by J. R. McLeay
“The pituitary gland controls most of the body’s endocrine functions,” said Lauren.
“And what controls the pituitary?”
“The hypothalamus.”
“Ah, so all we’d have to do is remove the hypothalamus to stop the body from sending the signal to release the pubertal hormone cascade—which in turn signals our bodies to begin getting out of the way of our offspring?”
“We can’t remove the hypothalamus—that’s the part of the brain that controls our entire nervous system!” Gabriel exclaimed.
“Well, it certainly wouldn’t be much fun if we managed to keep an organism alive indefinitely if it couldn’t enjoy its senses,” Rick mused. “What if we merely cut the link between the hypothalamus and the pituitary it controls?”
“Isn’t that essentially what we are doing now when we remove the pituitary in juveniles?” asked Jade.
“Exactly. The hypophysectomy procedure severs this link, after which we artificially replace the hormones that would otherwise be supplied by the foregone pituitary.”
“But only enough to maintain us at the physiological level of an eleven-year-old,” added Lauren.
“Yes. In essence, we’re fooling Mother Nature into thinking we’re all still waiting for the moment when we’ll be able to pass on our DNA to the next generation.”
“Or fooling God!” intoned an unusually passionate voice from the back of the room.
“Isn’t there another far simpler possibility—” the student continued, “that all this was simply created by someone greater than us?”
Rick couldn’t read the name card of the individual who had replied, but the excitement and tone in the student’s voice sounded vaguely familiar, and he knew that if he abided this new line of discussion it was likely to take him far off course.
“Yes, I suppose there is,” he replied cautiously. “These are the things we are in this room to consider. However, I sense that will necessitate another long and interesting discussion—why don’t we save that for our next meeting?”
Rick could see from the student’s ardent expression that he wanted to continue the debate, but the meeting time was drawing to a close, and the professor thought this was an opportune time for a break. He decided to try lightening the mood with his closing comments.
“I want to leave you all with a little homework assignment, building on our discussion of today. I’d like to see if you might be able to solve a riddle which has confounded mankind for millennia.
“Which came first,” Rick said with a knowing smile, “the chicken, or the egg?”
7
Calvin James stood on the pulpit of his church surveying the gathered assembly. His chapel was one of the oldest on the island of Manhattan, and it was showing its age. Its soft brownstone walls were covered in soot and crumbling from years of neglect. Located on a non-descript street in the East Village, the tiny church looked Lilliputian in the shadow of giant skyscrapers looming nearby. Originally christened the Church of the Resurrection by early Dutch settlers in the 17th century, after his split with the Episcopalian order as the church’s pastor, Calvin had changed its name to the Garden of Eden. On the front lawn, a colonial graveyard with tilting markers reminded all who entered of the fragility of life, and death. As if to reinforce the connection, Calvin had planted a few apple trees among the gravestones. At this time of year especially, the falling ripe fruit was meant to symbolize man’s arrogance and fall from grace in disobedience of God.
Although the Garden of Eden congregation was modest, it made up for its diminutive size in passion. Calvin was a compelling orator, and he could be very effective in building conviction for his beliefs among impressionable minds. Most of his assembly was made up of disillusioned juveniles who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—embrace the nihilistic and hedonistic values of present-day society. Many of them loners or malcontents, they came to Calvin to seek meaning and community they couldn’t find elsewhere.
This Sunday, Calvin had prepared a special message for his flock. He’d been thinking a great deal about his position in the world and what meaning he could take from his unique status as one of the world’s last adult males. He often likened himself to Adam, the first man, as the one whose shoulders he saw human civilization resting upon. Now, with the unnatural intervention of medical technology creating a new race of überchildren, he saw himself in a similar role as the last hope for the salvation of man.
When everyone was seated, the towering preacher outstretched his arms adorned in ceremonial robes, and a hush fell over the room.
“Friends,” Calvin solemnly began his sermon, “we are all children of God.
“He created us, in His own image, to share mutual fellowship and love. This is why we are all living and breathing here today, and we have only Him to thank for this gift of life.”
Calvin’s deep voice resonated within the vaulted chamber and created an eerie echo, as if God himself were agreeing.
“There are those who would have us believe we essentially created ourselves—that we simply evolved from earlier forms of life. That we originally crawled out of the proverbial swamp as primitive creatures. They would have us believe that all this incredible beauty and complexity that we see around us in the world today is simply the product of some random big bang that happened an unfathomable time ago. Do you believe this?” he admonished loudly.
“No!” came isolated cries from the assembly.
“Of course not!” Calvin affirmed. “There is only one possible explanation for all of this beauty. Something this magnificent could only be created by something equally magnificent—the Lord, our creator.
“But the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,” he continued solemnly.
This was Calvin’s trump card, and he played it often. For millennia, virtually every religion from Christianity to Islam to Hinduism had based its underpinnings on the fear of death and what would be meted out in the afterlife.
“The Bible tells us that God originally created man for eternal life. But when man rebelled against God and ignored His heed, he was punished to die.”
Many in the assembly nodded, recalling the story of Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden.
“Man, in his selfishness, lost that which was most precious: everlasting life in the dominion of God. And here we find ourselves yet again,” railed Calvin, his voice rising in intensity, “having forsaken God’s plan, arrogantly thinking we can once again create our own design, and live with impunity! Through self-mutilation no less—the mutilation of God’s own image—we try to re-create that which He told us we can no longer have.
The congregation grunted loudly in righteous disapproval.
“Do you think you are going to live forever simply because you allow a doctor to remove a little piece of your anatomy? God once removed a part from Adam—to create Eve. He did this to enable us to multiply and populate our domain. Yet our very act of self-abasement seeks to deny this God-given facility. We’ve forsaken our ability to reproduce in the natural manner—and we have forsaken God Himself!” Calvin’s face grew flushed in moral indignation.
“Shame!” came more responses from the creaking pews.
“What will be the consequences?” Calvin asked in a hushed tone, his flock now hanging on his every word. “Can some of us truly live forever? Can we forsake our Creator and live entirely within ourselves—indefinitely?”
Calvin panned over his congregation and witnessed many beseeching faces.
“This is not God’s will!” he bellowed. His voice was shaking in rage now and reverberating off the hard stone floor. “God alone is omnipotent and omniscient, and we delude ourselves if any of us believes we have the power or the ability to reverse His grand design.”
The congregation was on the edge of their seats. Calvin was their savior, and they were looking for deliverance.
“Let me tell you, my children: life and death are inextricably linked. We cannot have one without the other.
They are both essential. In life, we can enjoy the worldly pleasures God meant for us, and in death, we are meant to be reunited with the One who gave us life and with all of our loved ones. This is God’s plan.”
“Praise the Lord!” rose scattered cries from the assembly.
As Calvin panned over the assembly, he could see the passion rising among his parishioners.
“No one can live in this world forever—we are merely postponing the inevitable. And for those who have forsaken their Creator, they will pay the ultimate price. For Hell was created by the Lord as a place of judgment for Satan, and for all those who follow him in their rebellion against God. My friends, we choose our destiny only by embracing God. What will be your destiny?!”
“To be with the Lord!” cried a parishioner.
“In the Kingdom of Heaven!!” roared Calvin, turning his head skyward, raising his arms to the rafters.
As the surrounding assembly rose to their feet in collective fervor and their cries of affirmation loudly filled the church, one figure sat quietly alone and motionless near the altar behind Calvin, lost in thought. He couldn’t stop thinking about the gauntlet of spooky gravestones he had to walk through every day to enter this chamber. Although he looked very much like all the other juveniles in the church, he was also very different. For he had not yet had his pituitary removed, and there was tremendous pressure borne upon him to resist the life-affirming procedure.
Elias, was Calvin’s son.
Part II
The Butterfly Effect
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
8
Rick felt great. It was the start of a new work week, and things couldn’t be going better. Jason had fully recovered from his hypophysectomy operation, Eva seemed to be ready to fulfill her role as Queen, the U.N. master plan was working like clockwork, and the latest class of Bioethics students was providing new inspiration. The only unpleasantness—his recent clash with Calvin James on the front steps of the hospital—had already been forgotten.
But there was something more. He felt different, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was intrigued, and attracted, by the hospital’s new endocrinologist, Jennifer Austin. It wasn’t as if Rick suffered from a lack of female companionship. There were all manner of females who flung themselves at him regularly, from the ubiquitous nurses and patients, to some of the most beautiful and sought-after New York socialites. Rick was considered one of the city’s most eligible bachelors, and he had everything any woman would want: power, wealth, prestige.
Rick dated often enough, and for the most part enjoyed his social life. He just hadn’t met anyone with whom he felt he could build a meaningful long term relationship. But Jennifer was different. Unlike most others, she wasn’t deferential or overly awestruck by Rick’s position and status. She was her own woman, and wasn’t afraid to show it. Rick liked that. Plus, she was gorgeous, and the combination made Rick uncharacteristically unsteady.
This morning, he had some business he wanted to discuss with her, but mostly he just wanted to see her again so he decided to make an impromptu visit. As he approached her office in the Annenberg Wing of Mount Sinai Medical Center, he saw her working quietly at her desk.
Rick stuck his head through the half-opened door.
“Good Morning, Dr. Austin,” he announced.
Jennifer peered over her tortoise-shell glasses.
“I thought we’d agreed to be less formal with one another—Richard.”
“Oh yeah,” Rick replied, momentarily taken aback by Jennifer’s sexy librarian look.
She looks even better in glasses, he thought, as if that were possible.
“Jennifer. You look…busy. Is this a bad time?”
“No, not at all, I was just reviewing Eva Bronwen’s file that you sent me. I see you’ve made an appointment for tomorrow. Is she ready for a new round of harvesting?”
Rick was a little disappointed that Jennifer wanted to get right down to business. “Physically, she’s at the right point in her ovulation cycle,” he said, “so the timing seems good to begin the first phase of hormone treatment. Emotionally, however, she’s a little fragile.”
“How so?”
“A combination of expected fatigue regarding the ongoing hormonal and surgical procedures—as well as some trepidation over the prospect of giving birth.”
Jennifer knew this had to be a difficult decision for Eva.
“She said she’s ready for insemination?”
“No, not yet. But she knows the clock is ticking, and is aware of expectations. I think she’ll be ready soon. Anything you can do to lighten her burden on this matter would be greatly appreciated.”
“Perhaps she just needs a little more female perspective?”
“Yes, I think a female perspective is exactly what the doctor need…ah, ordered,” Rick caught himself.
Jennifer smiled at Rick, slowly taking off her glasses.
“We are talking about the patient here, right, Dr. Ross?”
“Of course.” Rick decided to change the subject. “What about our other shared interest—our young patient, Jason. I see he’s responding well to your hormone treatment.”
“What the Lord giveth, we taketh away. And replaceth—in a manner of speaking.”
“Don’t tell me you’re another one of those deep spiritual types?” Rick asked, recalling images of Calvin James and his fanatical band of followers.
“No, I was just using an analogy to illustrate the deep spiritual connection between our two roles.”
“Yes, it would seem we cannot live without one another,” Rick said, having fun extending the metaphor.
Jennifer was only too happy to play along.
“Indeed, my role would be almost redundant without you creating so much havoc among juveniles and adults.”
“Hey!”
“Oh come on, I’m just messing with you. That disruption you create is actually quite life-affirming. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I’m happy to hear you say that, Jennifer. And for my part, I’m glad you’re here to maintain the peace.”
“Yes, we make quite the symbiotic pair, don’t we? It seems your job is to stop the flood of hormones, and mine is to control the flow thereafter. Though I dare say my component is the more challenging of the two.”
“What? I’m the brain surgeon here! How much more complicated does it get than that?”
“Oh please! You just snip off a tiny little appendage conveniently hanging inside someone’s nostril.”
“Like so much mucus?”
“Exactly. Whereas I’ve got the Herculean task of carefully balancing nine critical and sensitive chemicals throughout the entire life of the patient.”
“Well technically, you only need to replace and monitor those chemicals for the first week or two after I do my job—then the pharmaceutical company officially takes ove
r. Though I grant you, those are rather important chemicals.”
“Darn right. I control the ingredients that regulate everything from your immunity against sickness to your sex drive!”
“So we have you to thank for that, do we?” Rick joked.
“Absolutely. In fact, did you know that the word hormone actually comes from the Greek word hormon—which means to stimulate or excite?”
“I had no idea. But now I understand how you have such a stimulating effect on people, Jennifer.”
9
It had been a busy week for Tian Yin since her last meeting with Rick at U.N. headquarters. With his blessing, she had been finalizing arrangements to transition the hormone patch supply from the sole authority of Endogen Corporation to a consortium of international companies. The logistics of such a change were extremely complicated, and she had been working closely with the World Health Organization to conduct much of the advance planning.
The most difficult task for the Secretary-General was managing the anticipated political and economic fallout from the decision. Tian was aware of the full range of stakeholders in the matter and the potential impact among each group. The first priority was obviously the health and safety of the patch users—the billions of juveniles across the globe who counted on the patch to regulate their essential endocrine balances. But there were also the employees, shareholders, and creditors of the affected companies to consider.
Tian knew that once the decision to change the supply arrangement was made public, there would be an immediate and substantial market reaction, and that billions of dollars of market capitalization and individual wealth would shift overnight. Endogen’s shareholders stood to lose the most, but much of this would be offset by a reciprocal gain on the part of the newly awarded companies’ shareholders.
