Parasite Eve (19 page)

    Asakura could not stop
thinking about how bizarre those cells were. Not only were they abnormal, it
was almost as if they emanated some tangible force.

    She honestly wanted nothing
more to do with them, but could not very well say so to Toshiaki. Though she
had obediently worked on the experiments so far, it did not stop her from being
gripped by a certain fear now and then.

    Ever since she was little,
Asakura sometimes had moments where she knew that she would be sick the next
day, or get the feeling that they would lose a volleyball match. While they
were trifles, these brief flashes of intuition affected her deeply. They always
made the hair on her neck stand on end with an almost painful itch.

    It was this same sensation
now, growing stronger with each day working on those cells.

    Asakura understood Eve 1 not
by observation, but by intuition.

    It horrified her. It would
not normally have bothered her so much, were she not constantly working late
nights with no one else around. In the lab she could distract herself with the
radio, but music was not allowed in the isotope room. Maybe that was why she
felt so vulnerable today.

    She prayed that Toshiaki
would soon relieve her of any further work on the cells, but her wish was not
likely to be granted any time soon. His attachment to Eve 1 was unnatural. Ever
since Eve 1 yielded such intriguing information, his attitude had become quite
cheerful. Compared to the days after his wife’s accident, he certainly seemed
to have regained his former self. But that changed as soon as he began working
on Eve 1. He would then take on the look of an obsessed man. Asakura was afraid
to speak to him at such times, which made things even more difficult since she
was dying to ask him all about Eve 1.

    Toshiaki did more than keep
the cells alive. They were actually growing. It was as if they were...

    Asakura held her shoulders.

    It was as if they were happy.

   
Nonsense
, she thought,
forcing herself to deny what was already clear to her. As she started up the
stairs, her feet instinctively picked up speed. She kept telling herself that
it was nothing, that she was worrying too much. But she ran as fast as she
could, wanting more than anything to get home.

11

    “We all have countless
parasites living inside us,” the stately professor began his lecture.

    A large paper sign hanging in
front of the stage read: “BIOFUNCTIONAL PHARMACEUTICALS COURSE, PROFESSOR
MUTSUO ISHIHARA.” He was a man in his early fifties. His hair was graying, but
his voice had vigor.

    Despite being a lecture hall,
the rectangular room seated only 150 people and was much smaller compared to
the liberal arts auditoriums, which typically accommodated over 300 students. Because
the number of students in the School of Pharmaceutical Sciences during any
given year tended to be small, this space was more than sufficient. Kiyomi took
a seat closer to the back where the stairs ascended and looked down at the
seats below. There were at least 50 people in attendance, half of whom were
probably pharmaceuticals students. There may have been a few from other
departments like herself, but she suspected that nearly everyone there was
actually enrolled in the Biofunctional Pharmaceuticals course. There were some
auditors who were in their fifties and sixties, but no one in their teens.

    One of the auditorium windows
had been left open to let in the breeze. A cool draft flowed past her cheek and
the sound of rustling leaves wafted gently towards her like ripples upon water.
She glanced outside at the fresh green foliage sparkling in the sunlight.

    Kiyomi was now in her third
year of college. Her freshman and sophomore years had gone by in the blink of
an eye. She had been very active so far, taking notes in every class,
continuing with brass ensemble practice, helping manage the annual music
festival, comparing notes with friends and trying her best not to miss a test.
She even managed to relax now and then by going on group trips and ski weekends
with classmates.

    “So, are you getting an
internship next year or what?”

    She’d had a sudden wake up
call when a friend blurted out this question one day. Kiyomi realized she still
had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. She had somehow completely
glossed over the uncertainty which troubled her so much in high school. Now
that college was half over, she knew this was the time to make decisions about
her future. Even so, she had yet to feel motivated.

    It was only June, but the
days were warm. Refreshing summerly winds shook the branches of the shading
trees and her white shirt fluttered. The skies were constantly overcast through
fall and winter, but now they had cleared up beautifully, drenching the
buildings and pavement with much needed sunlight.

    Kiyomi was taking this
opportunity to attend a public lecture being offered at the School of
Pharmaceutical Sciences. Every year on the second Sunday of June, the school’s
faculty held free educational lectures open to the public in an attempt to
dispel misconceptions about their field. The school’s chair and profs would
outline their research in some detail; this year, they were also going to
discuss the basics of medicinal plants and devote some time to charged issues
like drug side-effects and the AIDS virus. The spacious medicinal plant green
house, located at the rear of the building, was also opened to the public.
Visitors were invited to have a small picnic outside. The event had been
popular for quite some time, but Kiyomi had never joined in the festivities
until a classmate invited her along.

    The day was graced with a
clear blue sky and gorgeous weather. Kiyomi took the bus with her friend and
arrived at the School of Pharmaceutical Sciences around 9:30 in the morning.
Kiyomi’s university was typical in that it catered to many personal and
academic interests, but it was best known for its various stellar scientific
departments. The School of Medical Sciences and its affiliated hospitals were
in the northern part of the city, the School of Agriculture was right near the
subway station, and the School of Engineering was up in the mountains. The
Pharmaceutical Sciences building sat atop a small hill, a five-minute walk from
the School of Liberal Arts. When they got off at the bus stop they had a
pleasant view of the streets spread out below. Maybe Kiyomi was imagining it,
but the breeze seemed cooler up here.

    There would be one lecture in
the morning and three in the afternoon, each lasting an hour and a half. In the
interim, everyone was encouraged to see and explore the greenhouse. The morning
lecture was to begin at ten o’clock. Kiyomi went into the lobby, where an
exhibit about Chinese herbal medicine was on display, and looked over the list
of lecture topics. The first was entitled “Drug Manufacturing: Chemistry and
Pharmacology” and looked to be a talk about the development of pharmaceutical
products. Thinking this would be a little over her head, she looked slowly down
the list to the afternoon schedule. She read, “The Benefits of Chinese
Medicine,” and “What is Gene Therapy?”...

    Then, the last topic caught
her eye:

    “Symbiosis with Mitochondria:
The Evolution of Cellular Society.”

   
THUMP
, went her heart.

    She clutched her chest at
this unexpected reaction. More than a heartbeat, it felt like a cry for help.
Her breathing quickened. Her head was on fire. Her hands twitched with the
aftereffects of the shock. She held her chest tighter to stop it. A single bead
of sweat trickled from her temple down her cheek. She could not tear her eyes
away from the words on the poster.

    Kiyomi clenched her teeth and
inhaled as deeply as she could. The strange beat was long gone, and in its
place was her regular pulse, pumping blood.

    Yet she was unable to move
for a while. Another drop of sweat flowed down her face, following the same
trail as its predecessor before falling to the floor.

    “What’s wrong, Kiyomi?”

    Her friend looked worriedly
into Kiyomi’s face. She shook her head and said it was nothing, then looked up
and tried to smile, but managed only a twitch of the lips.

    “Really, I’m fine. Let’s go
in.” Her companion looked worried, but nodded reluctantly and followed her
outside.

    Just before leaving the
lobby, Kiyomi looked back at the poster once again.
Why?
she wondered.
She’d felt the irregular beat when she’d seen the words.

    Was this what they called
arrhythmia? She shivered at the thought.
Symbiosis with Mitochondria
.
Her body had somehow reacted to that strange lecture title.

    Her logical self told her
something was wrong, yet she was strangely captivated by the prospect of
hearing the lecture. She might be at the greenhouse while the talks on Chinese
medicine and genetic healing were underway, but the final presentation she didn’t
dare to miss.

    At last, the time came.

    It was at this point that her
friend needed to leave. She had a part-time job as a private tutor and had a
five o’clock appointment to make. But Kiyomi would not miss this lecture.

    A screen was being lowered behind
the podium and next to it was a sign with the lecture topic written in large
letters. Although they spelled out the same words that had affected her so
deeply earlier, Kiyomi had no reaction to seeing them now. This did not, of
course, change the fact that they
had
affected her. She wanted so much
to understand her reaction and had a feeling that the answer somehow resided in
this lecture.

    Professor Ishihara, after
explaining common parasites such as round worms, began to explain exactly what
symbiosis was, using intestinal microbes as an example.

    “Just like parasites,
microbes thrive in our intestines, living off the nourishment we provide to
them as hosts. But they also help us utilize vitamin K and provide many other
valuable functions unknown to many of us. This relationship by which two
distinct life forms not only coexist, but also profit from their mutual bond,
is called ‘symbiosis.’ These exemplary microbes are therefore not just
parasites, so to speak, but are indeed necessary components of our biology.
Judging from this, one might wonder if our symbiosis is restricted only to such
microbes. Of course, that is not the case. Which brings us now to the subject
of today’s lecture: namely mitochondria. I am sure you’ve all at least
encountered the word in junior high, but we have come to learn that
mitochondria, too, are parasites. They are not insects, so it may seem a bit
strange to call them ‘parasites.’ However, they are the same in that they exist
in all human beings by means of a symbiotic relationship. And from research
conducted on mitochondria, we have discovered many interesting things about
them. In my lecture, I will be utilizing what scientists have concluded through
research to explain this symbiosis.”

    At this point, Professor
Ishihara took a breath and gave a signal to the slide assistant. The slide
projector fan began to spin and the auditorium lights were turned off. Kiyomi
looked behind her to see who had pressed the switch, but could see nothing, her
eyes still adjusting to the darkness.

    At that moment, a familiar
face entered the corner of her vision.

    It belonged to a young man
sitting three rows behind her. She focused on him, straining to get a better
look, but could not quite identify him in such a dark room. He seemed to notice
her as well. Kiyomi felt a little embarrassed and turned quickly back around.

    A large diagram of a cell
shone on the screen.

    “This is a simple drawing of
a human cell,” Professor Ishihara explained. Using a laser pointer, he continued.
“This area in the very center is the nucleus. It is where chromosomes are
contained and is filled with all kinds of genetic information. And this oval-
shaped area here represents a mitochondrion. It has both an outer and an inner
membrane. The inner membrane is folded like so. Now, this diagram is basically
the same one you would remember from your textbooks, and, as such, is probably
familiar to most of you as shown here, but this does not mean they have this
shape in reality. Their structure is actually quite different from what you
might think. Next slide, please.”

    As soon as the image changed,
faint murmurs of surprise rose from the audience.

    “This is mitochondria’s true
form.”

    The screen’s black background
now framed a large picture of a cell. Inside them were what appeared to be
countless green-colored threads. All of them lined diagonally upward, they
seemed ready to wave forth. There was a gaping black hole in the center where
the nucleus would have been. Kiyomi figured that mitochondria had been somehow
stained, then photographed through a microscope to obtain this image. Each cell
was crowded with hundreds, even thousands of them, beautiful like folds of
velvet. Kiyomi’s preconceptions about them were totally wiped away by the splendor
before her eyes.

    THUMP.