text: One warm morning, shortly after fall classes had begun, Noah headed for the institute on his bike. It's going to be a hot one, he thought. He noticed a television news van headed along the campus road toward the institute. What's that about? he wondered. As he followed it, he heard an amplified female voice. Noah strained his ears and could make out the phrases "animal rights" and "defenseless cats." Uh oh, this can't be good.
  
  Arriving at his building, he encountered a crowd of people carrying signs with the CLAWS logo. One read "NO PETS FOR RESEARCH!" Another read, "CLAW AWAY VIVISECTION."
  
  Noah spotted the speaker, a young woman with glasses and dark hair collected in a ponytail, perched on a makeshift podium and addressing the throng with a wireless mike.
  
  "... they keep the cats in small cages where the animals have limited room to move around. This sort of thing should not be allowed at CSUCI."
  
  Noah felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. He made his way to a rear entrance, where Gary was waiting in the lab.
  
  "What's going on out there?" asked Noah.
  
  "Anneke Weiss," Gary replied. "That's Jane's friend. You know, the woman I told you about, the one who believes we shouldn't be experimenting with cats."
  
  "Oh brother, what next? How did she get so many people out there?"
  
  "She's been posting fliers all over campus announcing a rally against animal research."
  
  "I saw a TV news van. How did they know about it?"
  
  "I guess she notified them," Gary said. "I bet there are newspaper reporters too. I'm sorry, Doc. This is kinda my fault. I guess I should have avoided arguing with her."
  
  "It's not your fault at all. There's no way you could have anticipated what she'd do."
  
  Noah's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Dr. Stanaland, head of the institute.
  
  "Noah," said Stanaland, "can you come up here right away? We have to talk."
  
  Noah closed the phone. "I've got to run. Dr. Stanaland, wants to see me. He's not a guy you keep waiting."
  
  "Oh crap!" Gary said. "You know it's about the crowd, right?"
  
  Noah shrugged. "Gary, trust me. Dr. Stanaland is a fair man. He won't blame you... us."
  
  When Noah entered Lowell E. Stanaland's outer office, Mrs. Gonzalez motioned him to go right in. He stepped into an impeccably neat room whose darkly stained oak cabinets and rich, beige cowhide chairs and sofa conveyed the ambience of a four-hundred-dollar-an-hour attorney's office rather than that of a scientist. Noah always felt awestruck in Stanaland's presence. Here was a man who had worked with Nobel-Prize-winning molecular biologist, Francis Crick—first at Cambridge and later at the Salk Institute. He was amused that the institute's head wore a custom-tailored suit and tie, an anomaly in an environment where most of the scientists dressed informally. Of course, Noah was aware that this was not an affectation; it was a reflection of Stanaland's formal British upbringing. His father had been a high-level diplomat in the British foreign service.
  
  Noah walked a few paces across the deep-piled maroon carpet. Stanaland rose and stepped to the large window, where he could observe the goings-on below.
  
  "I take it you wanted to see me about what's going on outside," said Noah. He held Stanaland in high esteem both for his impressive scientific accomplishments and as a leader. He also looked up to the man literally, as Stanaland stood six foot three. Even his deep, modulated voice commanded respect.
  
  "Noah, I'm quite familiar with your research, and I support it totally. So I think we should arrange an open meeting with students and faculty to address the issue of animal experimentation. I want you to explain to everyone why your work is important and why you need to use cats. Those students have the right to protest your research, but you have an equal right to defend it."
  
  Noah stood there a moment, saying nothing. He resented that he'd have to defend himself to a bunch of students who were ignorant of the value of scientific investigation.
  
  Stanaland had arranged a meeting with the protesters for a Friday afternoon. Noah entered the lecture hall fifteen minutes early and was surprised to see that the room was already half full. A few days earlier, Anneke Weiss had written an inflammatory article in the campus newspaper attacking not only the use of cats for research but gene-cloning as well. She had suggested a multitude of horrors that might result from the kind of work that Noah and Gary were engaged in. The next day, the article had been reprinted verbatim in the local newspaper. That accounts for the crowd, Noah thought. My God, this room holds two hundred people. It's going to fill up.
  
  A large table had been placed at the front of the room. Noah nodded to Dr. Stanaland, who was already seated. At the same table, Noah identified Anneke Weiss, along with Andrea Vernon, the university's biological safety officer, and Sanjay Krishnamurti, the campus veterinarian. Noah sat down at the table and looked around the hall. He spied Gary in the third row, holding one of their research cats, an orange male named George.
  
  After Stanaland introduced him, Noah made his way to the microphone. There was scattered booing and a few shouts of, "No animal research!"
  
  Noah slowly examined his audience. "Thank you, Dr. Stanaland. I am grateful for this opportunity to explain my work to the students and faculty of CSUCI and to citizens of Camarillo.
  
  "First, let me assure you that recombinant DNA research has been carried out for over a quarter of a century without any problems." Noah glanced at an outline he had prepared.
  
  "Get to the point!" shouted a voice from the audience.
  
  Momentarily stunned by the outcry, Noah reddened.
  
  Stanaland stood. He looked right at the offender and announced, "I must ask that you respect Dr. Chamberlin's right to speak. If there are further disruptions, in the interest of civility, I will have those responsible removed from the room." Aside from some isolated booing, the hall was quiet.
  
  Noah regained his composure. "Do you realize that everybody here has recombinant DNA in his chromosomes at this very moment?" As Noah had expected, there were exclamations of disbelief. "Evolution of life on earth depends on it. That's right," he continued, "genetic recombination is a normal process occurring in all sexual species. It's simply the exchange of genes between the chromosomes of a pair; in animals this takes place when sperm and eggs are formed."
  
  When Noah mentioned "sperm and eggs," he noticed a little blond girl in a light-blue pinafore being hustled out of the hall by a stern-faced woman. A low current of laughter followed. Noah stared, open-mouthed. Unbelievable!
  
  "Uh, where—oh yes. Although DNA recombination is a natural process," Noah went on pedantically, "we can also do it in the laboratory." At this, the hall was again filled with laughter, but it took Noah a moment to get the joke. Disgusted, he shook his head. Damn! This is turning into a circus. "What I mean," he explained after the last titter had faded, "is that chemically we can fuse different kinds of DNA. We can even take a piece of DNA from one species and attach it to a chromosome from another species." The hall became suddenly quiet, but for the muted hiss of the air-conditioning.
  
  Noah motioned to Gary, who came forward and handed over his furry charge. This brought forth a murmur from the audience.
  
  "This is George," said Noah, cradling the scrawny feline in his arms. "George has a disease called macroerythrocytic feline anemia, MEFA for short." Gently stroking the gaunt animal, Noah explained the analogy between sickle cell anemia in humans and MEFA. He described how the red blood cells of cats afflicted with this disease would swell up like little balloons because their hemoglobin was defective. "Cats with MEFA are lethargic," he pointed out. "They lie around all day, panting pathetically, and they rarely live to maturity." He explained that the disease was the result of a naturally occurring mutation in the gene for one of the hemoglobin proteins called alpha-globin.
  
  "What we hope to do is to isolate and clone the gene for normal alpha-globin from a healthy cat and then to attach this gene to a viral chromosome. The virus we use is called feline sarcoma virus and sometimes causes tumors in cats."
  
  "Why don't you just say cancer?" yelled an angry male voice from the middle of the auditorium.
  
  "All right, cancer," Noah acknowledged. He had to remind himself not to raise his voice. "However, the strain we use has been genetically altered so that it can no longer cause cancer. It is what we call a defective virus." Noah wiped his brow. "Anyway, after we attach the globin gene to this virus chromosome, we will allow the virus to infect certain immature blood cells from cats with MEFA. We hope that, as these cells mature, they will form normal alpha-globin in these sick animals."
  
  Noah paused to let his words sink in and looked over the audience. They were quiet now, obviously interested in his proposed research. He noticed quite a few puzzled faces. "Before I go on, I would be happy to answer any questions."
  
  Noah nodded toward a thirtyish, bearded man wearing blue jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt embroidered with birds and flowers.
  
  "Dr. Chamberlin, my name is Norman Orgell. I teach biology at Camarillo High. I have several questions. First, what kind of bacteria do you use for cloning the alpha-globin gene?"
  
  "We use a type of Escherichia coli, the common intestinal bacterium."
  
  "Isn't that dangerous? Isn't there a chance that someone in the lab could ingest the bacteria, which could then multiply in the gut? Couldn't such a person carry the bacteria, with their recombinant DNA, everywhere he or she went?"
  
  Noah was prepared for this one. "There are two reasons why there is no danger. First, we use a mutant of E. coli incapable of surviving in the gut of any animal, including humans. Our strain of E. coli has many, many mutations that prevent it from competing with normal bacteria in the intestine. It can only survive in the highly complex artificial media that we prepare for it.
  
  "Secondly, the recombinant DNA itself is not dangerous. There is no way the gene for alpha-globin could be dangerous to anyone, even if, by some remote chance, it did manage to escape from the lab."
  
  "Thank you. I think I understand," said Norman Orgell.
  
  Noah spotted a blond woman with her hand raised. She looks familiar, Noah thought. Quite a looker. She's been taking notes.
  
  "Dr. Chamberlin, my name is Vera Barnett. I'm a veterinarian. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I've never heard of MEFA. Is it very widespread?"
  
  "No, not at all," Noah replied. "As I mentioned, cats inheriting the disease rarely live to sexual maturity, so there is a strong natural selection against MEFA. The disease is what you might call a laboratory curiosity."
  
  "Then where do you get cats with MEFA?" asked the veterinarian.
  
  "The disease was discovered about ten years ago in the laboratory of Thomas Stambaugh at Harvard. Two kittens from a litter of five were scrawnier than the others and, when he examined the blood of these kittens, he noticed the abnormal red blood cells. He reasoned that by analogy with sickle cell anemia in humans, MEFA might be almost asymptomatic in the heterozygous state. Sure enough, in the next litter from the same parents, one kitten of the four had the disease. So, to answer your question, the disease has been perpetuated in the laboratory by breeding cats heterozygous for the MEFA gene."
  
  Noah sensed that the listeners had become restive. "Look, I know this is kind of heavy stuff, but what I want to emphasize is that there really is little or no risk for people associated with this research.
  
  "Many years ago, after several years of analyzing possible dangers involved in gene-cloning experiments, the National Institutes of Health established safety guidelines for the design of laboratories where recombinant DNA experiments were to be carried out. These guidelines specify four levels of possible risk. The lowest, or safest level, is the so-called Biosafety Level-1 lab. The next level is BSL-2 and so on up to BSL-4 for the really dangerous stuff like Ebola. Our research falls in the BSL-2 category and we follow the guidelines strictly."
  
  "Why should we trust you?" yelled a voice from the rear. Several similar shouts followed. Stanaland stood. Immediately the hall was silent.
  
  "Here's why," Noah responded. "The NIH requires all institutions where gene-cloning experiments are carried out to have a special committee called the Institutional Biosafety Committee, or IBC, that makes sure that the guidelines are followed. Dr. Vernon here is the biological safety officer for CSUCI. In addition, two members of the IBC are appointed from the community. One of them is the Ventura County health officer, Dr. Jerome Robinson.
  
  "In addition, our animal facilities are inspected four times a year by members of the IACUC—that's the Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee. Dr. Krishnamurti here, the campus veterinarian, heads that committee.
  
  "The IACUC is responsible for making sure that all animals used in research are treated humanely. In fact, no investigator can use experimental animals at all until his or her research proposal has been approved by the IACUC." Noah mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. "There are four other members of the committee, including two members of the clergy, Reverend Darius Shultz, of the First Methodist Church in Camarillo, and Sister Damien Nuñez."
  
  Noah motioned to Dr. Stanaland, indicating that he was finished. "Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to describe my research to you," he concluded and, with George nestled in the crook of his arm, he returned to his seat.
  
  "Ms. Weiss, do you wish to respond?" offered Stanaland.
  
  Anneke rose. "Thank you, Professor Stanaland." She removed her glasses, paused, and looked out over the hall. With a strong voice, she read from a deck of note cards, carefully placing each at the bottom of the stack as she finished with it. "I wish to address two facets of Dr. Chamberlin's research—the immorality of using cats as research animals, and the danger of doing gene-cloning experiments." She spoke in a measured cadence. Noah discretely popped an antacid tablet into his mouth.
  
  Anneke took a deep breath. "Since the beginnings of science, we have used animals as mere objects to be exploited, as if they weren't sentient creatures." She paused between sentences. "In fact, it wasn't too long ago that scientists thought nothing of cutting open live animals, without anesthesia, for experimentation." This brought forth a murmur from the audience. "Toward the beginning of the last century, some courageous individuals began to question such vivisection, and, eventually, it became outlawed in civilized countries. It is heartening that, as we evolve as a society, we become more ethical—more moral." She stopped, transferred the top card to the bottom of the pile and again looked out over the audience.
  
  At that moment, George the cat gave forth with a piercing yowl that began with a high note and gradually descended in pitch, but not volume. Oh no, thought Noah, they're going to think George is in pain. The audience responded in unison to the cry with a drawn-out, "Oooohhh." They then laughed heartily, seemingly at their own reaction. Noah was relieved that the crowd seemed to be amused.
  
  Soon the merriment died down, and Anneke was able to continue. "For over a century, civilized nations have accepted the idea of racial equality and, for half a century, gender equality. Now it is time for us to adopt the moral equivalent—species equality, or at least mammalian equality."
  
  This elicited scattered applause from the audience and a shout of "Bravo!"
  
  She went on. "Peter Singer, the noted philosopher and former Princeton professor, has written: 'Dogs are conscious beings. They can feel pain, and they evidently enjoy many aspects of their lives. In that respect they are like you and me...
  
  "... the ethical principle on which human equality rests requires us to extend equal consideration to animals too.'"
  
  At the mention of Peter Singer, Noah rolled his eyes. Noah had once read a book by Singer in which the philosopher had defended the animal liberation movement. He turned to Stanaland to respond, but Anneke continued.
  
  "Now I'd like to turn to the question of gene-cloning and recombinant DNA. We live in a time when this kind of tinkering with the genomes of living things is taken for granted. We are told that it will help us solve all manner of problems. It will cure diseases, allow insect-resistant crops, even let us create plants that make plastic. However, many thinking people have raised serious questions about recombinant DNA technology." Another card made its journey to the underside.
  
  "For example, Jeremy Rifkin, past president of the Foundation on Economic Trends in Washington, DC, wrote 'Most recombinant-DNA experiments are done with E. coli bacteria, which exists in the intestinal tracts of all human beings. The chief danger involved here is that a research accident could produce a particularly virulent virus that causes a disease for which there is no immunization. A lab technician who accidentally breathed or swallowed a few of its particles could then begin rapidly spreading the virus to others—perhaps eventually to a whole population."
  
  When he heard the name Jeremy Rifkin, Noah groaned. Rifkin was widely known among molecular biologists as an arch enemy who had even gone to court to stop some forms of cloning research.
  
  Anneke again looked out over the audience and said, "I apologize for presenting my argument against recombinant DNA research by reading the words of others, but I think that these great thinkers, on the basis of their much more extensive knowledge, are able to state the case much better than I could. In conclusion, because of the grave threat posed to the environment by the research going on at this university, speaking for the students of CSUCI, I urge that all experiments involving recombinant DNA, especially where cats are used, be banned."
  
  As Anneke put down her cards, the audience again began applauding. Here and there a few individuals stood up and finally, almost all were giving her a standing ovation.
  
  Lowell Stanaland waited for the applause to stop. "We have heard Dr. Chamberlin's description of his proposed research," he noted, "and we have listened to Ms. Weiss provide arguments against his investigation. I should point out that there are many other scientists here at the institute who are engaged in recombinant DNA work. If such research were stopped, it would effectively put us out of business. I will, however, be happy to entertain any discussion."
  
  A bespectacled, lanky, dark-skinned young man in the center of the auditorium rose with a flourish. "Sir, my name is Jaime Leal. I'm president of the student body. May I say something?" The boy spoke with a confident voice. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "In view of the real threat posed to the people of CSUCI by the DNA research going on here, as representative of the students at CSUCI, I urge that all experiments with recombinant DNA at the university be stopped." The young man nodded to the applause from the audience and seated himself.
  
  "Thank you, Mr. Leal," said Stanaland. Noah turned and recognized the lad, whose picture frequently appeared in The CI View. "In order to ban such research, I think it would require an action by the president of the university or by the trustees or the chancellor."
  
  There were a few shouts: "Stop the research!" It became a chant: "Stop the research! Stop the research!"
  
  After Stanaland had again brought order to the hall, Andrea Vernon spoke up. "I'd like to offer a proposal. Instead of a total ban on Dr. Chamberlin's research, why don't we impose a temporary ban, a moratorium, for two or three months, during which we can investigate the risks more fully? We could form an investigative committee composed of students, faculty, and one or two citizens from the community and direct that the committee report in three months with a recommendation whether to ban the research permanently or let it proceed."
  
  Noah was shocked. How could Andrea, with whom he thought he had a cordial, professional relationship, suggest banning his research? Anneke shrugged her shoulders and nodded her assent.
  
  "Sounds like a good plan," Stanaland declared. "And I have a suggestion for a member of the proposed committee. Mr. Orgell, the science teacher, seems to know a lot about the subject. How about it, Mr. Orgell?"
  
  "I'd be honored, sir," replied the teacher.
  
  "Will you agree to abstain from doing experiments for three months, Dr. Chamberlin?" Noah caught Stanaland's determined gaze.
  
  Noah was silent a moment. And then, his voice hoarse, he cried, "This is wrong. It's unprecedented. How can you ask me to give in to mob rule? Yes," he shouted, "I will stop my research, if you think it's necessary. I'll spend the time reading papers."
  
  Stanaland addressed Anneke. "I trust you will consent to serve on the committee, Ms. Weiss."
  
  "Yes, thank you," she replied.
  
  "How about you, Mr. Leal, would you like to participate?" Stanaland motioned to the young man. The student body president said he would.
  
  A woman's voice was heard. "I will volunteer."
  
  "Who said that?" Stanaland peered about the hall.
  
  "I did," replied Vera Barnett, the veterinarian.
  
  "Thank you, Dr. Barnett. How about one more volunteer for a fifth committee member?"
  
  A dark-skinned, gray-haired fellow stood up. "I'll volunteer," he said. "I have a cat of my own and see the merits of both sides on this issue."
  
  "What is your name, sir?" asked Stanaland.
  
  "Yousef Yazdani," replied the middle-aged man.
  
  "Thank you Mr. Yazdani. Well, that should do it. We have two students and three people from the community. I suggest that we plan to meet again in about three months for the committee's findings."
  
  Demoralized, Noah strode out of the assembly hall, carrying George the cat. There was now silence. Nobody said a word for several minutes. And finally, like a wave at a football game, a quiet buzz began to progress throughout the audience.