nods. “Like most of our military’s innovations, it will eventually impact civilian lives in a significant way. There are over two million amputees today in this country. Close to one hundred and fifty amputations happen every year. Think of how their lives will be affected.” He shakes his head at the wonder of it all. “Another application for his research is genome-editing technology.”
“What is that, exactly?” Abu asks.
“A lab tool called a CRISPR allows scientists to manipulate DNA in the nucleus,” Ryan continues. “Imagine tiny ‘molecular scissors’ guided by satellite navigation that have the ability to reach within any cell—be it sperm, a one-celled embryo, or an egg—and either insert good DNA, or snip out the bad stuff prior to replication of DNA in the next generation.”
I shake my head. “It sounds as if we’re now playing God.”
“Humans weren’t supposed to fly either,” Ryan argues. “Today, going to the moon is an afterthought. Imagine if you were able to snip the BRCA1 breast cancer out of your DNA, and in doing so, eradicate it in your descendants. Would you do so?”
The vision of my mother’s final days on earth come to mind. “Without hesitation,” I murmur.
“For DARPA, this generation of super soldiers will be surgically enhanced. But the next generation will be created at inception,” Ryan points out.
“Gee, whatever happened to free will?” Emma mutters. “I mean, what if the dude wants to dance ballet instead?”
“Trust me; he’ll get offers from every dance company in the world,” Dominic declares.
“He’s right,” Ryan adds. “And diseases such as cystic fibrosis, hemophilia, muscular dystrophy, and sickle cell will be things of the past.”
I shrug. “The commercial application will be a stockholder’s wet dream, not to mention parents who want a designer baby.”
“Do the agency’s experiments include DNA editing with other species?” Emma asks warily.
“By that, do you mean is it creating chimeras?” I wonder out loud.
“Half man and half beast? That’s pretty scary!” Abu shakes his head at the thought.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, people. DARPA doesn’t want mutants. The ethics issue alone would kill the program,” Ryan warns. “It’ll look more like this.” He hits the computer key again.
A different picture appears. An older gentleman—portly, with a goatee—is working with a man wearing a prosthetic arm. The man’s head is taped with electrodes. He appears to be lifting a heavy weight. “This is Dr. Norbert Welles, who heads up the second group of researchers who is working on neural implants that can control robotic prosthetics. He’s the founder of MesmerMind, a start-up based in San Francisco.”
“A reboot of the Bionic Man?” Arnie’s fist pumps the air. “Awesome!”
“This isn’t one of your comic book fantasies, Arnie,” Ryan growls. “This is real life.”
“What does the third team’s research entail?” Jack asks.
“Memory modification,” Ryan answers. “Operation Hercules is providing the most comprehensive research that has ever been conducted in the physiology of memory. Dr. Shelley Wollstonecraft leads this team. She works at UC Berkeley’s BioEngineering Department.”
He taps the key once more. This time, a woman appears on the screen. She is in her mid-thirties, and stunningly beautiful. Her long dark hair curls to her shoulders. Dr. Wollstonecraft stands beside a CT scan of a green-hued brain. While in mid-conversation with someone not in the photo, she points to an area of the cerebral cortex that is highlighted in a vibrant red color.
“What exactly is memory modification?” Dominic asks.
I presume it’s what every woman who has had the misfortune of being sweet-talked into having sex with Dominic must do in order regain her self respect. Still, I wait for Ryan’s answer.
“Consider the changes that would occur in our lives if there