"Ahh," Pierce said, understanding.
"The sample continued to replicate and grow, but I'm assuming, without a head or other controlling force in the flesh, it took no shape. We ended up with a three-pound sample. The solution was discovered quite accidentally as we tested the large sample. It turns out that once absorbed, water inside the Hydra flesh became D20—heavy water — its natural and nonreactive state. Using heavy water, we were able to extract the DNA and analyze it. That's when we discovered how truly unique the Hydra is."
Maddox rubbed his stubble-covered chin, eyes looking off into the distance as he relived the discovery. "All life on the planet is composed of the same stuff. We share the large majority of our genomes. That's why you hear things about humans being ninety-eight percent similar to apes, or bananas, or such things. But the Hydra is totally different. DNA bonds in pairs. Adenine pairs with thymine. Quanine with cyto-sine. They're the building blocks of DNA structure. This is true with Hydra as well, but it's what binds those base pairs together that is different. For most of us, its hydrogen… water. For Hydra, it's heavy water. It's this unique bond that allows for the existence of genes not found in other living creatures. We can't simply switch on dormant regenerative genes, we need to introduce them."
"That is odd."
"Odd is an understatement. The word that best describes it is alien. Not that I think that's what we're dealing with, but it's as close as you can get without leaving the planet. There is no record of anything else like it, anywhere. Have you ever heard of something being able to grow a second head?" Maddox typed on the keyboard. Images displayed on the six screens: DNA strands represented by double helixes, a series of chemical structures that looked like patterned hexagons bearing labels such as: adenine, thymine, guanine, cytosine, hydrogen, deuterium, and tritium, along with more streams of numbers, and photos of the oversized Hydra sample. Again, Pierce could make little sense of the images, but the man seemed determined to use visual aids. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. The Hydra is so mind-bogglingly different that just understanding it is slowing us down. We're interested in a single trait, regeneration. But Hydra's extra genes are full of traits that are, for now, undesirable.
"Poisonous breath and a penchant for human flesh," Pierce said. Maddox caught his breath and looked at him. "Hydra traits," Ridley said.
"Ahh. Yes. Exactly," Maddox said. "Finding out which genes trigger which traits is our last stumbling block." "How do you do that?" "Experimentation."
Pierce began to sweat despite the room's air-conditioning.
Maddox saw his apprehension growing. "Volunteers, of course."
Feeling Reinhart behind him, and the towering Ridley beside him, Maddox's assurance did little to quell his growing fears. Perhaps from the adrenaline filling his veins, Pierce noticed five needles, the syringes filled with red liquid, standing on the counter next to the keyboard. "And those?"
"The first batch. By using a virus, in this case porcine circovirus, a single-stranded DNA virus, as a carrier. The virus crosses the cell membrane and infects the cell with the DNA alterations. The infected cells divide, the virus spreads, the host becomes… something new. When we're done, we'll have the world's first cure-all vaccine.
"We've already weeded out the most obvious undesirables. By comparing the Hydra genes to those of humans and virtually every other creature on earth, we were able to remove ninety-nine percent of the DNA. The D20 bond may be different, but the code combinations still match. These first samples contain one fifth of one percent of the remaining genes." Maddox picked up a needle, but left the rubber stopper on the tip. He had no intention of using it. He simply admired it. "If the subject in question is able to regenerate, we'll be able to narrow down our search to the few hundred genes contained in this serum. In the same way, we'll whittle down the potential genes until we're left with one. The one. The future of human civilization could be inside this syringe." He stared at the red liquid. After a few silent seconds, he snapped out of his trance. "We'll be able to re-create the human race… making us stronger, healthier, and, for all intents and purposes, immortal, soon enough." He put the needle back with the others.
This bit of information was enough to distract Pierce. It seemed unthinkable… inhuman… godlike… to achieve such a thing in such a short period of time. "I've only been here for two days…"
Maddox began to explain, but Ridley interrupted him. "All things are possible with enough money."
Pierce understood. "The computers."
Gesturing to the networked computer systems, Ridley added, "The NSA has their one Cray Triton supercomputer. It can handle sixty-four billion instructions per second. Used for breaking encryptions and the like. The system you see here, Yahweh, is the equivalent of five NSA systems, capable of handling three hundred twenty billion instructions per second."
Pierce shook his head. What kind of person names a supercomputer after God?
"With access to the most complete DNA database on the planet assembled over the last three years, Yahweh can dissect any living thing down to its basic genes. It searches for and identifies flaws. It can combine gene sequences of different creatures, creating superior chimeras. And it made short work of identifying the one percent of Hydra's genes that make it unique."
In short, the machine was capable of breaking life down to its smallest components and rebuilding something new. Hence the name. Yah-weh. God.
"What I don't understand, is why you explained any of this to me."
"You were part of the discovery," Maddox said. He gave Pierce a genuine pat on the shoulder. "You deserved to know."
"Thanks," Pierce said, amazed by his naivete. He turned to Ridley, tired of the game. "What's the real reason?"
Ridley shrugged. "A courtesy."
Pierce took a step back and bumped into Reinhart, who didn't budge — a wall of muscle. Maddox looked confused.
"I thought you might like to know what you were volunteering for."
With the same elbow he'd been holding since injuring it on the desk, Pierce swung around, attempting to smash Reinhart in the nose. If he could knock the man down, escaping and hiding in another part of the vast complex might be possible. He knew he'd never make it through all the defenses, he just didn't want to become a guinea pig. Unfortunately, Reinhart either had catlike reflexes or he'd anticipated the move. Probably both.
With intense pressure, Reinhart caught Pierce's elbow, pulled the arm back, took hold of his hand, and twisted. Pierce's wrist cracked audibly. He screamed in pain as Reinhart pulled him up, holding him by the broken wrist and a handful of hair. Just as quickly as he'd been pulled up, Pierce was thrust down, his jaw breaking upon impact with a desktop. In five seconds, the fight had been taken out of him. And it would be a lifetime before he could forget the pain.
"Your first volunteer," Ridley said. But Maddox put his hands up and backed away. He wanted no part in the action, but also didn't voice an objection. He simply watched as Ridley picked up a needle, flicked off the stopper, and buried the needle in Pierce's neck. Pierce fought, but Reinhart had no trouble holding him down. He felt the warm liquid enter his body. It stung. Then burned. But before he could scream at the pain coursing through his veins, he was struck in the back of the head. As he slumped to the floor, he saw Reinhart standing over him, holding his handgun like a club.
Ridley, too, stood above him, saying, "'We mortals with immortal minds are only born for sufferings and joys, and one could almost say that the most excellent receive joy through sufferings.' Beethoven said that." Ridley knelt down over Pierce, pulling open one of his closed eyes. "You'll let me know if he was right, won't you?"