Kingdom (30 page)

The walls of the MOMA’s Zero wing were digitalized, and displayed a real-time image of the data flowing throughout various cities across the globe. The walls were divided into sections by a series of stainless steel girders, and each Zero artist controlled a section of the wall—an individual terminal where he was free to remotely manipulate this data using various computer-imaging techniques.

Most artists were content to use 3-D “hyperbolic geometry” programs, thereby transforming the data, which, in its raw form, appeared as an unintelligible
stream of letters, 1s, and 0s, into a series of more traditional images—circles, squares, triangles—that would rotate in every direction—growing in size, then decreasing, then growing once again—in an attempt to convey the very rhythm of human life.

Holding the biotech gala in the MOMA was unusual in and of itself; in general, Morrison hated art. Chunky Madonnas and comically haloed Christs comprised the bulk of his early impressions of the medium; useless, mythical figures who offered no insight into the relentless chaos of the modern world. But the Zero Movement—originally part of a market-research program born in the high-tech towers in the heart of Tiber City’s financial core—had managed to present a worldview that reflected what Morrison deemed to be essential truths: mutability, truth through reason alone, and defiance of old gods long dead. Over a dozen artist terminals lined the walls of the ballroom, each section alive with Zeros—the artists awake for 24, 36, 48 hours in a cramped studio somewhere, anywhere, in the world, fingers flying across multiple sets of keyboards, forgetting to eat, some sipping mushroom tea, others gobbling speed by the fistful—all trying to create an image that communicated the reality of modern life. Occasionally a monitor went dark: Even the most devoted Zero sometimes slept—although, as Morrison understood it, most collapsed, only to jack back in to his terminal upon regaining consciousness; after all, there were lots of other hungry Zeros on the make who would do anything for a terminal in the Tiber City MOMA. But, no matter how good, how talented, or how devoted these kids were, they had nothing on Morrison’s personal favorite: Tiber City’s own Cording Jax.

Jax was the “leader” of Tiber City’s Zero Movement. Yet, whereas his peers sought to use the modern world’s massive and varied communication networks as a canvas, its data as paint, Jax retained this data in its raw form, the streaming alphanumerics that constituted the physical manifestation of digital information. But Jax didn’t preserve just any data: He specialized in capturing, or, if the event were unexpected, recovering, the raw transmission of data at the exact instant some epoch-defining event occurred—the first shot of a revolution, the assassination of a president, the detonation of a dirty bomb, a tsunami triggering hundreds of thousands of deaths. And then Jax would take several of these images and make a collage, as though he were putting together a jigsaw puzzle—the superficial suggestion being that there was some underlying connection between these occurrences, if only society
would look more closely. Many believed that Jax had discovered something, that there was a message, a truth, perhaps even a prophecy, hidden in his collages. For his part, Jax remained silent, allowing the buzz associated with his name and his work to grow.

Morrison, however, knew the truth: While there was indeed a connection between these data extractions, it was not the one most people, even some of the other Zeros, believed. What Jax sought to convey was the ultimate reality: There was no order, no truth, no explanation for life’s cruel, senseless tragedies, just numbers, data, information repeating into infinity. But even while acknowledging the chaotic condition of human existence, Jax’s work remained defiant, refusing to retreat into religious fairytales or false philosophical constructs.

Instead, Jax brought order to the chaos of life, creating his own meaning where, inherently, there is none. When man shouts into the whirlwind, demanding answers for his condition, and is answered only by silence, he has no choice but to shape the world in his own image—that was the realization that had led to the founding of Morrison Biotech, to the creation of Project Exodus. And so Morrison considered it only fitting that the digitalized walls of the Zero wing should serve as the backdrop for tonight’s proceedings.

At the end of the ballroom, a giant stage had been erected, flanked on either side by floor-to-ceiling video monitors, which, at the moment, displayed the Morrison Biotech logo, spinning and twisting, disappearing and reappearing with wild, expectant energy. And in the middle of the stage, a black podium, also adorned with the red corporate logo, awaited the evening’s keynote speaker.

Without warning, the lights dimmed, then went dark, eliciting a low gasp from the crowd. The Morrison Biotech logo vanished from the two screens on the side of the stage, replaced by a stunning high-definition, first-person video shot by a camera racing across the surface of a vast ocean, churning under an ashen sky. As the camera moved over the surface of the water, a disembodied voice—female with an electronic, anesthetized tinge—began to narrate:

Since the beginning of time, life on planet Earth has been subject to inherent limitations. Although the evolutionary process has allowed for certain, arbitrary transformations, these changes have occurred in accordance with these natural limitations
.

As the voice spoke, the oceans on the monitors began to morph into a massive map of the human genome.

Morrison Biotechnology, since its inception, has struggled to free man from this tyranny of the natural world. While it has allowed for considerable evolution, the human genetic code is, as we here at Morrison Biotech are all aware, inherently flawed
.

Slowly the video’s perspective began to pull back as if it were moving through a human cell, and then from the cell into tissue until it became obvious that the camera was traveling through a human body—up from the stomach through the esophagus, passing the tongue as it pushed toward the daylight waiting beyond a series of small, crooked teeth.

Bursting into the light, the camera surveyed a world very different from the roiling seas seen at the beginning: There was no water in sight, only dry, broken plains stretching endlessly under a cloudless, indifferent sky. Twenty feet off the ground, the camera came to a stop, shifting its perspective back toward the earth, back toward the human being whose body it had just left: a tiny, malnourished child, his lips cracked and covered in dust, who had been left to die under the unforgiving sub-Saharan sun.

By 2009, AIDS had killed nearly 30 million people in Africa alone. Another 35 million were living with AIDS. It was Morrison Biotech’s unflagging belief that man can defy genetic limitations that made this stunning scientific breakthrough possible
.

Still observing the presentation from the control room, Morrison smiled: The video omitted how Morrison’s financial demands had bankrupted several African governments, a story that, in the aftermath of the vaccine, received scant coverage. And then there was the story that received no coverage at all: the one where several of the most impoverished African nations had provided Morrison with hundreds of research “volunteers.” In a land where human life was perhaps the cheapest and most available of all commodities, it was, conceded more than one despot, a small price to pay, to control the distribution of the AIDS vaccine—one of the most powerful political tools ever known. Wielding the power of the vaccine, more than one warlord was able to topple democratically elected governments. These were all details scrubbed from the official reports, details Morrison savored in private.

By developing the world’s first HIV vaccine, Morrison Biotech again defied the limitations imposed by the natural world and, as a result, saved millions of lives. Manipulation of the human genetic code
—
the primary objective of Morrison Biotech
—
has come at considerable cost. The rewards, however, have been staggering
.

The video of the dying African child vanished, replaced by a montage of the same boy, now healthy and nourished, playing with friends in a grassy field, celebrating a birthday with family, graduating from a university, getting married, and then, finally, having a child of his own, the video freezing as the boy—now a man—held his child for the first time.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the man whose vision has driven so many of this company’s triumphs
—
Michael Morrison
.

During the final moments of the video presentation, Morrison had left the control room, taking a private elevator to the penthouse level. With perfect timing, he hit the stage right on cue.

The audience burst into applause, cheers echoing off the ballroom walls as Morrison strode toward the podium. It was rare that the CEO addressed his employees so directly and the excitement in the room was palpable. There was a nervousness as well—many of the researchers had never met their boss, never even seen him in person. Morrison waved to the hundred or so of his employees gathered before him but his eyes were looking past them, drawn to the never-ending stream of alphanumerics cascading down the walls of the ballroom, and in that instant, he had never felt more certain in his vision for the human race.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “thank you for joining me for what, I believe, will be a very special occasion. I have two announcements to share with you this evening, although both relate directly to the video presentation you just saw: Morrison Biotechnology’s vision for the future of the human race. Now, over the years I’ve gotten into some trouble—with the media, with some politicians, with various religious activists—because we here at Morrison Biotech refuse to accept the fact that the pace of human evolution should be dictated by nature or a God or any external factor.”

A cheer rippled through the crowd as Morrison paused, adjusting a black cuff link and smiling back at some of the best and brightest minds of a generation.

“Perhaps one of the greatest lies ever propagated is the notion all men are created equal. Deserving of equal rights, sure. But
created
equal? Now that is bullshit. The only thing equal about human beings is our potential: Each and every one of us has the same genetic base; we all start from the same foundation. After that, it’s a roll of the dice. Some hit the genetic jackpot—just take a look around this room. Others are born with crippling defects, psychological disorders, mental retardation. Or perhaps even worse, some
are average, destined to plod through life and then die. Why should this be? Why should some suffer while others thrive? Because nature or a God mandates it? Enough! Just as this company refused to accept that millions should suffer and die from AIDS, we reject the notion that mankind should be subject to the genetic roulette wheel: some born strong, others disease-ridden and subjected to a lifetime of misery.”

Morrison paused, taking a sip of water as his words reverberated across the room.

“To that end,” Morrison continued, “I am pleased to announce that Morrison Biotechnology is introducing a new product line, one that will position our company at the forefront of the next generation of biotechnology. No longer will our company work primarily with governments or massive health care providers. We are moving aggressively into a direct relationship with the American public—and, soon, the rest of the world—through a new line of services called TruLife—a series of embryonic genetic modifications that will allow future generations to experience life free of the natural limitations, be they disease or defects or even just general mediocrity. A ‘truer’ life, if you will.”

The monitors on both sides of the podium again flared to life, this time displaying the details of a series of “TruLife” packages: the academic package, the sports package, the Hollywood package; there was even Morrison’s favorite, the golden embryo special, which combined all other packages into a single spectacular creation. There was even a buy-three-modifications-get-a-fourth-free “Holiday Special,” which would be out just in time for Christmas.

For a brief moment, the assembled employees were silent. And then, they all began talking at once, cries of amazed disbelief filling the ballroom. Morrison stood back from the podium, watching with amusement as it finally dawned on his researchers what it was that their work of the past decade had been building toward. Granted, TruLife was only part of a much larger picture. But for the employees who assumed tonight’s announcement was going to be about another vaccine, the TruLife package was something of a shock. And that was nothing compared to what was coming next.

With one hand gripping each side of the podium, Morrison leaned forward, unable to control the smile that stretched across his ageless visage, revealing his perfect teeth.