Robin Cook
Genesis
Prologue
March 6th
11:15 P.M.
It was a cold, raw, windy, and heavily overcast March night on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Although the spring equinox was soon to arrive, winter had not given up. As evidence, a few wayward snowflakes swirled down out of the low cloud cover, which was churning like a witch’s brew. With the temperature hovering in the mid-thirties, these microscopically intricate and strikingly beautiful crystalline structures were immediately metamorphosed into mere droplets of water the instant they touched any terrestrial surface. In sharp contrast to this wanton destruction of nature’s handiwork, the situation was the opposite inside a cozily decorated one-bedroom fourth-floor apartment on 23rd Street. Within the literal and figurative indoor warmth, a cascade of cellular events had begun that was ultimately the absolute antithesis of the dissolution of the snowflakes. Here there was to be a progression of vastly increasing order and complexity initiated by the forcible ejection of more than 100 million eager sperm into a vaginal vault.
The individuals involved in this amorous event were blissfully unaware of the miraculous drama they had initiated and of its ultimate dire consequences for both of them. Thoroughly intoxicated by the passion of the moment and forsaking contraception, they had given no thought to the possibility there would be an almost simultaneous release of a receptive ovum from the female’s right ovary. Nor did they consider how determined sperm are in fulfilling their singular desire to fuse with a receptive female equivalent.
Two and a half hours later, when the woman was contentedly fast asleep and the man likewise in his own abode, the fastest-swimming sperm, following a perilous and Herculean marathon from the depths of the vagina to the internal end of the right fallopian tube, collided head-on with the passively descending ovum. Powered by an irresistible reflex, this winning sperm rapidly burrowed between the cloud of cumulus cells surrounding the ovum to hit up against the ovum’s tough covering. A moment later he injected his pronucleus into the ovum to allow his twenty-three chromosomes to pair with the ovum’s twenty-three, forming the normal human cell complement of forty-six. The ovum had now become a zygote.
Thus, on this nasty New York night, one of the most astounding miracles of the known universe had been initiated: human genesis. Although such episodes of fertilization currently occur in the staggering neighborhood of 350,000 times a day on a worldwide basis, which clouds people’s appreciation by its repetition, it begins a process of truly wondrous, dumbfounding complexity. As a single cell that can barely be seen by the naked eye, the human zygote contains all the data and instructions in its microscopic DNA library necessary to form and operate a human body. That means without any additional informational input, the single-celled zygote is capable of orchestrating the origin of some 37 trillion cells of two hundred different varieties as well as several billion extraordinarily specific, large-molecule proteins that must be formed according to exacting standards at just the right time, in just the right amount, and at just the right location. The human brain alone, with its 100 billion cells and more than 100 trillion synaptic connections, might be the most complex structure in the universe.
By March eleventh, five days after the lovemaking that initiated this particular ongoing miracle of human genesis, the rapidly developing conceptus reached the uterus to begin its implantation in the uterine wall. Soon it would make its presence known, proclaiming that a pregnancy had begun. From then on, all that was needed for the birth of a human infant in approximately nine months was maintenance of basic nutrients, the removal of waste, and physical protection. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case...
May 5th
10:05 P.M.
Taking a shower was a Zen experience for twenty-eight-year-old social worker Kera Jacobsen, especially after a tense day, which Saturdays were not supposed to be. Being careful not to fall since her bathtub’s curved, porcelain-coated bottom could be treacherously slippery, she stepped in, yanking the shower curtain closed in the process. She had already adjusted the water temperature to the near-scalding heat she preferred. After wetting her body thoroughly, she began to scrub herself with the help of a fragrant gel and a long-handled shower brush, washing away the stresses of the day and calming her general anxieties. She’d been experiencing more than her share of both lately.
Kera had been in New York City for just under eight months. Coming to the Big Apple had been a rather sudden decision. She’d grown up in Los Angeles, obtained her master’s degree at UCLA, and had held a position in social work at the UCLA Mattel Children’s Hospital. Her specialty was working with children with complex medical needs and their families. It was demanding work and often emotionally draining, although ultimately fulfilling. There was no doubt that her efforts made a big difference and were an important complement to the work of the doctors and nurses who were understandably focused on curing and alleviating immediate symptoms of the disease process rather than the bigger picture of how families and individuals coped. In this capacity she’d been content and professionally satisfied. What ended up rocking her world was the sudden and unexpected end the previous September of a long-term relationship with a medical student named Robert Barlow. Over the course of the two and a half years they had dated, they frequently spent the night at the other’s dwelling. With similar interests, including a shared liberal political orientation, they were never at a loss for conversation, which occasionally included discussions of future plans with the standing assumption it would be together. His intention was to take a surgical residency at one of the well-known academic medical centers, preferably there in LA or, if not, possibly San Francisco. As a particularly dedicated student, he was hopeful he’d have his choice. Kera had assumed that she would follow if he was to head up to San Fran. With her sterling credentials she was confident she could get a job at any academic medical center.
But it wasn’t to be, and Kera still had no idea of exactly what had happened, although she had heard through the UCLA Medical Center grapevine that Robert had been seen frequently in the company of one of the surgical department’s first-year female residents. Nonetheless, and with zero warning whatsoever, Robert had informed her one hot, smoggy LA afternoon that their relationship was over.
Having suffered a big blow to her self-esteem, she felt the urgent need to fly the coop. Mutual friends kept asking what had happened between her and Robert, pretending to be sympathetic but actually loving the drama and gossip. Besides, there were just too many chances of inadvertently running into Robert in and around the medical center. On top of all that, Kera had always had a soft spot for New York City, coupled with being tired of the monotony of Los Angeles weather, its uptick of annual forest fires, and the ever-present threat of San Andreas Fault activity. A few weeks after Robert’s shocking news, she decided to turn an emotional whammy into something positive and made the cross-country move.
After rinsing the soap off her body, she squeezed a dollop of shampoo into the palm of her hand and began to wash her hair. This was the part of the shower that she liked the best, and she used considerable force as she worked up copious suds to massage her scalp, trying to blank her mind.
At first the move to New York had been positive in all respects except for the continued disappointment voiced by her mother and sister, who claimed they missed her terribly. Kera had managed to get a commitment for a social work job at the NYU Langone Medical Center — specifically with the Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital — before leaving LA, so employment hadn’t been an issue. As for an apartment, she lucked out by responding to an ad on one of the Langone Medical Center’s bulletin boards that had been posted by a nurse who had opted to join the Peace Corps. The listing was for the sublet of a furnished, rent-controlled one-bedroom on 23rd Street just off Second Avenue. More important, from the standpoint of her self-image, she also found herself involved in a whirlwind affair with an attractive, highly accomplished, and older and more mature man than Robert, whom she met over the December holidays.