The Genesis Key

by James Barney

  “In most accounts, the Nephilim story is a cautionary tale, a dark chapter in the relationship between God and man. The Nephilim represented a corruption of both. So God responded by destroying nearly every living thing on earth. A do-over, if you will.”

  “You mean the flood?”

  “Yes. In Genesis, the presence of the Nephilim immediately precedes the Great Flood.”

  Kathleen considered that fact for a few moments. “You said folklore usually has some element of truth to it, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Kathleen looked again at the fallen angel on the book cover. “So if there really were Nephilim in ancient times, why would they be blamed for the flood?”

  Eskridge stroked his moustache and smiled. “Well, that’s a good question, isn’t it?”

  Kathleen stared inquisitively.

  “What I mean is, we don’t really know what these Nephilim were like, do we? Maybe the rest of civilization was glad to see them destroyed because they thought they deserved it. That would certainly explain why Genesis identifies the Nephilim, specifically, as invoking God’s wrath.”

  That was not the answer Kathleen had expected. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

  “In fact, other accounts are even less kind to the Nephilim. Have you heard of the Book of Enoch?”

  Kathleen shook her head.

  “It’s an ancient Jewish text, dating back to the time of the Dead Sea Scrolls, probably around three hundred BC. It recounts the story of Genesis but with some additional details. It’s been highly controversial throughout the history of Judaism and Christianity. May I?” He gently took the book from Kathleen’s hands and opened it to a particular page. “The Book of Enoch is broken into five parts. The first is called the Book of Watchers, which is the name given to the group of angels who came to earth to intermingle with humans. Here’s a passage from chapter seven.”

  Then they took wives, each choosing for himself; whom they began to approach, and with whom they cohabited; teaching them sorcery, incantations, and the dividing of roots and trees.

  And the women conceiving brought forth giants, whose stature was each three hundred cubits. These devoured all which the labor of men produced; until it became impossible to feed them;

  When they turned themselves against men, in order to devour them;

  And began to injure birds, beasts, reptiles, and fishes, to eat their flesh one after another, and to drink their blood.

  Then the earth reproved the unrighteous.

  Eskridge looked up. “Sounds like the Nephilim weren’t very popular with the town folk.”

  “I guess not,” Kathleen mumbled.

  Eskridge flipped a few pages forward in the book. “And listen to this passage from the Book of Giants, another Jewish text found among the Dead Sea Scrolls in Qumran.”

  “Giants . . . as in Nephilim?”

  “That’s right. The Book of Giants is all about the Nephilim before the flood. At one point, according to the book, Enoch presents a stone table to Shenihaza, the leader of the angels who descended to earth to marry human women. The tablet contained a warning from God.” Eskridge read aloud from the book.

  Let it be known to you that you will not escape judgment for all the things that you have done, and that your wives, their sons, and the wives of their sons will not escape, and that by your licentiousness on the earth, there has been visited upon you a heavenly judgment. The land is crying out and complaining about you and the deeds of your children and about the harm you have done to it. Until the heavenly angel Raphael arrives, behold, destruction is coming by a great flood which will destroy all living things, whatever is in the deserts and the seas.

  “Does this answer your question about the dark imagery?” Eskridge asked.

  “Yes,” said Kathleen absently. Her thoughts were already drifting to the tooth Sargon had given her, and to the DNA sample that Julie was sequencing at this very moment.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bethesda, Maryland.

  Kathleen was on her third cup of coffee, trying in vain to kick-start her brain following yet another night of almost no sleep. She sat in silence in the tiny breakfast nook of her kitchen, staring out the window at Sandalwood Street, six floors below, replaying the events of the last three days in her head.

  She and Julie had continued sequencing the remainder of the Tell-Fara sample, working straight through the night and into yesterday morning. The breakthrough had come late in the afternoon.

  On chromosome 14, Julie discovered a lengthy sequence containing more than eighty thousand base pairs that matched passably well with the D. Melanogaster INDY gene. Yet it correlated only about 40 percent to any known sample in the NCBI human genome database. In other words, nobody living today had anything like that long sequence in their DNA.

  When Kathleen discovered that that same sequence of base pairs correlated more than 96 percent to a class of retroviruses found only in the subfamily Cercopithecinae of “Old World” monkeys, that confirmed it beyond all doubt.

  They’d found it.

  The phone rang. Instinctively, Kathleen checked the digital clock above the oven and noted that it was only 7:17 A.M. “Hello?” she answered.

  “Dr. Sainsbury, it’s Carlos. Have you seen it?”

  “Seen what?”

  “The newspaper. There’s a story about us in the Local section of the Post!”

  Kathleen laughed nervously. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope. It’s on TV, too. You’d better get down here Dr. S; it’s a madhouse outside.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Kathleen hung up the phone and quickly retrieved the Washington Post from outside her front door. As she unfolded the Local section on the kitchen counter, her eyes were immediately drawn to a color photograph below the fold. It was a close-up of the embossed sign at the front entrance to her building, which read, “Quantum Life Sciences, Inc.” Her heart sank as she read the accompanying headline and lead paragraph.

  “Oh no,” she whispered. “No, no, no . . .”

  AREA COMPANY FINDS LONGEVITY GENE IN MUMMY

  Discovery May Triple Human Life Expectancy

  By BRYCE WHITTAKER

  Washington Post Staff Writer

  ROCKVILLE, Md.—The key to near immortality may have been found in a 5,000-year-old tomb near the ancient city of Babylon in southern Iraq. Quantum Life Sciences, Inc., a small biotech company based in Rockville, has reportedly recovered human DNA from mummified remains that were found in the tomb in 1979. The tomb was discovered deep below a mud-brick structure in southern Iraq known as the Tell-Fara temple.

  The article went on to explain, in great detail, the entire saga of the Tell-Fara remains, revealing virtually everything Kathleen had confided in Whittaker over the past few weeks.

  Kathleen raised her hand to her forehead. How could he have done this? After she’d confided in him? After she’d implored him to keep this information confidential? This didn’t even seem legal, let alone ethical. And how long had he been planning this? Was their relationship nothing but a premeditated sham? Kathleen couldn’t help but to think so.

  “Guess he got his big break,” she muttered.

  She continued skimming the article, which she had to admit was mostly accurate. She noted, in particular, that Whittaker had done a passable job explaining the concept of junk DNA:

  Genes are often closely associated with particular attributes, such as eye color, height, or the predisposition to certain diseases. While scientists have learned a great deal about which genes control various attributes in the human genome, the exact function of most of the genes in the genome—and, indeed, the vast majority of the human genome itself—remains a mystery.

  For instance, scientists believe that more than half of the human genome consists of non-coding or so-called junk DNA. The reason for this non-coding DNA has long been a mystery, often dubbed the “C-value enigma.”

  In recent years, howeve
r, scientists have discovered that some of this junk DNA may actually consist of “pseudogenes,” or copies of genes or viral species that were long ago disabled by mutations. These pseudogenes are like genetic fossils, no longer functional yet instructive about what used to be.

  Kathleen was also surprised to note that Whittaker had already solicited the opinions of experts in biomedical ethics and religion:

  “It would be very difficult to control this particular technology,” said Dr. Sylvia Matherson, an ethics professor at Stanford University who teaches a course called The Ethics of Technology. “Ideally, we would want to take years, perhaps decades, to study such a profound technology before unleashing it on the world population. But, in reality, it would be nearly impossible to restrain such a technology for any significant period of time.” Matherson explained that some technologies, like the Internet, are so compelling that they take on a life of their own, seemingly resistant to any centralized attempt to control them. “With some technologies, you just can’t put the genie back in the bottle,” she said.

  In addition to ethical issues, manipulation of the INDY gene in humans will likely raise many thorny religious issues.

  In the Bible, Noah and his progenitors are described as having abnormally long life spans, some covering many centuries. While many in the Judeo-Christian faiths—including some serious students of the Bible—dismiss these ages as erroneous or as reflecting an alternative measure of time (perhaps months or seasons), fundamentalists steadfastly adhere to the notion that the ages in the Old Testament are literal. And now, it seems, science may actually be confirming that belief.

  To date, no major religious organization has specifically taken a stand on the INDY gene technology.

  “As far as I know, the Catholic Church does not have an official position on this particular technology,” said Father Michael Prendergast of Georgetown University. “However, the church has made clear that engaging in genetic engineering that alters the human DNA is a sin. And that would certainly include altering the human genome to extend life spans.”

  Kathleen refolded the paper and tried to sort out the tangle of emotions competing for attention in her mind. The one that kept rising to the surface was an overwhelming sense of betrayal by the man she had foolishly trusted—Bryce Whittaker.

  Then she suddenly remembered Carlos’s words: “You’d better get down here.” She grabbed her coat and hustled out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Arlington, Virginia.

  Bill McCreary burst through the door of the Logistics Analysis office, short of breath and sweating. “You seen this?” he asked Goodwin, holding up a copy of the Washington Post.

  Goodwin nodded.

  “Shit!” McCreary hissed. “This is the worst possible thing that could’ve happened right now. The worst! We’re not ready for this yet. The new deputy . . . Sorenson, he’s clueless about this stuff.” McCreary shook his head in frustration as he read the byline of the article for the fourth time. “Bryce Whittaker,” he said contemptuously under his breath. Turning back to Goodwin, he asked, “Anything from Stonewell yet?”

  “Not yet. Should I call his office and set up a secure video link?”

  “Yeah. And tell them it’s urgent.”

  “Will do.”

  McCreary once again held up the newspaper and thumped the front page with his fingers. “Steve, did we pick up anything about this? I mean, anything indicating they’d actually isolated the INDY gene in that sample?”

  “No. Last we heard, they were still trying to isolate a DNA sample from the mess that was left after the break-in the other night. But, then again, Dr. Sainsbury hasn’t been using her cell phone since then.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Nope. It’s been off. Totally off.”

  McCreary shook his head. “Stonewell’s not going to like this.”

  Just then, the phone in McCreary’s office rang, and he rushed to pick it up. “Hello?”

  “Have you read this goddamned article in the Post?” boomed the voice of Secretary Stonewell.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve read it.”

  “Well . . . what the hell’s going on, Bill? How did this happen?”

  McCreary swallowed hard. Choose your words carefully. “Uh, Mr. Secretary . . . we have no confirmation that the story is even true—”

  “God damn it, Bill! You’re supposed to be on top of this stuff!”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “But nothing! This is serious business. Hell, you know that.”

  “Yes, sir, I do. And I think we should go on the secure—”

  “Screw that! Jesus Christ, we don’t have time for that anymore. You need to clean up this mess right now, right this very minute, before it gets out of control. God almighty, you of all people should know what’ll happen if we lose control of this thing!”

  “Yes, sir. So what are you proposing we do?”

  “I’m not proposing anything, Bill. That’s your job. Figure it out, and do it. Hell, do the Pons-Fleischmann thing if you have to, I don’t care. Just nip this thing in the bud right now! Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  The phone went dead in McCreary’s ear, and he hung up the receiver gingerly. He cradled his forehead in his hands and closed his eyes for several seconds, massaging his temples in slow circles with the pads of his fingertips as he struggled to straighten everything out in his mind. The story was out already. It’d be all over TV in an hour, if it wasn’t already. But the technology, itself . . . that was still a question mark. It hadn’t been confirmed.

  Which left only one option.

  “Steve,” said McCreary, emerging from his private office, “grab your coat. We’re going to Rockville.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Kathleen merged her Subaru onto Rockville Pike, nearly oblivious to the traffic around her. She was still lost in thought when something on the radio caught her attention. She turned up the volume of WTTL, a local talk-radio station. The segue music—The Who’s “My Generation”—was just fading out.

  “Welcome back,” said the voice of Michael Roland of the Michael Roland Morning Show. “This morning, we’re talking about a fascinating story in the Washington Post.”

  “Yeah, this is really something,” intoned the bubbly voice of his co-host, Cindy Trudeau. “Imagine living for two or three hundred years!”

  Roland’s voice weaved back in. “Well, that’s what researchers at Quantum Life Sciences in Rockville are saying may be possible using a new gene therapy. It seems they’ve found a longevity gene that can be manipulated to double, or even triple, peoples’ life spans.”

  “This is really an amazing story, Mike.”

  “It sure is. But the question for our listeners today is, would you want to live that long? Is this is a good thing, or do you foresee problems? We’d like to hear from you. Let’s first go to Gary in Manassas. Good morning, Gary, you’re on WTTL.”

  “Good morning, guys,” said the crackly voice of Gary in Manassas. “Great show today.”

  “Thank you,” said Roland. “So, Gary, what do you think about this story in the Post? Pretty amazing stuff, huh?”

  “Absolutely. I read it twice, and I was just . . . blown away. But here’s what I want to know. What happens if you start taking this gene therapy when you’re already in your sixties or seventies? I mean, will you stay that age for the next hundred years, or will you, like . . . grow younger?”

  “That’s a great question,” said Trudeau. “I was wondering the same thing myself. Because, you know, there’s a big difference between being twenty-five years old for a century and being ninety-five years old for a century.”

  “Exactly,” said Gary.

  “Well, that’s something we just don’t know yet,” said Roland. “We’ve tried contacting the folks at Quantum Life Sciences, but so far we haven’t been able to reach them for comment.”

  “I bet they’ve got their hands full today,”
said Trudeau chirpily.

  “Yeah, I imagine you’re right,” said Roland. “So, anyway, Gary, do you think this is a good thing, or do you foresee problems with this technology?”

  “Personally, I think it’s a good thing. In fact, I’m wondering where I can sign up! I mean, we all want to live longer, right? Of course, I’d want to make sure this therapy is safe and all, but . . . I mean, assuming it’s safe, I don’t see any downside at all.”

  “Okay,” said Roland. “So we have at least one listener who thinks this is a good thing. Thanks for the call, Gary.”

  “You know,” Trudeau interjected, “I’ve got to agree with that last caller. We have to make sure this therapy is safe. But, assuming it is, I see this as a really good thing. Just imagine how much you could accomplish in two or three hundred years.”

  “Okay,” said Roland, “next we have Evelyn from McLean. Good morning, Evelyn, you’re on WTTL.”

  “Good morning,” said the raspy voice of Evelyn from McLean.

  “What do you think about all this, Evelyn . . . good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Well, personally, I don’t want to live that long. I mean, I’m worried as it is about having enough retirement savings to last another twenty or thirty years. What would I do if I lived another hundred? I’d be out of money!”

  “Well that’s certainly something to think about,” said Trudeau empathetically. “Would people have to go back to work? Could they go back to work?”

  “And would they want to?” added Roland.