, Pat,” Arthur said to me. “He'll never talk to me again after what I did to him this afternoon.”

I had never seen Arthur show pain before.

“I thought you went easy on him,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “You could have sliced him up and served him as hors d'oeuvres.”

He just sort of hung his head. “You don't know the half of it.”

“The reporters thought you could have slaughtered him,” I blathered on.

He turned and gave me the saddest look I had ever seen on his face. “He's my brother, Pat. I should never have allowed it to go this far.”

“It's not your fault.” I didn't even know what
it
really was.

“Yes, it is. All of it is my fault, just about. I've driven my brother away from me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

O
ne of the conditions that Arthur had insisted on, when he and Graves first started to put together the details of the trial, was that Arthur would give his final summation as the very last statement the jury would hear. Which meant that Rosen, the supposedly impartial examiner, gave his summation first.

He stood tall and grave before the jury in his usual dark blue suit and red tie. He looked utterly humorless, totally dedicated to getting his points across to the jurors.

“We have heard a week's worth of testimony,” he began, “about a truly amazing breakthrough in the field of biomedicine. It is easy to become accustomed to new successes; what was miraculous yesterday becomes commonplace tomorrow.”

Turning to look at Arthur, in the front row, Rosen went on, “But I believe that we should all keep foremost in our minds that what we are dealing with here is a breakthrough in biomedicine that has incredible implications for the future. For your future, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. For my future. For the future of each and every person on the face of this planet.”

He hesitated, head drooping slightly. The chamber was completely still. The TV cameras were tightly focused on him.

“This is a court of science,” Rosen resumed. “You have been asked to judge the scientific validity of the work done so far on tissue regeneration. You have been asked to make a recommendation about proceeding to human trials for this work.”

Again he stopped, chin sinking almost to his chest, hands clasped almost prayerfully.

“You have heard me make the point that science cannot be judged in a vacuum. That other issues—social, economic, ethical—must be considered side by side with the scientific facts. I realize that this is a bending of the basic ground rules for this hearing. But there is a reason for my insisting on broadening the scope of your deliberations.”

Rosen seemed to stand taller, as if he had just come though some inner struggle and irrevocably made up his mind.

“Whatever you decide will have the most profound effects on the entire balance of scientific research in this country, perhaps worldwide. If you decide that this regeneration work should proceed to human trials immediately, it will cause tremendous pressures to be put on government funding agencies.”

Arthur wanted to object, despite the agreement that the summations would be uninterrupted.

“Yes, I know,” said Rosen, glancing in Arthur's direction, “that this work has been done exclusively on private funding. That point was established in the first day's testimony.” He stepped closer to the jurors. “But consider this: your approval of this work will mean that the federal government will be pressured to open its treasury to fund such research. No member of Congress could possibly refuse a constituent who demands that the government speed up research in organ regeneration—not once this work is ‘officially' sanctioned by the science court. The pressures would be irresistible.

“Therefore,” he went on, “you must decide whether or not this work is ready for a massive infusion of federal funding, and all the controls and regulations that inevitably come with federal funding. Are we ready for another version of the war against cancer? Or the biomedical equivalent of the war against poverty? Tens and hundreds of billions of dollars spent, to little avail. Thousands of careers interrupted or warped out of shape because funding for other research was usurped for the massive wars that Washington proclaimed. Is that what we want here?”

Arthur could see that he was scoring points. The jurors, all researchers themselves, had been scarred in the past by the twists and turns of federal funding priorities.

“And then consider the scientific evidence,” Rosen said, changing gears once he saw that his point had been made.

“The researchers at Grenford Laboratory have made remarkable progress in little more than two years. But are they ready for human tests? Their one experiment on a primate resulted in the ape's death. Even their experiments on monkeys and rats have been plagued by tumor growth that's been controlled only by applications of an enzyme treatment that has not yet received FDA approval.”

Several of the jurors were nodding. Arthur's insides were clenching. He suddenly wished that he had had the good sense to go to the toilet during the break.

“Those are the scientific facts,” Rosen was saying. “Dr. Jesse Marshak, who helped to originate the very ideas that are on trial here, is himself against rushing into human tests. I won't say anything more about the ethics or morality issues that he brought up; those are for your individual consciences to decide.”

Rosen hesitated for the span of a heartbeat, then said, “You are all scientists, but you have a responsibility that goes beyond your professional interests. You have the responsibility of judging the scientific merits of this work
in the context
of its social, economic, and ethical implications.”

All eyes in the hearing chamber were riveted on him. Rosen fingered his mustache, as if searching for the exactly correct word. Then, “That concludes my remarks, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your attention.”

The audience stirred as Rosen walked back to his seat at the front desks. Someone coughed. The TV cameras swung toward Arthur as Graves nodded at him.

Getting to his feet, Arthur thought, This is how Marc Antony must have felt when he went out to give his funeral oration for Caesar. Brutus has swung the crowd his way; now I've got to swing them back to me.

How to start? I can't say,
Friends, Romans and countrymen
 . . .

Arthur glanced at Pat sitting at the reporters' table, as he stepped to the front of the chamber. She made a smile for him. He walked in silence as far as the empty witness table, touched the fingers of one hand against its green baize surface, as if to balance himself. He glanced at Graves and the other two judges, and realized with a start that Senator Kindelberger had not returned after the break. If he's not the center of attention he doesn't stay, Arthur thought.

Then he looked squarely at the jurors. Six men, six women. He took a deep breath, like a man about to plunge off a high platform.

“When I asked for this court of science to be convened,” he began, “I did it because I did not want this work on organ regeneration to be tried in the media. You know as well as I that there are powerful forces aligned against us, against science in general and this work in particular.”

Now the jurors were focused on Arthur. He took a few steps toward the judges' desks and their eyes tracked him closely. Good, he told himself.

“President Franklin Roosevelt said that the only thing we have to fear is
fear itself. I agree. But behind that unreasoning fear lies ignorance. You've seen the scare headlines; you've seen the witless, fear-mongering demagogues whipping up the crowds against us. How many of you have had your own research interrupted or stopped altogether because some crackpot screamed to the media that your work might release mutated microbes into the environment or cause radiation that might increase the cancer rate a thousandth of a percent?”

Arthur knew that at least four of the jurors had suffered through legal battles brought on by self-styled activists who objected to their research.

“What we are fighting against here is nothing less than ignorance—colossal, cynical, egotistical ignorance that feeds the fears of the crowd against anything new, anything unknown.”

He heard murmurs from the audience. Turning slightly toward them, Arthur went on, “Science has always had to fight against those fears and the ignorance behind them. In earlier ages scientists were burned at the stake or shut up in prisons because their ideas went against the prevailing opinions of the powers that be. Today they're hounded by lawyers and forced into court.”

A couple of brittle laughs.

“By its very nature, science is always discovering new things. Science therefore is always causing changes: changes in our understanding of the world, changes in the way we think, changes—inevitably—in the way we live. Yet most of the other institutions of society resist change with every gram of energy they possess.

“Think of society's institutions,” Arthur said. “Religion, law, social customs. All of them exist to preserve the status quo. They are all designed to make tomorrow exactly the same as yesterday. Societies seek stability and they have created these institutions to protect themselves against change.

“Yet here is science, always discovering new concepts, always forcing us to change our outlooks and even our behavior. No wonder so much of society fears and resists scientific advances. No wonder we are here in a court of science debating whether or not we want to help human beings to grow new organs and new limbs when they need them.”

Arthur had never felt so strong. The entire chamber was concentrating on him, on his words. He felt like a knight on a white steed, holding up a banner and leading his people toward a shining castle on a hilltop.

“You have been told,” he said to the jury, “that more than science is at stake here. You have been told that science does not take place in a vacuum, that you must consider the social and economic and ethical impact of the work under consideration.

“All right, consider this: a five-year-old girl is dying from a congenital heart defect. Do we hope that some other five-year-old dies so that we can take its heart and try a transplant procedure, or do we help this child to grow a new heart that is free of her defect?”

The jurors all nodded, almost in unison.

“Or suppose you're in an auto accident and you lose both your legs. Will you be content with a wheelchair for the rest of your life? Or prostheses? Or would you like to regrow your legs so that you can walk naturally again?”

Sweeping the room with his arm, Arthur said, “Every person on earth could benefit from the work being considered here. If you must think of the social, economic, and ethical impact of organ regeneration, think of how we can change the world for the better! Yes, the changes will be significant. They will be deep, and wrenching. And they will make the world better! That's the important point. Not the pain of making these changes, but the benefits they will bring.”

He had them now, he was certain of it.

“You've been told that you have a responsibility here that goes beyond your responsibility as scientists. I agree. You have the responsibility of being human. You have to make the choice between bowing to ignorance and fear or rising to the challenge of a new era of human capability. Science is the most human activity that human beings engage in; I know that as scientists and as human beings and as concerned citizens of our society you will make the right decision. Thank you.”

As he turned and headed back to his seat, Arthur half expected a stirring round of applause. But the chamber remained absolutely still.

Graves waited until Arthur was seated, then turned to the jury. “Now it's up to you. You will retire to the room next door and deliberate your decision.”

But instead of rising and filing out of the chamber, the jurors leaned together in a rough sort of huddle. The foreperson—a middle-aged woman—conversed briefly in whispers with the jurors closest to her, then got to her feet.

“Your Honor,” she said, somewhat uncertainly, to Graves, “we arrived at our decision during the break earlier this afternoon. Nothing we've heard in the summations has changed our decision.”

Arthur was thunderstruck. Nothing they heard has changed their decision! They didn't listen to a word I said!

The reporters all leaned forward avidly. They'd have their story in time for the evening news!

Even Graves looked surprised. And pleased that they wouldn't have to carry the hearing into the weekend.

“What is your decision?” he asked.

The forewoman looked directly at Arthur. “We've decided to recommend that Dr. Marshak's work should
not
go into human tests until the tumor problem is definitively understood and correctable.”

Arthur sagged back in his chair as if he'd been shot through the heart.