CHapter 038

The memoryhaunted Mark Sanger - the image burned in his mind of that poor animal, stranded on the beach at night in Costa Rica, helpless as the jaguar pounced, bit off her head, and proceeded to eat the flesh while her legs still kicked feebly. And all with the sound of crunching bones. The bones of her head.

Mark Sanger had not expected to see anything so horrific. He had come to the beach at Tortuguero to witness the giant leatherback turtles crawling out of the ocean to lay their eggs in the sand. As a biologist, he knew this was a great migration the planet had witnessed for countless eons. The female turtles were engaged in one of the great demonstrations of maternal caring, crawling high onto the beach, depositing their eggs deep in the ground, covering them with exhausted flippers, then carefully sweeping the sand clean, obliterating any trace of the eggs beneath. It was a slow, gentle ceremony, directed by genes that survived from millennia past.

Then came the jaguar, a black streak in the night. And suddenly last summer everything changed for Mark Sanger. The brutality of the attack, its speed and viciousness, shocked him profoundly. It confirmed his suspicion that the natural world had gone badly wrong. Everything that mankind was doing on the planet had upset the delicate balance of nature. The pollution, the rampant industrialization, the loss of habitat - when animals were squeezed and cornered, they behaved viciously, in a desperate effort to survive.

That was the explanation for the ghastly attack he had witnessed. The natural world was in collapse. He mentioned this to the very handsome naturalist Ramon Valdez, who had accompanied him. Valdez shook his head. "No, Se?or Sanger, this is always the way it has been since my father and grandfather, and grandfather before. They always spoke of the jaguar attacks in the night. It is part of the cycle of life."

"But there are more attacks now," Sanger said. "Because of all the pollution..."

"No, se?or. There is no change. Every month, the jaguars take two to four turtles. We have records going back many years."

"The violence we see here isnot normal."

A short distance away, the jaguar was still eating the mother. Bones still crunching.

"But itis normal," Ramon Valdez said. "It is the way things are."

Sanger did not want to talk about it anymore. Clearly, Valdez was an apologist for the industrialists and polluters, the big American companies that dominated Costa Rica and other Latin American countries. Not surprising to find such a person here, since the CIA had controlled Costa Rica for decades. This wasn't a country; it was a subsidiary of American business interests. And American businesses did not give a damn for the environment.

Ramon Valdez said, "The jaguars must eat, too. I think better a turtle than to take a human baby."

That, Mark Sanger thought, was a matter of opinion.

Back at homein Berkeley, Sanger sat in his loft and pondered what to do. Although Sanger told people he was a biologist, he had no formal training in the field. He had attended one year of college before dropping out to work briefly for a landscape architecture firm, Cather and Holly; the only biology he had taken was a course in high school. The son of a banker, Sanger possessed a substantial trust fund and did not need to work to support himself. He did, however, need a purpose in life. Wealth, in his experience, made the quest for self-identity even more difficult. And the older he got, the harder it was to think about going back and finishing college.

Recently, he had started to define himself as an artist, and artists did not need formal training. In fact, formal education interfered with the artist's ability to feel the zeitgeist, to ride the waves of change rolling through society, and to formulate a response to them. Sanger was very well informed in his opinion. He read the Berkeley papers, and sometimes magazines likeMother Jones, and several of the environmental magazines. Not every month, but sometimes. True, he often just looked at the pictures, skimming the stories. But that was all that was necessary to track the zeitgeist.

Art was aboutfeeling. About how itfelt to live in this materialistic world, with its gaudy luxuries, false promises, and profound disappointments. What was wrong with people today was that they ignored their feelings.

It was the job of art to bring true feelings alive. To shock people into awareness. That was why so many young artists were using genetic techniques and living material to create art. Wet art, they called it. Tissue art. Many artists now worked full-time in science labs, and the art that resulted was distinctly scientific. One artist had grown steaks in a Petri dish, and then ate them in public, as a performance. (Supposedly they tasted awful. Anyway, they were genetically modified. Ugh.) An artist in France had made a glowing bunny rabbit by inserting luminescent genes from a firefly or something. And still other artists had changed the hair color of animals, giving them rainbow hues, and had grown porcupine quills on the head of a cute puppy.

These works of art provoked strong feelings. Many people were disgusted. But, then, Sanger thought, they should be disgusted. They should feel the same revulsion that he himself had felt watching the slaughter of a mother turtle by a jaguar on a beach in Costa Rica. That horrid perversion of nature, that repellent savagery that he could not put out of his mind.

And that, of course, was the reason to make art.

Not art for art's sake. Rather, art to benefit the world, art to help the environment. That was Mark Sanger's goal, and he set about to attain it.

LOCAL DOCTOR ARRESTED FOR ORGAN THEFT

Long Beach Memorial Hospital Staffer Implicated; Thieves Sold Bones, Blood, Organs

Aprominent Long Beach physician has been arrested for selling organs illegally removed from dead bodies at Long Beach Memorial Hospital. Dr. Martin Roberts, chief administrator of the pathology laboratory, which conducts autopsies at the hospital, was charged on 143 counts of illegally harvesting body parts from cadavers, and selling the contraband to tissue banks.

Said Long Beach District Attorney Barbara Bates, "This indictment reads like a B-movie horror story." Bates also alleged in her indictment that Dr. Roberts forged death certificates, falsified lab results, and colluded with local funeral homes and cemeteries to conceal his reign of error.

The case is only the most recent episode in a nationwide pandemic of modern-day bodysnatching. Other cases include "Dr. Mike" Mastromarino, a millionaire Brooklyn, N.Y., dentist who, over a five-year period, purportedly stole organs from thousands of cadavers, including bones from the 95-year-old Alastair Cooke; a Fort Lee, N.J., biomedical firm that sold Mastromarino's body parts to tissue banks across the United States; a crematorium in San Diego alleged to have stolen body parts from the cadavers entrusted to it; another in Lake Elsinore, California, where body parts were kept in huge freezers prior to sale; and UCLA Medical Center, where 500 bodies were cut up and sold for $700,000, some to the firm of Johnson & Johnson.

"The problem is worldwide," said DA Bates. "Tissue theft has been reported in England, Canada, Australia, Russia, Germany, and France. We believe such thefts now occur everywhere in the world," Bates added. "Patients are very concerned."

Dr. Roberts pleaded innocent to all charges in Superior Court and was released on a $1 million bond. Also indicted were four other Long Beach Memorial Hospital staffers, including Marilee Hunter, the head of the hospital genetics lab.

Long Beach Memorial administrator Kevin McCormick expressed shock at the indictments, and said that "Dr. Roberts's behavior contravenes everything that our institution stands for." He said he had ordered a thorough review of hospital procedures and would make the report public when it was completed.

Prosecutors say the events were brought to their attention by a whistle-blower, Raza Rashad. Mr. Rashad is a first-year medical student in San Francisco who had previously worked in Dr. Roberts's pathology lab, where he had witnessed firsthand numerous illegal activities there. "Mr. Rashad's testimony was vital to building the prosecutor's case," Bates said.

CHapter 039

Josh Winklerhurried into the animal facility to see what Tom Weller was talking about. "How many rats died?" he said.

"Nine."

The stiff bodies of nine dead rats lying on their sides in nine successive cages made Josh Winkler start to sweat. "We'll have to dissect them," he said. "When did they die?"

"Must have been during the night," Tom said. "They were fed at six; no notation of problems then." Tom was looking at a clipboard.

"What study group were they in?" Josh said. Fearing he already knew the answer.

"A-7," Tom said. "The maturity gene study."

Jesus.

Josh tried to remain calm. "And how old were they?"

"Ummm...let's see. Thirty-eight weeks and four days."

Oh God.

The average life span of a lab rat was 160 weeks - a little over three years. These rats had died in a quarter of that time. He took a deep breath. "And what about the others in the cohort?"

"There were twenty in the original study group," Tom said. "All identical, all the same age. Two of them died a few days ago, of respiratory infection. I didn't think much about it at the time. As for the others...well, you better see for yourself." He led Josh down the row of cages to the other rats. It was immediately clear what their condition was.

"Ragged coats, inactive, excessive sleeping, trouble standing on their hind legs, muscle wasting, hind leg paralysis in four of them..."

Josh stared. "They'reold ," he said. "They're allold. "

"Yes," Tom said. "It's unmistakable: premature aging. I went back and checked the dead rats from two days ago. One had a pituitary adenoma and the other had spinal cord degeneration."

"Signs of age..."

"Right," Tom said. "Signs of age. Maybe this gene won't be the wonder product Rick is counting on after all. Not if it causes early death. It'd be a disaster."

"How am I feeling?"Adam said, as they sat together at lunch. "I feel fine, Josh, thanks to you. I'm a little tired sometimes. And my skin is dry. I'm getting a few wrinkles. But I feel okay. Why?"

"Just wondered," Josh said, as casually as he could. He tried not to stare at his older brother. In fact, Adam's appearance had changed dramatically. Where he once had a touch of gray at the temples, he now had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. His hairline had receded. The skin around his eyes and lips was noticeably wrinkled. His forehead was deeply creased. He looked much older.

Adam was thirty-two.

Jesus.

"No, uh, drugs?" Josh asked.

"No, no. That's over, thank God," Adam said. He had ordered a hamburger, but he put it down after a few bites.

"Doesn't taste good?"

"Got a sore tooth. I need to see the dentist." Adam touched his cheek. "I hate complaining. Actually, I was thinking I'd better get some exercise. I need exercise. Sometimes I get constipated."

"You going to join your old b-ball group?" Josh said brightly. His brother used to play basketball twice a week with the investment bankers.

"Uh, no," Adam said. "I was thinking doubles tennis, or maybe golf."

"Good idea," Josh said.

A silence fell over the table. Adam pushed his plate aside. "I know I look older," he said. "You don't need to pretend you haven't noticed. Everybody's noticed it. I asked Mom, and she said that Dad was the same way; he just suddenly looked older in his thirties. Almost overnight. So maybe it's genetic."

"Yeah, could be."

"Why?" Adam said. "Do you know something?"

"Me? No."

"You just suddenly wanted to have lunch, urgently, today? Couldn't wait?"

"I hadn't seen you in a while, that's all."

"Cut the crap, Josh," he said. "You were always a shitty liar."

Josh sighed. "Adam," he said, "I think we should do some tests."

"For what?"

"Bone density, lung capacity. And an MRI."

"For what? What are these tests for?" He stared at Josh. "For aging?"

"Yes."

"I'm aging too fast? Is it that gene spray?"

"We need to find out," Josh said. "I want to call Ernie." Ernie Lawrence was the family physician.

"Okay, set it up."

CHapter 040

Speaking inWashington at a noon briefing for congressmen, Professor William Garfield of the University of Minnesota said, "Despite what you hear, nobody has ever proven a single gene causes a single human behavioral trait. Some of my colleagues believe such associations may eventually be found. Others don't think it will ever happen, that the interaction of genes and environment is just too complex. But, in any case, we see reports of new 'genes for' this or that in the papers every day, and none of them has ever proven true in the end."

"What are you talking about?" said the aide to Senator Wilson. "What about the gay gene, that causes gayness?"

"A statistical association. Not causal. No gene causes sexual orientation."

"What about the violence gene?"

"Not verified in later research."

"A sleep gene was reported..."

"In rats."

"The gene for alcoholism?"

"Didn't hold up."

"What about the diabetes gene?"

"So far," he said, "we've identified ninety-six genes involved in diabetes. We'll undoubtedly find more."

There was a stunned silence. Finally, one aide said, "If no gene has been shown to cause behavior, what is all the fuss about?"

Professor Garfield shrugged. "Call it an urban legend. Call it a media myth. Blame public education in science. Because the public certainly believes that genes cause behavior. It seems to make sense. In reality, even hair color and height are not simple traits fixed by genes. And conditions like alcoholism certainly aren't."

"Wait a minute. Height isn't genetic?"

"For individuals, yes. If you're taller than your friend, it's probably because your parents are taller. But for populations, height is a function of environment. In the last fifty years, Europeans have grown an inch every decade. So have the Japanese. That's too fast for a genetic change. It's entirely an effect of environment - better prenatal care, nutrition, health care, and so on. Americans, by the way, haven't grown at all in this period. They've shrunk slightly, possibly because of poor prenatal care and junk food diets. The point is that the actual relationship of genes and environment is very complicated. Scientists don't yet have a good understanding of how genes work. In fact, there's no general agreement about what a geneis. "

"Say that again?"

"Among scientists," Garfield said, "there is no single agreed-upon definition of what a gene is. There are four or five different definitions."

"I thought a gene was a section of the genome," someone said. "A sequence of base pairs, ATGC, that codes for a protein."

"That's one definition," Garfield said. "But it's inadequate. Because a single ATGC sequence can code for multiple proteins. Some sections of code are basically switches that turn other sections on and off. Some sections lie silent unless activated by specific environmental stimuli. Some sections are active only during a period of development, and never again. Others turn on and off constantly throughout an individual's life. As I said, it's complicated."

A hand went up. An aide for Senator Mooney, who received substantial contributions from drug companies, had a question. "Professor, I gather yours is a minority opinion. Most scientists wouldn't agree with your view of the gene."

"Actually, most scientists do agree," Garfield said. "And with good reason."

When the human genomewas decoded, scientists were startled to find that it contained only about thirty-five thousand genes. They had expected far more. After all, a lowly earthworm had twenty thousand genes. That meant that the difference between a human being and a worm might be only fifteen thousand genes. How, then, could you explain the huge difference in complexity between the two?

That problem vanished as scientists began to study the interactions among genes. For example, one gene might make a protein, and another gene could make an enzyme that snipped out part of the protein and thus changed it. Some genes contained multiple coding sequences separated by regions of meaningless code. That gene could use any of its multiple sequences to make a protein. Some genes were activated only if several other genes were activated first, or when a number of environmental changes occurred. This meant that genes were far more responsive to the environment, both inside and outside the human being, than anyone had anticipated. And the fact of multiple gene interactions meant there were billions of possible outcomes.

"It's not surprising," Garfield said, "that researchers are moving toward what we call 'epigenetic studies,' which look at exactly how genes interact with the environment to produce the individual we see. This is an extremely active area." He started to explain the intricacies.

One by one, the congressional aides finished eating and left. Only a handful remained, and they were checking messages on their cell phones.

Neanderthals Were the First Blondes

Stronger, Bigger-Brained, Smarter Than Us

Genetic mutations for hair color indicate that the first blondes were Neanderthals, not Homo sapiens. The blonde gene emerged sometime in the W��rm glaciation, perhaps in response to the relative lack of sunlight in the ice age. The gene spread among Neanderthals, who were mostly blonde, researchers say.

"Neanderthals had brains one-fifth larger than ours. They were taller than we were, and stronger. They were undoubtedly smarter, too," says Marco Svabo, of the Helsinki Genetics Institute. "In fact, there is little doubt that modern man is a domesticated version of the Neanderthal, as the modern dog is a domesticated version of the stronger and more intelligent wolf. Modern man is a degraded, inferior creature. Neanderthals were intellectually superior, and better looking. With blonde hair, high cheekbones, and strong features, they would have appeared as a race of supermodels.

"Homo sapiens - skinnier and uglier than Neanderthals - would naturally have been attracted to the beauty, strength, and intelligence of blondes. Apparently a few Neanderthal women took pity on the puny Cro-Magnons and bred with them. It's a good thing for us. We are lucky that we carry blonde Neanderthal genes to prevent our species from becoming hopelessly stupid. Although, we demonstrate plenty of stupidity anyway." He said that pretending blondes were stupid was "a dark-haired prejudice designed to deflect attention from the real problem of the world, which is dark-haired shortcomings." He added, "Make a list of the stupidest people in history. You will find they are all dark-haired."

Dr. Evard Nilsson, a spokesperson for the Marburg Institute in Germany, which has been sequencing the entire Neanderthal genome, said the blonde theory was interesting. Nilsson said, "My wife is a blonde, and I always do what she tells me to do, and our children are blonde, and quite intelligent. So I agree there is something to this theory."

CHapter 041

Dave's firstfew days in the Kendall household went surprisingly well. When he went outside, he wore a baseball cap, which helped his appearance a lot. With his hair trimmed, wearing jeans and sneakers and a Quicksilver shirt, he looked much like any other kid. And he learned quickly. He had good coordination, and writing his name proved easy under Lynn's instruction. Reading was harder for him.

Dave did well at weekend sports, though sometimes it was disconcerting. At a Little League game, a high pop fly flew off the field toward the two-story school building; Dave ran over, scaled the wall, and caught the ball at the second-story window. The kids viewed this accomplishment with a mixture of admiration and resentment. It wasn't fair, and they had wanted to see the window shatter. On the other hand, everybody wanted Dave on their team.

So Lynn was surprised when, one Saturday afternoon, Dave came home early. He looked sad.

"What is it?" she said.

"I don't fit."

"Everybody feels that way, sometimes," she said.

He shook his head. "They look at me."

She paused. "You're not the same as the other kids."

"Yes."

"Do they make fun of you?"

He nodded. "Sometimes."

"What do they do?"

"Throw things. Call me names."

"What names?"

He bit his broad lip. "Monkeyboy." He was on the verge of tears.

"That feels bad," she said. "I'm sorry." She took his baseball cap off and began to stroke his head, the back of his neck. "Kids can be mean."

"Sometimes my feelings hurt," he said. Sad, he turned his back to her. He pulled his shirt off. She ran her fingers through his hair, looking for bruises and other signs of injury. As she did so, she felt him relax. His breathing slowed. His mood seemed to improve.

Only later did she realize she was grooming him, like monkeys in the wild. One turned its back to the other, while the other picked through the fur.

She decided she would do it every day. Just to make Dave more comfortable.

Since Dave's arrival,everything in Lynn's life had changed. Although Dave was clearly Henry's responsibility, the chimp showed little interest in him. He was immediately drawn to her, and something about his manner, or his appearance - the soulful eyes? the childish demeanor? - tugged at her heart. She'd started reading about chimps, and learned that because chimpanzee females took multiple sexual partners, they did not know which male fathered their infant, and thus chimpanzees showed no notion of fatherhood or fathers. Chimps had only mothers. Dave seemed to have been an abused child, uncared for by his actual chimp mother. He looked to Lynn with open longing, and she responded. It was all deeply emotional, and entirely unexpected.

"Mom, he's not your kid," Tracy had snapped. Tracy was at the age when she craved her parents' attention. She was jealous of any dis traction.

"I know, Trace," Lynn said. "But he needs me."

"Mom! He's not your responsibility!" She threw up her hands in a theatrical gesture.

"I know."

"Well, can you leave him alone?"

"Is he getting too much attention?"

"Well, duh! Yes."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize." She put her arm around her daughter, gave her a hug.

"Don't treatme like a monkey," Tracy said, and pushed her away.

But they were, after all, primates. Human beings were apes. Her experience with Dave was giving Lynn an uncomfortable awareness of what humans shared with other apes: Grooming, touching, physical attention as a source of relaxation. Eyes lowered under threat, or displeasure, or as a sign of submission. (Tracy around her boy friends, flirting with downcast eyes.) Direct eye contact meant intimidation, a sign of anger. Goose bumps for fear and anger - those same skin muscles made a primate's hair fluff up, to create a bigger appearance in the presence of threat. Sleeping communally, curling up in a kind of nest...

On and on.

Apes.

They were all apes.

More and more,the biggest difference seemed to be hair. Dave was hairy; those around him weren't. According to her reading, the loss of hair had occurred after human beings separated from chimps. The usual explanation was that human beings had become for a time swamp creatures, or water creatures. Because most mammals were hairy - their coats of fur were necessary to help maintain their internal temperature. But water mammals, such as dolphins and whales, had lost their hair in order to be streamlined. And people, too, had lost their hair.

But for Lynn the strangest thing was the persistent sense that Dave was both human and not human. She didn't quite know how to deal with that feeling. And as the days passed, it did not get any easier.

CANAVAN GENE LITIGATION ENDS ETHICS OF GENE PATENTING DISPUTED

Canavan disease is an inherited genetic disorder that is fatal to children in the first years of life. In 1987 Dan Greenberg and his wife learned their nine-month-old son had the disease. Since no genetic test was available, the Greenbergs had another child, a daughter, who also was diagnosed with the disease.

The Greenbergs wanted to make sure other families were spared this heartbreak, and so they convinced Reuben Matalon, a geneticist, to work on a prenatal test for Canavan disease. The Greenbergs donated their own tissues, the tissues of their dead children, and they worked to obtain tissues from other families with Canavan disease around the world. Finally in 1993 the gene for Canavan disease was discovered. A free prenatal test was at last made available for families worldwide.

Unknown to the Greenbergs, Dr. Matalon patented the gene, and then demanded high fees for further tests. Many families that had contributed tissues and money to help discover the gene now could not afford the test. In 2003 the Greenbergs and other concerned parties sued Matalon and Miami Children's Hospital, claiming breach of informed consent, unjust enrichment, fraudulent con cealment, and misappropriation of trade secrets. The suit was settled out of court. As a result, the test is more widely available, although fees must still be paid to Miami Children's Hospital. The ethics of the behavior of physicians and institutions involved in this case are still hotly debated.

Psychology News

ADULTS DON'T GROW UP ANYMORE

British Researcher Blames Formal Education Professors, Scientists "Strikingly Immature"

If you believe the adults around you are acting like children, you're probably right. In technical terms, it is called "psychological neoteny," the persistence of childhood behavior into adulthood. And it's on the rise.

According to Dr. Bruce Charlton, evolutionary psychiatrist at Newcastle upon Tyne, human beings now take longer to reach mental maturity - and many never do so at all.

Charlton believes this is an accidental by-product of formal education that lasts well into the twenties. "Formal education requires a child-like stance of receptivity," which "counteracts the attainment of psychological maturity" that would normally occur in the late teens or early twenties.

He notes that "academics, teachers, scientists and many other professionals are often strikingly immature." He calls them "unpredictable, unbalanced in priorities, and tending to overreact."

Earlier human societies, such as hunter-gatherers, were more stable and thus adulthood was attained in the teen years. Now, however, with rapid social change and less reliance on physical strength, maturity is more often postponed. He notes that markers of maturity such as graduation from college, marriage, and first child formerly occurred at fixed ages, but now may happen over a span of decades.

Thus, he says, "in an important psychological sense, some modern people never actually become adults."

Charlton thinks this may be adaptive. "A child-like flexibility of attitudes, behaviors and knowledge" may be useful in navigating the increased instability of the modern world, he says, where people are more likely to change jobs, learn new skills, move to new places. But this comes at the cost of "short attention span, frenetic novelty-seeking, ever shorter cycles of arbitrary fashion, and...a pervasive emotional and spiritual shallowness." He added that modern people "lack a profundity of character which seemed commoner in the past."

CHapter 042

Ellis," Mrs. Levine said,"what is that tube?"

Her son was holding a silver canister with a little plastic cup at the tip. They were in the living room of his parents' house in Scarsdale. Outside, workmen were hammering on the garage. Making repairs: getting the house ready to sell.

"What's in the tube?" she said again.

"It's a new genetic treatment, Mom."

"I don't need it."

"It rejuvenates your skin. Makes it young."

"That's not what you told your father," she said. "You told your father that it would improve his sex life."

"Well..."

"He put you up to this, didn't he?"

"No, Mom."

"Listen to me," she said. "I don't want to improve my sex life. I have never been happier than I am right now."

"The two of you sleep in separate rooms."

"Because he snores."

"Mom, this spray will help you."

"I don't want any help."

"It will make you happier, I promise..."

"You never did listen, even as a child."

"Now, Mom..."

"And you never got any better, your whole adult life."

"Mom, please..." Ellis was starting to get angry. He wasn't supposed to be the one doing this to her, anyway. His brother Aaron was supposed to do it. Aaron was his mother's favorite. But Aaron had a court date, he'd said. So Ellis was stuck with it.

He moved toward her with the canister.

"Get away from me, Ellis."

He continued to approach.

"I amyour mother, Ellis."

She stamped on his toe. He howled in pain, and in the next moment grabbed her by the back of the head, pushed the canister over her nose, and squeezed. She writhed and twisted.

"I will not! I will not!"

But she was breathing it in. Even as she protested.

"No, no,no! "

He held it there for a while. It was as if he were strangling her, the same sort of grip, the same sensation, as she struggled in his arms. It made him incredibly uncomfortable. The flesh of her cheeks against his fingers as she twisted and protested. He smelled the powder of her makeup.

Finally Ellis stepped away from her.

"How dare you!" she said. "Howdare you!" She hurried from the room, swearing.

Ellis leaned against the wall. He felt dizzy, to have physically accosted his mother like that. But it had to be done, he told himself.It had to be done.