Invasive Procedures by Aaron Johnston Page A

“She’s got a bad liver,” he said sadly.
    Monica looked skeptical. “You know that just by looking at it?”
    He laughed loudly again. “I can’t fool you, can I, Doctor? I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. No, we can’t tell all that by simply looking at the sequence. In fact, we can’t tell much of anything from one segment. You see, about ninety-seven percent of it is fluff, or what we call non-coding DNA. Junk. It doesn’t seem to do anything. It’s just there. It’s the same with your DNA as well, not just this sample. Most of it doesn’t have any function at all. No, what we’re looking for are those special sections that control and organize necessary human functions.”
    “Genes.”
    “Precisely. The genes. But did you know that only a few of our genes are unique? It’s true. Ninety-nine-point-nine percent of your genes are exactly like mine. Most people don’t know that, but it’s a fact. Genetically, all humans are nearly identical. Just a few little specks of you
makes
youyou. And only a few little specks of me
makes
me me. That difference could be minute, even down to a single letter in the code. We refer to them as SNPs, or snips. That’s short for ‘single nucleotide polymorphisms.’ Many of these snips lead to genetic diseases. And if we can identify the snip as the source of the disease, we can replace it with a cloned, correct gene.”
    “Gene therapy.”
    Galen rubbed his hands together. “It’s very exciting, isn’t it? And it’s not that difficult. The slightest alteration in someone’s genetic sequence can make all the difference in the world.”
    “What are you looking for in this strand?” Monica said, surprised to find herself interested.
    Galen conferred with one of the workers. “Sickle-cell anemia, he tells me. This is the sequence of a little girl named Kimberly. We’re going to cure her if we can. And trust me, we can.”
    Monica didn’t know what to think. The lab seemed legitimate. The gene sequencers looked real. The lab workers sounded competent. But this was Galen, a criminal, a crazy old man. Could any of this be believable if he was running the show?
    She watched as Galen took a moment to speak to the workers manning the sequencer. He was kind to them, expressing gratitude for their hard work, patting them on the shoulder and telling them how fortunate he felt to have them involved. Monica could see how much his words meant to them, how they beamed with pride and valued his praise. He was more than the man in charge here. These people revered him.
    There was a sudden commotion at the other end of the lab. Monica heard footsteps, shouting, breaking glass.
    “Stop him!” someone shouted.
    Suddenly a teenage boy appeared, running around the lab equipment, knocking over workers, bumping into tables, desperate to get away, and heading straight for the doors Monica and Galen had entered through. He wore hospital scrubs and had a tattoo on his neck.
    “Jonathan!” Galen said. “What are you doing?”
    Another man was chasing the boy, a large Healer like Stone. He stopped, aimed a handgun, and fired.
    Monica screamed.
    The dart struck Jonathan in the back of the neck just as he wasapproaching the doors. His body went limp immediately, and he fell forward onto the tile, sliding across it and crashing into the doors with a terrible thud.
    Galen was furious. “Lichen! What the devil are you doing?”
    Lichen lowered his gun, looking suddenly embarrassed.
    Galen ran to Jonathan, who wasn’t moving, and cradled his head. “He could have fallen and broken his neck,” he said. “A lot of good he’d do us then.”
    “He was trying to escape, sir,” said Lichen.
    “Escape where? Into the hallway? He’s lucky you didn’t shoot him in the eye.” He waved Monica over. “Doctor, if you will.”
    She approached reluctantly. Lichen stood near Jonathan, and she wasn’t thrilled about the idea of getting any closer to him. She looked at the dart gun in his hand, his