by Bruce Buff
Reaching the lobby, they saw a small set of offices more befitting a small neighborhood business operating on a tight budget than an organization that had attracted the attention—and scorn—of most of the scientific establishment. “They hardly look like an establishment with the resources needed to challenge all the institutions and organizations they’ve upset. I don’t see what Stephen could have gotten out of a place like this,” Dan said as they pressed a second buzzer, anxious to be done with the visit and impatient to meet with Sam later.
“Good thing appearances don’t always tell the whole story,” Trish replied good-naturedly, lifting an eyebrow.
• • •
“I remember my discussion with Dr. Bishop quite well.” The conversation with Dr. Peterson had begun after an exchange of regrets over Stephen’s death. There was nothing about Peterson that would indicate the venom he conjured up in the halls of Darwinism. His books, when not ignored by the mainstream scientific community, were often vilified as antiscience. But that had been changing. A few in the scientific establishment, while not agreeing with the books’ conclusions, were acknowledging legitimate scholarship within them.
Taking the lead in the discussion, Trish said, “We’d appreciate it if you could share with us what had Stephen discussed with you and your reaction to it.”
“Certainly. His primary interest was what is commonly, but erroneously, referred to as junk DNA. He was looking for a relation between that and the human body plan, the genetic information that directs the shape, structure, and size of a person and everything within them. At present, the mechanism for the body plan is unknown,” Dr. Peterson said.
Trish said, “Did Stephen mention anything about the amount of instructions required to direct human development and the need for an algorithm to take a small amount of DNA and expand it into a large amount of instructions, including for the body plan?”
Smiling, Peterson answered, “That’s right.”
“And what do people here think about that?” Dan asked.
“It makes sense to direct the body plan with what you described as algorithmic processing. This also presents a strong argument for intelligent design.”
“Why?” Dan asked.
“Pretty simple, actually. If you make even the slightest change to a complex algorithm, you get radical changes, not the small changes that Darwinism posits. And for the algorithmic expression to work, you need a lot of things: the algorithm, a translation mechanism, DNA that means something when translated by the algorithm, and a mechanism to take the translated information and make something out of it. And that something has to work. All of this has to be there from the very origin of life. Taken as a whole, this is an example of irreducible complexity. If any one of these elements were missing, it wouldn’t work. And an incremental path of small mutations, from a much simpler state to the present state, is extraordinary unlikely. More important, whatever algorithmic processing was there in the beginning couldn’t change along the way as that would render everything else nonfunctional.”
“The more I hear, the more I still don’t get it,” Trish said. “It seems so obvious that incredibly complex processing has to be going on, given the known amount of DNA versus all the instructions needed to make a person, yet nobody talks about it. I’ve never seen a scientific article about it.”
“When you’ve decided beforehand, as I once did, that everything must be explained by natural causes, that there can’t be an active God, then there is no reason to look for questions you can’t answer or that lead away from what you want to believe,” Dan said.
“A lot is acknowledged in pieces but not discussed as a whole,” Peterson said. “Even Richard Dawkins recognizes that the code had to be there from the beginning.”
“But ultimately it means that the code had to be able to lead to the creation of all species, even though they didn’t exist yet,” Trish said.
Peterson said, “Evolutionists would say that information got added later, though that leaves out all that is required to go from single-cell organisms to multicell organisms with distinct body plans. And the kicker—with or without algorithms—is the multilayered coding of the epigenome. Based on the setting, the epigenome takes the same area of DNA to mean different things, at different times, for different purposes. Epigenetic factors can even influence the genome for future generations.”
“Why is that problematic with something working for one purpose layering on top another?” Trish asked.
“The thing is when one stretch of DNA codes for multiple things, if that area of DNA changes for one purpose, it changes for all its purposes. What might make one thing work better is highly likely to make others work less well, or not at all. The odds that all DNA coding came about through unguided, unplanned means are astronomical. What we see are indications of intentional design. We are the most complex creatures to ever exist, and rather than look at it objectively and deal with what that implies, some people, including many scientists, have decided beforehand that God can’t exist, and therefore we have to be here by strictly ‘natural,’ material causes. That’s bad theology leading to bad science.”
“But just because the standard Darwinian theory might have flaws doesn’t mean that ‘God did it,’ ” Dan said.
“Intelligent design doesn’t say anything about God’s existence or the identity of the intelligent designer,” Dr. Peterson replied.
Dan was confused and starting to get annoyed by what seemed like this man’s evasiveness. Why wouldn’t these people just come out and say what they must be thinking? Intelligent design had to be a euphemism for God. As much as Dan wanted to push things, he decided to hold back, both as a means to get as much out of Peterson as possible and to get out and see Sam sooner.
Trish wasn’t that reluctant. “But isn’t intelligent design being used to push the Genesis account of creation?”
“We’re accused of that. But no, that’s not our purpose. We’re looking strictly at the science and not inferring anything about the intelligent designer, nor the means used to express that design,” Peterson answered.
“Come on. If not God, then who or what?” Dan said, his thoughts drifting to a world where creationists used their science to impose their religious dogma on others. Yet, at the same time, he was seeking something for himself that would prove whether God existed or not.
“I’m sure everyone has their own ideas. We represent lots of different views and beliefs at this center—and some are without specific religious affiliations or spiritual desire. While there are definitely people out there who are looking to prove the Genesis account of creation, and use intelligent design as one of their arguments, that has nothing to do with us or our work. We don’t have to prove the identity of a designer to show that we are the product of design,” Peterson answered, a trace of agitation in his voice.
“Let’s get back to the purpose of our visit,” Trish said looking at Dan. Turning to Dr. Peterson, she asked, “What was Stephen looking for, and were you able to help him with it?”
“He wanted our help in decoding what he called the genome algorithm, but we weren’t able to provide any. Dr. Bishop showed great interest in protein folds. We talked about the odds against functional proteins developing via undirected means, and that was the end of the discussion. We also discussed the evidence for gene regulation having multiple layers of controls to prevent genetic mutations from being expressed and propagating: in other words, biology working against Darwinian evolution. This led Stephen to speculate that providing different input parameters to genetic algorithms could generate new species rapidly, without requiring significant change to DNA. This would explain the Cambrian explosion.”
Intrigued, Dan asked, “Where would these parameters come from and what would cause them to change? How could they change without producing nonfunctioning junk, given what Stephen described about the complexity of the genetic algorithms?
”
“I have no idea. Stephen started to mention a connection to the soul but then wouldn’t discuss it further. It was not something we’d research, given what we’ve already been accused of. Anyway, it was the last we spoke. I’m sorry again about his passing.”
Lost in thought, Dan didn’t acknowledge the condolences. Things were starting to add up, but only to lead to more questions. He felt like he was getting closer to Stephen’s thinking. If all perceiving creatures had souls, and if there was a connection between mind and body, the attachment of a different type of soul, like one intended for a human versus an ape, to an existing species could conceivably change the input parameters of the genetic algorithms, via the epigenetic feedback mechanisms Stephen had described, and lead to new species. It would also mean that the algorithms were set up in advance for all the different parameters. And being able to generate new creatures by simply changing a small set of input parameters would support the simultaneous emergence of a large number of new species, in close proximity, in a short period of time, explaining the Cambrian explosion. It would also mean the active participation of a designer, at strategic points in time. It also implied that within each person now, awaiting a trigger, could be the information needed for whatever humanity could become next. What would happen if that information were activated?
“How come materialist Darwinism isn’t questioned more in the mainstream press and academia?” Trish asked.
“You’re instantly vilified, ridiculed, and shunned if you do,” Peterson explained. “Eventually your funding is cut off, and you may lose your position. It would be funny if it wasn’t pathetic, how wonderful scientific research papers that could easily be taken as evidence against materialistic Darwinism, have to say somewhere in the paper that in no way is it an argument against it.”
“It’s amazing how political science is,” Trish said.
“It puts scientists with religious beliefs in the awkward position of saying the natural universe explains everything, even their own behavior, while they personally believe that God exists and has a meaningful role to play in our world.”
“Isn’t that where theistic evolution comes into play?” Trish asked.
“For some,” Peterson said.
“The problem with that is it says evolution happened just as Darwin said, via purely naturalistic mechanism, not via intelligent design, yet God put evolution in motion with the explicit intent of producing us. That’s quite a tightrope they’re dancing on,” Dan said.
“That’s right,” Peterson agreed.
“There are two major contradictions within it. First, if God intended it to turn out exactly as it did, that is a form of intelligent design whether there is visible evidence or not. Second, a person either has an immaterial soul or not. If they don’t, theism doesn’t make sense. If they do, materialist evolution can’t explain its existence and the immaterial soul would play a role in a person’s adaptability and selection, making it more than a strictly materialist process,” Dan said.
“You may see it that clearly, but try and get the theistic evolutionists to understand it. You would think theists would remember the parables about not being able to serve two masters and the truth shall set you free.” He leaned back in his chair. “How do you know so much about this? Why is it so important to you?” Peterson asked.
“I’m just looking for rational answers,” Dan answered.
“He’s having trouble figuring out whether his existence matters. I’ve been considering that question as well—about his existence, not mine,” Trish joked.
“Have you come to any conclusions?” Peterson said.
“I am leaning toward believing that it does.” She gave Dan a wry look.
Dan hesitated, but decided that, given where the discussion had led, he could ask one more question. Dan pulled up on his smartphone the image of the symbol Stephen had drawn and asked, “Have you seen this before? Do you know what it means?”
Peterson looked at it intently, then replied, “No, I haven’t. I’m sorry.”
Once again feeling anxious to get back to the motel and talk with Sam Abrams, Dan said, “Unless there is anything else you think we should know that would be helpful, I think we should be going.”
“If I think of anything, I’ll give you a call,” Peterson said.
“Thank you very much for your time,” Dan said, and Trish added her thanks.
The trip to the Discovery Institute had been worthwhile, though in ways they didn’t fully understand, and in ways that were too fantastical. Could the origin of human life really be that bizarre? Could humanity really be on the verge of a major transformation? He had clearly veered into the territory of religious ideas intersecting with scientific ones, and it wasn’t something he’d state publically nor seriously pursue, at least not without rock-solid evidence.
As Dan and Trish were headed out the door, Peterson yelled out after them, “Shapes. That’s right. I had forgotten. Dr. Bishop said he thought protein shapes played a critical role in the decoding of the genetic algorithm. I don’t know what he meant, but it was just one more thing that left my head spinning that day.”
As Dan descended the steps to the first floor, his head was spinning as well. He was getting closer to believing what Stephen had told him, scientifically. But that would mean that he would have to believe that something like God existed, and our lives might actually make sense and have lasting value. He wasn’t ready to take that leap yet.
He needed to get the codes from Sam and see Stephen’s work for himself.
Chapter 58
Distracted by the sophisticated, beautiful woman, who appeared grossly out of place at the budget motel, Sam didn’t notice that someone had crept up behind him until a solidly built, medium-height man with a square jaw and a military demeanor appeared at his side, showed him an official-looking badge, and said, “We’d like to have a word with you about aiding and abetting serious federal crimes. Please open the door and step inside.”
The man’s holstered weapon, revealed through a deliberately open jacket front, provided all the convincing Sam needed.
Whatever thoughts Sam had of escaping vanished when the door slammed shut behind him. With the room’s thick curtains, and his sunlight-constricted pupils, he was plunged into darkness.
Seconds later, the woman flipped a switch, and a table lamp by the door shone dulled yellow light onto the main area of the room. Gesturing to a high-back cushioned chair in the corner of the room, the man said, “Please sit down, Dr. Abrams. My colleagues are on their way. When they arrive, we’ll ask you a few questions, and then we’ll leave.”
Sam walked hesitantly to the chair, sat, and then asked, “What government agency are you with?”
“It’s a special investigative unit not known to the general public,” the man said. Without acknowledging Sam further, he walked to the window that faced the parking lot, pulled back the curtain slightly, peered outside, closed the curtain, then walked slowly back toward Sam.
“I’m not sure if I should feel good about that,” Sam said in a low voice, briefly considering asking for a lawyer as a means to prove whether they were government agents. He decided against that. If it was a ruse, he didn’t want to force the hands of ill-intentioned people.
The woman responded curtly, “We’re not interested in how you feel. At least not yet.”
More nervous than before, Sam tried to get comfortable in the chair, to little avail. His mind raced from one thought to another. Imagined visions of Stephen’s last moments formed in his mind. He pictured Stephen in similar circumstances being forced to talk before dying. His thoughts turned to the thumb drive hidden in the heel of his right shoe where a firm stomp would destroy it. Torn between protecting its contents and preventing it from falling into the wrong hands, he pressed his toes down and raised the heel of his right foot.
His left hand began to twit
ch. To stop it, he moved it from his lap and grabbed the left armrest of the chair, trying not to think about whatever insects might inhabit the worn, grubby chair in a run-down, out-of-the way motel. He tried not thinking about the questions that he would be asked. Stephen had deliberately set things up so he couldn’t answer many, and what he could, he wouldn’t. He wondered how he’d been found. Had Dan Lawson been followed?
A train rumbled toward the motel, eventually passing so close that it felt like it was in the room, and then was gone. His left leg started to shake, and his eyes started to blink uncontrollably. He began to think these people had something to do with Stephen’s death.
Several nerve-racking minutes later, there was a knock at the door. The woman opened it and two men entered. One was a blond version of the black-haired first man. The other looked very much like a Russian spymaster, like Karla from the old, cold-war, John le Carré thrillers. Why did Sam’s mind work like this when he most needed his wits and calm?
Without saying a word, the Karla man pulled up a wooden chair and sat down in it a few feet from Sam. He stared at Sam coldly, as though debating what to do with someone who had committed a terrible infraction but still might be redeemed.
Finally, the Karla man spoke in an even, Russian-accented voice meant to convey cool authority, but the menace behind it was clear. “Dr. Abrams, my name is Sergei. You’ve already met Elena and Peter.” As Sergei said this, Elena removed the black wig she was wearing to reveal her frosted hair. She smiled at Sam, a sinister, disturbing smile.
