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CHAPTER 039

Josh Winkler hurried into the animal facility to see what Tom Weller was talking about. “How many rats died?” he said.

“Nine.”

The stiff bodies of nine dead rats lying on their sides in nine successive cages made Josh Winkler start to sweat. “We’ll have to dissect them,” he said. “When did they die?”

“Must have been during the night,” Tom said. “They were fed at six; no notation of problems then.” Tom was looking at a clipboard.

“What study group were they in?” Josh said. Fearing he already knew the answer.

“A-7,” Tom said. “The maturity gene study.”

Jesus.

Josh tried to remain calm. “And how old were they?”

“Ummm…let’s see. Thirty-eight weeks and four days.”

Oh God.

The average life span of a lab rat was 160 weeks-a little over three years. These rats had died in a quarter of that time. He took a deep breath. “And what about the others in the cohort?”

“There were twenty in the original study group,” Tom said. “All identical, all the same age. Two of them died a few days ago, of respiratory infection. I didn’t think much about it at the time. As for the others…well, you better see for yourself.” He led Josh down the row of cages to the other rats. It was immediately clear what their condition was.

“Ragged coats, inactive, excessive sleeping, trouble standing on their hind legs, muscle wasting, hind leg paralysis in four of them…”

Josh stared. “They’re old,” he said. “They’re all old. ”

“Yes,” Tom said. “It’s unmistakable: premature aging. I went back and checked the dead rats from two days ago. One had a pituitary adenoma and the other had spinal cord degeneration.”

“Signs of age…”

“Right,” Tom said. “Signs of age. Maybe this gene won’t be the wonder product Rick is counting on after all. Not if it causes early death. It’d be a disaster.”

“How am I feeling?”Adam said, as they sat together at lunch. “I feel fine, Josh, thanks to you. I’m a little tired sometimes. And my skin is dry. I’m getting a few wrinkles. But I feel okay. Why?”

“Just wondered,” Josh said, as casually as he could. He tried not to stare at his older brother. In fact, Adam’s appearance had changed dramatically. Where he once had a touch of gray at the temples, he now had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. His hairline had receded. The skin around his eyes and lips was noticeably wrinkled. His forehead was deeply creased. He looked much older.

Adam was thirty-two.

Jesus.

“No, uh, drugs?” Josh asked.

“No, no. That’s over, thank God,” Adam said. He had ordered a hamburger, but he put it down after a few bites.

“Doesn’t taste good?”

“Got a sore tooth. I need to see the dentist.” Adam touched his cheek. “I hate complaining. Actually, I was thinking I’d better get some exercise. I need exercise. Sometimes I get constipated.”

“You going to join your old b-ball group?” Josh said brightly. His brother used to play basketball twice a week with the investment bankers.

“Uh, no,” Adam said. “I was thinking doubles tennis, or maybe golf.”

“Good idea,” Josh said.

A silence fell over the table. Adam pushed his plate aside. “I know I look older,” he said. “You don’t need to pretend you haven’t noticed. Everybody’s noticed it. I asked Mom, and she said that Dad was the same way; he just suddenly looked older in his thirties. Almost overnight. So maybe it’s genetic.”

“Yeah, could be.”

“Why?” Adam said. “Do you know something?”

“Me? No.”

“You just suddenly wanted to have lunch, urgently, today? Couldn’t wait?”

“I hadn’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”

“Cut the crap, Josh,” he said. “You were always a shitty liar.”

Josh sighed. “Adam,” he said, “I think we should do some tests.”

“For what?”

“Bone density, lung capacity. And an MRI.”

“For what? What are these tests for?” He stared at Josh. “For aging?”

“Yes.”

“I’m aging too fast? Is it that gene spray?”

“We need to find out,” Josh said. “I want to call Ernie.” Ernie Lawrence was the family physician.

“Okay, set it up.”