The Visionary
by Adam Williams
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
The Sanger Institute, Cambridge, England. 17th January. Year one.
Dr Henry Marshall strode irresolutely over the verdant lawns of the Sanger Institute, little caring where he was going. There was a sharp chill in the air, and he pulled his coat tightly around him. He was dragging with him a heavy briefcase filled with assorted papers.
His mind was, as usual, filled with various thoughts, most fleeting and few useful. He was a faculty member at the Institute, in a rather junior role mind you, teaching genetics, as did all the other teachers in the Institute. He continued to stumble his way on until, at last, he bumped rather literally into one of the other faculty members, dropping his briefcase.
“Watch where you’re going, Henry.”
He looked up and then picked his briefcase up from the floor. “Sorry, Mr Simmons.”
Anthony Simmons, a grey-haired man who held a rather senior position at the Institute, gave him a curt nod with a look that was half-sneer and half-distaste. “You’ve heard the news, Henry, I assume. It has the campus quite in an uproar.”
“Uh, what news, sir? There haven’t been more cuts to the research grants, have there?”
Simmons gave him a look of exasperation and a shake of the head. “No, Henry. I am talking about big news, worldwide news.”
“Oh, alright. What is this news?”
Anthony sighed deeply and shook his head once again. “I am a busy man, Henry, pick up a newspaper for once in your life.” With that, Anthony simply strode away, leaving Henry rather dejected on the campus lawns.
Henry, as he continued on his way, noticed there did seem to be an unusual buzz about the campus. There was a tension in the air, palpable and real. He could almost feel the pressure change in the air, as though a storm were coming. He noticed students moving animatedly or speaking loudly.
After a while, he entered the main building and made his way to the faculty lounge. He found it almost empty, but sitting at one table were Sarah Hargove and Phillip Summers, friends of his. Henry set his briefcase carefully on the table and took a seat. Without a greeting, he said: “Simmons said the strangest thing to me earlier, something about worldwide news. But, then he left without explaining himself. He’s always doing stuff like that to me. I don’t get why he likes messing with me so much.”
Sarah turned to him: “You haven’t seen it, then? It’s all anyone’s talking about on campus.”
“Will you at least explain what’s going on?”
“No need, the report should be on. I’ll show you.” She picked up a remote control, her hand brushing against Henry’s as she did and pointed it at a small, black TV screen hung in the corner of the room.
The screen flared to life, the picture showing a female news anchor, sitting behind a desk. Her movements were wooden and forced, her smile large and fake, like her nose. “And today’s top story,” the TV blared, “the Asian nation of Bhutan has officially repealed most major genetics laws. This is part of a bold strategy aiming to encourage scientific advancement and to put the nation on the map.”
Phillip turned to him: “Get it now?”
Henry suddenly felt two rather conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was excitement, pure and bold, rushing through his veins. This was one of the biggest things that could happen in his field. His was a field of rules and strict observance, and it was cracking now, breaking down. The other feeling within him was clarity. He knew what he must do. At last he had a singular, guiding purpose. “Yeah,” he said, tearing his eyes from the screen, “I get it now.”
“Well, what do you think?” Sarah asked.
“I think we all have to catch the first flight out to Bhutan.”
“Wait,” she said, a look of concern clouding her countenance, the warm smile she showed him turning ice cold, “don’t tell me you think that this is a good thing.”
“You don’t?”
“Of course not. Do you know what this can mean? Genetic power is one of the great untapped potentials of the human race. And, as with atomic power, it will be turned to weaponry. Do you not get how it works? Everything we learn as scientists, everything we strive for, for the betterment of the human race, is blotted out in a single stroke by a pig-headed move like this. Then all our research becomes nothing but blueprints for bigger and bigger bombs.”
“But don’t you see how this is good? We can at last have freedom in our work. With germline therapies, we can wipe out genetic disease. We can destroy the allele for, uh, Huntington’s out of the population. Why would we limit our power when we can help people with horrible diseases like that? Phillip agrees with me, don’t you?”
He shrugged awkwardly: “Don’t get me involved.”
Sarah shook her head and looked at Henry gravely. “It doesn’t matter the good that can come from this, what matters is the evil. In the wrong hands, this power can be used to manufacture diseases, to exploit vulnerable people for profit, for... for eugenics.”
“But that’s exactly why we should go to Bhutan, to ensure that only the right work is done. We can be the right hands to wield genetic power. As I’ve said, with germline therapies we can wipe out genetic disease. We can help.”
“You know that germline therapies are untested. And this is just the beginning. It’s a slippery slope, they’ll start with treating genetic disease, but who decides what is a disease and what isn’t? Are autism and Down’s syndrome diseases to wipe out? Do we start to wipe out unpreferable characteristics? Do we decide to remove the gene for shortness, or... or for baldness? It’s not for anyone to decide.”
“Well, maybe it should be up to me. You’re just like Simmons, you know that?”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re stuck in an endless limbo, too scared to innovate, not talentless enough to be forgotten. You just stagnate. This is the future, and I’m glad that it’s finally arriving.”
Sarah looked at him, hurt. Henry looked into her eyes and remembered that she was a friend, one of his best; he cared for her deeply, more deeply than she knew. “Look,” he said, in a low voice, “I’m sorry.”
She nodded slowly. “Me, too. But,” and she gave him a hard stare, “I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“That you won’t go to Bhutan and conduct any unethical experiments.” He said nothing for a few moments, and she gave him a glare. “Promise.”
“I promise,” he said.
The day passed by in a blur. He had a free morning that he spent in the lounge with Sarah and Phillip, preparing for the day’s lecture. There was a tension between him and Sarah now, and it made him uneasy. He knew that he had been in the right in the argument, but he just couldn’t make her see that.
His lecture went as he had expected. He lectured on the basic procedures of the Polymerase Chain Reaction to a handful of bored youths who looked back at him with glazed eyes and blank expressions, dozing off in the dusky lecture hall. He let the class go home early.
He was a weary man, and he had become disillusioned about the life of the academic, at Sanger anyway. So, he strode down to the office of the vice chancellor and handed in a letter of resignation. Three weeks later, he boarded a plane to Bhutan and began his true work in earnest.
* * *
Royal University of Bhutan, Thimphu, Bhutan. March 11th. Year one.
It was on a bright morning, warm and pleasant, that an old taxi arrived on the grounds of the Royal University of Bhutan. A man was ushered out of it, by a grim-faced university employee and, across the campus, to the hastily erected genetics department. The man was one Phillip Summers, who had arrived at the behest of Henry Marshall.
Henry had arrived at the university far earlier, in early February and had since then begun his work. He had spent the time on testing a new germline therapy. Of course, clinical tests even on new medicines can take years, decades even, but the local government had been rather cooperative. He had already had many successful trials on rodents and primates but, that day, that pleasant morning, he would finally test on humans.
Phillip was led through a large, red doorway that had been plastered with biochemical hazard signs and into Henry’s laboratory. Henry was wearing a lab coat and looked as though he had slept little for a number of days, but he still had a smile plastered across his face. “How are you? How was the flight?”
Phillip shrugged: “I’m fine, just a little jet-lagged. You know how it is.”
“Yes, yes.”
“So, uh, why did you invite me here, Henry?”
“Where’s Sarah? She did get my invite?”
“You didn’t really think she’d come, Henry?”
“Why not?”
“Because you promised her you’d stay, and you broke that promise. How do you think she feels? We didn’t hear anything from you, Henry. There was no goodbye, you just left. We’re supposed to be your friends, and you left. And then, a month later, we got an invite. You’re lucky I showed up, believe me. I didn’t want to, but the Institute encouraged me to go as a sabbatical.”
“Now, Phillip, don’t be an idiot. I didn’t break my promise to her. I promised her that I wouldn’t do any unethical experiments over here, my experiments here are completely ethical.”
Phillip didn’t respond to that comment; he just gave him a blank stare and a wearied shake of the head. He cleared his throat and said, “Look, Henry, what is all this? Why am I here?”
“Cystic fibrosis.”
“What?”
“Cystic fibrosis.”
“I heard what you said, Henry. What do you mean?”
“Cystic fibrosis currently affects 162,428 people worldwide. It is caused by a mutation in the cystic fibrosis transmembrane conductance regulator gene and, in homozygous recessive individuals of course, leads to the creation of a dysfunctional CFTCR protein, which causes thick, sticky mucus. It can oftentimes be fatal.”
“Henry, I know what cystic fibrosis is.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose that you would, now that I think of it. Anyway, I have created a germline therapy. It will alter the malfunctioning gene in the sex cells of a person suffering the condition, ensuring that the faulty genes cannot be passed on to their offspring. Within, say, about a hundred years, we could wipe out the disease permanently.”
“Henry, I’m a geneticist, too. How arrogant do you have to be to explain my own field of work to me like I’m a student?! But you’re not just arrogant are you? No, you’re narrow-sighted, too. You have no idea how changing the gene structure will affect other factors, do you? No, because you’re far too focused on eradicating a disease just for publicity. That’s all you want, isn’t it, to prove Simmons and everyone else who has ever stood in your way just how wrong they are? Well, it’s pathetic and dangerous. I can’t let you carry out this experiment.”
“You can’t let me, huh? I am trying to help people. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t any of you see that? You turned up late, you know? You can’t stop anything. The experiment finished an hour ago. It was a complete success. I tried to make them wait. I thought you’d be excited to see it. I guess I was wrong.”
“You know something, Sarah was right about you.” Phillip turned on his heel and strode away.
All the while, Henry called out to him, “Wait! What did Sarah say about me? Don’t go! Please? Why can’t you see that I’m right?”
* * *
Copyright © 2025 by Adam Williams
