Xeno Sapiens (7 page)

Only her scrapbook showed even a
fraction of her other side. Even there, the slightly off center
pages, the crumbling violet petals, a lock of her hair before it
had darkened, had been shunted aside to make room for newer items.
Pages and pages of newspaper clippings and magazine articles had
been cut out and photocopied so they wouldn’t yellow and crumble.
They had been painstakingly set into place and arranged by date.
The clippings formed the bulk of her book and Ingrid thought there
could be no more fitting symbol for her life. A thin sliver for her
childhood, a huge wedge for her research.

She lifted her scrapbook from the shelf
where it had waited like an eternally patient wallflower, perhaps
for just this moment. She sat down and turned on her reading
lamp.

She turned to the first squib- BABY RATS CLONED- by Robin
Grant. An unremarkable piece, probably used only as a filler. It
basically described her first experiments with cloning organisms
and incubating them in surrogate mothers. She glanced through the
article, taking note of the last line
“...Milner’s team has continued with
their work and Milner herself could not be reached for
comment.”

She winced as she read it. She now
wished she had subsequently kept her big, fat mouth shut. However,
after the generally favorable newspaper article, she believed it
would be safe to talk about the next phase of her work. She came to
regret that decision immensely.

The first article was followed by a
second one, somewhat larger, detailing the changing of the cloned
rats’ sex. It also gave the public the first indication that no
team was involved in the experiments. It told everyone that Ingrid
had blown off the dusty old electrodes of the Frankenstein legend
and clamped them to her research on her own. And it was the first
time Ingrid found out how some of the reading public felt about her
work.

‘
...There have already been
detractors’, part of the article read. ‘Joshua Hall, the spiritual
leader of the Natural Christians, has called Milner’s work “a
degrading, immoral sideshow that presumes to override God’s natural
plan. Such research is the preceding wave of a tide that threatens
to overturn the spiritual sanctity of God’s design. The shamans who
have turned man’s ability to differentiate between good and evil
have, for years, attempted to sway the masses from the true Light
of the Lord and into believing they have all the answers in a
Godless universe.”’

‘
Milner declined comment on Hall’s
strong attack on her work. She did, though, have the last
word.

‘“
It isn’t too presumptuous to say we
now have it within our grasp to save the classic genotypes of the
planet. It will be possible very shortly to synthesize the
genotypes of all organisms: those that are alive now, and even
those that have died out and left no trace but a single molecule of
DNA, preserved intact.’”

Ingrid had never intended to offend
anyone, especially the Arkansas Jesus, Josh Hall, who had swept the
masses with evangelical zeal. Her own impression of Hall was that
he was a vain, arrogant hypocrite of the first water, but what
Ingrid thought would never diminish his shine among his millions of
disciples. They would probably follow him straight through the
gates of hell with nothing more than his promise that he would kick
Satan’s ass and carry his pitchfork up to the pearly gates
themselves as a ticket of admission to Saint Peter.

But she
had
enraged him. Might even have done it consciously, wanting
to get him back for his gibes. By then the press was firmly on her
trail and her next successes were so astounding that she graduated
from B roll to page one in the local paper.

‘
...Milner’s experiments at Delian
University have incited widespread interest and contention in the
scientific and private communities.

‘
One of her main opponents, Josh Hall,
has started an intensive campaign to have federal funding for
Milner’s experiments canceled, claiming that it is not the place of
the government to subsidize “evil and subhuman
experiments.”

‘
He further stated that the technology
of the geneticists was running unchecked and that the molecular
eugenics programs should be halted immediately for fear of the
creation of new and possibly dangerous life forms.

‘“
I am not a geneticist,” Hall
declared, “For which I thank Almighty God. What Miss Milner is
doing is both scientifically and morally reprehensible and
irresponsible. She is tampering with the very foundation of God’s
work and should be reprimanded harshly if not expelled outright
from the university.”

‘
Mr. Hall claims to have attempted to
set up a meeting with the university’s board of trustees, but
without success. Barring any meeting, he says, he plans to take his
case to the halls of congress with intensive demonstrations,
marches, and furious lobbying.’

Robin Grant, an up and coming reporter,
had done the first few articles on Ingrid’s work. She had met him
once and decided he was one of the few people on her
side.

Their meeting was the result of his
wanting to interview her after the second article he had written.
Ingrid told him firmly that she could not be interviewed. She had
already stepped on too many toes, -not that she gave a shit what
Josh Hall thought- but she was afraid the university would suffer.
She actually had given him the interview, but insisted it not be
printed until the uproar had died down. Grant had decided to let
the matter rest and for that Ingrid could have swooned at his feet.
He did print an editorial (without using anything Ingrid had told
him), and it was thoughtful and fair.

What is Molecular
Eugenics?

Suppose as in this very
room in which I’m writing, someone walked in and said “I have the
cure for every disease known to man.” What would you think?
Assuming you knew the person not to be a verifiable crackpot, you
might be tempted to listen.

This, the eradication of
disease, is one of the aims of molecular eugenics. It is not the
only aim by any means. Some are noble, some are silly, some are
terrifying.

Molecular Eugenics (ME) is
the process of enhancing favorable traits among genes at the
molecular level, and reducing or eradicating harmful or unfavorable
traits.

The list of congenital diseases is of a staggering length.
Even predisposition to ailments, as opposed to the actual ailment
itself, are programmed into each human’s genetic makeup. The prime
objective of ME is to eliminate defective genes, thus
avoiding birth
defects ranging from a harelip to a gangrenous condition known as
Noma, a genetic disease that causes an erosion of the lining of the
cheeks and nasal passages.

ME can be used to provide
immunity from disease. Within white blood cells known as plasma
cells are bodies known as a ribosomes. Within the ribosomes are
strands of genetic material called RNA. The RNA contains messages
in chemical form called codons. Each codon is an order to the
ribosomes to construct a specific amino acid. If an RNA strand
could be encoded with the codons for the manufacture of a specific
antibody, the ribosomes could construct the prescribed antibody to
a specific disease, without the cell having ever been exposed to
the actual disease. There is virtually no limit to the number of
proteins and antigens that can be synthesized, if only their actual
chemical composition were known. The process of introducing these
antibody producing traits, as well as other traits, onto a
chromosome is known as genetic recombination.

On the converse side of the
coin is the very real threat that ME could be used to create life
forms that are dangerous in and of themselves, but with superior
genetic traits which would make them more apt to survive and pose a
threat to natural selection. One common example of this phenomena
occurs naturally. The flu virus mutates into different forms every
two years or so and different vaccines must be administered to
sensitize the body to the new flu bug that will not be destroyed by
already existing antibodies.

So we are left with an
interesting dilemma. Should ME be used to eradicate disease and
create stronger and healthier humans? Or should Natural Selection
be allowed to take its course? Should we no longer vaccinate our
children against disease or take them to the doctor? Rip the
insulin vials from the hands of diabetics? The only difference
between such trivial pursuits and ME is a matter of degree. It is
up to every person of good conscience to step up to the thin line
that separates the noble from the ignoble, but we must toe that
line.

Three years later it was still painful
for Ingrid to read the “dissenting” letter to the editor which had
been published three days after Robin’s editorial. It had been
written by the director of the Natural Christian’s Tampa chapter
and Ingrid had come within an ace of not even keeping it. But she
had convinced herself she had to be bigger than those who wished
only to tear her down.

To the editor,

I am disgusted that such an obviously well-learned
scientist as Ingrid Milner could even begin to consider unlocking
the secrets of creation. Tampering with human genetics is akin to
playing God. It’s all well and good to desire to rid the world of
plagues, scourges, and the common cold; to rid us of deformities,
disfigurements, and defects. But to do this is to create a perfect
race of beings. No sickness, no disease.
People will live forever! When the
world becomes too crowded,
how will
we
decide who must die? A lottery? My own modest proposal is
to allow the esteemed Ingrid Milner to make the decisions for
us.

Consider also this: if all
it takes is one amino acid out of sequence to create a monster or
killer plague, how do we guard against human error? God, after all,
did not make us perfect. (If left up to Ingrid Milner, we all would
be). The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Who is to decide what is a
favorable trait? Take a democratic vote? Or yet another lottery?
Will the famed Ingrid Milner, scientist, humanist, and philosopher,
decide? This woman does not want to make contributions. She wants
to be a virgin mother and give birth to the Messiah out of a test
tube in her laboratory.

The last point I intend to
make is a vital one: the power to create evil. I cannot believe it
has not entered Miss Milner’s mind that she is trying to own a
power which at this moment only God possesses. Only an evil, evil
woman, a spawn of the devil, would desire such power. Who among the
fleet of “researchers” can truthfully say they would not care to
have this power in their grasp? Who can say they would not want to
create zombies and the like to be bent to their will, be it what it
may?

The letter had been signed, but Ingrid had deliberately
omitted the woman’s name from her scrapbook. The temptation to look
her up and hack off her hands with a mattock and cut out her tongue
with a claw hammer would have been too great. She could almost
envisage the woman, filled with the Pentecostal fire, scribbling
frantically at her pad with Josh Hall clapping her on the back and
shouting “
More venom! More venom!”

Understandably upset, Ingrid had phoned
the paper and asked to speak to Robin.

She was told that Mr. Grant was no
longer an employee of the newspaper. During her meeting with Grant,
Ingrid had gotten his home phone number. She dialed it and Robin
had answered on the first ring,

“
How could you,”
Ingrid had screamed, near
tears. “How could you let something like that be printed about me,
you lousy bastard?”

“
Now wait, Ingrid,” Robin said
desperately. “It’s not a bit like you think.”

“
Well what way is it,” she asked with
dull, deadly sarcasm. Her voice was like a dead weight in his ear.
“I thought you were on
my
side.”

“
I am,” Grant said. “That’s why I
quit.”

Ingrid fell a click in her throat. The
vitality of her disgust drained away.

“
You quit,” she said dimly. “Because
of the letter?’’

“
You’re goddammed right,” he said.
“That piece of garbage came in the mail yesterday. I nearly shouted
myself blue in the face trying to get it out of my editor’s paws.”
Grant sounded as disgusted as any man could. “The fat bucket of
guts was practically pissing in his truss to get it in this
morning’s edition. I asked him if we were publishing a newspaper or
some rag someone wouldn’t even use to line the bottom of their bird
cages, and he just grinned like some dipshit dog. I told him the
letter came into
my
byline and if he used it I would sue his ass after I
quit.”

“
Can you do that,” Ingrid
asked.

“
And win,” Robin sighed wearily. “Not
a chance.”

“
You quit because of me?”

“
Ingrid, I’ve never seen anything as
coarsely abusive as that letter. It shocked me.” In a soft voice he
asked, “How are you taking it?”