A short, heavyset man with glasses rushed down a magnificent spiral staircase and greeted them, introducing himself as Max Burghardt. Minutes later Gibb and Zalinsky had gone back to their duties while Burghardt and the two newcomers gathered around a marble-and-glass table in a kitchen the size of two large living rooms. The short molecular biologist procured three sixteen-ounce bottles of Coke from a stainless-steel refrigerator and handed them out.
“I take it Drake hasn’t made it here yet,” said Hansen as he unscrewed the lid.
“No,” said Burghardt. “But he’s acquired a smartphone and has been calling in.”
“And you know how to reach him?” said Hansen.
“Yes. You can call and say hello soon.” He checked his watch. “I’m scheduled to call him in forty minutes. First things first, though. We’re on the verge of an epic transformation of the human race. With respect to speed and impact, unquestionably the most profound change in the history of the species. Revolutionary. Evolutionary.”
It was surreal to hear this, but Hansen knew that as over the top as he sounded, Burghardt was absolutely accurate.
“But Drake has filled me in on current events. He tells me there’s someone who is ruthless and controls vast resources trying to prevent us from succeeding. So our window of opportunity may not be very wide. So as much as I’d like to spend time getting to know you both, we really don’t have that luxury. I have everything ready to go. With the help of Drake’s computer again, I’ve just finished engineering the most infectious agent the world has ever seen.”
Burghardt turned to Erin. “So if you tell me the precise relative concentrations needed of the eight genes, I can see that they are modulated in exactly this way after being released from my viral construct.”
“How is that done?” asked Erin.
“Are you a molecular biologist?” he asked.
“No, but I have some background.”
“As you know,” explained Burghardt, “the levels of gene expression are controlled by promoter sequences in the DNA upstream of the open reading frames of interest. Another factor is how many introns are in the sequence, and how efficiently they are removed. With the help of Drake’s advanced computer, I’ve come up with an algorithm that tells me the exact sequence and placement of promoters to use to dial in any required expression level. With breathtaking accuracy. I’ve perfected it through tests on hundreds of insertions so that it’s now absolutely foolproof.”
“Once I give you the required levels for all eight,” said Erin, “how long for the algorithm to spit out the answer?”
“Fifteen or twenty minutes. The algorithm is very complex, and the number of calculations required is mind-boggling. Even so, fifteen minutes is an eternity for a modern computer.”
“Then how long to finish your construct?”
“Say … twenty-four hours. Working around the clock.”
“Somehow I imagined it being faster than that. Isn’t the synthesis all automated?”
“Yes, but I have to cut open the DNA for each gene where the program instructs me to, insert the proper sequences, and close them up again. Then I have to insert all of this into the virus. Then I have to ramp up production so huge numbers of infectious constructs are synthesized. And finally, I have to put the finished product in aerosol form to enhance the spread of infection.” He paused. “So no time like the present. If you tell me the combination now, I can enter it into my program and have my algorithm solve it by the time we contact Drake.”
Erin took a deep breath. “Look, Max,” she began. “I understand the importance of this. I understand the monumental impact this will have. But because of that, I’m going to need to slow the express train for just a few hours.”
Burghardt looked at her in horror, as if she had just informed him he was dying of an incurable cancer. “Why?” he said in absolute dismay.
“Because before I tell anyone anything, I need to talk to Drake. I’m the only one of us who’s never done so. I’ve spoken with a human projection of him, but never to him in his alien form. I also need to confirm that the viral construct you’re using is actually the common cold, and not something more deadly.”
“It’s absolutely the common cold,” said Burghardt, as though offended. “I can vouch for that. And you do understand that Drake is trying to save the human race, right?” He turned to Hansen for help, but Hansen returned a helpless look that said, I’ve already tried to convince her—you’re on your own here.
“That’s almost certainly true,” said Erin. “But if I’m going to be part of releasing a hyperinfectious agent, I need to be absolutely certain it’s on the benign side.”
“If Drake wanted to spread something deadly,” said Burghardt in exasperation, “he would just spread something deadly. Why would he even need the information you have?”
“I don’t know. I admit I’m being paranoid. But I won’t risk the world’s population if there’s even a one in a million chance we’re being deceived. Drake’s powerful computer has obviously been a huge benefit to you. But without your help, he couldn’t have gotten this far, correct? You wouldn’t have been able to design the most infectious agent in history. Or control gene expression with such precision.”
Burghardt nodded.
“So maybe he needed the fiction of curing psychopathy to get you to help. To get you to perfect these things. And then slipped in something else. Who knows?”
“So what do you propose exactly?”
“First, I need to speak with Drake. Then, I want you to run your construct through your sequencer. I’ll take the sequence it generates and check it online against the known sequences of rhinoviruses. Any extended bit of sequence that isn’t a match, I’ll check against all known pathogens. Just to be sure.”
Burghardt digested this for some time. Finally, he glared at Erin and said, “Is there any possible argument I can make that will persuade you to change your mind?”
Erin sighed. “I’m afraid not. I guess I can be pretty stubborn,” she said.
Burghardt turned to Hansen. “And you don’t have any pull with her?”
“I’m on your side on this,” replied Hansen. “But without her skills, she and I would be long dead. And it’s probably only a two- or three-hour delay. So I’m going to have to support her on this.” He smiled. “Besides, I think I will sleep just the tiniest bit easier knowing your construct is what you think it is.”
36
WHILE THEY WAITED to call Drake, the three scientists took the time to exchange backgrounds. Burghardt had earned his Ph.D. in molecular biology from UCLA, specializing in the study of rhinoviruses. Much of his work involved understanding differences in infectivity levels between the numerous minor variations of the common cold. Why were some strains so much more infectious than others?
It was obvious why Drake would want to recruit someone with his expertise. Drake had approached him, Burghardt explained, revealed himself as an alien, and described his goals. Burghardt would be one of only a handful of people to have knowledge of an alien on Earth. He would be saving the species. And he would have access, at least remotely through Drake, to the world’s most powerful computer, propelling his work to levels impossible otherwise.
It hadn’t been a hard choice for Burghardt to stop applying for postdoc positions and come live in a mansion a movie star would envy.
Besides, he had always been a vocal fan of science fiction, even to the extent of posting reviews on his own blog, so working with Drake was as cool as it got. At that point Erin had interrupted. “Drake seems to like recruiting science fiction fans, doesn’t he?”
Hansen shrugged. “Not necessarily. Max has some unique skills.”
She turned to the short molecular biologist. “Are there any other genetic engineers in the U.S. who are as expert with rhinoviruses as you are?”