The Iron Range, Upper Michigan: July 1998

Albert loved these hot summer nights. The mosquitoes had vanished, and except for the loons on the lake, an occasional howl from the wolf pack he was nurturing, and the hooting of owls, it was silent. He had left the cabin, and was lying on the chaise lounge by the lake. The stars were as bright and many as he had seen in his youth. The weight of them above him, so close he felt that he could almost reach out and touch them, made him shudder again. For all his knowledge as an astronomer and theorist, he knew little more than he did as that youth on the hill who decided to become an astronomer.

 This place had become his passion. Albert bought the land cheap when a copper mining operation moved out in 1984. The lake had been polluted by tailings from the mine, but some earth dams and nature had restored it to near pristine. The mine impoundment was now full of smallmouth bass and northern, had a beaver colony, and supported nesting for mallards and loons. The vacationing professor built the log house from native white pine, designed to be comfortable during long, snowed-in periods, with a propane generator to provide electricity during frequent electrical outages. Set in a south-facing wooded slope overlooking the lake, the structure was so solar-passive, Albert could heat it in mid-winter with a small wood stove.

 Once he achieved tenure, Albert left summer school to his colleagues who were always eager to earn the bit more money that teaching year round brought them. He mastered the long, two-day drive, first in a used station wagon, and then in a full sized van Albert bought new to ferry him to his own little bit of paradise. It was worth it—that long trek, sometimes more than once a year. Darkness full upon him as Albert turned into that narrow little road to home. Albert's homestead was a lot of work, especially when he returned each May to repair the damage of the previous winter. But the work allowed him to find more time to think. After the sun went down he had plenty of time to read and write. In addition to his Kaleidoscope Effect theory, Albert video taped his wolves and the beaver colony and wrote stories he got published in National Geographic and Outdoor Life of their antics. Others saw his videotapes of wolves and used them to do behavioral studies. The beavers were always doing funny things, so Albert put together a video of their antics that family and friends found quite enjoyable.

 Occasionally, Albert brought a student with him. He had to be careful though, because few shared his love for nature or understood the hard work required to live in a near wilderness. On more than one occasion, he had to put his charge on a plane for home before Memorial Day. Albert's stars were those who, after a summer with him, went on to graduate school in the sciences. In the early years, he rarely went back to the homestead after school started in the fall. Then, in 1990, Albert bought a used Jeep Cherokee with a winch, plow, and four-wheel drive. After that, he had standing plane tickets to and from Escanaba for the Christmas Holidays. Like coming home for the holidays Albert was able to hunt in the late deer season with his father and brothers and enjoy the beauty of the early winter snow—always sure he could get out and back to school in January.

 Jeremy was one of those students. Curious and inquisitive, Jeremy loved science. He was here to do a pond project, looking for deformed frogs that were plaguing the Upper Midwest, as an entree to graduate school in the biosciences in the fall. Jeremy was a product of the D.C. inner city, an unlikely candidate to enjoy the wilderness. But Jeremy’s mother, a staff worker for the Senator from Utah, had instilled in him a love for reading that led him to the wilderness. Except for a constant stream of nagging questions, Jeremy was one of Albert stars—a big help around the place. Albert and Jeremy took turns making evening meals of fresh fish or one of the thawed out game animals Albert had shot the year before. Once a week or so, they'd head into Ironwood for a burger or pizza and a movie, then shoot pool over a beer at a friendly bar.

 Jeremy stayed inside that night, closed in, in his bedroom with a window ac unit. He said the heat, "... Reminded him of D.C.  Wanted no part of sleeping out in it."

 Albert was sweating too, lying on the damp ground in the still air, but eventually, he fell asleep after thinking about all those stars. Albert dreamed he was running with Esther up a hill, through woods, before losing her in a crumbling city. He awoke sometime later, feeling a damp chill, and pulled a sheet over him. The next time Albert stirred, there was a bright orange glow in the east and his sheet was soaked with dew. Mosquitoes had come with the cool dawn, so he beat them off and headed uphill to the cabin. The smell of hot coffee and bacon told him Jeremy was up with the dawn too. Living so close to nature did that to you.

 As Albert was eating the scrambled eggs Jeremy cooked for him, Jeremy remembered, "Oh, I forgot, Dr. Repaul. When I was on the Internet last night, I saw that you have email from Johns Hopkins."

"Johns Hopkins?" As soon as Albert finished his eggs and toast with some of his Mom's wild blackberry jam, he went to investigate.

 "To: repaul.ar.howard.edu

 From: rkhundi.jhu.edu

 Re: Our Discovery

 Dear Dr. Repaul:

 Congratulations! From the sample you sent us, you appear to be a direct descendant of the iceman, Otzi! You are the first and only one who submitted samples to have his entire DNA sequence in yours. We tried to call you in Washington, D.C., and then at the number in Upper Michigan, but it was busy. Please call me at 410 955-3184 at your earliest convenience. I want you to come here, at our expense, so that we can do further testing to make sure that our findings are correct.

Sincerely,

 Dr. Rao Khundi, Principal Investigator

 Genome Genealogy Project

 The Johns Hopkins University

 Albert was dumbstruck. "Jeremy, can you hold down the fort around here for a while? I have to go to Baltimore for a few days. You must have been chatting with Cherry when they called, tying up the telephone so that Dr. Khundi couldn't get through. Let me disconnect so that I can call Dr. Khundi." And then Albert realized that it was only 7:15am, Baltimore time. He fired off a quick email response and then waited a couple of hours to make the call.

 Albert was on the plane to Detroit from Escanaba the next morning. Jeremy had awakened at an ungodly hour to drive him there, and promised to keep the place in shape until he got back. Albert remembered seeing the ad in Science, and taking it on as a class project. Dr. Khundi was doing oncology research at Johns Hopkins. Khundi had obtained some DNA from Otzi from the University of Innsbruck and conceived a project to track cancer in long genealogies. He was looking for people of Germanic and Italian ancestry to see if he could match them with Otzi, and then follow cancer records back through the generations to see how the DNA had changed.

 When Albert first brought the study to the attention of his classes, they laughed. And then—after he explained that, if they were able to glean some DNA from Lucie, Australopithecus and Leakey's find in North Africa, we'd all be related—fifteen students admitted to some European heritage. The volunteers checked into Howard's Student Clinic as a group, and had blood drawn. And then, with the required contact information, the blood was sent to Johns Hopkins. That was last March. He'd almost forgotten about it. Now Albert was the chosen one.

 Rao Kundhi met Albert alone at the Baltimore airport, explaining, "I want to keep this as low key as possible. The lab is bursting with excitement already. I told them not to tell anyone, not even their families, until we got you in here for verification. All I need would for there to be some mistake and it got leaked to the press. My research would be ruined, and NIH would never fund research like mine again." Dr. Khundi looked to Dr. Repaul for understanding. Albert understood all too well.

 As Khundi drove him to the Johns Hopkins Medical Center, Albert thought about what was happening. He remembered all the fervor over discovery of the Ice Man. He wasn't sure about that type of publicity. When the two scientists got to the lab, Albert was treated like he was from outer space. They snuck in the back door where no one saw them. Khundi did the procedures himself. First, he drew blood; and then, Khundi took some skin scrapings and hair; and then, finally, some biopsy material from obvious places. To make sure that his findings would not be questioned, Dr. Khundi called a trusted assistant he called, Janie, and had her serve as witness and videotape the procedure. And then, Khundi drove Albert to a local hotel where he'd wait for the sequencing to be replicated.

 Albert got a laptop from the concierge, and an Internet connection. After taking notes for a diary of the experience, he looked up all he could find on Otzi, the Ice Man, on the Internet, emailed Jeremy, and made arrangements to chat with him each evening. After three days Albert was getting tired of the hotel restaurants and cable movies. He longed to get back to his summer retreat. It was then that Albert got the call.

 "It's an absolute match! You are a direct descendant of Otzi!” Rao Khundi’s voice quavered with excitement. “We'll have a news conference this afternoon. Do we need to get you something to wear?" The next three weeks were a whirlwind of talk shows and news magazines. No matter that Albert’s whole family were also descendants, he was the first one found. Dr. Khundi tried to explain that his research was to find a cure for cancer. Khundi’s explanation was lost in the public's fascination that a modern day descendant of the Ice Man was still walking around among them, 5,000 years later.  In spite of science, Albert felt like a freak show exhibit.

 Albert's brother had traced the Repaul genealogy ten years earlier. There were no Repauls in Europe. The first Repauls appeared in Pennsylvania in the early 1800s. An Earl Repaulo, from the Alsace-Lorraine, was known to have arrived in Philadelphia in 1792. Early immigrants from Europe to the United States often changed their names upon arrival. Maybe Repaulo sounded too Italian. The family remained small. Repauls moved to Ohio, then Indiana, Michigan, and finally, Upper Michigan. Khundi wanted DNA and medical histories on all Repaul family members. Worst of all, he wanted to exhume graves to trace DNA and see if the deceased died of cancer.

 Albert found these tasks distasteful, but reluctantly helped recruit family members and get their permission, however he could, in the name of science. The grave of the oldest known relative in Central Pennsylvania contained the same DNA. Death was determined to be from a hip fracture in old age. Beth Repaul was about 80. Had she come from France with Earl? There was no way of knowing. Beth's gravestone was worn by time, but the date, 1855, was still readable and she was, possibly, Earl's wife. The DNA was from an infant boy, perhaps who died in childbirth, buried with his mother. Other sons must have survived to carry on the family name and DNA. None of their graves were found. Soldiers killed during the Civil War were often buried in unmarked graves or mass graves near the battlefield.

 There was cancer in Albert's family, especially in the last fifty years, but Khundi's results were inconclusive. He published them in the New England Journal of Medicine later that year. Albert returned just in time for bow hunting season in late August. His unread email was too ridiculously long to answer everyone. So he took time from it to teach Jeremy how to use a bow. Jeremy was rewarded with a young buck. Still excited from to kill, Jeremy was fascinated as he helped Albert gut the still warm animal. It was like a lab dissection, only this was no frog. He would be taking venison home to his mother.