The Genesis Code (15 page)

Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library
Yale University
New Haven, Connecticut

The storm hit shortly after dark. Swollen black clouds rode in on restless winds, breaking upon the campus with drenching fury. Sheets of driving rain assaulted the library. Deafening cracks of thunder followed brilliant flashes of lightning.

In the gallery of the Beinecke Library, Dr. Bowman carefully removed the Mayan screenbook from its display case. Holding it delicately in her wrinkled hands, she admired the faded colors of the richly detailed hieroglyphs of the
Popul Vuh.

Her mind drifted back through years of memories to the expedition she’d made with Maximillian Ambergris to Central America in search of lost Mayan history. Bowman vividly recalled the first time she saw the jungles of Belize.

Their plane had just broken through a thick layer of white clouds when the pilot announced they had entered Belizean airspace. Far below, the Caribbean Sea was a deep azure blue crested with white rolling waves. A short distance offshore, a chain of barrier islands and a long winding coral reef separated the calm coastal waters from the blue-black waves of the Caribbean.

From Bowman’s vantage point twenty-five thousand feet above the earth, the jungles of Belize were a vast emerald-green carpet, transected by snaking brown rivers. Ridges of barren mountains pierced the monochrome green canopy of the rain forest.

Hidden beneath the unbroken expanse of lush vegetation, hundreds of Mayan ruins gave silent testament to an ancient civilization. Infrequent dirt roads crossing the pristine jungle were sharp red ocher brushstrokes on a field of deep green.

Bowman allowed her thoughts to linger in the pleasant memory for a moment before returning to the task at hand. Moving with deliberation and care, she carried the fragile, ancient text in her hands to the reading room. She carefully unfolded the accordion pages across the broad expanse of the table. The musty smell of the coarse paper again triggered the vivid memories of the expedition into the jungles of Central America.

The Mayan tomb where they found the
Popul Vuh
had been discovered by a young Mayan boy, Pakal Q’eqchi, and his sister Aluna. The boy had died in the caves beneath the tomb, and Dr. Ambergris learned of the discovery through an acquaintance, a physician from Doctors Without Borders who treated Aluna at the small, primitive medical clinic in her village.

August 11, 1983
Belize, Central America
35.13’ N, 84.23’ W

Deep in the maze of caverns beneath the Temple of the Jaguar, Georgia Bowman and Maximillian Ambergris found a wooden door fitted into the rock wall. Around it, handprints were stamped onto the rock in bright pigments.

Through the doorway was a corridor leading into the tomb’s interior. Particles of dust floated in narrow beams of sunlight that pierced the corridor’s ceiling and created circles of light on the stone floor.

Bowman cautiously stepped through the door.

“Come on. We’ll be careful.”

When Ambergris hesitated, she reached back and took his hand.

The air in the cavern was hot and still. On the left wall, an elaborate stucco relief depicted life-sized representations of Mayan priests in ceremonial costumes. Two of them stood in rigid solemnity, holding plumed scepters and flanked by female attendants.

The right wall opened into three narrow vaulted chambers divided by thick partitions. Set in the interior wall of each chamber was a stone tablet covered with finely etched Mayan hieroglyphs. Very little light filtered into the three chambers.

“It’s too dark to make these out, but it’s very rare to see glyph tablets preserved in this fashion. I can’t wait to read these,” said Bowman.

Ambergris sneezed loudly. The noise echoed though the interior of the temple.

“Bless me,” he said. “It’s really dusty in here.”

Startled by the noise, a long green lizard darted from one of the alcoves and fled down the corridor into the pyramid’s interior.

“Let’s go a little farther. The structure looks pretty stable. I don’t think we’re in any danger of a cave-in,” said Bowman.

They crept forward another fifteen feet along the gradually darkening corridor. The distant echo of dripping water was the only sound penetrating the silence. Stucco reliefs of Mayan warriors and priests peered at the pair of scientists from the corridor walls.

“This is getting a little eerie,” said Ambergris.

Bowman stopped abruptly.

“What’s the—”

“Shhh,” whispered Bowman.

She crouched down and stared into the darkness. In the blackness ahead, a pair of glowing eyes stared back. A wet, wheezing growl emanated from the shadows.

“What is that?”

Bowman began to slowly back up.

“Slowly. Move very slowly.”

As they inched slowly backward, a shape emerged from the darkness and stopped just at the edge of their vision.

“Keep moving,” whispered Bowman.

A large, muscular jaguar stepped into view. Reflecting the meager sunlight, the jaguar’s eyes shone like gold in the dark passageway. Long and sleek, its pelt was a light brown marked with a distinctive rosette pattern. The predator weighed at least two hundred pounds and stood three feet tall at the shoulder.

Oh, shit.

The jaguar bared its sharp, curved teeth. Its tail slashed angrily from side to side.

“Keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact,” hissed Bowman. “No sudden movements. Just back out slowly.”

Ambergris didn’t reply. His heart pounded in his ears. Adrenaline surged through his body. The jaguar opened its jaws and snarled aggressively.

“Nice kitty,” pleaded Bowman.

The jaguar hesitated for a moment, its whiskers twitching. Then it began to trot down the corridor toward them, ears flattened against its head. The jaguar’s claws clicked on the stone floor. Its rumbling growl grew louder.

Ambergris started to panic. His breathing was quick and shallow. The muscles in his stomach clenched involuntarily.

“Go, go!” he urged. His backward pace quickened, pushing Bowman along behind him. She started stumbling, trying to keep her balance.

The jungle cat froze in a low crouch. Its eyes narrowed, glaring at the intruders. The jaguar opened its powerful jaws and roared: a high-pitched, throaty scream that echoed down the corridor.

June 12
WXNY, Channel 10

“Would you be interested in getting a shot that prevents cancer? What about a pill to cure diabetes or heart disease? Or an injection that adds twenty extra years to your life?”

Flavia Veloso, speaking with clearly articulated words and careful pronunciation, wore the television reporter’s uniform—bright, solid colors and an appropriately professional smile.

“Questions like these, and scores of others just like them, will be discussed at the Ninth Annual International Biogenetics Conference that begins in just two days here at the Millennium Tower convention center in lower Manhattan. Over three hundred of the world’s leading scientists in the fields of genetics, bioinformatics, and human genomics will gather here to announce breakthrough discoveries and to discuss cutting-edge research.”

The camera pulled back for a wider shot.

“Behind me is the Millennium Tower, where the International Biogenetics Conference will take place.”

Flavia made a sweeping gesture with her right arm.

“The Millennium Tower is also the home of Triad Genomics, a global biotech conglomerate that has made billions in the genetics revolution. In June of 2000, scientists at Triad Genomics triumphantly announced they had won the race to decipher the human genome. In mapping out the three-point-two billion units of our DNA, geneticists sparked a firestorm of discovery and ushered in a new age of science.”

Flavia brushed away a silky strand of hair that danced across her face in the breeze. She looked straight into the camera.

“Triad Genomics, and legions of other biotech companies around the globe, claim that the genetics revolution offers boundless potential to humanity, ranging from discovering cures for diseases like cancer and Alzheimer’s to dramatically extending the human life-span and choosing the genes of our children. The genomic revolution is changing the way we see ourselves and all life on planet earth.”

Flavia’s image was replaced by video footage of a small crowd of protesters holding signs and placards. Her voice continued in the background.

“But the genetics revolution has also created a firestorm of controversy. Many people, like this group protesting the Biogenetics Conference in a show of opposition to stem cell research, believe that scientists are now playing God. In their view, human DNA is sacred, a special province of the divine, that should be off limits to human tampering.”

On the screen, video footage taken that morning showed Grace Nguyen approaching the group of protesters. Flavia continued to narrate.

“In the Bible, verse 16:18 of the Book of Proverbs says that ‘pride goes before destruction.’ Earlier today, a heated disagreement between opponents of the genomic revolution and a geneticist from Triad Genomics turned into an ugly confrontation.”

An edited version of the encounter between Grace and the protesters unfolded in vivid detail. As Grace approached the Millennium Tower, a young female protester, holding a large sign with small hands, gave voice to her convictions.

“Stop stem cell research now!”

On camera, Grace’s face reddened with anger as she approached.

“You’re blocking my way.”

Flavia’s voice continued. “Dr. Grace Nguyen of Triad Genomics verbally assaulted this young protester early this morning outside the Millennium Tower.”

Grace walked directly toward the protester.

“We’re here to protect the unborn, those who can’t protect themselves!”

“How nice for you. Now step out of my way.”

Grace squared off with the protester. Her eyes narrowed and her hands clenched into fists.

“People like me? Listen to me, you ignorant girl.”

The camera angle shifted.

“Don’t you dare say another word to me.”

The young woman shrank from Grace’s burst of anger.

“Now step out of my way before I knock you to the ground.”

The young woman lowered her sign, looked dejectedly at the ground at her feet, and moved to the side. Without uttering another word, Grace walked defiantly through the small crowd of protesters.

The video footage was replaced with a tight shot of Flavia Veloso’s solemn face.

“A sad display of rage and arrogance,” said Flavia. “It has been said that when we see ourselves as the creators of life, we lose our reverence for life. Perhaps nowhere has this loss of reverence been more evident than this morning in lower Manhattan. This is Flavia Veloso, reporting from outside the Millennium Tower.”

Within an hour, Flavia’s report was picked up by the national media. Across the country, millions watched as Grace Nguyen verbally attacked the young protester. In living rooms from Los Angeles to New York, righteous anger flared and activists began to mobilize.

Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library
Yale University
New Haven, Connecticut

Lost in her memories, Dr. Bowman stared vacantly out the window of the reading room. The lighting flashed almost continually, creating a strobelike effect against the dark backdrop of the surrounding buildings.

In her mind’s eye, Maximillian Ambergris stumbled and fell, landing heavily on his right shoulder. He rolled onto his back and turned just as the jaguar burst out from the doorway, running full speed directly at him.

Before Ambergris could react, the jaguar was almost upon him. Ambergris threw his arms in front of his face and pulled his knees up toward his chest.

The jaguar was a blur of motion.

Ambergris squeezed his eyes shut and yelled out in terror. With a rumbling snarl, the jaguar leapt over the quivering form of Dr. Ambergris, its back claws raking the skin on his forearms.

The jaguar bounded down the corridor and disappeared into the shadows.

For a moment time was suspended. Slowly, Ambergris’ brain began to comprehend that the jaguar hadn’t attacked him. He exhaled slowly, letting out a deep sigh of relief. His arms and legs felt like rubber. Ambergris let his body collapse, lying spread-eagled on the cool stone floor.

Bowman ran to Ambergris’ side, kneeling down beside him.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Ambergris took inventory of his aches and pains.

“I think I’m okay,” he said. “Twisted my ankle and banged up my shoulder pretty good.”

Ambergris turned his arms to get a clear view of the outer side of his forearms. His hands shook. Four narrow cuts sliced into each arm.

“Caught me with his back claws, but the cuts aren’t very deep,” he observed.

Ambergris rolled into a sitting position and put his head in his hands, trying to calm his nervous system. An adrenaline storm still raged in his body.

“Wow, that’ll sure get your heart pumping!” he said, quickly and loudly. “I’ve never seen a jaguar in the wild. It was so
fast
! Did you see how fast it moved? It was like one of those dreams where you try to run but your feet feel like they’re stuck in molasses. I thought I was a goner for sure! And good Lord, did you see those teeth?”

Bowman eyed Ambergris curiously.

His shirt collar poked up haphazardly and his hair stuck out in several different directions. A streak of black dirt ran down the side of Ambergris’ face and several leaves were stuck in his hair. There was a wild, elated look in his eyes.

Fear and tension drained from Bowman’s body and she began to giggle. Ambergris grinned.

“I just remembered something. Did you really say ‘nice kitty’ back there?” he said.

Bowman giggled louder.

“You aren’t a cat person, are you?” he asked. Bowman’s laughter was contagious and soon they were both giggling hysterically.

When the laughter finally subsided, Bowman and Ambergris investigated the chamber that the jaguar had taken as its lair. Inside, they found the small body of a young boy. In his pocket were several Belizean twenty-dollar bills and a tiny jade carving.

“Now we know what happened to Pakal Q’eqchi,” said Ambergris.

Clutched in his left hand, Pakal held a faded Mayan text.

The
Popul Vuh
.

A tear slid down Georgia Bowman’s face and fell onto the marble floor of the reading room in the Beinecke Library. Her fingers traced the edge of the Mayan text.

Engrossed in her memories, Bowman failed to notice the dark shadow that moved silently across the floor of the Beinecke Library reading room. Rain pelted against the window. Outside, the storm raged, casting jagged bolts of lightning against the earth and howling with terrible fury.