The Miracle Strain (3 page)

Two miles northeast, beyond the university sprawl of Harvard, the campus of GENIUS Biotech Diagnostics was quiet. Most of the employees at the GENIUS head office didn't work on Saturday, and certainly not in the evening. Indeed, apart from the halogen security lamps that allowed the CCTV cameras to survey the rectangular protein factories on the eastern perimeter, most of the campus was in darkness.

A few lights were visible in the vast pyramid of photo-sensitive glass that dominated the site, and served as the global headquarters of the world's largest genetics company. But not on the top floor, which housed the commercial departments, the boardroom, and most of the directors' offices, including Jack Nichols's. One light could be seen in the laboratories on the two middle levels. The only glow on the ground floor came from the reception atrium, and Jasmine Washington's deserted Information Technology Section, which continuously processed data from GENIUS subsidiaries around the world. As happened prior to Christmas the small ward in the Hospital Suite on the ground floor was empty and in darkness.

At the time Tom Carter and Jasmine Washington were attending Olivia's wake there was no human presence on the GENIUS campus, save the two guards in the main gatehouse and the two who manned the CCTV monitors in the atrium of the pyramid.

However, on the second floor of the glass pyramid, in one section of the Mendel Laboratory Suite, a mind was at work. This mind belonged to an entity called DAN, so named by one of its creators from a simple anagram of the acronym for deoxyribonucleic acid: DNA.

In 1990, based on conferences held in the eighties, the most significant scientific undertaking since the Apollo space program was initiated: the Human Genome Project. Its objective was simple: to identify each and every one of the hundred thousand or so genes that form the blueprint of a human being, by decoding the three billion letters of genetic program in mankind's DNA. Initially led by James Watson, the co-discoverer of the structure of DNA, the Human Genome Project spanned the globe, with scientists of all nationalities showing an unprecedented level of cooperation. But by the mid-nineties, despite making major progress, rival groups began to patent the genes they found, and the vital spirit of cooperation broke down.

In early 1989 Dr. Tom Carter had independently developed the concept of an instrument, half computer and half microscope, that could read DNA straight from the chromosomes in a body cell--much in the same way a checkout scanner reads a bar code. He had perfected the theoretical process by early 1990, but needed more computer power than currently existed to make his concept a reality. In that same year while delivering a lecture at Stanford he had met a young computer sciences student obsessed with protein-based processors. That student was Jasmine Washington. Within nine years they had created the Genescope, and succeeded where the world's scientists had failed, identifying the location and function of each and every one of the 99,966 genes that specify a human being.

One of these Genescopes now emitted a low grumbling noise as its "eye" scanned the three billion letters in the sentence of DNA it was decoding:

"ATG-AAC-GAT-ACG-CTA-TCA..." read the "eye."

DAN, like all the Genescopes at GENIUS HQ, and the more advanced GENIUS Processing Laboratories around the world, was a fourth-generation version. More than adequate for scanning up to fifty samples at one time. However, this evening it was concentrating on one particular body cell.

Small colored lights, the size of cat's eyes, blinked intermittently on the black sweeping neck that housed the laser-guided electron microscope, or "smart eye." They signaled that the highresolution lens was shifting its scrutiny and focus from one magnetized stretch of DNA to another--reading the encoded genes like a multicolored bar code.

The rumbling sound came from the ovoid black box that formed the body of the swanlike instrument. This contained the Genescope's "brain": a seventh-generation bio-computer so powerful it was a "virtual mind," mimicking the neural networks of the human brain. It was literally alive, using a primitive photoresponsive protein, bacteriorhodopsin, which made the logic gates infinitely faster and more robust than microchips. The processing unit could operate a thousand times more quickly than its most advanced electronic rival. As DAN rumbled on, its "virtual mind" was deciphering the data being sent to it by the "smart eye" above--translating the genetic program of one of the organisms that created it. A human.

DAN was one of six in the Genescope facility at the back of the Mendel Suite of laboratories. Along one wall of the facility were eight workstations. Each gleaming white surface was spotless.

Save one.

Here a spent plastic cartridge lay next to a portable microscope, and a pipette stood discarded by a bath of magnetized fluorescent dye and agarose. Nearby, a battery of small Eppendorf tubes rested alongside a glass beaker of water and a cheek swab of saliva on a glass slide--the debris left from a hastily prepared gene scan sample.

The prepping process was standard practice. First, a sample of genetic material had to be obtained: a hair follicle or cheek swab was adequate. A body cell was then isolated under the microscope before being placed in an Eppendorf tube and steeped in a fluorescent magnetized gel. This highlighted the cell's twenty-three pairs of chromosomes, and dyed each of the four nucleotide bases in the DNA a different color. Finally, the dyed cell was sealed in a bio-sterile cartridge and placed in the breast of the brooding, six-foot black swan: the Genescope that even now was awake, alert, concentrating.

"CAT-ACG-TAG-GAC..." DAN's "smart eye" read off the spiral ladder of DNA coiled in the cell's twenty-three pairs of chromosomes; picking off the different colors of the nucleotide bases that formed the rungs; sending the information down its long neck to its brain. DAN's brain continued to check the order of the letters--each one representing a base: cytosine, adenine, guanine, thymine--and read the genes formed by them. DAN constantly referred to its evolving database and neural net to determine the chain of amino acids being coded for by each gene--ascertaining which amino acids were in the chain, as well as how many and in what order. The "virtual mind," always learning, could then determine which protein would be created.

Proteins are the building blocks of life. Through them genes instruct every physiological change in an organism, determining which cells form which organs, deciding how cells should divide and die. Through them our genes make hair grow, make stomachs digest food, produce tears and saliva, even decree our natural "death day" as surely as our birthday.

DAN, who was now rumbling so ominously at the end of the facility, was reading the genetic inheritance of the human's cell sample in its sterile chamber: identifying every physical characteristic from color of eyes to shape of nose; highlighting every strength, from intelligence to ath leticism; predicting every disease from cystic fibrosis to cancer. The Genescope was checking for any defects outside the normal tolerances. Making sure there were no spelling mistakes that could corrupt this human's sentence of life.

Suddenly the tone of its rumbling changed and the cat's-eye lights on its neck went out one by one, until only the red standby light remained. The Genescope had completed its task. It had translated all three billion letters of this particular human's genome, checking each and every one of her 99,966 genes.

In a matter of hours the Genescope had decoded the genetic sentence of life that defined the human organism known as Holly Carter, and in so doing had read her death sentence.

Two hours and thirty-six minutes later the wake was over. Tom Carter had put Holly to bed and now found himself driving Jasmine Washington into the GENIUS campus. The guards in the gatehouse waved him through, just as the headlights of his vintage Mercedes SEL picked up the chrome letters on the black corporate sign:

GENIUS BIOTECH DIAGNOSTICS

Your Genes. Your Future. Your Choice.

Driving up the frosty drive, he passed the silhouettes of the protein shed to his right and the small fountain in the center of the lawns. Ahead of him the pyramid loomed large. Ignoring the underground parking lot, he pulled up by the main door.

"You still want to go through with this, don't you?" said Jasmine beside him. "Jeez, Tom, for a smart guy, you can be really stupid."

He turned off the ignition. "You still don't understand. This isn't something I want to do. Christ, it's the last thing I want to do, but I've got to do it. You don't have to come with me, Jazz."

"Yeah, right." Jasmine gave a weary sigh, getting out of the car and slamming the heavy door behind her. "I still don't see--"

"I've told you, Jazz. The glioblastoma multiforme they found in Olivia's brain wasn't that different from my mother's astrocytoma."

"Okay, so Olivia had a brain tumor, but she's dead now, and nothing you can do will bring her back."

Tom shook his head, too tired and numb to argue. Jasmine was brilliant but hated ambiguity. Everything was either black or white, right or wrong--like the binary code that formed the basis of most of her computer language. Even her illogical faith in God was an irrefutable fact as far as she was concerned. Walking to the main glass doors, Tom placed a hand on the DNA sensor and waited for the hiss as the doors identified him and opened.

"At least what happened meant Olivia didn't suffer for long," Jasmine said behind him, her voice softer now.

Tom nodded at the two guards and walked across the marble floor, past the IT Section to the bank of glass-fronted elevators. "But, Jazz, that's the whole point," he said. "I don't want to see Holly suffer in the same way my mother did, and Olivia would have done. Don't you see? We now know that those brain cancers have a complex genetic component. I ducked the bullets which killed Olivia. And I've ducked the genes that contributed to my mother's cancer, because of the healthy set I inherited from my father. But Holly might have inherited a defective set of genes from Olivia and a bad set from my mother---via me. If she has, then I need to know."

Jasmine fell silent as Tom walked into the elevator and pressed button number 2. The doors closed and as the elevator soared silently past the mezzanine level to the next floor, he watched the atrium and the guards shrink below him. In the quiet he could hear Jasmine's breathing.

She started to say something, then seemed to think better of it.

"Go on," said Tom. "Ask it!"

"Okay. What if Holly has inherited the defective genes? What can you do about it?"

The elevator door opened and Tom stepped out into the corridor that led to a secure chrome-and-glass door with the legend MENDEL LABORATORY SUITE--AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY etched into it. Putting his hand into the DNA sensor, he waited for the door to recognize him.

"A gene therapy cure's about five years away. I'll make damn sure it's no longer," he said. "So if Holly does have a susceptibility and it surfaces in her thirties, like her mother and grandmother, then she should be okay."

The door hissed open and they both stepped through. Lights flickered on automatically as the sensors detected their presence. The tungsten bulbs gave the impression of natural daylight as they walked past the large cryopreserve bank where live tumor samples were stored at temperatures of-180 degrees Celsius. The empty laboratory looked eerie with nobody sitting at any of the workbenches: a pristine sea of white, chrome, and glass. The only sound came from some of the instruments in the center of the workbenches and the low hum of the air conditioning system. Tom strained his ears for the growling sound of DAN, but of course he knew it would be silent by now--its task complete. He could see the doorway to the facility at the far right of the main lab and felt his stomach contract. He had run the test countless times before, but never on someone close to him with a suspected lethal defect.

"But what happens if the prediction's earlier, Tom? Before the five years?"

He couldn't answer that. Tom pulled open the door to the Genescope facility, revealing the six towering black swans that seemed to look down on him with malevolent pity. "Come on!" he said. "Let's see what DAN has to tell us."

Jasmine loved the Genescopes. They were her children. It had been this instrument that had transformed GENIUS from a progressive but medium-size biotech company into a world leader.

The Genescope was so advanced when it had been launched just over three years ago that rival companies had paid to use it rather than lag behind trying to create their own. Jack Nichols had used all his marketing and venture capital skills to ensure that the instruments were quickly licensed around the world through GENIUS-approved laboratories. As Jack liked to say, sending in a tissue sample for gene scanning was now as easy as "sending in a film to Kodak." Genescopes had become the gold standard for reading human software, and only last year Time magazine had called Tom Carter "the Bill Gates of genetics."

The Genescopes' power was so awesome that even Jack was wary of them. On more than one occasion Jasmine had heard him laugh nervously and say: "No fucking robot's going to tell me my expiration date." Always out of earshot of clients of course.

Jasmine had been one of the first to run the test on herself. She hadn't felt particularly scared, but she had been relieved to discover there were no inherited killers waiting in her near future. But now as she followed Tom past the battery of Genescopes she understood Jack's fear. There was something deeply unsettling about a machine that knew more than you, about you. And tonight, she was frightened of what one of her children might tell her about Holly.

She took a seat next to DAN at the far end of the facility. She could hear a slight hum coming from the round body. The monitor on the desk next to it was dark.

She looked over at Tom. "You sure you want to do this?"

He gave her a tight smile and nodded.

"DAN," she said into the microphone on the black neck. Not everyone liked the name she had coined, but it had stuck and now they all called the Genescopes DAN.

Like eyes opening, the lights on the neck and the three white lights on the ovoid body came on. Then the hum shifted to a rumbling growl.

"Give me vision," she ordered.

"DAN, I'm here too," said Tom.

Suddenly the monitor lit up showing the GENIUS logo of a lightbulb encircled by the spiraling coils of DNA. Beneath it was the corporate motto: YOUR GENES. YOUR FUTURE. YOUR CHOICE.

"Please select menu," said DAN in a droning monotone, its memory recognizing the voices of its creators. Jasmine had wanted to give DAN a beautifully modulated voice--the technology existed to give the machine any voice they liked. But Tom and Jack had both preferred the unnerving machine to speak in its robotic monotone. Perhaps it helped reassure them that despite the bio-computer's organic construction the powerful Genescope was still just that: a computer.

"Give me the results menu," said Tom. Jasmine could see his words appear as copy in the top part of the monitor, verifying that they were being received correctly.

"What is the subject's name?" requested the polite monotone.

"Holly Carter." Tom enunciated his daughter's name clearly.

"Subject found. Please choose between the options highlightedon the screen: Topline Findings. Analysis by Chromosome. OrDetail Gene Search."

"Topline findings, please."

"Certainly, Tom." The PACT menu appeared on the screen as DAN talked them both through it. " You are now in the PACTmenu. The Profile selection offers you a general description of thesubject based on his or her DNA: color of hair, skin color, eyes,height, etc. The Assets selection highlights top quartile strengthsversus standard genome. For example, immunities to disease, intelligence. The Concerns selection shows bottom quartile liabilitiesor susceptibilities to non-life-threatening diseases. Threats highlights life-threatening defects and is protected against unauthorizedaccess. Please make your selection."

Tom ignored the first three categories. "Give me Threats, DAN."

"Personal password, please?"

"Discovery."

"Thank you, Tom. To release Threats results I need second authorized password, please."

Jasmine sighed her reluctance before saying: "Tree of knowledge."

"Thank you, Jasmine. Are you sure you want to go into Threats? Yes or No?"

A pause.

Jasmine looked closely at her friend. Indecision was in his eyes and she could sense his urge to rush out of there and take Holly as far away as possible from the Genescope and its secrets.

"No!" She heard her own voice cut through the motionless air.

"What?" exclaimed Tom.

The lights on the Genescope blinked and the growl changed pitch for a moment.

Tom turned to her; he looked half angry and half relieved. "What the hell are you doing?"

"C'mon, Tom," she pleaded. "Stop this now. It's not too late."

"Please confirm response." said DAN, its deadpan delivery unfazed.

Another pause. The results just a syllable away. She saw Tom glance uncertainly at her, then back to DAN.

"Yes," said Tom eventually, his voice barely a whisper. "Show me Threats."

Jasmine shook her head and studied the image on the screen. DAN's grumble accelerated and then three numbers appeared on the monitor: 9, 10, and 17.

Something was wrong. The very fact that there were numbers on the screen told her that there were dangerous genetic defects in Holly's genome. Each number represented a chromosome on which errors lay.

"Serious coding errors exist on chromosomes 9, 10, and 17," said DAN.

Tom looked pale when he demanded, "Show me 17 first."

"Certainly, Tom." The screen changed again and what looked like a multicolored spiral ladder appeared. This was a graphic representation of the dyed double helix of DNA. The heading "Chromosome 17" topped the screen. Beside the spiral ladder were two blocks of letters formed into triples, one depicting a stretch of code from Holly's genetic sequence and the other the comparable stretch from the national "standard" healthy human genome. A cursor, like a spotlight, appeared next, moving across the screen before zeroing in on a section of the rungs on the spiral ladder.

"Defect evident in p53 tumor suppressor gene on chromosome 17. Maternal copy corrupted and paternal copy prone to mutation," informed DAN. The screen cursor followed its words, pointing at the mismatched base pairs on the rungs of the ladder, then highlighting the incorrect letters of code in the maternal copy of Holly's genome.

CAT-ACG-TAG-GAC, it read, the highlighted defects clearly visible.

"What does the p53 gene do again?" asked Jasmine anxiously, more familiar with the workings of DAN than its results.

"It helps repair damaged DNA. A mutated p53 gene is the major precursor of clonal evolution. The process that leads to cancer. But this gene alone doesn't necessarily mean Holly will get the disease. Plenty of genes are involved in this cancer; that's why it's so goddamned hard to cure. To get it definitely she has to have inherited a particular combination of defective genes on both her paternal and maternal chromosomes."

"So she could still be okay? Yeah?"

Before Tom could answer, the screen shifted to another section of the spiral ladder. This time the heading read: "Chromosome 9."

"Cluster of genes vulnerable on chromosome 9. Paternal setcorrupted. Maternal set missing--cer6 and cer14 at risk--inf19and inf27 contain reverse code defect."

Jasmine didn't need to look at Tom's ashen face to know this was bad. But before she could consider the implications DAN shifted the screen image again. "Chromosome 10" was the new heading. The Genescope was remorseless in its diagnosis--no tact evident in its toneless revelations.