buzzed. It was his secretary informing him that Brennerman would be tied up with an experiment for another twenty minutes.
Hoddings pushed his chair back. “Twenty minutes to Eric can turn out to be two hours. We’d better go see him.”
They walked out of Hoddings’s office and down a long corridor that was lined with laboratories. Most of the doors were closed and unmarked, although some had warning signs indicating the presence of biohazardous materials. Over the entrance to one laboratory was a flashing red light and a sign that read:
EXPERIMENT IN PROGRESS
DO NOT ENTER
Joanna turned to Hoddings and picked up the conversation where they’d left off. “You mentioned that the arterial cleansing agent wasn’t quite as wonderful as people had thought. Is there something amiss with it?”
“No,” Hoddings said at once. “It’s just not as potent as we’d like. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work on old, hardened plaques. That’s why they use a laser to clean out the hard material first.”
“Do you think there’ll ever be an agent which will clean out the walls of all arteries, regardless of the types of deposits?”
“We’re working on it.”
“So, with one injection, your arteries would be clean as a whistle.” Joanna marveled at the thought. It would make myocardial infarction a disease of the past. “Do you think one shot would do it?”
“Who said anything about a shot?”
Joanna’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about a pill?”
“We’re working on that, too.”
They came to a closed set of double doors at the end of the corridor. On one door was a sign reading LABORATORY FOR BIOGENETIC RESEARCH, on the other the name ERIC BRENNERMAN, M.D., PH.D.
Hoddings led the way inside. It was a huge laboratory, measuring five thousand square feet, with walk-in, glass-enclosed cubicles lining the walls. In the center of the room were workbenches with sophisticated equipment atop them. A skylight overhead let in natural light.
Hoddings took Joanna’s arm and guided her past a glass cubicle where a technician was tending to a grossly deformed rat. Joanna paused to study the animal more closely. There was a rounded object protruding out from under the skin on the rat’s back. It took her a moment to realize what it was. “Is that a human ear growing out of that rat?”
“Yes,” Hoddings said, watching the animal jump around. It seemed oblivious to the growth on its back. “And it’s coming along rather well, don’t you think?”
“Why doesn’t the rat reject the human ear?” Joanna asked.
“Because the inner part of the ear is a flexible form of plastic,” Hoddings explained. “It’s covered, however, with skin cells from a human.”
Joanna scratched her neck, still not understanding. “But why doesn’t the rat reject the human skin cells?”
“Because the rat has been genetically altered so that its immune system believes that those human skin cells are its own.”
“I take it that those skin cells belong to a patient?”
Hoddings nodded. “To a young girl whose ear was chewed off by a pit bull.”
Joanna grimaced as she envisioned the young girl’s mangled ear and the heartache and pain it must have caused. She pointed to the animal inside the cubicle. “And the ear growing there will be removed from the rat and then surgically attached onto the young girl?”
“That’s our plan.”
They moved on to the next cubicle. It was climate controlled and contained patches of growing plants and vegetables. The tomatoes were large and juicy and bright red. Stalks of corn were eight feet tall and glistened in the natural light coming from above.
“And here we have problems to be solved,” Hoddings said.
“But everything looks so fresh and delicious,” Joanna commented.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Hoddings pointed to the ripe tomatoes. “Those tomatoes have been genetically modified so they contain thirty percent more flesh and thirty percent less fiber. And they can
Hoddings pushed his chair back. “Twenty minutes to Eric can turn out to be two hours. We’d better go see him.”
They walked out of Hoddings’s office and down a long corridor that was lined with laboratories. Most of the doors were closed and unmarked, although some had warning signs indicating the presence of biohazardous materials. Over the entrance to one laboratory was a flashing red light and a sign that read:
EXPERIMENT IN PROGRESS
DO NOT ENTER
Joanna turned to Hoddings and picked up the conversation where they’d left off. “You mentioned that the arterial cleansing agent wasn’t quite as wonderful as people had thought. Is there something amiss with it?”
“No,” Hoddings said at once. “It’s just not as potent as we’d like. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work on old, hardened plaques. That’s why they use a laser to clean out the hard material first.”
“Do you think there’ll ever be an agent which will clean out the walls of all arteries, regardless of the types of deposits?”
“We’re working on it.”
“So, with one injection, your arteries would be clean as a whistle.” Joanna marveled at the thought. It would make myocardial infarction a disease of the past. “Do you think one shot would do it?”
“Who said anything about a shot?”
Joanna’s eyes widened. “Are you talking about a pill?”
“We’re working on that, too.”
They came to a closed set of double doors at the end of the corridor. On one door was a sign reading LABORATORY FOR BIOGENETIC RESEARCH, on the other the name ERIC BRENNERMAN, M.D., PH.D.
Hoddings led the way inside. It was a huge laboratory, measuring five thousand square feet, with walk-in, glass-enclosed cubicles lining the walls. In the center of the room were workbenches with sophisticated equipment atop them. A skylight overhead let in natural light.
Hoddings took Joanna’s arm and guided her past a glass cubicle where a technician was tending to a grossly deformed rat. Joanna paused to study the animal more closely. There was a rounded object protruding out from under the skin on the rat’s back. It took her a moment to realize what it was. “Is that a human ear growing out of that rat?”
“Yes,” Hoddings said, watching the animal jump around. It seemed oblivious to the growth on its back. “And it’s coming along rather well, don’t you think?”
“Why doesn’t the rat reject the human ear?” Joanna asked.
“Because the inner part of the ear is a flexible form of plastic,” Hoddings explained. “It’s covered, however, with skin cells from a human.”
Joanna scratched her neck, still not understanding. “But why doesn’t the rat reject the human skin cells?”
“Because the rat has been genetically altered so that its immune system believes that those human skin cells are its own.”
“I take it that those skin cells belong to a patient?”
Hoddings nodded. “To a young girl whose ear was chewed off by a pit bull.”
Joanna grimaced as she envisioned the young girl’s mangled ear and the heartache and pain it must have caused. She pointed to the animal inside the cubicle. “And the ear growing there will be removed from the rat and then surgically attached onto the young girl?”
“That’s our plan.”
They moved on to the next cubicle. It was climate controlled and contained patches of growing plants and vegetables. The tomatoes were large and juicy and bright red. Stalks of corn were eight feet tall and glistened in the natural light coming from above.
“And here we have problems to be solved,” Hoddings said.
“But everything looks so fresh and delicious,” Joanna commented.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Hoddings pointed to the ripe tomatoes. “Those tomatoes have been genetically modified so they contain thirty percent more flesh and thirty percent less fiber. And they can
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