Evolution of Angels

by Nathan Wall

  “When I was twelve, Austin's dad taught me how to play baseball for the first time. My aunt was always wary of me participating in things, worried I would hit my head and never wake up. Silly, if you think about it.” Jarrod sighed, shaking his head as he chuckled. “I was so sure of myself that I would get a hit every time. That I would step into the batter's box and swing away at every pitch. Obviously, it didn't go too well as swinging a bat was still a foreign concept to me, and it didn't take long for pitchers to figure out they could just pitch balls to the outside and I'd whiff on them.”

  As Jarrod kept talking, Lian closed her eyes and allowed her imagination to fill in the images for the first time in her life. She leaned against the wall and began to see the sights of the ball field, smell the freshly cut grass, and even taste the chewing gum and sunflower seeds.

  “It was after my twelfth straight strikeout that the grumblings of my teammates and their parents started to get loud and irritate me. They got me so mad that I could have just knocked them upside the head with the bat. But Mr. Hanigan, he pulled me aside and told me my problem wasn't confidence, be it too much or too little. He said it wasn't skill or technique. He said my problem was that I didn't respect the ball and the natural order that comes with the game of baseball. Even though I had the ability to get a hit every time and the confidence to take those chances, the simple fact of the matter was that I wasn't going to get a hit every time. Baseball’s a sport where the best of the best fail seven out of ten times. His point was that even the most skilled players can't do it all on their own. Sometimes, something higher is at work and all success and faith needs to be placed in that. He said I needed to fear failure, which would teach me to respect the ball and allow me to trust the natural order of things to help me get on base.”

  “That's a beautiful story.” Lian smiled, opening her eyes. “But it seems this time I'm the one at a loss for meaning. How does that explain why you're here?”

  “After Mr. Hanigan's pep talk, I dominated the league. If I wasn't getting a hit, I was walking or driving up the pitch count. I was doing something to affect the game. When I forced myself to respect the ball and allowed myself to try and feel fear, I became the best.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “If I can be that good just going through the motions, imagine what I could do if the fear were real. How great could I be?”

  “So, you're doing all this, the Double-Helix, because you're pushing your boundaries? You're afraid of your friend dying? Was that the promise you made? To look after him?”

  “That was the promise I made, but I'm not afraid.”

  “Then why do this?” Lian sat forward, anxiously anticipating the answer.

  “Because I'm angry.”

  * * *

  Twenty-five Years Ago

  The lumpy rolling sound of Sanderson’s carry-on luggage followed him as he walked through the terminal. Hidden somewhere in the crowd was the smile he'd been longing to see. Skimming through the unfamiliar faces, he finally came across the curly blonde hair and brown eyes he'd been waiting for: his wife Sarah.

  She pushed her way through the masses, sprinting as fast as she could into his embrace. His arms curled under hers and crossed behind her back. He spun her around and took in a deep breath, allowing himself to enjoy the cherry smell of her hair.

  “I missed you,” Sarah said softly, almost crying with an emotional stutter. He put her down and leaned back, looking at the smooth and delicate features of her face. His right thumb wiped a stray tear from her cheek. He smiled and kissed her on the forehead, holding her hand firmly. He led the way out of the airport. She continued to talk. “How was the conference? I'm sure you knocked them dead.”

  “It was interesting, to say the least. I’m pretty sure the entire room wanted to burn me at the stake.” He looked at her, unable to stop smiling. He was eager to hear how her treatments were coming along, but didn't want to force the issue. He knew how stressful they'd been on her. For her comfort, he continuing to talk about his business trip. “My panel session was by far the longest. There seems to be a lot of interest in my research and I really think something is going to come of it. I just know it. I can feel it in my blood. And when someone does back me a hundred percent, allowing me full creativity, I know I can do something beautiful.”

  “So it was all positive?” She smiled, admiring his unabashed enthusiasm. She thought he was glowing.

  “Well, I'm sure there may be a few nutjob pastors out there who will send us some nasty condemning letters, but I have a chance to make human life better.” He turned and cradled his arm around her waist, pulling her close for a long, drawn-out kiss. His fingers sifted through her soft hair. He pulled back, unable to hold in the question any longer. “So? Are we?”

  Sarah looked at the ground and shook her head, her lips quivering. A sickening feeling entered his chest and anger burned through his arms. He pulled her in close once more, rubbing the back of her head, thinking about what he could have done different in the dosage.

  What could make it work next time? He was determined to get it right, for her, because it was something she'd longed so dearly for. The looks of feigning joy she had every time one of her friends would become pregnant again—as the room she'd prepared long ago sat unoccupied—weighed him down.

  “It's not meant to be, Billy,” she said into his chest. The muffled sobbing and spasms of her cries resonated throughout his entire body.

  “Next time, it'll be different,” he whispered, stroking her hair and lifting her chin to see her puffy red face. “I promise. I can give you a child. I know I can.”

  “I can't do a next time.” She shook her head, her frown stretching across her entire face. “Another failure... it's not you, Billy. I just know it.”

  They walked silently to the car and she handed him the keys as she sat in the passenger seat. He lifted the trunk and slung his bag inside. He shut the door, reached into his pocket, and felt a prick. He pulled the object out and looked at the business card, running his thumb over the name “Elliot Foster.”

  * * *

  Three months later

  Elliot walked down the spiraling staircase, looking at the man he hoped would help bring amazing theories to life. The bright sun poured in through the large glass wall. The chilling wind snuck in from the lobby doors while random individuals walked in. From this vantage point, the swirling pattern of the marble floors was most noticeable. The swooshing colors ranged from gold to pink and then ivory. Elliot squinted, his eyes always sensitive to the light.

  “I am so glad you gave me a call. You have no idea how truly excited I am.” Elliot offered his hand to Sanderson who sat on one of the many lavish maroon leather chairs in the lobby. The two exchanged greetings and Sanderson stood. Elliot adjusted his tie, forgetting just how much taller Sanderson was. “I trust your ride into the city was a smooth one?”

  “Yeah, it was great.” Sanderson nodded with a smile, bending over to grab the new leather briefcase Sarah bought him for Christmas. He held it tightly at the base, pressing it into his chest.

  He followed Elliot to the spiral staircase that led to a landing that overlooked the lobby. Once there, a copper encased elevator waited for them. Elliot scanned his keycard and the doors opened. Elliot pressed his palm against a light panel on the inside. It lit up under his hand, and the doors shut. After about a minute and a half of ascension, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open.

  The two men walked into a wide open room that had not yet been built into anything specific. In the middle of the room stood three tables with various computers, random samples, and a single microscope on top. Sanderson looked baffled.

  “I thought I was going to see your new state-of-the-art facility?” he asked.

  “You're seeing it.” Elliot smiled, walking toward the small setup of equipment. “Once you sign on the dotted line, anything we need will be shipped here post-haste. This entire floor and the two above it will be designed to our every specification. But before y
ou read the contract, I want to show you what it is that I believe can help you bridge the gap between your research and a change in the world we know.”

  Elliot wheeled two barstools next to the tables and typed on one of the keyboards. In no time at all, long stacks of papers churned out of the printer to Sanderson's left. A projector lowered from the ceiling. A good ten feet away, a solid white sheet rose from the floor. Elliot hit the spacebar twice and a series of short silent films played.

  “You recognize what is affecting these cells?” Elliot asked.

  “Ebola, polio, the plague, cancer,” Sanderson concluded, his eyes shifting from a small steel box sitting on the table next to Elliot and back to the screen. “And?”

  “And now see the effect these various illnesses have on these new cells.” Elliot hammered down on the spacebar two more times and another series of short silent videos played. He smiled from ear to ear as Sanderson became entranced with what he was seeing. When the videos stopped, Sanderson looked at Elliot, mouth hung open and shocked at what he saw. Elliot spoke. “No, those cells weren't from any sort of creature we've known on Earth. No, they weren't provided with any sort of antibodies that would help prevent them from being stricken. They appear to be built like a human's, but they're not.”

  “What is it?” Sanderson sat on the chair Elliot provided for him and ran his hand through his hair. “Do you have it with you?”

  “I have a sample right here.” Elliot turned to the steel box, pressing both thumbs on a keypad. The box clicked and Elliot opened the lid. He took out a vial and handed it to Sanderson. “Take a look for yourself.”

  Sanderson grabbed the vial with his index and middle finger and slowly placed it on the table next to him. He tipped the vial over and out slid a coarse, clear gel trapped between two pieces of transparent glass. He stuck it under the high-power microscope and examined it.

  “It's alive,” he whispered. His smile made an indention on his voice. He increased the magnification tenfold, marveling at the things he saw. “It looks almost human. What do you know about it?”

  “We don't know much, but what we do know is groundbreaking,” Elliot testified. He walked around the set of tables and stood across from Sanderson, leaning over the table. “We know that it's made up of chromosomes which determine certain features. What types of features, we can't tell, but we've numbered the chromosomes from the sample and it has ten times the amount of chromosomes in a single block of DNA compared to a human, and we've not even finished counting them.”

  “Simply amazing.” Sanderson shook his head, gob smacked.

  “That's not even the most amazing part.” Elliot laughed, placing his hand on Sanderson's shoulder. “Some of those chromosomes are still found in nature. Some of them—slight variations at that—are found in humans.”

  “That means...” Sanderson paused midsentence, his breaths coming to a halt, unable to contain the delight in his eyes.

  “Yes.” Elliot nodded. “That means this was here when life formed and evolved on Earth.”

  “What is it that I can do?” Sanderson pressed his eyes back to the microscope, taking in the sights of the sample. “How does my research fit this?”

  “You're able to streamline the way the scientists can clone stem cells and use them in regenerating new tissue in people, treat sicknesses, and even partially reverse life threatening illnesses. Imagine if we could do the same thing with this. Create new cures for all kinds of untreatable viruses and diseases. Wipe out diabetes and cancer, cure sickle cell anemia. What we have before us is the purest source of life—a catalyst for new beginnings. Allow me to unlock the secrets of the chromosomes and you recreate them. Together, we could even bring this to life.”

  “We don't even know what it is.” Sanderson shook his head, pushing away from the table. “Let us say it is a lifeform able to breathe and think. What will it think? What would the consequences be of creating life that's clearly not meant to walk the planet anymore?”

  “The DNA is human-like and we've found traces of the code scattered throughout the planet. I'm sure even you and I share some of the same qualities that we see right here in this unbound, perfectly balanced, triple-helix.”

  “Triple-helix?” Sanderson could barely move, his mind pondering how three perfectly symmetrical helix strands could intermingle without one being neglected or fusing with another. “But the cells I saw on the video and here… they're almost human. How can that be with a triple-helix?”

  “Only God knows that answer.” Elliot smiled. “At least for right now, anyway.”

  “Maybe we're looking at Him?” Sanderson looked through the microscope again.

  * * *

  Later that day

  “I can't go through it again.” Sarah stood from the table and walked over to the sink. The harsh yellow light above washed over her, casting deep shadows under her eyes. She briefly looked at her face in the reflection of the window overlooking their back garden. It was pitch black outside. She plunged the dish into the soapy water, not bothering to roll up the long sleeves of her dress. Her body trembled as she raised her right arm and wiped her face with the back of her wrist. “You don't understand what it's like to keep going through that. To keep trying. I just can't… I won't survive another failure. God just didn't want me to have a child.”

  “That's bull and you know it.” Sanderson slammed the table, closed his eyes, and calmly breathed in through his mouth. He stood and slowly walked to her, rubbing her shoulders firmly. His chin perched on her left shoulder, at the base of her neck. He kissed her as he spoke softly. “We don't know what God wants. We can't ask Him or read His mind.”

  “My entire family has had this same problem.” Her eyes moved up, but a large frown anchored her face to the floor. She closed her eyes as they watered. He ran his index finger under her eyes and wiped the moisture away. “You're the best at what you do, but not even you can beat God's design.”

  “If it's God's design to keep a wonderful woman like you from being a mother and instead allowing thousands of infants to be born and raised by crack whores, then that's not the God I want to allow to win.” Sanderson kissed her cheek, hugging her. He twirled her around and pressed his forehead to hers. The smell of her cherry hair was very much present. “With this new company, the possibilities are endless. I'm not just going to help you bear a child, but I'm going to cure AIDS and Cancer and Down Syndrome—all the things God saw fit to inflict on millions of human beings who didn't deserve it. I really believe in this.”

  “You can't beat God, Billy.” She looked at him, unable to hold back a grin. His passion was the one thing that could always bring her back from the precipice. She pressed her palms to his face. “You can't beat Him and you certainly can't play Him.”

  “I'm not talking about just playing Him, Sarah.” He stared her down with a straight face, not even flinching or blinking or wrinkling his nose; things he would often do when he wasn't completely sure of himself. “These new regimens that I'll create will help make your body more conducive to child birth—much more than ever before. It won't just mask your inabilities. It'll repair them. I know we've been through this four times. But you know what they say. ‘The fifth time’s the charm.’”

  “I thought it was supposed to be three?” She smiled, laughing at him.

  “We're way past three strikes.” He smiled back. “I kind of consider the past two as foul balls anyway. You can get as many of those as you want.”

  “Not when those foul balls are in the form of needles going into my ass. No, thank you.” She burst at the seams, laughing as he tickled her.

  She pushed herself out of his grasp and ran into the living room. She rounded the couch to head up the stairs. He gave chase and caught her at the staircase. He twirled her around and gently tossed her onto the couch. She brushed her hair away from her face as he climbed on top of her. Their lips connected and they closed their eyes.

  “Ok,” she said between kisses, her eyes still close
d and her voice full. He stopped kissing her and pulled his head back. They looked at each other and she whispered. “One more time.”

  * * *

  Shah inserted a flash drive into his private laptop. Images and readings rolled across his screen. A tiny green light at the end of the flash drive blinked repeatedly, letting him know the transmission was live.

  “Would you look at this?” he said, awestruck by the readings. He opened up another file, comparing it with Jackson's readings from before his procedure a few years prior. “It's even more perfect? How?”

  He leaned back in his chair and his eyes locked on the ceiling. His mind sprinted through a billion theories. Then it hit him. The answer was obvious. Though not exact, he'd seen these readings before. In fact, he saw them every day while working with the Agents he helped transform through the Double-Helix procedure. He opened a secure connection, pulled up the research done on the catalyst, and compared the information to Jarrod's readings.

  “The two readings would be identical if Jarrod's contained a third helix.” His eyes widened as he chuckled.

  “That's because they're brothers,” Elliot said, walking up behind Shah. He turned to his psychic guards and lifted a hand, waving them away. Once they left the room, he turned his attention back to Shah and continued talking. “It's been over twenty years since I've seen this structure. It seems it's finally made its way back home.”

  “What are you talking about, sir?” Shah looked over his shoulder. He attempted to close his laptop, but Elliot quickly put his hand on Shah's shoulder and squeezed ever-so-slightly. “Uh... a brother?”

  “Yes, a brother.” Elliot walked around, stood in front of Shah, and gently pried the laptop from his fingers. “You know, a sibling? Someone who shares half of your chromosomes. Our catalyst and Jarrod are paternal siblings... sort of.”

  “That's impossible. The catalyst predates history and has three helixes along with hundreds of chromosomes.” Shah tried to stand from his chair, but couldn't move. Even though his brain was telling his body to get up, his limbs refused to listen. “I-uh. I can't move.”