Christian Clarity Review

The Institute
Conference Room:

Mary shifts in the chair as she waits, holding a stack of reports and listening to the others. They have been at it for several hours.

“Some will say twenty thousand, others more. Based on the O-two analysis, it is more than one hundred thousand years old. It is depending on which theory is held and which test is used. But whatever theory or test is used, it is very old ice. This was not displaced by the coring drill from above.” Dmitri is tired.

Izzy checks his watch and slides his chair back. “Let’s take a break.”

Filing silently out of the room, the others find coffee and rest rooms. Some stand in the corridor and stretch. None appear to Mary to have had more than a few hours sleep in the past several days.

Military and civilian coats drape the backs of chairs. The table is littered with legal pads, pens, and coffee mugs.

Izzy looks at Mary. “You’re sure? There can’t be a mistake here.”

She shrugs. “The evidence is in the hand itself.”

“I hope so. You’re next.” He rubs his eyes with both palms. “Need anything? Coffee? Something to eat? Rest room? Sleep?”

She smiles and unloads the stack of reports onto the conference table. “Nothing. And thanks for asking me to do the exam.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

—–

After the break a man with salt and pepper hair and steady, blue eyes briefly looks over Mary then shifts back to Izzy. He walks to the other end of the long table. “Look Izzy. I know, we all know, you had friends on this. We all did. But we’ve put off telling the commitee for as long as we can. What about the hand? Do we have an I.D.? Yes? Or No?”

The coat on his chair is studded with decorations. Three gold stars are on each blue shoulder. By his tone it is obvious he is tired of the evasions.

Jack Wallace smiles slightly and rolls his pen on his pad at the tone but says nothing.

Izzy stands and motions to Mary. “This is Dr. Mary Black, the independent consultant we called in to work on the hand. She’s here to settle the question of identity.”

Mary distributes the small report folders.

Someone coughs. The soft hum of machinery and air conditioning filter into the silence.

“What we have is the right hand of an adult male.” She clears her throat. “As you know the hand was surrounded by ice, an ice core by what I saw and have heard here. What was surprising was absolutely no signs of frostbite. In fact, as…” she clears her throat again and coughs “Excuse me.”

She searches for a word, “..unusual as it sounds, if the hand had not been severed from the body and hadn’t been found in ice I would expect this individual to still be alive right now. It–the hand, is not frozen in the conventional sense. The cell structure is intact and hasn’t been ruptured due to expansion of fluid. Even now, after the ice–what I would normally take to be the preserving material, has been removed, the hand evidences no sign of decay.”

Wanting to really get to the heart of it but unsure just how far she could use the shorthand of her everyday words she hestitates. “If you will refer to page four of the report, ” she thumbs through hurriedly but when she looks up they are still staring at her. “Uh, you’ll see that the only precedent for this has been found in bacteria or archeae. They’ve been recovered in the Antarctic ice and on thawing have been viable organisms, alive and capable of reproduction just as if they had never been frozen. And this after having spent what is believed to be several hundred thousand years in the ice. Now obviously a man is a much more complex organism than archeae or bacteria…”

“I’m sorry, Dr. ..Black is it? Archeae?” It is a woman to her right. “I thought we were here to find out which…”

“Could you let her finish, please.” Izzy cuts in.

Mary has a sinking feeling she is a pawn between two factions of opposing views on something she doesn’t know exists and that her news is not good for either one of them. Thus: the money will compenstate for the rest.

“Archeae are organisms found living in extremes of environment such as the mineral pools of Yellowstone. They survive, thrive at temperatures in excess of two hundred degrees Celsius. They’ve also been found in deep ocean trenches at temperatures and pressures that had been thought of, before their discovery, as prohibiting life. Before their discovery all life was classed as animal or bacteria. Archeae is the third branch of life that fills environmental niches the others can’t handle. It was a fundamental discovery. I thought the Astrobiology Institute was a leader in that investigation?”

Jack speaks up. “We are doctor. But this group represents several different fields. We’re not all scientist and engineers here.”

“I see. My point is that this hand is in a perfect state of preservation. Too perfect. That observation prompted me to do a more in-depth genetic profile…”

“You compared it to those on file?”

“You’ve got this on file? I wasn’t aware…”

Izzy: “She was given only the barest of details.”

Jack: “Why?”

Mary looks at him curiously and holds up a finger. “Who would I have compared it to? There is no comparison. To put this in perspective, I’ve printed–on page eight, an article by Hayflick. In it…”

“Look, I need a name. We’ve got families to contact. Who was it?!” The three star has reached the end of his patience.

“A name?! I’m an anthropologist. Not a magician. How in the world would I know this man’s name? He’s been there–wherever there is, for over a hundred thousand years or more by your own analysis of the ice.”

Several of the group exchanged looks of disbelief.

“What are you talking about?” The three star looks directly at Mary for the first time.

Mary: “I’ve sat there while you’ve argued over the ice for over two hours. Did I miss something? It isn’t that the ice proves what I say. I don’t need the ice at all. It’s just that you ..just heard the ice was old by your own methods.”

There is silence.

Mary: “Death, in terms of a medically useful vocabulary, can be thought of as an error catastrophe. The theory of error catastrophe was solidified in the sixties by Leonard Hayflick. He postulated, based on his experiments, that outside of accidents the human body died by a build-up of genetic defects—errors, brought about by the multiplication of mutations or dysfunctional genes. In essence, the proportion of healthy DNA that were carrying on normal replication and metabolism–basically sustaining life, turned in favor of mutated or dysfunctional DNA that used the bodies resources yet contributed nothing to life sustaining processes.”

In other words,” she says on seeing confusion on some of their faces, “the bad genetic material outnumbered the good genetic material and the body ceased to function. Increasing incidence of disease, blindness, deafness, skin discoloration, memory loss and wrinkles are merely symptoms of this on-going process.

Dr.Hayflick’s main contribution was to establish how many divisions or replications a given cell could undergo before mutating or becoming dysfunctional. That number turned out to be approximately fifty. Since every division is a two for one split–you get two cells for every one you had before, over the course of a lifetime, a single cell will reproduce itself over one hundred million times successfully. That’s two raised to the fiftieth power, before it effectively ceases to be functional as regards contributing to the maintenance of the overall organism. That number has been called the Hayflick limit and is in essence a limit to the possible longevity of the physical, the human body minus some future miracle. The closer each cell is to that number, the older the individual has become.

Telemeric research has shown..” Again she sees the confusion. “Telomeres are proteins on the end of chromosomes that protect the end of the chromosome from outside infiltration. With each cell division the telomeres become shorter. Over time, that is, around the fiftieth cell division, the telomeres have become too short to protect the chromosome in the next division–the abiltiy of the chromosome to perform its function is impaired and therefore the cell begins to break down. The length of the telomeres is a direct link to cell age. The shorter the telomeres, the older the cell.

By a certain chronological age, a certain number of genetic and cellular errors has accumulated because of the shortening of the telemores. This is a trustworthy measurement of aging. Increasing suceptibility to disease, blindness, weakness, wrinkles– as I’ve said, all of these things are the result of the break down of cell utility.

In every individual there are telomeres in varying lengths depending on the individuals chronological age and the tissue which is sampled. In particular, one would expect to find in say, a six-foot tall individual, a number of accumulated genetic and cellular errors and to find telomeres in varying lengths throughout the body. In other words an individual which has reached a height of six feet has demonstrated a certain number of cellular divisions and the length of the telomeres in their cells should be shortened by an exact amount. This can be determined by testing.”

Three star: “What tests?”

“A colleague of mine, Dr. Michael Johnson and I have been working on a series of tests that demonstrate the present functionality of a range of processes performed by DNA and to measure the length of the telomeres in establishing exact chronological age of necrotic, uh, dead specimens. We have several published papers and..”

Jack: “So these tests are experimental–they have yet to be verified as authentic?”

“They are most definitely authentic. Perhaps you meant standard? We have received favorable peers reviews and no one has been able to dispute our hypothesis or findings.”

“Who is this Dr. Johnson?” Izzy asks, pulling out a pen.

“He is considered one of the top paleobiologist in the country. He’s formed a small company speacializing in genetic and telomeric research and is highly regarded in the field.” She adds, “In a way, you’ve met him already. That was him laughing the other day. He ..does that.”

The others look at Izzy.

He nodds slightly and frowns as he writes.

Three star leans back.

“Now, assuming the hand I examined is that of a normal adult–in fact it is a little larger than any ethnic group I’ve worked with, I should have found not only genetic defects accumulated by the time the individual got big enough to have a hand this size, but I also should have found a variation in length of the telomeres in differing areas of his hand. Bone cells divide at a different rate than muscle, ecetera.” She takes a breath, still reeling from the initial realization.

“Not only does this individual have no genetic errors, the lengths of the sampled telomeres are all the same size. They don’t appear to have shortened at all.”

Jack: “What does that mean?”

“From what we know, based on the telomeres, he hasn’t aged a day since he was born. There is no evidence that his cells have ever divided. Growth is the product or result of cellular division. It’s the working definition of growth. In a certain sense he has never grown–or at least evidences no proof of it beyond perhaps having grown to maturity as we would know it. It’s as if he just…”

Three Star: “Just what?”

“Well, he–he evidences no sign of having grown, yet he is large enough to have that…hand. It’s like he just…was.”

There is silence.

“Was? How?” Dmitri is clicking his pen.

“I have no idea.”

“Regardless of his age or who he was, what you’re telling us is that it wasn’t one of the crew, right?” asks the woman to her right.

Mary looks at Izzy. “What crew? What are you talking about?”

Izzy: “I didn’t tell her.”

The three star stands up, motioning to Izzy to join him outside the room.

—–

Three Star: “That wouldn’t be the same Mary Jo Black that Bobby was always goin’ on about would it?”

Izzy “It is.”

“What the hell did you think you were doing? Of course..!” explodes Three Star in an urgent whisper.

Izzy: “I didn’t tell her anything. She says the hand will bear out everything she has found. The point is it wasn’t one of them! They could still be alive!”

The older man stands frowning: “Izzy, you’ve got stones. I’ll give you that. Bringing in Bobby’s big sister to examine a hand that very likely could have been Bobby’s is cold. I mean.. damn! Cold!”

“If I had used someone from within the Institute–as I was ordered too–I know and you know damn well they would’ve just said what they thought they were supposed to say! Case closed! She’s objective. She’s also the best. Bobby didn’t brag on his sister for nothing. It was an opportunity. I took it. I’d..”

“Yeah, I know! You’d do it again.”

Three star turns to go back in.

“One more thing.” says Izzy. “If she’ll go I want her. The subterrene is ready. She is the best we’ve got on hand.”

“I’ve got guys standing in line for just one shot to go—guys who trained and sacrificed for years just to wait. What do I tell them when they are bumped for someone who isn’t even in the program? You think they’ll..”

“They’ll have to now. We’ll get whatever we need. The hand. The artifact? It’s not just a space venture any more.”

Three star says nothing.

Izzy: “I’ll bring them all back.”

“That’s what Bobby said. You can’t promise that.” Three Star says quietly as they go back in. “Tell her–all of it. Let her decide. Everything has gone wrong since we got started on this thing. Now I’ve got to go and tell the senate committee we’ve still don’t know what is happening.” The older man whispers under his breath as they re-enter the room. “And next time tell her to cut to the chase. Enough with the technical speak.”

——

Izzy sits quietly through the questions and stares at the map hanging on the far wall.

Mary has done her best to answer.

No one seems satisfied with the development. Expecting a confirmation of what they had already been hoping isn’t true, that the crew was dead and unrecoverable, they are momentarily stunned. Now it appears the crew could still be alive near an ice man of reputed immortality who is missing his hand.

The artifact from the hand is unlike anything they have ever seen. It is transparent, like water so clear you can’t say with any certainty how deep it is but only that it has a bottom side because it rests on the table top. Characters or symbols are incised in it, or rather it is made up of characters.

They had all shaken their heads on first seeing it. It isn’t one of theirs.

Jack has been staring at it for some time.

A man reaches out and picks up the case, turning it over and over.

Three Star: “Henry, I suppose you’ll have a report in ..72 hours?”

Henry Fielding nods. “Preliminary.”

Izzy starts out of his thoughts, aware that a question has been directed toward him.

Three star: “I said I think you should tell her, don’t you?”

“I’d just like to say–excuse me for interrupting,” Mary puts in quickly, “I’d just like to say I’d really, really like to see the rest of the body. Nothing like this has ever been found. If..”

“Yes.” Izzy interjects.

“Of course. Sorry.”

Three star: “Dr.Black, just so I can condense your report for a bunch of men and women who don’t know the first thing about anything you just said but who happen to be running the government at present, tell me if I’m right here: you introduced the archea to prove the hand not decaying but still being basically alive after it was separated from the body has an example we already know exists in nature..?”

Mary nods.

“..and the genetic research of Hayflick and your own telemeric research to prove ..what? Immortality? That the owner of this hand just winked into existence as a grown man? You can see my dilemma.”

“The telemeric evidence simply proves he hasn’t aged at all—yet. I wouldn’t go so far as immortality and I’m just stating what the evidence shows. I’m not jumping to fantastic conclusions. I’m just saying what the evidence shows.”

“I can quote you on that?”

Mary nods. “I’m sure somebody will.”

Three star stands up and gathers his papers. “Next time do you think you could be a little more succinct?”

“No one I know of can organize the unknown ahead of time, sir. Except God.”

Three star looks at Izzy and nods approvingly. “You got a live one there.”

—————————–
The Next Day
Mary’s home:

Mary awakes to the radio, staring at the ceiling and listening to the news announcer. Hitting the snooze button she sits up, instinctively reaching for Sam.

Cold sheets are the only answer.

She is still unsure what a widow is and what it means for other people to see her as one. She wonders what will happen to her when she finds out; if it will be a catastrophe, a solution or a healing. She wants to keep thoughts of Sam and move past them simultaneously, use them as a catalyst for better things and forever cement them with the future. Having to go through it in front of other people makes her nervous. They seem to imply there is a right way to go about everything but never speak the rules. He is still a force in her, a rest and a beautiful storm that has only subsided on his death.

The events of the day before return and she falls back into the pillow. The radio goes off again fifteen minutes later. She turns it off and rises to start the coffee.

She thinks of the look on Izzy’s face as the meeting had broken up. There is a lot of Bobby in Izzy: not suspicion, but an understanding of civilian, or non-combatant simplicity; an aloofness born of adversity in things the public never sees.

The doorbell chimes.

Mary tightens her robe as she walks to the front door. Looking out the peep hole, she frowns and opens the door.

It is Izzy.

Mary motions him in and walks toward the kitchen. “I got the check.”

“Yeah, I know.” He closes the door and follows her. “You’re report was unexpected.”

“I gathered as much. What crew were they talking about?”

He takes out an envelope. Inside is a contract he spreads on the table. “Confidentiality agreement.”

“A little late after the fact isn’t it?”

“It concerns not only what you found but what I’m about to tell you.”

“What does it say?”

“You go to jail if you talk about it.” He holds out the pen.

“What if I don’t care about jail?”

“I think you do. And more.”

She signs. “What’s left after immortality?”

“That either. We’re working toward space colonization. Other programs do space travel—craft, engines, etc. We do habitates in extreme conditions. Human endurance, that type of thing.”

Mary nods.

“The habitats in deserts were fairly easily constructed. Water habitats were a bit more challenging. Microgravity is studied on the space shuttle. The two extremes we that were left were fire and ice.

The funding was limited so..” He rubs his neck.

“Coffee?”

“Absolutely..the Galileo space probe sent back images of the surface of Europa. It showed what was apparently icy slush which implied liquid water which implied there might be some sort of microlife such as bacteria.. Also about that time a project received funding to penetrate Lake Vostok in Antarctica and take water samples. Lake Vostok, as you are probably aware is a freshwater lake beneath two miles of ice in inland Antarctica.

We found it in seventy three and later mapped it by radar and satrad imagery in ninety six. It’s been sealed from all outside influence for an estimated three to five hundred thousand years. It is of interest for the promise of what such a unique and untouched ecosystem might hold and what it might tell us about Europa. There was an immediate analogy made between Europa and Lake Vostok–the ice won over the fire. It was thought that joint projects in Antarctica on site and Europa by way of satellites would be more efficient and borrow off each others accomplishments to speed up perfection of the habitat technology.”

“Did you work this out on the way over here?” She sets the coffee in front of him.

“Don’t stop me now.” He smiles and takes a sip of the coffee.
“An experimental habitat was slowly built five miles under the Antarctic ice–that’s three miles into the land mass and living rock itself. It was almost complete. The work was going well until September 25th–four days ago.

At eleven minutes past three in the afternoon on the twenty fifth an earthquake that measured eight point one on the Richter scale hit the site— an epicenter just off the coast of the Bellany islands. That was over four hundred miles away from the site. But almost immediately things began to deteriorate.

We got reports from the team on the site that they were having communications problems. We checked from our end and found everything normal–tried to calm them down but they became more and more erratic on the radio. The video link went down several times. They reported some strange physical symptoms–nose bleeds, nausea—claimed several of their faces were sunburnt.

We suspected the quake had intensified some symptoms of Seasonal Effective Disorder. It’s a..”

“Manifestation of the effects of natural sunlight depravation for extended periods of time. How long had they been down there?” Mary asks.

“That’s classified. Suffice to say they were routinely checked.

We ordered them to the surface. They refused.” He is still surprised and shocked as if he has just realized their refusal is real. “I suppose it comes down to a matter of trust. You have to understand, if something like this happened, we had to have positive control of the escape vehicle to assure they made it out. From the point of view of rescue, having a team five miles down is the technical equivalent of having them on another planet. But we couldn’t make them get in the vehicle.

We thought it would be safe there. Antarctica is the least siesmically active continent on earth. But we’ve lost all contact.”

Mary sits silently waiting. He is stalling.

“There are five to ten ice coring rigs operating in the interior of Antarctica at any one time. It was good cover. We sent a team to core a path directly above the habitat. Our subterrene wasn’t ready. We thought that if we could contact them somehow, at least let them know we were looking for them it would help. Nothing. Then two days ago they broke through the rock and hit ice again–that hand came up in the ice core. We thought..”

“It was one of the crew? I see–but no way does a modern human have genetics that good, or rather in such good shape. No way that was one of them.” says Mary. “I’m sorry this happened but…”

“The commander is Robert Smith.”

It is a name that seems to be familiar to her but different than she is used to hearing it. “My brother Bobby?”

“Yes.” he says quietly.

“But he’s a Marine. Crenshaw Humming is a private company working with NASA.”

He waits for the explosion.

“You gave me a hand that could have been my own brother’s as if it was some–!”

“Some what? A strangers hand? There are more people and more at stake than just your own feelings. Bobby always bragged about his big sister being the best anthropologist in the world. I needed an independent analysis–I got it–and the truth. I’d do it again. When you calm down you’ll see that.”

She is angry and doesn’t know what to say. Finally she manages, “You thought I’d blow it if I knew.”

“I just made sure you didn’t. I got the truth. Now I’m here to ask you—do you want to go? They want you. Keeps you quiet and gives us your expertise.”

Mary looks at him carefully. “On the rescue?”

“Yeah. As part of the medical staff. And to find out what this thing is we found. Now that we know they could still be alive and that there is something else down there, we’ve got all the funds we need.”

She pulls the robe tighter. “I get the impression not many people say no to you.”

“It’s a small world and a smaller circle of trust.”

————————————————————————-

Job 28:5-7 As for the earth, out of it cometh bread, and underneath it is turned up as by fire; The stones of it are the place of sapphires, and it hath dust of gold. It is a path no bird of prey knoweth, and the vulture’s eye hath not seen it…

In the Name of Jesus Christ, Amen