Mark Falkin - The Late Bloomer

The other thing she did besides tutor Spanish.

BECKY CAME HOME LAST MONTH ASHEN-FACED, ASKING ME TO HELP WARREN BECAUSE HE WOULDN’T LEAVE THE BUILDING, HE WAS OBSESSED. SHE’D BEEN BRINGING HIM FOOD AND CHANGES OF CLOTHES FOR A MONTH. THIS SOUNDS LIKE A MAD SCIENTIST SCENARIO, BUT IN THIS CASE, HIS MADNESS WASN’T DUE TO SOME NEFARIOUS THING HE WAS BUILDING BUT RATHER WHAT HE’D DISCOVERED. TO SIMPLIFY: HE DISCOVERED AN ELEMENT IN A GENE WHICH CONTROLS OUR PRODUCTION OF AN ENZYME CALLED MONOAMINE OXIDASE A (MAOA). IN LAY TERMS, THIS IS THE EVIL GENE, THE MAKINGS OF PSYCHOPATHS. THIS, COMBINED WITH A GENETIC KINK IN SEROTONIN RECYCLING… MAKES MONSTERS. HIS THEORY WAS THAT NATURE—THE GENE—ALONE MADE EVIL MEN AND THAT NURTURE IS NOT A FACTOR AT ALL, THAT THE IDEA OF NURTURE HAVING SIGNIFICANT INFLUENCE JUST MADE US FEEL BETTER. HE HAD ISOLATED THIS GENE, WROTE A PAPER WHICH WAS PEER REVIEWED, BUT NOT WELL. AS IS THE FATE OF MOST VISIONARIES, NOBODY TOOK HIM SERIOUSLY, SO THEY SHUFFLED HIM OFF TO THAT OUTPOST ON MEDICAL PARKWAY TO KEEP HIM QUIET. THEY PATTED HIM ON THE HEAD AND TOLD HIM TO GO PLAY. OVER THERE. WAY OVER THERE. BUT THIS ALONE ISN’T WHAT HAD HIM OBSESSED. ONCE ENSCONCED AT HIS LAB ON MEDICAL, JUST DOWN THE STREET FROM THAT PUB TRANSPLANTED FROM STRATFORD-UPON-AVON, HE FOUND SOMETHING ELSE, SOMETHING THAT HE HADN’T TOLD ANYBODY, NOT EVEN BECKY. HE ASKED ME TO MEET HIM AT THAT PUB, THE DRAUGHT HOUSE, JUST LAST WEEK. HIS FACE WAS ASHEN, TOO. WE SIPPED OUR PINTS IN THE BEER GARDEN. IT GREW DARK. HE WAS STALLING. WHEN THE GROUP OF HIPSTERS NEXT TO US GOT UP TO LEAVE, HE IMMEDIATELY LEANED ACROSS THE TABLE, KNOCKING OVER HIS EMPTY GLASS. THIS IS WHAT HE SAID: “KEN, I’M PRETTY SURE WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE.” HIS GLASS ROLLED AND FELL TO A CRASH ON THE CEMENT. I BLINKED AT HIM AND AGREED, YES, WE ALL DO . HE PROCEEDED TO TELL ME THAT LINKED TO THE MAOA GENE WAS SOMETHING ELSE, AND FOR THE LAST MONTH THAT SOMETHING ELSE HAD HIM WORKING NONSTOP.

OUR CIRCADIAN RHYTHM, OUR BIO TIME CLOCK, IT’S LIKE A MINOR SWITCH AT WORK, HE EXPLAINED. IT’S IN OUR GENES AND IT REGULATES WHEN WE GET UP AND WHEN WE SLEEP, AMONG OTHER THINGS. WARREN TOLD ME HE’D FOUND A MAJOR SWITCH AND THAT THIS SWITCH REGULATED WHEN WE DIE; NOT JUST WE AS INDIVIDUALS, BUT AS A SPECIES. “THIS THING (HIS WORD) HIDES IN PLAIN SIGHT LIKE DARK MATTER IN SPACE. IT’S THERE, IT’S SO EVERYTHING, SO EVERYWHERE THAT WE GENETICISTS DON’T THINK TO SEE IT. WE DON’T KNOW IT’S THERE, LIKE A FISH DOESN’T KNOW IT’S IN WATER. GENETIC SCIENCE WILL CHANGE,” HE SAID. “IT HAS TO. THEY’LL THINK I’M CRAZY, BUT I’VE GOT TO GET THE WORD OUT ON THIS. MAYBE WE CAN REVERSE THIS DOOMSDAY GENE’S MECHANISM,” HE’D SAID. HE NEEDED ME TO HELP HIM BECAUSE HE WAS SICK WITH A GLIOBLASTOMA IN HIS HEAD. TICKING. HIS SWITCH WAS ABOUT TO FLIP. AND NOBODY WOULD BELIEVE HIM. I’M MORE CREDIBLE, APPARENTLY. I’M ON TV ALL THE TIME. SCREENS IMBUE CREDIBILITY IN OUR WORLD.

WHEN I SAW MASSES OF PEOPLE ALL OVER THE WORLD CLUTCHING THEIR THROATS ON TV THIS MORNING, I KNEW WARREN’S WARNING HAD MERIT.

THAT’S THE OBJECTIVE, SCIENTIFIC ASPECT OF THIS STORY. WHAT WORRIES ME KEVIN, WHAT WORRIES ALL MEN AND WOMEN OF SCIENCE, IS THE UNKNOWN. IN THE OLD DAYS, THE UNKNOWN WAS ASCRIBED SUPERNATURAL PROPERTIES. THE UNKNOWN HERE IS: WHAT TRIGGERED THIS LATENT, DOOMSDAY GENE TO GO INTO EFFECT AROUND THE PLANET SIMULTANEOUSLY THIS MORNING? AND DID IT HEAR ME AND WARREN TALKING OVER OUR PINTS? DID IT BECOME CONCERNED THAT WE HUMANS HAD STUMBLED ONTO SOMETHING WE SHOULDN’T HAVE AND DECIDE TO SPEED THINGS UP BEFORE WE COULD UNDERSTAND AND SOLVE?

AS WARREN WARNED, THIS SOUNDS CRAZY.

THEY THOUGHT COPERNICUS AND GALILEO WERE HERETICAL CRAZIES.

IF SOMEONE JUST TOLD YOU ABOUT THE HOLOCAUST, WOULDN’T YOU THINK THAT CRAZY? YET, IT HAPPENED. IF SOMEONE JUST TOLD YOU ABOUT 9/11? CRAZY. YET…

BEFORE HE TURNED AND WALKED BACK TOWARD THE LAB I’D GLANCED DOWN AT WARREN’S CREDIT CARD RECEIPT. HE’D WRITTEN BELOW HIS SIGNATURE IT NEEDS YOU TO NEED IT . AS HE WAS WALKING AWAY I HELD THE RECEIPT UP AND YELLED AT HIM, “HEY, WHAT’S THIS ABOUT?” HE TURNED, PUT HIS HANDS UP IN SURRENDER AND YELLED BACK, STILL WALKING BACKWARD, SMILING IN APOLOGY— “YOU’VE GOT THE CONCH, KEN.”

HE TURNED ON HIS HEEL, SHOVED HIS HANDS INTO HIS POCKETS, AND WALKED INTO THE DARK.

It felt like I had the conch now, and it was heavy, and I didn’t know what to do with it.

It needs you to need it.

Why had Fleming repeated that, whispered that to me from behind his locked door?

Professor, why did you tear that part out and throw it away?

I think maybe I knew why, but there was nothing I could do about it now. Too late. Like Rebecca said.

Bass honked, and I’m glad he did. I stuffed the papers in my pocket and ran out of the house.

As I approached the Bronco, Bass rolled forward, playing with me, making me run and catch up. Kodie laughed, slapped him on the shoulder and told him to stop. As I reached for the door, he lurched, the muffler popping. I said, “Dammit, please stop,” laughing a little, savoring the camaraderie. I thought I could be happy if he just kept doing this, teasing me, and me and Kodie laughing and Bass smiling, the reek of death drifting out of my clothes, my hair, me chasing them forever and laughing.

“What was in there?” Kodie asked. We were taking turns without stopping at intersections, our bodies leaning and recoiling back, tires screeching.

“My neighbor,” I mumbled. “Bass. It’s not a race,” I said, a little annoyed with his speed. He slowed a little but didn’t look both ways when we approached the usually busy street, the border to my tucked-away neighborhood. Yesterday we felt uncomfortable, obeyed traffic laws, but just a day later and we’re covering these streets like it’s our own personal racetrack. The rule of law was falling away.

Kodie’s neighborhood was just two miles away. Negotiating a couple of roundabouts, we came to the house, a small wooden gray ranch style with white trim which filled the tiny lot. Tall Chinese elms flanked each side and overhung the house. Though she had said her parents weren’t there this morning, that their car was gone, she wanted to start here anyway. Then I knew why.

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit.” She leaned her forehead against the back of the front seat.

“What?”

“The car is there .”

“I thought you said—”

“I did,” she sighed. “But sometimes they get up early and go to Hyde Park Gym.”

“On Guadalupe with the veiny curling arm sticking out of the wall?” asked Bass.

Kodie nodded. “After trying here, going there was going to be my next guess.”

“But they came back,” I said.

“They go real early.” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “They’re so cute how they work out together. Mom’s the one who hauls Dad out of bed at five.” She laughed once and knuckled away a tear. We sat in silence. The old truck’s metal ticked as it cooled. Kodie stared at the back of the seat trying to find something there that would give her permission to get out of the car. Suddenly, she grabbed her bat, flung the door open, and marched toward her house.

“You want me to come with you?” I asked. She spun around while walking, grim-faced, shook her head, spun back. When Kodie got to the small front porch, she stopped on the first of three cement stairs. She lifted her forearm over her face.

The smell.

Her parents.

She bent over in despair. I wasn’t sure she was going to be able to do it. She stood up and waved me over.

“You okay?” I asked at her side. She gripped my hand and we opened the unlocked door. They wore workout clothes. The part of her dad’s T-shirt I could see read Gazelle Foundation Run for . They were both on the floor right in the living room as we walked in, her mom on top of her dad like the final scene of Romeo and Juliet. The smell was overpowering. I coughed and turned away. There were flies. Kodie knelt down to shoo them away and touched them each on the cheek, bawling in hysterical grief. Their mouths were full of white. I sat down beside her and rubbed her back as she wept. There were no words. She uttered oh amid her cries and touched them. The flies were insistent. I’m not sure how long we sat there like that.