Authors: Robert Stimson
“
They claim,” someone shouted.
“
Do the mice bend spoons?” someone yelled.
Most of the crowd assumed an air of bemusement.
Caitlin’s chin lifted. “I headed the team that did the original work.”
Brann watched the journalists and scientists as a few guessed where the geneticist was taking this and shushed the others. The clamor subsided.
“
Yes, that is what we’ve been doing these past few years on Nauru. And this”—she gestured at Brann’s family—“is the result.”
Several scientists, who had remained quiet throughout, waved their hands.
“
You can’t clone primates,” one said. “Because of the motor protein problem.”
Another: “We don’t know how memories are stored but we do know the field is distributed across—”
Caitlin tapped for silence.
“
I won’t go into these issues today. They’re covered in my team’s article, coming out tomorrow in
Nature.
Suffice it to say that we’ve made significant strides in human cognition. We expect many benefits from prehistoric genes, including entire replicons, that were lost as groups of archaic humans were absorbed into the common pool and mankind moved from hunting and gathering to farming, with attendant loss of diversity. If you want more, read our paper and those to follow.”
“
Then why are we here?” a scientist said.
“
The primary purpose of this briefing is to publicize the forthcoming book Dr. Calder and I have written about the expedition, plus a companion volume by Brann, Leya, and Gar about life thirty thousand years ago. Also Leya’s paintings, some of which have already been optioned by major art galleries, and Gar’s music CD, likewise the subject of multiple bids.”
Bran watched Caitlin hold up two hardcover books with cover art in the same style as the displayed paintings. One jacket showed two scuba divers inside a dry cave with fur-clad bodies, and was titled
Tunnel to the Deep Past.
The other cover was split diagonally, contrasting two prehistoric hunts, and was titled
30,000 BP.
A reporter waved for attention. “How do we know this isn’t a bunch of hype to sell the books?” He waved at Gar. “I’ve never seen anyone that muscular, and the young man is no marshmallow either. But anabolic steroids . . .”
Caitlin indicated a weight bench by the low wall overlooking Ala Moana Park. “Gar will press twice the world-record weight, and he’ll be happy to furnish a urine sample. Just don’t get it mixed up with the mead.”
Before the joint chuckle died, she flashed a signal to Brann and pointed to the easels. “Don’t forget the paintings and CDs.” Brann flipped a switch. A bull’s-skull drum, bear-bone flute, and bison-scapula xylophone began to weave a bittersweet melody.
Caitlin started to hand the microphone to Murzo, but paused as a reporter from the
Wall Street Journal
said, “One more question. Since this work grew out of your association with Salomon Industries, and since I know SI financed the Pamir expedition—”
“
We’ve been working under the protection of the Republic of Nauru. But yes, now that we’re coming out, as it were, Salomon Industries will be involved in our work.” Caitlin handed the mike to Rolf Mathiessen, who said:
“
The Institute of Human Evolution has negotiated an agreement with Salomon Industries. SI will fund the Resurrection Project’s next undertaking—to replicate the regeneration process for ill people.”
A reporter called, “What about the
Huffington Post
speculation on a possible mercenary angle?”
“
We have agreed that no military application will be pursued.”
As Rolf started to hand the mike to Murzo, a scientist from Australia—the very neurophysiologist whom Brann hoped to study under—shouted, “To scan with sufficient resolution, don’t you have to scramble the synapses as you go along?”
The IHE director glanced at Caitlin, who turned up her hands. “Unfortunately, at present that is true.”
“
And someone is willing to be turned into a vegetable in order to
possibly
be ‘resurrected’?”
Rolf nodded. “Salomon Industries has recruited a subject.”
“
Who would take such a risk?”
“
I refer you to the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act of 1996, which protects clients from disclosure of their health information. In order to comply with HIPAA, SI is withholding the person’s identity.”
This time Rolf succeeded in transferring the mike to Murzo, who said, “This concludes the press conference. Don’t forget to buy the books, CDs, and giclée-on-canvas prints of the paintings. Read the article in
Nature
. Now, please make yourselves at home.” He held up a hand. “Go easy on the mead. Rolf sampled some, and he says it’s not taking prisoners.”
The conference dissolved into knots of journalists and scientists. Brann looked for the hooded figure and spotted the wheelchair rolling toward the elevators. He thought he knew who was in it, regardless of the world believing the man was dead.
He smiled. Ian and Caitlin would have mixed feelings. But in the modern world, he knew, business was business.
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