The Garden

Do you remember what you told me, Jack?” my long time associate Betty asked. I was too busy admiring the plaque that had been given to me earlier that day at a small ceremony honoring the 100th anniversary of the legalization of cloning. I hung it right behind my desk so anyone sitting before me couldn’t help but see it.

“ ‘The results could be staggering. The potential for mankind is just too great to allow politics, money or religious zealots to stand in our way.' Something like that, correct?” Truth be told, it would have been hard for me to forget the quote. It had been my war cry. Over the years, the way I had worded things in that address before Congress troubled me, but when placed beside all that had happened in the years since, the angst those words caused me was small.

“And they were indeed staggering. You're on what, your third heart? Your seventh liver? And how many kidneys are we up to these days?” I know there’s a little hint of mockery in her voice.

I nodded and said, “Now don't forget that there were plenty of problems to work out, but given time and a little enlightened thought, we’ll hammer it out and make it work without any hitches.”

Betty was in her fourth year of residency here at the institute. She was remarkable in every sense of the word. She graduated top of her class at the Albert Einstein School of Medicine. Her published work was admired by doctors and scientists around the world. Her research in cell regeneration was groundbreaking. I will admit, I probably would not have been able to accomplish my goal if it wasn’t for her help. As for looks, she was something else. Betty stood about five feet ten inches. Mostly legs. She had long silky auburn hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could stop the rotation of the Earth. She was stunning, except for the nickel-sized brown mole on her left cheek. If it wasn’t for that, she’d be a model. I had asked her out a couple of times but she wasn’t interested. I always felt that those looks helped win some of our funding in those meetings. The male board members were enamored with her. Despite the mole on her cheek.

We had pressed for federal funding at the start because we didn't expect private industry to jump right into the ethical maelstrom of cloning. Too many religious figures pulling the purse strings. But five years after the initial seed money was spent and it became obvious what the technology would be able to achieve, strange bedfellows were seen with increasing regularity. The big tobacco companies worked out a provision to help fund the cloning of lungs for those affected by use of their products. Any idiot knew it wasn’t for the benefit of mankind, rather it was for the benefit of their wallets. It would be hard to file suit against a company for tissue damage if they could just provide you with a new organ. Naturally, the beer and liquor companies jumped right on board and starting throwing money our way for liver tissue regeneration and creation. They’re all dirt bags.

Admittedly, it seemed right and even noble for Phillip Morris and Reynolds to fund such research. Protestors raised their cynical voices accusing the tobacco barons of simply preserving their market. “Of course they're funding cloning research so addicts can cheat disease and perpetuate an irresponsible habit to the eternal joy of stockholders.”

Then there was the problem of misunderstanding our motives. The function of the cloning bill had never been to allow for the cloning of complete copies of people, but rather to set up a guideline for growing a spare organ should the need arise or to jump start the pancreas of a child with juvenile diabetes. Noble, right? The opposition from the moral high ground had been severe and well organized. I really couldn't fault their arguments. I completely understood where they were coming from. We weren’t trying to replace God as the one and only creator of life. Indeed, in the words of the great Stan Lee, “With great power comes great responsibility.” Why not use this power to improve the quality of life for those in need?

However, compromise wins out every time. We came up with a way to market the concept that basically catered to what people wanted to see done with the technology. No one wanted to see a complete person grown for parts and only a few wanted to ban cloning outright, so we agreed to just grow parts and not people. For now.

Betty laughed to herself. “The successes were phenomenal in the early years. We grew close to a million kidneys that first year of full-scale production. Hearts were double that. New tissue treatments brought in a billion five in the first two years.”

“You know, it's best to think in terms of the amount of pain relieved, not in terms of dollars and cents,” I said with a wink.

“Right. Just like choosing to ignore the way the planet went from seven billion people to eight billion in three year’s time. I know there were accusations aimed at our replacement technology as the reason for the rapid population rise, what with fewer people dying and all, but things always seem to have a way of working themselves out. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes, the ever powerful, ever watching government always steps in when necessary. They raised the speed limits, abolished the laws requiring air bags and seatbelts, and imposed the death penalty for littering and jaywalking. I find it funny how the death penalty opponents disappeared. If the technology is working for you, then it becomes easy to turn a deaf ear to people who are sacrificed to keep justifying the research. When Ford, GM and all the other automakers couldn't build engines that went as fast as the new speed limits allowed that would still pass emissions tests, the government changed the levels of emissions acceptability. That meant the ozone layer thinned out some more and we had to come up with a way to grow skin in larger quantities faster. Things just worked out better all around.”
Now there’s some sarcasm in my voice.

“And then there are those people who have trouble dealing with replacement tissue grown from an embryo. Psychologists and psychiatrists are busier than ever helping tissue recipient’s deal with their feelings of guilt, and in the end everyone is happy. The affected eventually feel better about it and live better as a result, the psychiatrists stay busy, and everyone is better off.”

“They’re just worried, Jack, that this will all get out of hand. You know, that we’ll be cloning whole perfect people and knocking off the imperfect models walking around.”

“ I know, Betty. At this point, the only problem I’m concerned about is the care and maintenance of replacement organs. Time is the issue. Even though we can grow a heart for someone, it still takes five months from stem cell to organ. That means that you either need to know exactly when your heart muscle is going to cramp up for the last time or you must have a supply of organs on hand, a necessity that is neither cheap nor cost effective. We can usually grow a heart that will function for three years after which it must be abandoned and another grown all because it has a hard time adapting to the person’s original aged organs. In order for it to work perfect, it needs to be in a system of other new tissue.”

“Jack, what you’re suggesting…”

“All I’m saying is that in the long run, all we are, all this work, is a pit stop for body parts. If you want to win the race, you have to start from the ground up with a shiny new built race car and let’s just leave it at that.”

“I’m not getting into this with you. You know how I feel, Jack. I told you early on that growing tissue and organs was not going to be enough for you. I knew you well enough to know that you’d want to push the envelope and do the impossible. Well, if that’s the route you’re going then this professional relationship ends now. I’m not kidding.”

“Relax, Betty. I’m just talking, that’s all. I wouldn’t dream of it. Remember, I’m Dr. Jack Walton, not Dr. Frankenstein.”

Betty gathered her coat and purse and smiled at me. “Ok, Jack. I’m glad to hear that. I really enjoy working with you. I’d hate to lose the relationship we have.”

“I wouldn’t think of jeopardizing it.”
“Ok, well, I have to go. I have a date tonight with that cute guy from radiology. I’ll see you on Monday?”

“You bet.”

“Good night, Jack.”

“Goodnight, Betty.”

After Betty left, I walked around the lab room and shut down all the equipment. I placed all the tissue samples in the freezer to make sure they stayed fresh over the weekend. I waited an hour or so in the lab until I was sure most, if not all, of the other lab workers were out of the building. Then, I walked back to the freezer. Pulling out a rack of jars labeled “Adult Tendons” I ran my fingers over the wall until I found the button. I always forgot exactly where it was on the frigid wall. I pressed the button, the door opened and I stepped inside the hidden room.

I thought back to the day when Betty cut herself on a broken glass beaker. I remembered how I had the opportunity to be the nice guy and take care of her; to clean and dress her wounded hand. I remembered how blessed I was that day; that my dilemma had been solved. I was able to obtain a blood sample after all and could commence with my secret work.

I walked over to the vertical pod. The glass was frosted over so I had to use the sleeve of my lab coat to wipe the glass so I could look at her. She was beautiful. She stood five feet ten inches tall. Mostly legs. She had long silky auburn hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could stop the rotation of the Earth. She was a perfect copy. Even down to that nickel-sized brown mole on her left cheek.

This one will love me for sure. I just know it.