Anthem's Fall

Chapter Thirty

The Vatruvian cell. The artificial cell.

The possibilities of their new technology were nearly infinite, the potential uses and applications limitless. Far more limitless than the casual readers of various magazine and news articles, or the people who watched the 60 Minutes special, or even most accomplished PhDs could grasp. Over the past few months Kristen had begun to realize her team had willfully entered a technological realm of unbounded promise. Sure the Vatruvian cell was microscopic in size and seemingly insignificant against the grand scale of most tangible technologies. Many authorities were even beginning to voice skepticism and proclaim that its initial significance had been greatly overvalued. But Kristen thought of a singular gamete—a sperm or egg cell—compared to the entirety of human existence. Those singular minuscule cells blossom into the full spectrum of what it means to be man: from skin and bone to intellect and creativity. Those individual cells, microscopic and unadorned as they are, give rise to ideas. Power of that magnitude was impossible to quantify. And now the incomprehensible capabilities of genetics had been harnessed by modern science. Harnessed, stripped bare, and reassembled by the whim of man. They had manipulated the altered blueprints of biological genetics to generate a distinctive wonder of their own: an artificial cell crafted by the human hand. Life, though on a microscopic level, had been twisted from the inanimate.

The Vatruvian cell balanced just on the imprecise threshold of what biology defined as a living organism. Most scientists equated the Vatruvian cell to a cancer cell or a virus: neither living nor dead, and containing attributes of each distinction. Having been one of the essential minds behind its conception, Kristen was familiar with how the Vatruvian cell had been constructed. She knew the mechanics and the novel proteins of the Vatruvian cell front to back, as well as even Professor Vatruvia.

Yet despite her familiarity, Kristen Jordan could not truthfully say with any sense of conviction what the Vatruvian cell really was.

Could the Vatruvian cell merely be the most recent instrument to be created by man in an ever-evolving progression that dated back to the first brandished stick? Or perhaps the lifelike invention would prove only to be a microscopic trophy for the contemporary intellect, serving little more purpose than for scientists to pat themselves on the back and applaud their own marvelous ingenuity and craftsmanship. But what if the Vatruvian cell was something far more than either? What if it was a scientific revolution so pioneering and radical that it was difficult to even grasp the full gravity of its future influence? It was this last notion that caused Kristen Jordan’s constant disquiet, this thought that kept her up in the still of the night, images of cancer cells, viruses, and the Vatruvian cell dancing in the darkness of her cramped studio apartment.

Meanwhile Professor Vatruvia was pushing full steam ahead, scheduling a meeting that very day where he no doubt was planning to announce advancement in their research. Despite the sun rising above the graffiti-covered brick rooftops to the east, Kristen felt herself shudder, gooseflesh rising on her arms in the morning air.

The featureless glass building containing the Columbia Vatruvian Cell Research and Development laboratory looked more like an office building than an ivy-adorned historic structure one might normally associate with prestigious collegiate tradition. But their research was far from traditional, and although the exterior of the austere midrise left something to be desired among its more affluent-looking neighboring buildings, the interior contained some of the most exclusive and costly research equipment in the nation.

Kristen passed by the security checkpoint and smiled a terse hello to the guards. Earlier in the year, several religious extremist groups had openly criticized the Vatruvian cell research as working against the will of religion. “Man was not meant to play god” had been the consistent mantra of the shouts and strongly worded letters Professor Vatruvia received. He tacked up the more amusing of the letters on a hallway bulletin board for the team to see. Though after the threats began to amass, a sizable security team had been acquisitioned with the considerable funding Professor Vatruvia had been able to garner.

Kristen walked past several laboratories to her workspace and slumped into her chair, turned on the computer, and typed her login information. In her inbox was an email, the subject reading, RESPOND ASAP, from Professor Vatruvia. There was only one line in the body of the message: See me before the meeting today.

With a drained sigh, Kristen decided to get it out of the way before it disrupted her morning concentration. She swung around in her chair and headed upstairs to Professor Vatruvia’s floor, exchanging words with several coworkers as she passed the open doors to the other well-accommodated labs. Sunlight beamed through the wide windows of the lobby as Kristen circled the stately main staircase. Professor Vatruvia’s office and his private labs were on the third floor. Most of the research team members saw little of his floor, but Professor Vatruvia often called up Kristen to weigh in on various topics. As she passed the cold polished tiles and locked doors of the third floor hallway, she sensed undertones of secrecy.

Kristen slowed her pace alongside several heavy doors, and looked about as if searching for something hidden. The heavy steel doors had key-code entry pads and thick dead bolts securing them shut. Laboratories on the lower floors were at most secured with a simple padlock to prevent the theft of expensive instruments or compounds. Kristen paused in front of the doors and regarded an industrial lock that would have been more appropriate securing a bank vault. She reached out, touched the cold metal of the lock, and took a step closer, placing an ear against the solid door. Nothing could be heard beyond the door’s thickness.

Professor Vatruvia was hiding a secret, a vault-sized secret. Kristen was sure of it. She gave the door a last suspicious glance before brushing her thoughts aside and continuing to Professor Vatruvia’s office.