by JC Ryan
Mackenzie answered, “I sincerely hope so. I was so encouraged when Liu found the schematics for the respirocyte generator nanobot. That put us months ahead of our projected timeline. And then when we had to use that desperate experiment to find our children, and it actually worked… Well, I guess I don’t have to tell you that I thought a breakthrough was possible this year.”
“It still is, Mackenzie. Let’s think positively. When will you know?”
“What we’ll be looking for is the area of the rat’s brain where the missing nanobot lodged, if indeed it’s even in the brain. How much do you know about brain function?” Mackenzie asked.
“I know mine doesn’t function before my first cup of coffee in the morning,” Irene quipped.
Mackenzie laughed. “I hope you’ve had yours today, then, because you’re about to get a crash course, though it will be oversimplified. So, here’s how what we’re concerned about works. In humans and other primates, social behavior, among other things, is controlled by the prefrontal cortex.” She tapped her forehead. “That’s the bulge in the brain right behind here. It is a structural feature of our brains that controls function. Are you with me?”
Irene smiled. “I think so. That’s why they used to perform prefrontal lobotomies for certain mental issues.”
“Yes, well. That’s for another discussion. Getting back to rats and other non-primates. There has been scientific debate over whether they have a structure comparable to the PFC, the prefrontal cortex. Because they don’t have the physical structure that we do. If they did, they’d look like that cartoon character evil genius rat, with the high forehead. But because they seem to have some of the functions, for example, altruistic social behavior, quite a bit of study has gone into what brain structures in rats mediate those functions that are controlled in primates by the PFC.”
“I get it. Where in the brains of rats do their social behaviors originate, or where are they controlled? Yes?” Irene summarized.
“Precisely. And the answer seems to be the function is divided among several structures, chiefly the anterior cingulate cortex and the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex. The ACC is responsible for motor control, perhaps cognition, and a relationship with the arousal or drive state of the animal. The DL-PFC isn’t an anatomical structure at all, but a functional one. And its function in rats seems to be associated with rats’ medial PFC.”
“Wait… What’s the medial… Actually, never mind. You can draw me a picture later. So, what’s the bottom line?”
“Bottom line, we expect... No, that’s wrong. We hope to find the missing nanobot lodged in either the ACC or preferably the medial PFC. The latter would strongly suggest that the first subject’s antisocial disorder was caused by irritation or blood clotting in the anatomical structure we believe responsible for social rule encoding. The former would suggest it originates in the area responsible for decision-making in situations where cognitive conflict arises.” Mackenzie got up to find a book in her library. “Here. This shows a rat’s brain, compared to a human’s.”
Irene looked closely. “Okay. I think I get it. So, it isn’t our minds that control our socialization, but our brains.”
“Well, there you are getting into an area where medicine becomes philosophy. No one actually knows how consciousness – what we call our minds – arises. Whole different subject.”
“Gotcha. So, back to my question. How long will it be before you know for sure?” Irene repeated.
“For sure? Maybe months. But enough to make the decision whether to immediately remove the nanobots from Carter and Sean, as soon as the slides have been examined. I believe he intends to start with those from the medial PFC, then the ACC, and then if he doesn’t find it there, he’ll examine the rest of the brain. If it isn’t anywhere in the brain, we’ll have to remove them from the guys as a precautionary measure, until we can inject more rats and develop a statistical profile.” Mackenzie rubbed her head. She recognized her own gesture as a subconscious desire not to have that conversation with Carter.
“Let’s hope they find it in the medium PFC, then,” Irene said.
“Medial,” Mackenzie corrected automatically. Then she apologized. “Sorry. You aren’t one of my students.”
“No, it’s all right. Medial.”
An ugly suspicion she didn’t want to voice slipped into Mackenzie’s mind. “Irene, why are you so interested in the mechanics? Are you here on DARPA’s behalf?”
Irene’s expression wavered between surprise and hurt. “What? No! You and Carter are like family to me, Mackenzie, not just employees, but dear, dear friends. And Sean, Dylan, all the EA guys I know are friends as well, not just colleagues. I’m concerned about them.”
Mackenzie apologized immediately. She wouldn’t use the excuse of stress, though she had that in plenty. But Irene went on.
“I’m going to put that down to stress, ‘Kenzie. I know it’s been tremendous for you. Have you considered taking a real break?”
“I can’t. Not when we’re so close. But thank you for understanding. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Mackenzie said, ignoring the new nickname. If she let that take hold, she wouldn’t know what to answer to before long, Mackie, Sunhead, or ‘Kenzie.
“I do understand DARPA’s position, though,” Irene continued. “The world has become a very dangerous place, and for the first time in history there’s a serious threat on our turf. Your research could make an incredible difference in our favor.”
“And that would present us with a different ethical dilemma. You know I started this research because of its promise for medicine. To make a difference in our favor, it would have to be kept secret. Once its benefits were proven and its existence known – I mean a practical, working solution, not just theory – it wouldn’t take long for our enemies to reverse-engineer it.” Mackenzie leaned forward to emphasize her seriousness.
“And what’s wrong with it being secret?” Irene asked mildly.
“That would mean withholding it from people whose lives could be saved.”
“Just a few minutes ago, you were worried about the world becoming overpopulated because of it. Now you want to save people who would die without it. Your positions are inconsistent, Mackenzie.”
“Did you ever take an ethics class in college, Irene? Do you remember the impossible situations they put up for discussion? The sinking lifeboat, where one person’s sacrifice meant the others would live? How do you choose? Or how about this…a maniac is using a little girl for a human shield while spraying a crowd with an automatic weapon. The only way to stop the carnage is to shoot him through the little girl. What’s the answer? Let dozens of people die because you can’t shoot the child? The use of this technology comes down to the same kind of ethical dilemma.” Mackenzie had risen from her chair again, and was pacing back and forth in her office, her face the picture of misery. “I only wanted to do something good for humanity. And now I’m not sure if I should even continue the research.”
Irene got up and caught the younger woman in her arms. “Mackenzie, honey. You’re working yourself into a frenzy. You don’t have to solve these issues yourself. We’re here for you, Carter, me, Sean, and I’d be willing to bet POTUS will want to be involved. Stop thinking for a moment before you give yourself a nervous breakdown.”
Mackenzie nodded, and to her surprise, burst into tears. “I’m so torn about Carter!”
“It will all work out,” Irene assured her.
As if on cue, the veterinarian ran into the office at that moment, yelling, “I found it!”
Mackenzie’s mood lifted instantly as she remembered the picture Dylan had painted of Liu dancing around in the wee hours of that morning a few weeks ago, yelling “Eureka!” The vet was grinning from ear to ear, and she grasped immediately that it was good news.
“Tell us!” she urged.
“It was in the medial PFC,” he said in a rush. “Lodged along a primary neural pathway. It must have confused the hell out of poor Methusela
h. But I’m confident it’s what caused the antisocial behavior.”
Both women sighed in relief. “Wow,” Irene said. “I had no idea it would be so dramatic!”
Mackenzie wiped a lingering tear from her cheek, drawing a fleeting frown of concern from the veterinarian. “What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She waved him off. “That’s great news! What do you propose as a confirmatory study?”
“I’ll inject several more of the rats of both genders with the nanobots and observe their behavior. We should see the antisocial tendencies almost immediately if I’m wrong. I’d like to keep the second subject alive to see if his disappear now that Methuselah’s behavior won’t be a trigger.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” Mackenzie answered. “I’d like you to confer with the doctor and come up with an opinion on whether it’s safe to leave the nanobots in my husband and his colleague for now. Can you have an answer for me by end of day?”
“I think so. Even if it’s ‘we can’t decide’, I’ll report back by then.”
“Thank you. And good job,” she praised.
He left her office whistling a jaunty tune, and Mackenzie turned to Irene. “Looks like I was a baby for nothing,” she said sheepishly.
“Not at all,” Irene assured her. “It had to have been nerve-wracking to let Carter do it in the first place. Which reminds me, I have other news. I know Carter saved some of his debriefing information for us. Specifically, the information he got from Bashar about the experimentation that was done on him. I’ve had a report from the Greeks that Bashar’s autopsy revealed some unusually large red blood cells. Would you like to have the report?”
“Need you ask? Of course! Even more, I’d like some of the samples,” Mackenzie said.
“I thought you might say that. Consider it done. Do you think Algosaibi had the same information Liu discovered?”
“No, I don’t. But there are often many paths to the same destination. From what Carter has told me, it seems Algosaibi was experimenting with DNA splicing,” Mackenzie said. “But if I can examine some of the samples for myself, say, brain, lung, and blood, maybe I can figure out what was done to him. You know, I almost feel sorry for him,” Mackenzie added.
Irene was incredulous. “Sorry for him! A serial killer! The man who kidnapped your children and would have killed them?”
Mackenzie nodded. “I know. And we may never understand it completely, but what if the same experiments that gave him his super strength and athletic ability also robbed him of his humanity? He was not to blame for being a victim of the Nabateans. In a way, it’s like Methuselah’s antisocial behavior, only on a human scale.”
“You’d better hope not, because now you’re back to blaming the respirocytes, not the misplaced generator,” Irene pointed out.
“I suppose you’re right. Only time will tell.”
45
WITH THE APPROVAL of the doctor, subject to a retroactive ethics review under US Common Rule regarding human subject experimentation, Carter and Sean were allowed to keep their respirocyte generators in place. She also required them to submit to weekly physical and mental evaluation.
After a month of getting clean bills of health, Carter asked when he could go back to Crete to examine the skeleton Bashar had discovered. The doctor released him and Sean from the weekly exams, then, but asked them to come back monthly. By that time, Mackenzie had navigated the complexities of the governmental restrictions. She had agreed with the doctor about US Common Rule, because the project was government funded. But the fact that they were in Quebec created an issue.
Canada had its own equivalent to the US Office of Human Subjects Research, popularly known as the Tri-Council, comprising the Canadian Institutes of Health Research, the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, and the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada. The Tri-Council Policy Statement governed human research in Canada, and when the US government funded research projects at Canadian institutions, the rules of both countries applied. Quebec itself added an extra layer of ethics review, with its requirement for ethics review of all research taking place within its borders.
The top-secret requirement DARPA had placed on the research made it tricky to navigate the regulatory requirements, but she finally had permission to fast-track the human trials, mostly based on the data the doctor was able to provide for Carter and Sean. DARPA had finally conceded that democratically-advanced allies could be let in on the research, so long as they also kept it under top-secret wraps.
Mackenzie’s team was preparing to welcome observers from Canada, the US, Great Britain, and Australia, who would monitor the studies and make the ethical decisions that had troubled Mackenzie so much. She privately reserved the right to make her own as well, but she confided to Carter that she understood it would be of little consequence if she disagreed with the ethics team. The decisions were above her pay grade, Carter teased her.
Now that he’d been released, Carter’s desire to get to the bottom of the Minotaur legend had him planning a new archaeological expedition. In practical terms, only Sean would be able to accompany him, since the cave was unreachable by ordinary human means. But he hoped to find the passage to the Labyrinth that Bashar had surmised would be deeper in the cave, so the entire area could be excavated scientifically and the age-old argument of where the real Labyrinth had been could be put to rest.
Sean agreed to go with him, saying it would be like a vacation for him, although his agency was still charged with Carter’s safety. A week after the doctor released them from weekly evaluations, they took off in Carter’s jet for Crete.
Carter’s first visit was to Alan Connery, who’d been generous with him before. Connery was winding down his dig for the season, but he greeted Carter and Sean enthusiastically. “I’m so glad you dropped by,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to email my congratulations that you recovered your children safely.”
“Thank you,” said Carter. “I’m here to wrap up a discovery we made in the process. We may need some help, if you’d like to participate next season. I can’t guarantee we’ll find what we’re looking for, but you’d be welcome if we do.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, my friend. Good luck,” Connery answered.
His social obligations behind him, Carter dropped Sean at a hotel and went to charter a boat to take them to the eastern entrance to the cave system. They could have swum there from the beach at the park, and they discussed doing so. But Carter wanted to bring out the skeleton if they could, so they decided having the boat would be more prudent.
“Are you going to give Bashar the credit for finding it?” Sean asked.
“Depends on what it is,” Carter said. “If it’s a hoax, then I doubt I’ll even publish it. But yeah, on the doubtful chance that it’s real, I think I’ll have to, distasteful as that might be. I certainly can’t take credit for it.”
“Understood. Let’s go get it, then.”
Carter knew he couldn’t bring out the whole skeleton. If it turned out to be genuine, the destruction of the provenance would be shameful. But before he went to the trouble of looking for a passage through the subterranean strata, he wanted to verify it was a hoax, even if it wasn’t Bashar’s hoax.
The two men made the now-familiar trip through the cave system to the large cave where Bashar had died. Carter half-expected the weird skeleton to be gone, but it was right where they’d left it. With his and Sean’s headlamps illustrating it, he could see that the upper part of the human spine seemed to be fused with the bovine skull, but he couldn’t tell whether it was a recent hoax or an ancient one. Reluctantly, he confirmed he’d have to get it out and examine it by x-ray and other means before disarticulating it. However, he had no compunction about separating the upper spine, clavicles, scapula and sternum from the rest, so he could leave the rest of the skeleton in place.
Fortunately, he had anticipated just this problem. Though he had originally thought Bashar must be l
ying when he said he hadn’t created the skeleton, Carter had decided there was no reason for Bashar to have lied. He knew Carter would come back to make some sense of it, and that he would never be free again. Unless he was simply messing with Carter’s head, there was a chance he was telling the truth. So, Carter had brought a portable x-ray machine in the jet’s cargo hold. Once he and Sean had wrestled the partial skeleton out of its resting place, they put it in a fine-mesh net they’d brought for the purpose and towed it out of the cave system to the boat under wraps, so the crew wouldn’t see it.
From there, they transported it to the hangar where Carter had arranged to store the jet while in Crete. There, they took the x-ray machine out of the jet and hooked it up to a portable generator Carter rented. At last, they’d be able to get to the bottom of the mystery.
When they turned on the machine, the built-in screen showed something they couldn’t make out. Carter made some adjustments, and the picture resolved to show them the truth. Sean said, “What the hell?”
Carter shook his head. “It must have been excruciating.”
Sean said, “But I don’t understand. What is it?”
“I’d have to have a doctor or a veterinarian examine it to be sure, and I know just the ones to do it. We’ll have to take it home. What I think it was, is a human being with a bull’s head grafted onto the spine, but it could be a thousands-of-years old hoax. I’m not sure how long it takes for bone to become fossilized in this environment. Maybe we should talk to Theo. I’ll bet he could answer that.”
“Go ahead. He already thinks we’re insane,” Sean joked.
A quick call to Theo confirmed that mineralization of the bone could have fused two unrelated species’ skeletons together within a minimum of ten thousand years. The myth of the Minotaur was about the right age. So, they still didn’t know whether they had a hoax or a medical anomaly on their hands. Carter said as much.
“But we couldn’t do that even today! How…” Sean stopped speaking. Carter had turned up more unusual findings than this. It didn’t matter how, not until it had been proven one way or the other.
