16 The Return of Magid Mahfooz Murshed Mubtasim Iqbal -2

A two-week-old Future Mouse* is to be put on display at the Perret Institute in London on 31

December 1992. There it will remain on public display until 31 December 1999. This mouse is

genetically normal except for a select group of novel genes that are added to the genome.

DNA clone of these genes is' injected into the fertilized mouse egg, thus linking them to the

chromosomal DNA in the zygote, which is subsequently inherited by cells of the resulting embryo.

Before injection into the germ line, these genes are custom-designed so they can be 'turned on' and

expressed only in specific mouse tissue and along a predictable timetable. The mouse will be the

site for an experiment into the ageing of cells, the progression of cancer within cells, and a few

other matters that will serve as surprises along the way!

The journalist laughed. "Jesus. What the fuck does that mean?"

"I dunno," said Me. "Surprises, I guess." She continued:

The mouse will live the seven years it is on display, roughly double the normal life expectancy

of a mouse. The mouse development is retarded, therefore, at a ratio of two years for every one. At

the end of the first year the SV4O large-T oncogene, which the mouse carries in the

insulin-producing pancreas cells, will express itself in pancreatic carcinomas that will continue to

develop at a retarded pace throughout its life. At the end of the second year the H-ras oncogene in

its skin cells will begin to express itself in multiple benign papillomas that an observer will be able

to see clearly three months later with the naked eye. Four years into the experiment the mouse will

begin to lose its ability to produce melanin by means of a slow, programmed eradication of the

enzyme tyrosinase. At this point the mouse will lose all its pigmentation and become albino: a

white mouse. If no external or unexpected interference occurs, the mouse will live until 31

December 1999, dying within the month after that date. The Future Mouse6 experiment offers the

public a unique opportunity to see a life and death in 'close-up'. The opportunity to witness for

themselves a technology that might yet slow the progress of disease, control the process of ageing

and eliminate genetic defect. The Future Mouse8 holds out the tantalizing promise of a new phase

in human history where we are not victims of the random but instead directors and arbitrators of

our own fate.

"Bloody hell," said the jour no "Scary shit

"Yeah, I guess," said Me vacantly (she had ten more calls to make this morning). "Do you want

me to post on some of the photographic material?"

"Yeah, go on. Save me going through the archive. Cheers."

Just as Me put down the phone, Joyce flew into the room like a hippy comet, a great stream of

black fringed velvet, kaftan and multiple silk scarves.

"Don't use the phone! I've told you before. We've got to keep the phone free. Millat might be

trying to ring."

Four days earlier Millat had missed a psychiatrist's appointment Joyce had arranged for him. He

had not been seen since. Everyone knew he was with KEVIN, and everyone knew he had no

intention of ringing Joyce. Everyone except Joyce.

"It's simply essential that I talk with him if he rings. We're so close to a breakthrough.

Marjorie's almost certain it's Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder."

"And how come you know all this? I thought Marjorie was a doctor. What the fuck happened to

doctor-patient privilege?"

"Oh, Me, don't be silly. She's a friend too. She's just trying to keep me informed."

"Middle-class mafia, more like."

"Oh really. Don't be so hysterical. You're getting more hysterical by the day. Look, I need you to

keep off the phone."

"I know. You said."

"Because if Marjorie's right, and it is ADD, he really needs to get to a doctor and some

methylphenidate. It's a very debilitative condition."

"Joyce, he hasn't got a disorder, he's just a Muslim. There are one billion of them. They can't all

have ADD."

Joyce took in a little gasp of air. "I think you're being very cruel. That's exactly the kind of

comment that isn't helpful."

She stalked over to the bread board, tearfully cut off a huge lump of cheese and said, "Look.

The most important thing is that I get the two of them to face each other. It's time."

Me looked dubious. "Why is it time?"

Joyce popped the lump of cheese into her mouth. "It's time because they need each other

"But if they don't want to, they don't want to."

"Sometimes people don't know what they want. They don't know what they need. Those boys

need each other like .. ." Joyce thought for a moment. She was bad with metaphor. In a garden you

never planted something where something else was meant to be. "They need each other like Laurel

and Hardy, like Crick needed Watson '

"Like East Pakistan needed West Pakistan."

"Well, I don't think that's very funny, Me."

"I'm not laughing, Joyce."

Joyce cut more cheese from the block, tore two hunks of bread from a loaf, and sandwiched the

three together.

"The fact is both these boys have serious emotional problems and it's not helped by Millat

refusing to see Magid. It upsets him so much. They've been split by their religions, by their cultures.

Can you imagine the trauma?"

Me wished at that moment she had allowed Magid to tell her to tell her to tell her. She would at

least have had information. She would have had something to use against Joyce. Because if you

listen to prophets, they give you ammunition. The nature of twins. The millionth position of pi (do

infinite numbers have

beginnings?). And most of all, the double meaning of the word cleave. Did he know which was

worse, which more traumatic: pulling together or tearing apart?

"Joyce, why don't you worry about your own family for once? Just for a change. What about

Josh? When's the last time you saw Josh?"

Joyce's upper lip stiffened. Josh is in Glastonbury." "Right. Glastonbury's been over two months,

Joyce." "He's doing a little travelling. He said he might." "And who's he with? You don't know

anything about those people. Why don't you worry about that for a while, and keep the fuck out of

everybody else's business."

Joyce didn't even flinch at this. It is hard to explain just how familiar teenage abuse was to

Joyce; she got it so regularly these days from her own children and other people's that a swearword

or a cruel comment just couldn't affect her. She simply weeded them out.

"The reason I don't worry about Josh, as you well know," said Joyce, smiling broadly and

speaking in her Chalfenguide-to parenting voice, 'is because he's just trying to get a little bit of

attention. Rather like you are at this moment. It's perfectly natural for well-educated middle-class

children to act up at his age." (Unlike many others around this time, Joyce felt no shame about

using the term 'middle class'. In the Chalfen lexicon the middle classes were the inheritors of the

enlightenment, the creators of the welfare state, the intellectual elite and the source of all culture.

Where they got this idea, it's hard to say.) "But they soon come back into the fold. I'm perfectly

confident about Joshua. He's just acting up against his father and it will pass. But Magid has some

real problems. I've been doing my research, Me. And there are just so many signs. I can read them."

"Well, you must be misreading them," Me shot back, because a battle was about to begin, she

could sense it. "Magid's fine. I was just talking to him. He's a Zen master. He's the most fucking

serene individual I ever met in my life. He's working with Marcus, which is what he wants to

do, and he's happy. How about we all try a policy of non-involvement for once? A little laissez-faire?

Magid'sjine."

The, darling," said Joyce, moving Me along one chair and positioning herself next to the phone.

"What you never understand is that people are extreme. It would be wonderful if everyone was like

your father, carrying on as normal even if the ceiling's coming down around his ears. But a lot of

people can't do that. Magid and Millat display extreme behaviour. It's all very well saying

laissez-faire and being terribly clever about it, but the bottom line is Millat's going to get himself

into terrible trouble with these fundamentalist people. Terrible trouble. I hardly sleep for worrying

about him. You read about these groups in the news .. . And it's putting a terrible mental strain on

Magid. Now, am I meant to just sit back and watch them tear themselves apart, just because their

parents no, I will say it, because it's true just because their parents don't seem concerned? I've only

ever had those boys' welfare at heart, you of all people should know that. They need help. I just

walked past the bathroom and Magid is sitting in the bath with his jeans on. Yes. All right? Now,"

said Joyce, serene as a bovine, "I should think I know a traumatized child when I see one."

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