Hidden Monster

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Hidden Monster Page 43

by Amanda Strong


  ***

  Still, we lingered in Tonbo’s office for several hours, using the long ‘student’ tables. Tonbo had everything Blake had requested brought up. I didn’t want to pour over it. Honestly, the details from World War Two were just too horrifying for me to read. I hated what happened to the Jews in the concentration camps. It disgusted me to see what the German soldiers had forced men to do in the name of science.

  I hadn’t realized Tonbo had moved near me until I heard him say, “The Japanese feel the dragonfly symbolizes courage, strength, and happiness.”

  I jumped a little. Seeing his wrinkled face before me, I forced my mouth to work. “Is that why you chose that name, Tonbo, because it’s Japanese for dragonfly?”

  He arched one bushy eyebrow at me and grinned. “Yes indeed. Most of Europe saw the dragonfly as evil. I liked the Japanese take on it. And after so many years of wishing I could’ve done it all over again, I decided to embrace the positive.”

  “Blake had told me you’re really from Czech,” I said, desperately trying to recall any details I’d learned.

  “Ah, again right you are. I was born in the Lands of the Bohemian Crown, or as you would know it, Czech. The year was 1824, our country, I guess you could say, got caught up in the spirit of revival. Science had exploded. I was fascinated by it, drawn to it. Studied under Johann Mendel at the gymnasium in Opava. Had so much fun working with his bees.” Tonbo’s voice grew quiet. “That’s when the scientific exploration of genetics was innocent.”

  “Mendel? That name’s familiar. Wasn’t he known as the father of genetics or something like that?” School had never been my strong suit, but the name rang a bell for some reason.

  “I think your science books referred to him as the father of modern genetics. And as he should be. Started his work on pea plants, then the bees, those proved to be nasty at times. Can’t always control the mating habits of the queen, you know.”

  “Oh,” I said, not sure how else to respond. It was like having a conversation with someone from your school textbook.

  “Poor fellow died before the beauty of his findings were ever appreciated. Such as it is with the brilliant among us, right?”

  “So what happened after you studied with Mendel?” I asked.

  At this, the old man sighed. “I became obsessed with genetic mutations.”

  I waited, hoping for more, but he grew quiet. I felt bad he was ashamed of his discovery. Speaking of which, I asked, “It that how you figured out you could mix DNAs?”

  “Well, I didn’t exactly fine tune it then. You have to realize, Friedrich Miescher just discovered the gooey stuff on bandages had microscopic nucliens, as he called them then. That was in ah… the 1860s, I believe. So yes, once he’d finished stuffing rotten, old Band-Aids under a microscope, I really went crazy with the idea of DNA, as we all call it. I injected myself with the first serum then.”

  “I thought the first time was with the soldiers, when it went all wrong.”

  “I would have been long gone by then. The Germans found me in 1920. By then, I was almost one hundred years old. I should’ve been dead. It would have saved us all a lot of grief.”

  “No,” I said, reaching out and patting his shoulder. “That’s not true. Your discoveries have saved so many lives.” My eyes instinctively sought Blake across the room, but he was bent over an old parchment, oblivious to our conversation.

  Tonbo followed my gaze. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Positive only from here out, I promise.” He gave me a fleeting smile. “What I’d given myself was a simple mixture at that point. What the Germans wanted was super aggressive, immortal soldiers. When they saw what it had done to me, they forced me to change it, and try to add on to it. I lost everything after that.”

 

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