by J. R. McLeay
“In that case, what implications might the process of cloning have on the mutation of life forms from one generation to the next?”
“Cloning produces no change in form between donor and offspring, because they share the exact same set of complete DNA,” asserted Gabriel. “The two organisms will be genetically exactly the same.”
“And what effect might that have on the survival or longevity of the species?” Rick asked, continuing to probe.
“Since there would be no change in form or function from one generation to the next, the species would never adapt over time with its environment,” suggested Drew.
Rick was pleased with how the group was working together once again.
“So what might that mean to the ultimate survival of that species?”
“Eventually, the ever-changing environment would create conditions for which the unchanging species would be ill-equipped to manage, and the species would presumably die off,” Drew replied.
“Perhaps that’s why Mother Nature seems to prefer sexual reproduction over this less exciting asexual form,” replied Rick, with a hint of a grin. “Why then, do you think she makes this preferred process so much fun?” he teased.
“By creating the continuous urge to copulate, it has the effect of maximizing the genetic diversity and propagation of the various species,” stated Ethan.
“You make it sound so clinical, Ethan!” Rick joked.
The assembly erupted into loud spontaneous laughter.
“It looks like we higher life forms,” Rick continued, “who procreate sexually and thus evolve over time to counter any destructive environmental forces, are awarded a two-edged sword. We lead longer lives by more successfully avoiding predation, but we also pay the ultimate price when nature forces us to get out of the way of our better adapted offspring. Lowly bacteria on the other hand, who replicate asexually, theoretically can live forever. But because they are poorly adapted for survival, they typically don’t—so they must reproduce rapidly and prodigiously to compensate.”
“Why would nature choose to have any species reproduce this way then, Dr. Ross?” asked Lauren.
“That’s a very good question, Lauren. But first, let’s look at it from a purely selfish perspective,” Rick suggested, encouraging the group to switch their line of thinking. “If we humans are among the few organisms that have a choice between sexual or asexual reproduction, what effect would a potential parent’s cloning have on the longevity and survival of his or her immediate heir?”
“The empirical data shows that cloned organisms normally have shorter lifespans, to the extent that cloning even works in the first place.” Gabriel stated.
“How do you mean, Gabriel?”
“Only about five percent of attempted clonal reproductions in higher life forms are successful in producing a viable offspring to term.”
Rick continued to be impressed by Gabriel’s depth of knowledge of fundamental biology.
“Why is that, do you think?” he probed. “Why do these cloned organisms seem to have lower survival prospects?”
“Maybe the donor DNA nucleus doesn’t properly bond with the egg whose nucleus had been removed,” suggested Lauren.
“Or maybe the partly aged DNA from the donor simply starts in the new organism where it left off?” offered Drew.
“Perhaps inherent genetic disorders in the donor cell are carried over, or somehow stimulated when the nucleus is artificially fused into the egg,” added Gabriel.
“These are all good possibilities,” Rick offered. “Fortunately, we have the capability to perform embryonic screening of the egg to test for and remove defective genetic carriers so this wouldn’t appear to pose too much of a practical problem. And hormonally induced multiple egg harvesting can compensate for the low gestation rate. So it seems we ingenious humans have been able to circumvent many of Nature’s built-in barriers to this type of reproduction. But it is true that successfully cloned organisms do show signs of diminished longevity, and we still don’t know all the reasons why.”
A hand rose from the back of the assembly.
“Why would we want to mess with a design that has worked so well for so long, anyhow?” a familiar voice asked plaintively. “Perhaps there’s another reason why it’s proven so difficult for man to artificially create life.”
Rick recognized the individual as the one who had introduced the notion of divine creation towards the end of the previous lecture. He’d checked the student’s file and discovered that Nathan Taylor had a unique and intriguing academic background. As a holder of a Ph.D. in molecular biology, it was unusual for someone at this stage in his professional development to be seeking continuing education in this forum, especially on this subject. Usually, Bioethics was an elective chosen by students in their undergraduate or graduate studies as part of the process of completing their degree in law or medicine. An individual with Nathan’s lofty qualifications would normally now be teaching or conducting clinical research to advance his learning.
Although Rick was pleased that Nathan had presented his idea in a more restrained manner this time, he knew from prior experience that the proposed subject could be an explosive one, and he decided to proceed cautiously.
“That’s a good point, Nathan,” he replied. “Help us understand your point of view. What alternative explanation might you suggest?”
“Simply that ‘Mother Nature’ has nothing to do with any of this. That God created the universe, and everything in it.”
Nathan spoke plainly, but Rick could hear the fire in his voice.
“This is indeed an interesting proposition, and one that has had wide currency for many millennia,” Rick stated, mindful to remain open and non-judgmental. “How might we reconcile the existence of God with what we have proposed in this room?”
“You can’t,” replied Nathan matter-of-factly.
Rick decided to give Nathan the benefit of doubt and see where he might go with his argument.
“If a Higher Being started everything,” he asked, “why couldn’t life have evolved since then in the manner we have proposed?”
“Because the Bible tells us otherwise.”
It was obvious to Rick that Nathan had already made up his mind and was going to resist any alternate theories. Rick knew from prior experience that it would be counter-productive to go head-to-head with anyone who held such strong and passionate opinions. He decided to open the floor for discussion in an attempt to broaden the perspectives and to deflect the confrontation. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t have a chance to set the stage, as the class was all-too-eager to jump in.
“What makes you think the Bible is all-knowing?” Gabriel interjected.
“Because it was written by God Himself,” Nathan replied.
“How can you know that?”
“Because it is so written.”
“Isn’t that circular reasoning?” Drew asked.
“There is plentiful evidence to support the Bible’s assertions!” Nathan argued vigorously.
“Such as?” Gabriel challenged.
“Such as multiple accounts of miracles performed by the Lord.”
“How do we know those accounts aren’t simply the authors’ interpretations,” Rachel weighed in, “or the interpretations of others from whom those accounts may have been passed down? Much can be lost or embellished in the translation from one person to another over a long period of time. Doesn’t the Bible in fact state that it was written by mortal humans—many years after the events so chronicled?”
It was apparent that Rachel had studied her own share of scripture, and Rick was pleased to see the depth of understanding and the level of engagement amongst the group. He decided to let them play this out a little longer.
“It may have been written by mortals,” Nathan said, becoming more impassioned and irritated with each counter-argument, “but under the direction of God!”
“So we are led to believe,” countered Drew, “by their own words. Doesn’
t this interpretation really amount to a simple leap of faith?”
“A leap of faith that will save everyone who so believes!” exhorted Nathan.
“Save us from what exactly,” Gabriel said sarcastically, directly challenging Nathan. “We seem to have found a way to give ourselves eternal life, no thanks to your Lord!”
Nathan’s eyes lit up.
“Your puny efforts to extend life will matter little in the end— when judgment is passed!”
Here we go with the fear-mongering again, thought Rick. Why must it always boil down to belief purely for the sake of salvation?
It seemed too convenient an explanation for Rick. Nathan was starting to sound more and more like Calvin James, and Rick wondered if he might in fact be a member of the preacher’s flock. He couldn’t understand how someone so steeped in the precise science of molecular biology could so quickly dispense with his long training for belief in such a tenuous and simplistic premise. Rick resolved to meet with Nathan after class to better understand his motivations and connections. For now it was time for the professor to step back in to the fray. The lecture was getting out of control and quickly moving beyond the bounds of both biology and ethics.
“Okay gang, it looks like we have some divergent opinions on this matter and that we’re going to have to agree to disagree for the time being. Plus, we’re nearing the end of today’s meeting, so in preparation for our next lecture two weeks from now, I want each of you to consider another little mind-bending riddle.”
As he scanned the room and prepared to present his question, Rick’s eyes stopped as they met Nathan’s.
“If, as some people believe,” he said, “every life has a soul, and every clone is an exact replica of its donor, does that mean that the donor and clone share the same soul?”
13
Eva appraised herself carefully in her full-length dressing room mirror. She wasn’t sure how she should dress for tonight’s nightclub excursion with Jennifer. Should she dress demurely to reflect her matronly image as the anointed Queen? Should she dress more elegantly to reflect her lofty social standing? Or would she dress more provocatively to accent her unique and abundant curves and reveal to the world what a real woman looks like?
What the hell, thought Eva, why should I be afraid to highlight my natural assets?
She finally chose a form-fitting, navy-blue dress with a subtle slit up one side to show a little leg, if the mood struck her. A chenille scarf draped loosely around her neck fell softly against her ample bosom, revealing more than a hint of cleavage. Her hair was styled in a bohemian bob, with long corkscrew curls cascading over her creamy skin. Elegant black leather pumps completed the picture—though she doubted many people would be looking that far down tonight.
Eva smiled as she imagined the impact she’d make walking into the nightclub. She was the natural embodiment of fully mature beauty and sensuality, and she knew she would open more than a few eyes tonight. Jennifer had heard of a new place everyone said was the hottest club in town, and Eva was exhilarated as well as a little intimidated about the prospect of mingling among so many juveniles in such an unfamiliar setting.
Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the buzzing of her apartment’s intercom.
“Hello,” Eva replied, almost tripping as she rushed to press the button on the console.
“There’s a Ms. Austin here to see you, Ms. Bronwen,” informed the concierge from the main floor lobby of her posh co-op building.
“Yes, I’ve been expecting her. Please send her up.”
“She said she has a cab waiting,” the concierge replied.
“Oh, yes, of course. Tell her I’ll be right down.”
Eva had hoped she and Jennifer could chat a bit before heading downtown, but she knew taxis would be in short supply on a rainy Friday evening on the Upper East Side, and she didn’t want to flaunt her special privileges by ordering a limousine. With some trepidation, she grabbed her purse and headed out the door.
Jennifer was sitting quietly on a leather sofa in a corner of the marble lobby as Eva stepped out of the elevator on the ground floor. Eva didn’t like keeping her new friend waiting, but there was no way around the security rules of her building, which restricted guest access without explicit clearance.
“Hi Jennifer,” Eva apologized. “Sorry for the delay.”
“No problem, Eva. I’m getting pretty used to these doorman-controlled buildings by now, living in New York.”
Jennifer’s eyes widened as she saw Eva moving closer in her revealing dress.
“Wow—you look smashing this evening!”
“You don’t think I’m a little overdressed?” Eva was beginning to wonder if she’d chosen wisely. Jennifer was wearing a more subtle ensemble, comprising a pretty oriental blouse over a mid-length charcoal skirt, atop simple but chic flats.
“Not at all,” assured Jennifer. “Where we’re going tonight, I think most people will be dressed to the nines.”
“Where are we going anyway?”
“Let me fill you in on the way—our cab is waiting.”
As they exited the building, Eva’s doorman held out a large umbrella and escorted them to the waiting car. It was a chilly early autumn evening, and they were happy to take shelter against the rain. As they bundled into the taxi, Jennifer informed the driver of their destination.
“The Hippodrome, please.”
“That sounds interesting,” remarked Eva. “Where’s that?”
“It used to be a revolving restaurant atop the Marriott Marquis hotel that was recently converted into a giant circular nightclub-bar. It just opened, and the girls at work tell me it is the absolute hottest place in town.”
“I recognize the location,” said Eva. “I used to have the occasional Sunday brunch at that restaurant. Shows you how much I get out—I didn’t even know it had been converted into a nightclub.”
“Neither did I,” admitted Jennifer. “How are the views from up there?”
“Magnificent. Though I can’t say how clear it will be on a dark and drizzly night like this.”
“We’ll just have to enjoy the view from inside then. Should be lots of good people-watching. Though something tells me you’re going to be the center of attention tonight.”
Eva scrunched up her nose in protest.
“I’m not sure that’s exactly what I want on my first unofficial night out in such a long time. Usually I’m escorted to carefully planned and boring official functions like museum openings and theater premiers. I don’t know if I’m entirely ready for this kind of experience.”
“Well then, let me be your escort tonight. Besides, how much trouble can we get into forty-eight stories above the street, in the city’s fanciest nightclub?”
Eva smiled nervously, and her gaze shifted to the Manhattan streetscape rushing by her tear-splattered window. Even though it was fairly late on a rainy Friday evening, she could still see plenty of pedestrians walking on the broad sidewalks in the shadow of the streetlamps. Of course, virtually all the people were juveniles, every one of them about the same height—almost a full foot shorter than Eva. It reminded Eva how often she felt like a modern day Gulliver, traveling among the little people of Lilliput.
How true indeed the prophecy, she thought, that the meek shall inherit the earth.
Riding up the glass elevator to the roof-top nightclub above Times Square, Eva and Jennifer watched as the flashing billboards at street level fell rapidly away, and the peaks of many surrounding mid-town skyscrapers rose like so many sparkling jewels in the glistening twilight. But when the doors opened on the forty-eighth floor, the two grimaced. The room was packed with club-goers as far as either could see, and a long queue stretched from the elevators to the main entrance door.
“Oh no,” groaned Eva, “it’ll take us forever to get through this lineup.”
“Let’s check at the front door and see what can be done,” suggested Jennifer.
As the two worked their way forward to
the reception area, Eva noticed many people’s attention closely followed their movements. She wasn’t sure if they were more concerned about line jumpers or if it was simply that they hadn’t seen a young, full-grown woman this close-up before. Either way, she was beginning to feel uncomfortable with so many eyes upon her.
“Excuse me,” Jennifer announced as she approached the doorman, “can you give me an idea of the approximate wait time?”
The doorman quickly glanced at Jennifer and then did a double-take as he caught sight of Eva just behind her. His eyes scanned the statuesque beauty carefully and thoroughly—a little too thoroughly for Jennifer’s liking. Just as she was about to make a comment, he spoke.
“Are the two of you together?” he asked.
“Yes.” replied Jennifer. “This is Eva Bronwen, and I’m her escort.”
“Yes, I recognize Ms. Bronwen, of course. There is no need for you to wait in line. We would be pleased to welcome both of you to our establishment at your leisure.
“Enjoy your evening,” the doorman said, as he unhinged the clasp and pulled aside the velvet rope.
The two ladies quickly entered the main room.
Some things never change, thought Jennifer. The beautiful and famous people always get favored status. Under the circumstances, she wasn’t about to complain.
“That was easy,” remarked Eva. “Do you always find it so simple to crash the line?”
“Not quite that easy. I think our doorman fancied you.”
“He was probably just being deferential because he recognized me as the Queen.”
“Maybe, but I think that dress might have helped a little too. These places always like to fill their establishments with beautiful people, and I think you qualify on many levels.”
“You’re no slouch yourself, Jennifer,” Eva replied. “In fact, I think we make a smashing couple!”