Vital Signs by Robin Cook

so choose. At this point, I’d prefer to put it out of our lives.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Marissa said with disgust. She got up from the love seat and left Robert to his beloved computer and spreadsheets. She wasn’t up to having another argument.

Marissa stomped down the hall and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. It seemed that instead of getting better, everything was getting a whole lot worse.

March 20,1990

8:45 AM.

Highly reactive ions called hydroniurn ions, which were nothing but hydrated protons, knifed through the delicate cell membranes of four of Marissa’s developing embryos. The hydronium ions came in a sudden wave, catching the dividing cells off-guard Buffer systems were mobilized to neutralize some of the initial reactive particles, but there were too many to combat. Slowly at first, then more rapidly, the pH of the cells began to fall. They were becoming acidic. Hydronium ions inevitably resulted wherever acid was added to an aqueous medium.

Within the very depths of the embryos, molecules of DNA were in the process of replicating themselves in preparation for another division. As weak acids themselves, they were terribly susceptible to the hydronium ions that swarmed in their midst. Their replication process continued, but with some difficulty: the enzymes responsible for the, chemical reactions were also sensitive to acid. Soon replication mistakes started to occur. Affirst there were only afew errors, none that would have mattered in the long run given the redundance of genes. But as more and more of the acid particles intervened, entire gene pools found themselves replicating sheer gibberish. The cells were still dividing, but it was only a matter of time. The mistakes had become lethal.

“It’s beautiful!” Marissa cried. It was hard for her to comprehend that she was looking at the barest beginning of one of her children. The embryo, now at a two-cell stage, appeared transparent in the crystal-clear culture medium. Unfortunately, Marissa could not see the chaos that was occurring on a molecular level at the very moment she was admiring the cell’s microscopic appearance. She thought she was seeing the beginnings of a new human life. What she was witnessing was the first steps of its death.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Dr. Wingate said. He was standing next to Marissa. She had come in unexpectedly that morning, asking if she could see one of her embryos. At first he had questioned the wisdom of granting such a request, but, remembering she was a doctor, he realized that it would be difficult to refuse, even though at this stage he didn’t like anyone handling the embryos.

“I just cannot believe that little speck could become an entire person,” Marissa said. She’d never seen a live two-celled embryo before, much less her own.

“I think we’d better get the little devil back into the incubator,”

Dr. Wingate said. He carefully carried the organ-culture dish to the incubator and slid it onto the appropriate shelf. Marissa followed him, still awed. She saw that the dish had joined three others.

“Where are the other four?” she questioned.

“Over there,” Dr. Wingate pointed.

“In the liquid-nitrogen storage facility.”

“They’ve already been frozen?” Marissa asked.

“I did it this morning,” Dr. Wingate said.

“Our experience has been that two-celled embryos do better than larger ones. I selected the four that I thought would tolerate the freezing and thawing the best. We’ll keep them in reserve, just in case.”

Marissa walked over to the liquid-nitrogen storage unit and touched its lid. The idea that four potential children were inside, frozen in a kind of suspended animation, gave her an eerie feeling.

Such high-tech intrusion reminded her a little too much of Brave New World.

“Want to see inside?” Dr. Wingate asked.

Marissa shook her head.

“I’ve taken too much of your time already,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“My