Lemuria, Burt Clinchandhill [adventure books to read .TXT] 📗

Ignatowski took over. “These specialists work for a subdivision of the NRO. And, yes, they did. They found a strange genetic variation, as they called it, probably caused by genetic recombination between human and animal DNA. You know what recombination means?”

Bishop nodded. “The exchange of genetic material among different organisms. Basically, it creates offspring with combinations of specific traits. Like two parents giving each about fifty percent of their DNA to a child.”

“Exactly,” Lindsey said, taking over again. “And in your example, recombination happens naturally, but it can also be done artificially, by inserting, deleting, modifying or replacing in the genome of a living organism, and over different species.”

“I know,” Bishop interrupted. “I talked about it in my paper on evolution you referred to earlier.”

“Indeed you did,” Ignatowski agreed. “And I recently read it. Amazing, for the time it was written in. What was it, ten years ago?” He didn’t wait for the answer. “A lot has happened since. When you wrote the paper, one could add or disable single genes in a cell, and now, with tools like CRISPR, they can cut and splice long stretches of DNA, whole chromosomes, creating unthinkable possibilities.”

“As far as I know, human trials are yet to be authorized,” Bishop said.

“True. But I think you’re missing the point,” Lindsey added.

“The point being?” Bishop snapped back.

Lindsey nodded at Ignatowski, who continued. “The point is, that although there’s no record of Jennifer being treated at Mass General, there was a report with her name on it listed at the hospital’s Center for Genomic Medicine. The report mentioned the discovery of a strange genetic variation in Jennifer’s blood.”

Bishop’s face turned white.

“Iggy had the good sense to cross examine the abnormalities in Jennifer’s blood with those found in the tribe members.”

“And?” Bishop asked anxiously.

“According to our experts, the abnormality in Jennifer’s blood was over ninety percent, the same as the blood taken from the tribe members.”

Chapter 11 – 5261

Mount Graham, AZ, The Present

Rising over ten thousand feet, Mount Graham was the highest peak in south Arizona, seventy miles northeast of Tucson. To the Apaches and other native peoples, the ‘Dził Nchaa Sí'an’—‘Big Seated Mountain’—was considered sacred. The mountain is home to the oldest conifer trees in the United States, and several rare and endangered species, like the Mount Graham Red Squirrel, live on its slopes.

Despite the outcry of the Western Apache Nation and other Native American groups, pleading the site to be sacred, the United States Congress, in 1988, authorized the creation of the Mount Graham International Observatory area. Now, multiple international organizations have set up large telescopes and observatories on top of the mountain.

In 1985, the Vatican decided to build a new observatory tucked into a forest of trees on top of the otherwise empty mountain when the telescope in Rome couldn’t function anymore because of the light pollution. The observatory now has one of the three most significant telescopes on the mountain.

Entirely built by private funding, the relatively small telescope with its six-foot mirror and a focal ratio of f/1.0, achieved first light in 1993. Today, a dozen astronomers—all priests—work from the Vatican Advanced Technology Telescope, on a Vatican salary.

On the balcony, both sides covered by steel antennas next to the closed telescope doors, sat a young Jesuit brother, casually dressed in blue jeans and white sweater. With dark eyes and long, dark hair, which was tied into a knot, and a T-shirt that read:

He held a sandwich in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Fabia Gavino loved to spend his lunchtime high on the mountaintop, looking for birds. As a keen birdwatcher—when he had the day shift—he loved to look out for the Elegant Trogon, the Hooded Oriole or the House Finch scavenging the conifer trees for insects. With the mountaintop in complete silence, he heard their soft sounds, betraying their presence.

With an Elegant Trogon in his binoculars’ sight, from down the hillside, a loud electric humming suddenly disturbed the silence. Gavino instantly recognized the sound and turned his binoculars toward the Mount Graham International Observatory road. As an electric converted, blue Jeep CJ neared the observatory, its engine’s howling pitch grew louder. Not as loud as the original eight-cylinder gas engine sounded when it was built in 1976, but still. The Jeep passed the neighboring Large Binocular Telescope. The LBT was constructed three years after the Vatican’s telescope, and Gavino had always wondered whether it was a coincidence that they called it Large Binocular Telescope Near-infrared Spectroscopic Utility with Camera and Integral Field Unit for Extragalactic Research, originally shortened to LUCIFER.

Gavino let go of the binoculars that now dangled from his neck. He jumped up and slid down the steel ladder. Before the Jeep arrived, he was waiting in front of the building. With dust flying around, the car stopped three feet in front of Gavino. The car door opened, and a man in blue jeans and a black T-shirt stepped out, walked in silence up to Gavino, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Lamberto,” Gavino spoke enthusiastically. “Welcome to Arizona.”

“Thank you, my young friend.” De Cremonese had only met Gavino a few times now, but he liked him from the first moment they met. In Gavino’s passion for astronomy, he recognized a lot of his own passion, with the difference being that he discovered his passion in his forties. In that way, he could even be a bit jealous—but not envious—of Gavino, who discovered his love in his mid-twenties. He specifically called Gavino to help him out with this situation. Not only did he feel he could trust the young Jesuit explicitly, but he also needed someone who was pristine in his thinking. Someone who could think out of the box unhindered by years of experience, and finally, someone who would keep his mouth shut to his colleagues when needed.

“What brings you here to our lonely mountaintop?”

“You didn’t get my message, Fabia?”

“Sure, I did. But I always wanted to say that. It tends to get