jefflong.yearzero-第12节

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　〃Skin；〃　she　went　on。　〃Touch。　Contact。　Is　that　how　it　spreads？〃　What　about　aerosol　transmission？　Was　it　blood…or　water…borne？　How　long　can　it　survive　outside　its　host？　Where　does　it　e　from？　Have　you　mapped　its　proteins？〃　The　questions　bubbled　out。
　〃We　haven't　figured　out　its　natural　reservoir；〃　her　father　said。　〃No　one　has　seen　it。　We　have　no　idea　if　it's　even　a　virus。　We　don't　know。〃
　Not　for　lack　of　trying；　Miranda　guessed。　The　international　effort　must　have　been　fantastic…and　fruitless…to　earn　his　anxiety。　〃What　else　could　it　be？〃　she　asked。　Bacteria　and　rickettsias　were　too　large　to　miss。　Given　the　state　of　modern　immunology；　they　would　be　like　elephants　wandering　through　Lincoln　Tunnel。　A　prion；　then？　They　were　the　next　new　thing　in　alien　contagions。
　He　shut　down　the　line　of　inquiry。　Back　to　Chairman　of　the　Boxes。　Boxes　within　boxes　within　boxes。　〃For　now；〃　he　said；　〃I　don't　want　you　working　with　animals。〃
　〃I　hear　your　concern　about　this　outbreak；〃　she　said。　〃But　Winston　is　separate。　He's　not　a　problem。〃
　〃He　may　be　separate；　but　he　is　similar；〃　her　father　said。　〃Like　viruses；　he　constitutes　a　kingdom　unknown。　We　don't　know　what　he　is；　therefore　he　is　a　danger。　I　won't　argue。〃
　〃There's　something　more　you　need　to　know；〃　she　blurted　out。　〃About　Winston。　It's　important。〃
　His　eyes　darted　from　her　to　the　pond。　Shards　of　broken　ice　bobbed　on　the　dark　water。
　How　to　sum　it　all　up？　〃I　boosted　his　growth；〃　she　said。　〃In　the　womb。　Winston　was　born　the　way　you　just　saw　him。　Same　height。　Same　weight。　He　was　born　fully　formed。〃
　Ever　the　reductionist；　her　father　broke　the　notion　into　manageable　parts。　〃You　grew　him　to　full　maturity？　Inside　a　Plexiglas　box？　Impossible；〃　he　said。
　She　skipped　on。　〃I　accelerated　his　development。　The　trigger　was　there。　I　just　had　to　switch　it　on。　That　wasn't　the　hard　part。〃
　〃What　was　the　hard　part　then？〃
　〃Switching　the　trigger　off。　Otherwise　he　would　have　died　of　old　age　a　month　ago。　I　had　to　find　a　way　to　stop　it　at　the　genetic　level。〃
　〃Miranda；〃　her　father　slowly　entoned。　〃You　had　to　find　a　way　to　stop　what？〃
　〃Aging。　Death。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃I　found　the　brake。　I　built　it　in。〃
　Her　father　was　staring　at　her。　〃That　can't　be。〃
　〃Why　not？〃　she　said。　〃Because　it's　me　that　found　it？〃
　〃Because；　Miranda；〃　he　said；　〃it's　not　chronological　with　the　research　being　done。　It　es　out　of　nowhere。　And　yes；　because　it's　you；　an　unpublished；　unfunded　sixteen…year…old　girl　working　in　secret　by　herself。　With　no　assistance；　with　a　few　stolen　instruments；　out　of　the　scientific　munity's　view；　with　no　guidelines；　no　oversight。〃
　She　interrupted。　〃Dad。　Seventeen。　For　the　record。　Two　weeks　ago。〃
　His　mouth　opened　and　closed。　Usually　one　of　his　secretaries　faked　it　for　him；　some　roses　and　a　check。　She　watched　his　chagrin；　a　matter　of　jaw　muscles。　〃If　what　you　say　is　true；〃　he　said；　returning　to　Winston's　genesis；　〃you've　jumped　across　the　entire　process。〃
　Shehad　jumped　their　chronology。　So　what？　〃There's　nothing　mystical　about　it；〃　she　hurried　on。　Her　ten　minutes　were　nearly　up。　〃It's　as　natural　as　nature。　Everyone's　so　busy　with　gene　mapping　and　cloning　mice；　they　haven't　bothered　going　out　into　the　world　to　test…drive　the　code。　I　did。　That's　how　I　made　the　real　discovery。〃
　She　had　his　plete　attention　now。　〃You　have　to　see　this　for　yourself；〃　she　said。　〃We　have　to　go　closer。〃　She　hopped　down　to　the　next　ledge。
　〃Get　out　of　there；　Miranda。　It's　dangerous。〃
　〃Just　a　little　closer。　So　he　can　get　a　better　look　at　you。　Then　you'll　see。〃
　〃You　don't　know　what　it's　capable　of。〃
　〃But　I　do；〃　she　insisted。　〃He's　like　a　miracle。　You　know　the　law　of　unintended　consequences。　Results　you　didn't　build　for。〃
　Something…her　conviction；　his　curiosity…bridged　their　gap。　He　took　off　his　trenchcoat；　and　lowered　himself　to　her　ledge。　Miranda　hopped　one　lower；　and　he　followed。　She　didn't　take　him　all　the　way　to　the　water。　He　was　close　enough。
　Miranda　unwrapped　the　final　bundle；　another　lobster。　She　skated　it　on　top　of　the　ice　a　few　feet　away。　〃Here；　Winston；〃　she　called。
　The　monster　came。　He　was　a　powerful　swimmer；　and　his　lime　green　dorsal　ridge　cast　a　small　roostertail　of　water　behind　him。　There　was　no　showing　off　or　fancy　dolphin　leaps　this　time。　He　came　to　a　halt　just　behind　the　lobster　and　heaved　his　head　and　shoulders　up　through　the　thin　ice；　facing　them。
　Winston's　face　was　so　fantastic　that　he　was　either　revolting　or　supremely　beautiful。　There　was　no　middle　ground；　no　ordinariness　by　which　to　judge　him。　His　head　was　wider　than　it　was　high；　the　nostrils　were　flared　and　black；　his　skin　slick。　He　had　lips；　human　shaped；　but　bleached　of　all　colors。　His　teeth　were　a　mess；　crooked　in　gums　too　weak　to　keep　order；　broken　from　chewing　on　bones；　rotting。　The　scalp　wanted　to　grow；　but　his　frog　genes　stunted　it；　and　the　result　was　pimpled　follicles。　Half　in；　half　out　of　the　ice；　he　reached　for　the　lobster　and　started　nipping　away　the　shell。　He　burrowed　into　the　viscera　and　took　it　like　a　string　of　spaghetti。　All　the　while；　he　pretended　not　to　be　studying　them。
　〃Hello；　Winston；〃　said　Miranda。
　His　ear　stubs　rotated。
　〃How's　my　little　prince？〃
　The　monster　spoke。　He　didn't　bark　or　hoot。　His　sounds　were　very　close　to　human　speech；　a　series　of　garbling　and　glottal　stops。　The　string　of　wet　noises　marched　on。　He　was　talking　about　something　with　great　consideration。
　〃It's　real　language；〃　she　informed　her　father。　〃If　you　listen　carefully；　now　and　then；　you　can　make　out　certain　words。　Almost　in　English。　I　think　his　hyoid　bone　is　malformed。　He　can't　shape　sounds。　But　he　definitely　has　things　to　say。　And　he　understands　me。〃
　〃You've　built　yourself　a　pet。　A　parrot。　You　taught　him　words。〃
　〃That's　the　strange　part。〃　Miranda　looked　back　at　her　father。　〃The　day　he　was　born；　he　already　knew　how　to　speak。　He　came　out　of　the　incubator　with　a　full　vocabulary。〃
　〃Enough；〃　her　father　snapped。
　〃That's　what　I　said。　I　didn't　believe　it。　But　it　kept　happening。〃
　〃What；〃　he　demanded。
　〃He　kept　remembering　things。〃
　He　snorted。　〃Miranda。〃
　She　went　on。　〃Old　things。　Things　from　my　past。〃
　〃Stop。〃
　〃Memories。　My　memories。　I　brought　a　box　of　my　toys　from　home。　I　mixed　them　with　stuff　from　the　Goodwill。　He　sorted　out　what　was　mine。〃
　〃You're　saying　memory　is　hard…wired　into　our　genetic　code？〃
　〃Or　soft…wired。　Why　not？　Genetic　diseases　are。　They　bee　part　of　us　at　the　cellular　level。　Metabolic　circuitry。　Cellular　wiring。　Whatever　you　want　to　call　it。〃
　〃Memory　is　a　genetic　disease？〃　he　scoffed。
　〃That's　a　cynical　way　of　putting　it；〃　she　said。
　〃I've　had　enough　of　this。〃　He　turned　away。
　〃What's　my　name；　Winston？〃　she　suddenly　asked。　Her　father　paused。
　The　monster　looked　up　from　his　lobster。　His　green　eyes　were　bright　and　happy。　〃Mirn…dot；〃　he　said。
　〃And　him？　Who　is　he？〃　She　pointed　at　her　father；　who　shook　his　head　sadly。
　Winston　had　that　one　all　figured　out。　〃Da…da；〃　he　said。
　〃Tricks；〃　her　father　declared。　〃You　showed　him　my　photograph。〃
　Miranda　faced　her　father。　His　jaw　was　set。　He　could　stop　the　bad　things　that　were　about　to　happen　with　a　word。　Instead　he　was　going　to　unleash　whoever　they　were　lurking　in　the　forest。　Her　little　Winston　was　history。　They　would　poison　the　pond　or　shoot　him　or　sedate　and　cage　him。　She　had　failed　her　creation。　The　old　coldness　settled　into　her　heart。
　〃One　big　problem　with　that　explanation；〃　she　told　her　father。
　He　waited。
　〃I　don't　have　photos　of　you　to　show　him。〃　She　went　for　the　jugular。　〃I　threw　those　out　a　long　time　ago。〃
　He　retreated　behind　stone　eyes。　Not　a　wince。　〃I'm　sorry　this　hurts　you　so　much；〃　he　said。
　It　did。　It　hurt。　Then　it　did　not。　Love　was　no　use。　Its　bonds　were　false。　So　she　did　not　say　goodbye　to　her　creation。　She　turned　so　that　her　father　could　not　see　the　tear　in　her　eye；　and　walked　away　into　the　woods。
　
　3
　The　Descent
　
　THEHIMALAYAS
　MAY
　God！〃　Nathan　Lee's　hand　twitched。　It　was　watching　him；　the　white　face　crowning　a　mass　of　fur。
　The　telephoto　jiggled。　He　lost　it。　His　yeti。
　Metoh…kangmi；the　Tibetan　refugees　had　called　it；　Sherpa　for　dirty　or　wild　man。　The　Chinese　term　wasyerin。　From　the　beginning　there'd　been　a　chance　that　this　was　a　wild　goose　chase；　that　even　if　there　was　a　body；　it　would　prove　worthless；　one　more　lost　yak　herder　or　refugee　or　frozen　ascetic。　But　it　was　real。　In　that　single　glance；　he'd　seen　something　elusive　and　radically　primitive。
　Trembling；　Nathan　Lee　scoped　the　mountainside　again；　but　his　eyes　were　tired。　He　looked　at　his　watch；　then　at　the　larger　vista。
　At　24；400　feet　above　sea　level；　Makalu　La…the　pass　between　Makalu　and　a　neighboring　peak…wasted　no　refinement。　It　invited　no　repose。　You　were　here　only　to　get　there；　whichever　side　of　the　Nepal　border　that　might　be。　To　the　north　lay　the　inert；　mythical　Tibetan　plateau　in　the　People's　Republic　of　China。　At　his　back　loomed　the　enormous　west　face　of　Makalu；　frisked　by　morning　winds。　Seven　miles　west；　Everest's　upper　pyramid　was　bright　orange　with　sunrise；　practically　Egyptian　atop　the　sea　of　darkness。
　He　checked　the　trail　below。　Ochs　and　a　porter　named　Rinchen　had　finally　left　last　night's　camp；　a　small　blue　tent　inside　a　wind　break　built　of　rocks。　They　were　like　ants　on　the　lower　switchbacks。　Nathan