SOPHIA - Age of Intelligence

by Mike Donoghue

CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Thousand Islands region of Ontario

  “WHAT ARE YOU watching?” Simon asked Jennifer. They were both sitting in the backseat of a mid-sized sedan, which Marcus was driving down the Thousand Islands Parkway. The St. Lawrence River flowed west to east, and ran parallel to them on their left. Jennifer held her tablet with one hand, while the other scrolled from page to page.

  “Rose sent me the link to her presentation this morning.”

  “Her State of Genetics tutorial?” her father asked, without breaking eye contact with his phone. Sophia’s Integrity Assessment Display was now testing shades of yellow. Offshore cyber threats were becoming the cause of some concern.

  Jennifer smiled. “Do you remember your high-school biology, Marcus?” she playfully asked.

  Marcus glanced into his rear-view mirror. “Are you kidding me? Biology was one of my best subjects, or was that Rocket Science? I can’t remember.” Marcus smiled as Jenny and Simon laughed.

  “Awesome. We should go through this together then.”

  “Do you think it’ll revive any brain cells?” Marcus asked.

  “It might have that effect on a few of mine,” Jennifer softly said. She rested the tablet on her beige Capri pants. They complimented a yellow short-sleeved top. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, tucked through the back of a ball cap with the insignia, Cal, indicating the University of California.

  Simon leaned over toward his daughter in order to get a better look at Rose’s tutorial. “That takes me back a few years.” His light-coloured golf-like attire represented a pleasant break from his usual darker suits. Marcus appeared slightly more formal than his boss. Grey slacks were topped by a dark blue-collared shirt.

  Having flown in to the Ottawa International Airport only hours earlier, Marcus continued driving in a westerly direction, bringing the three of them closer to the Taylor summer retreat. Simon looked left out over an abundance of islands and stared past the many Canadian flags that were hung proudly along the route.

  It was Wednesday, June 30, and tomorrow’s Canada Day holiday would begin an extended weekend of celebrating. This year, America’s July 4th would fall on the up-coming Sunday. And with the world’s longest unprotected international boarder slinking its way through the many seaway islands, the next few days were destined to be filled with relaxing, spending time on the river, and watching the summer sun go down.

  “Alright, Marcus,” Jennifer stated, while scrolling back to the beginning of Rose’s presentation. “Are you ready for a refresher in Genetics?”

  “Refresher?” he quipped. “I think I need more of a system reboot than anything else.”

  “System reboot it is,” Jennifer said, playing along. “What d’ya think our e.t.a. is for the cottage?”

  “I make about twenty minutes, half an hour at the most.”

  “Ok, then let’s try and make this fit. Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Here we go … do you know how many cells there are in the human body?”

  Marcus didn’t bother glancing in his rear-view mirror this time. “I don’t know … how ‘bout a billion?”

  “How about 100 trillion,’ Jennifer responded.

  “You don’t say.”

  Simon smiled with an appreciation for Marcus’ New York accent. His pronunciation of the word billion made him think of Carl Sagan. The memory echoed pleasantly in his mind.

  “And did you know that those 100 trillion cells can be organized into about 200 different cell groups?”

  “Cell groups?” Marcus asked.

  “Yeah, you know, a cell group might be those that make up bone, cartilage, organs, tissue. Some of these cells, like skin cells, for example, they divide all the time. Others don’t divide at all.”

  “Now what about the brain cells I kill this upcoming weekend?” Marcus interjected. “Are they all goners, or is there any chance I can replace them with new ones?”

  Jennifer laughed along with her father. “Fortunately for all of us, Marcus, new research is demonstrating yes we can. So go ahead and indulge. Knock yourself out.”

  “Well,” Simon added, “I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

  After the humour of the moment dissipated, Jennifer continued to relate some of the basics in genetics as they drove on. “Now, within every cell there exists a nucleus. And within that nucleus, Marcus,” she stated, rather passionately, “is contained nothing less than what every living organism on this planet uses to store and transmit genetic information.”

  Simon couldn’t help allowing his thoughts to drift between the composer of the unfolding genetic summary and his daughter’s playful delivery thereof. Rose would be pleased with Jennifer’s enthusiasm, he thought. It reminded him of how a childhood interest in science was nurtured by his father. He wondered if he had provoked the same in Jennifer.

  Though Richard Taylor was now a semi-retired political pundit, he began his career as a science and technology reporter back in England. Simon still remembered his father using his own common sense approach when relating new technology to his television audience. While watching Jennifer leverage the same inclination for Marcus, he reflected on how poignantly the genetic disposition to do so had passed so seamlessly to his daughter.

  Jennifer continued to relate the fact that within each cell nucleus there resides forty-six chromosomes; twenty-three from each parent. “These,” she said, “comprise the structure of every DNA molecule.” While every single nucleus contains the entirety of your DNA, and a staggering three billion base pairs can be found within that helix, different sections of the strand reside on individual chromosomes. These base pairs can be further divided into genes, Marcus soon found out. He appeared interested to learn that every human possesses something in the order of twenty-three thousand genes, and even more pleased by the realization that it would take only the smallest of electrical impulses, which undoubtedly originated in his brain, to cause the muscles in his foot to push on the accelerator, thus hastening an end to the otherwise informative lecture.

  Nonetheless, he persevered. He was informed, by his fully engaged instructor, that, while the average gene contains three-thousand base pairs, (some contain over a million) one gene can control more than one phenotype. “A phenotype,” Jennifer qualified, “is a just a complicated word for the physical traits that make up an organism; like the colour of your hair, the shape of your nose, or how efficiently your metabolism converts and then commits … say a doughnut to an eternity on your butt.”

  Marcus shot a wounded look into the rear-view mirror. “What are you saying?”

  “What I’m saying is that you inherit almost all of your physical characteristics from your parents. So if there’s anyone to blame …” Jennifer turned not so subtly to her father.

  “Or thank,” Simon interjected. He purposefully tucked his green golf shirt under his belted slacks, emphasizing his slender stature.

  Marcus looked concerned. “Ok, so how many calories do you think there are in a Canadian-Maple?”

  “Well,” Simon said, chuckling. “Whatever it is, you’d better multiply that by two.”

  “And add one Boston-Cream,” Marcus admitted, contritely.

  Jennifer laughed as well. “Hey, I thought you were saving a couple for when Uncle Lionel arrives?”

  Marcus glanced at the box beside him, before asking: “Is there another Timmy’s between us and the cottage?”

  “No,” they said, almost in unison.

  “Alright, then go on about the gene stuff. I need something to take my mind off how much I want the last one in the box.” Marcus fidgeted, somewhat nervously, as if bothered by a rising internal temperature. He leaned forward and bumped up the air conditioning by one degree.

  “Alright, I’m glad you’re ready for more, because this is where it gets complicated.”

  Marcus listened intently hoping brain cells could burn calories.

  “For every gene, Marcus, there are appro
ximately four proteins. That gives us about ninety-thousand in total. These proteins carry out the instructions contained in our genes. They tell our cells what to do, how to act, the cell group to which they belong, etc. To further complicate things, proteins themselves are made up of amino acids.”

  “Ok, I’ve heard of amino acids,” Marcus interjected. “They’re like … what do they call them … the … the,”

  “The building blocks of all life,” Jennifer stated. “That’s right.” She could see that Marcus was getting more involved.

  “And if things weren’t mind-boggling enough, these amino acids form into chains called polypeptides. It says here, they often consist of more than one hundred amino acids.”

  “Ok, now you’re losing me,” Marcus admitted.

  Simon thought it was a good time to jump into the conversation. “I think what Rose is trying to demonstrate with this part of her lecture is that mapping the genome was only the first step. Figuring out how each gene is expressed in us is a very intricate process; the mathematical equations are incredibly complex.”

  Jennifer scrolled onto the next page. “It says here, that, while there are only twenty amino acids, a polypeptide chain of only five amino acids in length can have 3.2 million possible combinations.”

  “All I can say is thank God for computers like Sophia,” Marcus stated.

  Simon leaned over at Jennifer’s tablet. “I wonder how far along she is? Have you got the link to the live feed?”

  “Let me see. Yeah, here it is,” Jennifer said. “Why don’t I flip it over to the car’s sound system and see where she is.”

  It was the perfect moment for Rose to take over where Jennifer left off.

  “The best way to grasp the field of epigenetics is to relate it to the way in which every computer works,” Rose stated, her voice streaming through the car speakers. Marcus nodded his head, meditatively. Simon was all too eager to imagine his girlfriend at the front of a large lecture hall.

  Rose did, in fact, look out over a sizable audience, which varied as much in its ethnicity as it did with its familiarity with the subject matter. Her task: to bring interested U.N. members up to speed on the state of the genetics industry.

  A more informed collective would undoubtedly better understand the challenges that lay ahead. Many nations felt a worldwide regulating body was not only needed, it was long overdue. A U.N. inter-governmental panel on genetic research would be commissioned soon. Guidelines would undoubtedly follow, but this was one of the first steps in a long and laborious bureaucratic process.

  “Think of your genome as the hardware,” Rose continued, “a device given meaning through its design, yet only made purposeful by a set of commands. Your epigenome, on the other hand, is the software. It represents the instructions through which your computer, your genome discovers its relevance.”

  “Your epigenome tells your genome how to behave; it helps differentiate one cell group from another; most importantly it can turn genes on and it can turn them off.”

  After walking about on an elevated stage in a dark-blue, business suit, she momentarily stopped at a nearby podium for a sip of water. A wireless mic was concealed within a gold-leafed lapel pin.

  She continued. “How does it do this? Your epigenome is made up of chemical compounds, which are attached to your DNA helix. Now I won’t go into detail on how these chemical tags, or methyl groups, as they are called, control your genome, but suffice it to say your epigenome is the communication link between your individual cells and the world that lies beyond.

  “Subtle changes in lifestyle choices; environmental conditions to which we are exposed, these can impact your epigenome. What you eat or drink, whether you smoke, take medication, what type of pollutants you encounter throughout your life. These are just a few of the factors which scientists now agree play a role in determining the person you are.”

  Rose looked out over her audience and could see most were genuinely interested in the subject matter. She gave little concern to its demographic, though, hoping that she wasn’t the cause of tipping the scales in favour of men.

  “For decades, many believed the communication between our genome and its cytoplasm, the non-nucleus portion of our cells, was a one-way street; that the process of ‘transcription,’ or getting the message out, as it were, for a cell to be copied was unidirectional. Well, it’s not.

  “Reverse transcription is now known for the purpose it represents. It transmits messages back into the cell nucleus, which then can modify our DNA. This realization is having a profound impact on the way in which we understand the process of evolution.

  “If only two percent of our genome determines who we are, then of what use are the remaining base pairs. A growing number of geneticists now advocate that our genome is like a vast library, one where the modern, more popular books are more easily accessible than their older, archived counterparts. Some suggest our distant ancestors are still there, within us, waiting to be called upon should our environment require their adaptive capacity. This might suggest evolution is a slow and responsive process, not one of mutating in leaps and bounds. We are all well aware of how the qualities of one distant ancestor were brought back to life in order to solve one of humanity’s greatest challenges; the 2021 SARS Variant Pandemic. Will we leverage the dark regions of our DNA in the years ahead? Maybe the future will be defined by our past.”

  Rose took a deep breath before transitioning to the final phase of her lecture. “So how does this whole process relate to the regulations for which the U.N. might want to advocate? What is the present state of the art?

  “Undifferentiated (stem) cells, meaning those that have not yet specialized themselves into any given cell group, are being used for an abundance of purposes. The associated ethical debate succumbed long ago to the technological advances in the health field. We all fully aware of how neuro-degenerative diseases, diabetes, and heart disease have benefited from a realigning of the ever shifting cost/benefit paradigm.

  “What I will be attempting to bring into focus is the emerging science; the latest cutting-edge research that will undoubtedly test our cultural morays, our ability to put further advances into some sort of ethical perspective.

  “Labs in the U.S., the U.K. and now in India have been using these stem cells to grow simple tissues, cartilage, even bone for some time now. Others with less intrusive oversight, shall we say, claim to be on the cusp of deciphering the genetic signature, which instructs a single stem cell to replicate itself until it grows into an entire organ. While the benefits to those with heart and kidney disorders, for example, are obvious, pursuits in the field of, what I call, Retail Genetics, pale by comparison to those, which combine our human DNA with its synthetic counterpart, XNA. Biology and technology are about to converge. And this, my friends, is a marriage which will never be undone.”

  Rose smiled along with her U.N. counterparts, before allowing the room to become quiet.

  “Imagine if you will, a kidney never in need of dialysis, a heart without any predisposition to disease or, for that matter, ever wearing out. And if you can envision puncture resistant, even bullet-proof skin, then try to wrap your head around the eventuality of a bio-synthetic brain; an entity capable of seamlessly integrating into everything non-biological, someday, even the world-wide-web. Yes, some of these scenarios are still in their infancy, but let’s be honest with ourselves, ladies and gentlemen, the future is being designed as I speak. These are not the moral and ethical dilemmas of tomorrow … they should be confronted … today.”

  While both father and daughter’s eyes were glued to Jennifer’s tablet, and images of futuristic laboratories confirmed Rose’s testimony, they each moved subtly forward; Marcus was applying the brakes. He turned down the volume on the car’s stereo speakers. “As much as I like your girlfriend’s voice, Mr. Taylor,” he announced, “I’ll have to suggest we pick it up another time because we’re here.”

  Marcus allowed several cars to pass b
y them in the oncoming lane as Jennifer leaned forward and watched their laneway’s entryway gate open automatically. The proximity detector sensed Simon’s cell phone as they approached.

  The paved driveway wound its way downward toward a large brick and stone two-story estate house. A sizable well-manicured front lawn quickly emerged. Marcus was the first to notice a car parked off to the side. Then Simon saw his gardener stand up and wave. It was Mrs. Shields, a retired Englishwoman, who lived close by.

  One of three garage doors was likewise activated. It rose upward, slowly.

  “Do you mind if I get out here, Marcus?” Simon asked. “I’ll just take a moment to say hello to Kate.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Taylor.”

  “I think I’ll hop out here too,” Jennifer said. “I remember Mrs. Shields. I’d like to say hello as well.”

  “See you inside then.”

  After pleasantries were exchanged, and Mrs. Shields walked about the front of the house, bringing Simon up to date on the estates grounds-keeping status, Jennifer walked over to the front door of the house. She heard the lock unlatch. Pushing the door open and walking inside, she noticed the blinds scrolling up automatically. Jennifer smiled. She could almost feel Sophia’s presence.

  As the day’s temperature had risen with each hour of their journey, the air conditioning had obviously been turned on several hours ago. Jennifer’s room would already be at her own desired comfort setting. She walked in further and noticed Marcus enter the house from the garage off to her right. They both detected the subtlety of another click. The room’s stereo lit up. Marcus shook his head and smiled as well. Sophia had selected the most played song on Jennifer’s playlist, and the volume began to rise.