Pig-Heart Boy

by Malorie Blackman

  Why did he keep calling it a ‘procedure’? That word was beginning to get on my nerves. Why couldn’t he just call it an operation like any normal person?

  Mum frowned. ‘What exactly will you be testing for? I mean, is there still a chance you might change your mind?’

  ‘It is extremely unlikely. We’ve had Cameron’s notes from his doctor and from your local hospital, so I’m not anticipating anything, shall we say, untoward.’

  ‘Are the pigs at your research facility too?’ I asked.

  The doctor nodded.

  ‘Including the one whose heart I’ll get? What was her name – Trudy?’

  ‘Yes, to both questions!’

  I considered. ‘Can I meet her, please? Can I meet Trudy?’

  ‘Why on earth do you want to see the pig?’ Dad asked, astounded.

  ‘I just want to see her,’ I said.

  ‘There’s no reason for it, Cam.’ Dr Bryce’s voice was gentle but insistent. ‘Besides which Trudy and the rest of her family are kept in a controlled environment. It would take all kinds of wrangling to get you in to see her.’

  ‘If I’m going to get her heart, then I’d like to see her first,’ I persisted.

  When Dad opened his mouth to argue, I shook my head quickly. ‘No, Dad. Don’t try and talk me out of it. I want to see her, I really do. I’m not going to back out or turn into a vegan. I just want to see what I’m getting myself into. Please.’

  Dad scrutinized me, then sighed. ‘You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?’

  I nodded. We all turned to Dr Bryce, whose brows were creased in a deep frown.

  ‘Cameron, I would rather you didn’t . . .’

  ‘But I’m going to be there next week anyway, so why can’t I?’ I pointed out. ‘I’m not going to change my mind or smuggle the pig across the Yorkshire moors or anything. I promise.’

  ‘I don’t think . . .’

  ‘If he wants to see the pig, I don’t see what harm it could do,’ Mum said firmly. ‘In the light of all the things you intend to do to my son, I think granting this little request is the least you can do.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ Dad argued.

  ‘But Cameron does and, as you keep saying – this isn’t about you or me, it’s about Cameron.’

  Dr Bryce didn’t look at all happy. ‘This is against my better judgement, but all right then. I’ll see what I can do.’ Even now he looked as if he was searching for a way to get out of it.

  Mum and Dad glared at each other.

  ‘Are you really sure you want to see Trudy?’ Dr Bryce asked intently.

  I nodded. I was hardly likely to change my mind in the space of five seconds. I didn’t know why I wanted to see Trudy. If Trudy had been human . . . But she wasn’t and there was no point in speculating. Trudy was a pig. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. I couldn’t work out how I felt about it. That’s why I had to see Trudy. Maybe then my mind would clear and I’d know how to feel about it. I couldn’t think beyond that. I’d go and see the pig and take it from there.

  ‘Very well then.’ Dr Bryce stood up. ‘I have to go now but I’ll be in touch.’

  I watched Mum and Dad leave the room as they escorted Dr Bryce to the door. I could hear them whispering out in the hall but I couldn’t be bothered to eavesdrop. The whole situation was so bizarre. I wasn’t sure whether I was on my head or my heels. And what would all this do to my family? It already felt as if we were all only holding on by our fingertips. This whole business might be the extra tap on the wedge needed to drive my family apart permanently.

  I live in a house full of unhappy people, I thought sadly.

  And a pig called Trudy was meant to change all that.

  Chapter Six

  Trudy

  I looked out across the car park to the fields beyond. The fields looked like a patchwork quilt, sewn together using swatches of a host of different shades of green. Some fields were so light as to look yellow, whereas others were so dark they looked almost purple. It was beautiful. I shivered as the chill September wind tried to eat its way through my jacket but I didn’t really mind. The fields, the sky, the hedges, even the car park – they all spelt life and hope. We’d had to change trains twice to get to Beaconsridge Station. And if ever a place looked like the middle of nowhere, then this was it. I wondered what the people who lived in Beaconsridge did for fun.

  ‘This is ridiculous. How much longer are we going to have to wait?’

  I sighed inwardly as I looked at my mum. For the last four days, ever since Dr Bryce had come to see us, Mum hadn’t opened her mouth except to snap or complain. I knew that she was upset about the whole situation, but truth to tell, she was getting on my nerves. And from the look on Dad’s face, I could see he felt exactly the same as me. He had tried to parry every complaint with a joke or a smile, but now his smile was beginning to wear thin.

  ‘We’ve only been waiting fifteen minutes,’ he soothed.

  ‘Dr Bryce said we’d be met off the train. The train left twenty minutes ago. I’m not going to stand out here in the freezing cold for much longer,’ Mum said sharply.

  ‘Shall we stand inside by the ticket office then?’ Dad suggested.

  ‘That’s not the point. Maybe we should just get on the next train back home,’ said Mum.

  ‘Cathy, for goodness’ sake . . .’

  ‘Mum, Dad, I think this might be him.’ I pointed to the first car I could see that was coming our way.

  I didn’t want to listen to another argument. Not here. Not now. For heaven’s sake! I was nervous enough as it was. The car I pointed to drove by. But the van behind it pulled onto the station forecourt and drove up to us.

  Please let this be Dr Bryce. Please, I wished silently.

  The driver pulled up alongside us and turned off her engine. She leaned across the empty passenger seat and wound down the window. It wasn’t Dr Bryce. It was some woman I’d never seen before. She had dancing dark-brown eyes, framed by a serious, studious face. Her black hair was pulled back into a pony-tail and she wore a white overall.

  ‘Cameron Kelsey?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nodded eagerly.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Kelsey?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dad replied.

  ‘Who else would we be?’ Mum muttered.

  ‘Hi, I’m Dr Janice Ehrlich. I’m Dr Bryce’s assistant. Sorry I’m late.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ I said quickly. I didn’t want Mum voicing her opinion about the doctor’s punctuality.

  Dr Ehrlich smiled. ‘Hop in the back and we’ll get going.’

  I walked towards her, followed by Mum and Dad. When I saw inside of the MPV I was amazed. Comfortable wasn’t the word. It was sumptuous. Two sets of black leather seats had been placed to face each other with a small, retractable central console in the middle of each one. Each console had been pushed down to display snacks and a couple of bottles of soft drinks. There was a glass panel between the driver’s and the front passenger’s seats and those in the back. And the glass was tinted, as were the other windows in the back. No one from outside stood a chance of seeing the MPV’s passengers. A quick examination of the display panel in the roof of the car above each back seat showed they could be used to set the lighting in the back, talk to the driver, even play music. What a car! I wanted one!

  ‘What’s with the tinted windows? Dr Bryce isn’t taking any chances, is he?’ Mum sniffed.

  ‘All guests who come to our research centre have to travel in one of our company MPVs. It’s a safety precaution. I hope you don’t mind,’ Dr Ehrlich said.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ sniffed Mum. ‘But I’ll get in anyway.’

  We all got in the back of the car. Mum and I sat on one side, Dad sat opposite. Whilst we fastened our seat belts, the door slid almost silently shut.

  ‘Is all this cloak and dagger stuff really necessary?’ Mum asked no one in particular.

  Dad shrugged. ‘They obviously think so.’

  The MPV began
to move. I turned to look out of the windows. We pulled out of the station forecourt then turned right. Due to the tinted glass, the sky, the buildings, even the odd person we saw along the way had all taken on a dark grey tinge. I reached up to press the button to switch on the light on my side of the car. I thought the light would help make the back of the MPV seem less shadowy and sombre. It didn’t. The yellow light cast from overhead was pale and sickly. Mum, Dad and I sat in an uneasy silence as the car travelled on.

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ Mum muttered. ‘Anyone would think this was Mission Impossible or something.’

  Dad and I tittered and even Mum smiled, but it didn’t last long. And still the car kept moving. Mum glanced down at her watch. I did the same. Forty minutes had passed. Mum reached up to press the button on the intercom above her head.

  ‘How much longer before we get there?’ Mum asked, irritation lending an edge to her voice.

  ‘Not much longer now, Mrs Kelsey,’ Dr Ehrlich's cheerful voice rang out. ‘Another two kilometres and we’re there.’

  With a huff of frustrated indignation, Mum took her finger off the intercom button. A few minutes later, the MPV came to a gentle stop. The doors on both sides of the car slid open. The sudden change in light made me blink rapidly. Dr Ehrlich hopped out first. I undid my seat belt and hopped out, feeling the uneven bump of the gravel beneath my feet.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Mum as she descended from the car with Dad’s help.

  ‘Here we are. Safe and sound.’

  Mum and Dad exchanged a glance. I knew what they were thinking because I was thinking it too. Dr Ehrlich’s constant cheery manner was beginning to get a bit wearing. I took a good look around. Green field after green field rolled away from us in every direction. The only relief to the landscape came from the darker green of the hedges that marked the perimeter of some of the fields. The fields reached out to the horizon. The only building in sight was the building directly behind us. I turned to give it a closer look. It was huge, like an old school building. The two security guards who stood outside the entrance to the building eyed our group speculatively.

  ‘This way.’ Dr Ehrlich strode towards the entrance, beckoning to us as she went. Mum and Dad led the way, followed by me.

  Entering the building was like entering another world. What had looked like an old school building from the outside was like something from a science fiction film on the inside. The reception area was completely enclosed by glass walls. There were a number of solid wooden doors beyond the glass walls, but each door was protected and controlled by an electronic keypad. The reception area was bright and airy with plenty of plants, each of which was at least a metre and a half high. Two burly men in uniforms sat at the reception desk. They were all smiles when they caught sight of Dr Ehrlich.

  ‘Hello, Janice. You made good time,’ said one of the men.

  ‘You know me,’ Dr Ehrlich replied. ‘I don’t hang about!’ She turned to my parents. ‘You’ll have to sign in, I’m afraid. You too, Cameron. Or should I call you Cam?’

  I shrugged. ‘Whatever. I don’t mind.’

  As we all signed our names in the visitors book, the man who had joked with Dr Ehrlich smiled at my dad and said, ‘D’you know the real reason why we black out all the windows of the van? It’s so you won’t see Janice’s terrible driving!’

  ‘Thanks a lot, Chris!’ Dr Ehrlich said indignantly. But the smile in her eyes showed that she’d heard it all before and didn’t mind his teasing.

  She walked over to the reception door which led to the rest of the building and placed the pass hanging from a chain around her neck against a black control pad with a flashing red light. The door clicked open immediately.

  ‘This way. This way.’ Dr Ehrlich waved us on through the door. Walking briskly around us, she led the way through another security door, then down a long corridor with closed doors on either side of it.

  ‘Dr Bryce asked me to show you around our lab before you see Trudy and the others. He’ll meet us at the pens.’ Dr Ehrlich opened a door about halfway down the long corridor.

  We entered a large, square room with long benches and tables covered with test-tubes and burners and centrifuges and PCs and a lot more equipment that looked very scientific, but I didn’t have the first clue what any of it was used for.

  ‘This is one of our labs which deals with perfusion.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked, hoping fervently that Dr Ehrlich wasn’t going to use jargon that would whiz straight over my head! I didn’t want to be blinded with science and words I’d never heard before.

  ‘In this context perfusion is the process of passing blood through an organ or tissue – in this case the heart,’ she explained.

  I looked around with interest. ‘What’s that?’

  Suspended in a tank, attached to a number of tubes, was a beating heart. I walked over to it immediately. I’d seen pictures of healthy hearts beating. Healthy hearts were very red and beat with a strong, regular rhythm. This heart was in trouble. It was almost black and its beat was erratic and irregular.

  ‘That’s a normal pig’s heart being flushed with human blood. We’re trying to simulate a transplant operation using the heart from a non-genetically treated pig.’

  ‘It’s not going very well, is it?’ I said.

  ‘No, but we know why. As I said, this is an untreated, normal pig’s heart. It can’t absorb any of the oxygen from the blood It’s pumping. This heart will stop beating within an hour at most. What we’re doing is analysing the process at every second to compare it to the heart of a genetically altered pig pumping human blood. It’s an experiment for comparison.’

  ‘How long will the heart of a genetically altered pig beat for under the same circumstances?’ Mum asked.

  ‘So far, the longest time has been eight months.’

  ‘That’s not very long,’ Mum said quietly.

  Dad looked at her and glanced away again.

  ‘Ah yes, but that heart hadn’t been treated with our new anti-rejection therapy. We made a breakthrough several years ago. Dr Bryce has discovered a complement blocker which would—’

  ‘A what?’ I interrupted.

  ‘Sorry.’ Dr Ehrlich smiled. ‘It’s like this. The major problem with any transplant surgery is the human body rejecting the transplanted organ. There’s one particular part of the immune system that’s most responsible for attacking transplanted organs. It’s a protein known as complement. Complement is produced by the liver and what it does is destroy any alien cells it might find in the body by punching a hole in them. Complement is like a battalion of soldiers who never sleep. They whiz around the body on a search-and-destroy mission.’

  ‘How does this complement stuff know which ones are alien cells and which ones aren’t?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s a very good question. Well, your body prevents itself from being attacked by its own complement by placing molecular markers on the . . .’

  At my blank look, Dr Ehrlich shook her head ruefully. ‘Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself again, aren’t I? Basically, your body has a way of placing special markers on its own cells to let the complement know that those cells aren’t to be touched. It’s like telling the complement that the cells are on its side. What Dr Bryce has done is find a way to add these same markers to the DNA of the pigs we keep. That’s why Trudy is our best bet for this operation. Her heart is perfect!’

  ‘But isn’t all this a case of fools rushing in where angels fear to tread?’ Mum asked.

  ‘I don’t understand . . .’ Dr Ehrlich frowned.

  ‘All this . . . genetic engineering. I mean, you scientists are sailing full steam ahead into areas you know nothing about.’

  ‘Mum, it’s all right. This isn’t Jurassic Park!’ I said, more to lighten the tension that crackled from Mum than for any other reason.

  ‘But that’s exactly my point,’ said Mum. ‘It’s a similar idea, isn’t it? None of you doctors and scientists know exactly what
you’re letting the rest of us in for.’

  ‘Mrs Kelsey, I can assure you—’

  ‘But that’s just it. You can’t. And neither can Dr Bryce. He made it very clear that there are no guarantees. I read somewhere that there have been cases of . . . super mice! Mice that were injected with the DNA of a rat and grew to an abnormally large size.’

  I looked at Mum in surprise. Where had she read that?

  ‘But I also read that they tried to breed super pigs and the poor pigs ended up blind, diseased or much too heavy for their own legs to support them. How d’you know that what you’re doing now won’t have repercussions further down the line? How can you be sure of what you’re doing? How d’you know that some defect in these pigs won’t appear maybe five or ten or fifty years later on? And what about the possible diseases that pigs may carry? There may be diseases that a pig can take in its stride which would be lethal to us humans. I read that a number of scientists now believe AIDS originated in monkeys and somehow jumped across the species barrier to us humans. And what about BSE? We now know that mad-cow disease can infect humans as Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. And what about the flu? I read that every few years a new strain of the flu appears because it mutates in pigs and ducks and then we humans suffer the consequences. So how d’you know you won’t be importing a retro-virus into my son when you put a pig’s heart in his body?’

  I stared at Mum. This was the first time I’d heard any of this.

  ‘You’re not the only one who looks things up on the Internet,’ Mum told me, her tone defensive.

  ‘All I can say is we’re doing our best to make sure that we tackle or are at least aware of every potential problem,’ said Dr Ehrlich.

  ‘But as you said – you can’t guarantee it.’

  For the first time since we’d met her, Dr Ehrlich wasn’t smiling. ‘No, we can’t.’

  Mum nodded slowly. ‘That’s what I thought.’