The Cicada Prophecy: A Medical Thriller - Science Fiction Technothriller

by J. R. McLeay

  Precisely five minutes later, Calvin emerged in the cathedral’s central nave with his son.

  “Elias, this is Miss Rubino,” he said, introducing his son to the Child Services officer. “She’d like to speak with you for a few minutes about some of the things we discussed. Please speak clearly and feel free to express your feelings openly.” Calvin looked at the Child Services agent directly. “She won’t do anything against your wishes. I’ll be waiting by the foyer until you’re both finished.”

  As Calvin slowly withdrew to the opposite end of the cathedral, his eyes met Elias’s. He wasn’t sure how to read the expression on his son’s face, but he knew at this moment that Elias must surely feel as tormented as he was. He knew that Elias revered him and that he also feared God. He was a clever boy, with strong spiritual convictions—but he was still only a boy. Calvin couldn’t imagine how anyone at such a tender age could possibly make this kind of a life-altering decision. Although he knew the law provided for full and open counsel with Child Services, Calvin also knew where their prejudices lay, and he found it unacceptable that this decision could ultimately be wrested from the rightful parent or legal guardian.

  For his part, Elias knew full well how his father felt about the procedure, having been lectured on the subject from the pulpit as well as the dinner table about how accepting the operation amounted to self-mutilation in God’s eyes as well as certain banishment to Hell. But he also knew from stolen glances at the newspaper and from surreptitious discussions with fellow parishioners, exactly what the consequences were both ways. He had long agonized about what he would do when the inevitable day came to make this choice.

  On the one hand, he could embrace the predictable but declining life of a mature adult and expect to live for perhaps eighty more years, with the unclear promise of everlasting life in heaven—or he could abandon his divine duty and lead the virtually assured unlimited life of the ever-young juveniles he saw parade into his father’s church week after week. How could he be expected to make this decision? It was an impossible choice—to choose between a finite life devoted to God, or an infinite life devoted to earthly pleasures. Peering up at the altar before him, Elias couldn’t take his eyes off the agonized look on Christ’s face as he lay on the crucifix, his bloodied hands and feet bound by metal spikes.

  Calvin retreated to the rear pews and glared at the two police officers flanking the main door beside him. Although the Child Services agent had positioned Elias on the dais with his back to Calvin so as to avoid eye contact and undue distraction, Calvin could still make out his son’s form through the gauzy material of the privacy curtain. The interview seemed to go on forever, and even though it only lasted a little over forty-five minutes, it seemed like an eternity to Calvin. He periodically saw his son’s back heaving and spasming, clearly indicating that Elias was sobbing. Many times Calvin simply wanted to race to the pulpit and dash out the side door with his son. The only thing that kept him firmly rooted in his seat was the giant avatar of Christ lying on the cross above the altar. He hoped God would give both him and his son the necessary strength to prevail.

  When Ms. Rubino finally emerged from behind the screen and motioned for Calvin to join them, he rushed to the front of the room. Elias was crying, and Ms. Rubino looked forlorn. He could only imagine what words had been exchanged and what anguish his son had been through. Surely, he thought, his son had followed his instructions not to reveal his true fears, as Calvin had requested. He was almost afraid to ask the Child Services agent the inevitable question.

  “You can see my son is deeply upset and conflicted over this whole matter,” he stated. “It’s obvious he’s in no mood or position at the present time to make a decision on this difficult issue you’ve put to him. May we be left alone to think this through and give you a definitive answer after he’s had a chance to process everything? I’ll thank you to leave now, Ms. Rubino.”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. James,” she said, motioning to the police officers quickly catching up. “I can’t do that. After carefully assessing your son’s concerns and his state of mind, I believe that he is being unduly influenced by you to put off this critical decision, which needs to be made soon. Furthermore, I’ve heard enough from Elias to believe that he desires this procedure to ensure his continued vitality and longevity. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take him into the temporary custody of Child Services, at least until we can make a final and confident determination as to his wishes.”

  Calvin’s eyes suddenly flashed, and he rose out of his seat so quickly that he sent chairs flying off the raised platform.

  “What?!” he roared, incredulously. “I’m not going to let you take my son away from me, and defile him against his will!”

  He was shaking visibly now, and his face was flushed a deep shade of scarlet red.

  “You have no right to be here in the first place, let alone feign to have dominion over this boy’s body and destiny. He is my child, and a child of God—no one else’s. I am taking my son now, and I’m asking you to leave this holy chamber before you desecrate it any further. Get out of my church, or by God’s will I’ll throw you out!!”

  As Calvin moved to scoop the quivering and sobbing Elias out of his seat, suddenly he felt an intense pain shoot through his entire body, and he fell to the floor in a fit of convulsions. The police, who had obviously prepared for this circumstance, had shot him with two highly charged electrified impulses from their taser pistols, each carrying twenty thousand volts. Calvin couldn’t move or speak—he was completely incapacitated and in tremendous pain. As the officers quickly moved to bind his hands and feet with nylon tie-straps, he looked on helplessly as his son was led away out the front door.

  The last thing Calvin saw was the agonized expression on Elias’s face as he looked back at his stricken father writhing on the raised platform under the tortured gaze of Christ looking down from the cross.

  20

  Eva Bronwen lay draped in a surgical gown on the operating table in room 3R at Mount Sinai Medical Center. It was time to retrieve the eggs which had been developing in her womb with the help of special ovulation-inducing drugs, and although the procedure was by now fairly practiced and straight-forward, the state didn’t want to take any chances using anything but the best available facilities to ensure the success of the operation.

  Over the previous two weeks, Eva had been administered daily hormone injections designed to stimulate the production of multiple eggs within each ovary and to suppress their normal release. This had produced all manner of escalated symptoms, from severe bloating and weight gain to elevated libido levels. Eva’s progress during this time had been closely monitored via regular blood tests and ultrasound scans to assess the development and readiness of her ovarian follicles to harvest the precious eggs. At her last test, it was determined that the follicles were fully ripe and ready for delivery. A special gonadotropin drug was administered to trigger ovulation within thirty-six hours, whereupon a specialist was scheduled to retrieve each tiny egg one at a time using a long needle inserted directly through her abdomen into her uterus.

  Drs. Ross and Austin were also attending to monitor the procedure and to provide emotional support to Eva.

  “How’s my big girl doing today?” Rick said to Eva as he entered the operating room.

  “A lot bigger—and not feeling like much of a girl, I’m afraid!” Eva smiled, as she winked at Jennifer following close behind. “I’m glad you only put me through this twice a year—otherwise I’m sure you’d wear this tired old body out in no time.”

  “Oh come on,” Jennifer teased, “I know the side effects aren’t all bad. And besides, you’re a long way from getting old.”

  “Tell that to my ovaries. I know there’s a limited amount of eggs they produce in a lifetime, and based on the number you’ve pulled out of me so far, I’m surprised I’ve got any left! Pretty soon, you’ll turn me into a dried up old prune.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re becom
ing a spinster just yet,” Rick laughed. “Actually, every female is born with about four million eggs, and you only lose about ten thousand or so every month through regular ovulation—so doing the math, I’d say you’ve still got quite a few left.”

  “Where do they all go, anyway?” Eva wondered aloud.

  “One or two of them wash out of your system naturally every time you have a period. But you’re right about the connection to age, in that many more are lost through the process of follicular atresia every month. That’s why it’s important to harvest your eggs while you’re young.”

  “Follicular atresia? That’s the nicest way so far that you’ve told me I’m getting old, Dr. Ross. Actually, I was thinking more about where the eggs go that are retrieved during these procedures, as opposed to those produced during my normal cycle. You must have an awful lot of them stored away by now?”

  “They’re kept right here in this hospital, in a secure vault that is carefully controlled to keep them frozen at the just the right temperature.”

  “Story of my life,” Eva sighed. “It looks like no one’s ever going to touch my frigid eggs, other than some mysterious lab technician. So much for combining DNA the old fashioned way!”

  “I thought you were considering some new possibilities in that area, Eva?” Jennifer said, referring to Eva’s flirtation with a suitor at the Hippodrome two weeks ago.

  “Oh, you mean Mike? He’s a charming enough fellow, and he’s certainly showing enough interest in me, but I’m fighting the temptation to take it beyond the platonic level. Which, let me tell you Jennifer, isn’t any easier with all these drugs you’ve given me!”

  “Maybe your body’s trying to tell you something, Eva?” Rick chimed in. After hearing Jennifer recount their earlier experience at the nightclub, he’d begun to think Eva’s recent dating wasn’t such a bad idea either.

  “Et tu, Dr. Ross?” Eva said, noticing Jennifer’s hand brush playfully against Rick’s smock.

  “And since we’re on the subject of body language, judging by how close you two are standing to one another, I’m sensing a little extra chemistry somewhere else in this room?”

  Rick and Jennifer glanced at each other tentatively.

  “I knew it! You two are perfect for each other, and it’s high time my GP found someone as smart and sophisticated as Jennifer. I’m thrilled for you both—even if I am a little miffed you chose her over me, Dr. Ross.”

  “What makes you think…” Jennifer said, shifting unconsciously away from Rick.

  “Oh, please! Look at you two. It’s written all over your faces—you’re smitten. I insist on being invited to the wedding.”

  “Whoa! We’ve only been out to dinner once,” Rick interjected. “You might give us a little longer before we start sending out invitations.”

  “So how long has it been—two weeks?” Eva ribbed. “When’s your second date?”

  “Now wait just a second,” Rick protested. “This was supposed to be about you—you always have a way of turning our conversations around.”

  “I’m serious, Dr. Ross,” Eva replied, looking suddenly solemn, “I feel like I’m a part of both your lives now, and I don’t want you holding something like this back from me.”

  “We’re simply collaborating on some professional initiatives.” Rick equivocated, realizing he was quickly losing the battle to disguise his true feelings for Jennifer.

  “Really?” Eva teased, signaling she wasn’t about to submit to the operation until she had what she wanted. “Professional initiatives? What kind?”

  “Well, we’re going on a little fact-finding trip to the Sierra Nevada mountains this weekend,” Jennifer volunteered, barely concealing her excitement.

  “What, are you going skiing? Isn’t it still a bit early in the season for that?”

  “Actually, we’re going on a different type of harvesting mission,” Rick replied looking at Jennifer, gently admonishing her for revealing their new secret. “We’re searching for the germinal seed of the oldest tree in the plant kingdom.”

  “Oh that sounds like fun,” Eva said. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when I come to after the operation.”

  Quickly seizing the opportunity, Rick motioned to the attending anesthesiologist to turn up the thiopental drip, and Eva quickly fell into a peaceful sleep.

  21

  Rick had been eagerly anticipating his latest Bioethics class all week. The last session on the subject of cloning had been very animated, with more than a few intellectual breakthroughs, but it had finished with another controversial debate over the role of religion and science. Rick had taken his mercurial student Nathan aside after the session ended to enquire about his motivations and discovered he had an excellent knowledge of evolutionary biology but that he would not reveal where or how he had developed his apparently far stronger spiritual beliefs. Rick resolved to tread lightly on this subject going forward and to continue gently probing for additional insights into this unusual and mysterious student.

  As he entered the lecture hall filled with chatter among the large assembly of students, he scanned the upper row of seats and was disappointed to see Nathan was missing.

  Looks like I’ll have to inject some of my own controversy to give today’s lecture some spark.

  “Good morning, esteemed colleagues,” Rick announced. “Our last class on the subject of cloning was quite vigorous, don’t you think?”

  The assembly murmured, remembering the heated discussion with Nathan.

  “This week’s subject on the link between reproduction and longevity may be slightly less contentious but hopefully no less interesting. But first, we have the usual matter of trying to resolve our weekly riddle. If you remember, building on our discussion of the relationship between religion and science, I posed the question: If 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? Any takers?”

  Gabriel, as usual, was not shy about jumping into the fray.

  “I thought we established that there’s no room for religion in science—or at least that there’s no evidence to indicate a divine hand in the evolution of life. In that case, I think we’d have to say that living beings don’t have a soul.”

  “Well, I’m not sure we completely reconciled the coexistence, or exclusivity, of the two,” Rick suggested. “But I suppose if you were to outright reject the existence of any divine power or influence, you might conclude that there’s no such thing as a ‘soul’—at least in the traditional meaning of the word. But what if we were to think of a living thing’s soul as that component which goes on living even after it’s dead—how might that change our interpretation?”

  The group paused and looked at one another quizzically. Rick held up his hands in mock protest.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the distinction between mortal and immortal cells from our lecture two weeks ago? Who remembers which cells never die, and why?”

  “The germ cells never die,” Lauren remembered. “Insofar as they’re passed on to their offspring in the act of reproduction.”

  “Right you are, Lauren,” Rick said, pleased the group was back on track. “But there’s also a distinction in how they’re passed on, as it pertains to sexual versus asexual reproduction. Why is this important?’

  “In the case of cloning,” Ethan offered, “which involves asexual reproduction, the offspring receives the same full and unchanged set of genes as that of its parent.”

  Rick nodded.

  “So then, if a clone receives the exact same DNA material as that passed down from its progenitor, and those germ cells never age or die, wouldn’t that be equivalent to an immortal soul?”

  “Only if that clone reproduced asexually and its offspring did the same, ad infinitum,” concluded Drew. “If the clone didn’t do so—or if it died before reproducing—those germ cells would die with it.”

  “That’s very clever, Drew. So in that case, I suppo
se the only organisms with the closest thing to a soul would be bacteria and other simple organisms, who only reproduce asexually!?” Rick was beginning to feel thankful Nathan was absent from today’s lecture, after all. “The so-called higher life forms, which reproduce sexually, seem to be doomed to finite mortal lives, since no exact replica of them appears to move forward to an afterlife.” He paused for dramatic effect. “And yet, as we established in our last lecture, nature has produced a diversity of species that for the most part prefer the sexual form of reproduction. Let’s examine this more closely. If nature prefers sexual reproduction, why then does it punish us so severely when we practice it?”

  “What do you mean, Dr. Ross?” asked a puzzled Jade.

  “Well there are ample indications in the natural world that reveal many deleterious associations between reproduction and aging. We’ve seen how certain species of salmon and octopus wither and die shortly after completing their biological duty. A female ferret actually dies of hormone poisoning if it doesn’t find a mate once it goes into heat. The poor honeybee drone actually loses his penis immediately after copulating, and literally falls to the earth a broken male. In most species, hormones released after mating, in large or small measure, adversely impact the functioning of the immune system. On this matter, the evidence is universal: the earlier an organism begins reproducing, the more frequently it reproduces, and the larger the size of its brood, the shorter its life. It appears that in nature, sex kills.”

  “And yet it feels so good!” chirped Matt.

  The room erupted in laughter.

  “Ah yes, Matt,” Rick replied, “which brings us back to the not-so-golden rule of antagonistic pleiotropy: that which is most beneficial for organisms in the short term, is almost always bad for them in the long term. Though there are some interesting variations and mutations in we humans. For instance, up until a few years ago, roughly one in eight million persons was born with a condition named Hutchinson-Gilford Progeria syndrome, where the afflicted individual ages ten times as fast as other people, exhibiting all the regular signs of senescence such as shriveling skin and heart disease, as early as two or three years of age. And yet, the one and only part of their body that remains immune to the ravaging effects of old age is the reproductive organs—their genitals remain as pristine and undeveloped as any juvenile’s. Why do you think that’s the case?”