Amazon
Amazon
Category:
Action/Thriller
Publisher: CreateSpace
ISBN-10: 0615841015
Pages: 336
Copyright: January 27, 2014
ISBN-13: 9780615841014
Price: $3.99 (eBook)
Our human race, despite the fact that we have produced the symphony, space-craft, supercomputers, speech, and countless other wonders, has evolved with a fatal flaw. And this flaw will lead to our destruction, sooner or later. Or, so Bea de Winter thought. And Bea, a prize student in biophysics, took it upon herself to develop the ability to fix this flaw, and decided to do so, despite the great trauma that will accompany the solution. You may ask what such a flaw could be, and how indeed could anything be done about it? If so, you are ready to enter the world of Mistakes of Nature.
In Mother Nature’s mindless evolution of the human race one terrible mistake was made that Bea de Winter took upon herself to correct. Bea, a petite and enigmatic graduate student in biophysics at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville, is a prize student working on a PhD research program, but has, for years, been involved with another entirely secret project of her own. She is convinced that, because of the way the human race has evolved, history has been dominated by the violent actions of males, a behavior at least in part encoded genetically. The conclusion of her secret research has resulted in her "solution" to this survival-threatening problem.
Follow Bea's route to correct the "Mistakes of Nature." You'll find the path to be curved, sometimes rocky, full of crossroads; and hopefully, as you travel it, you'll learn a little more about yourself.
Excerpt
Prologue
It was after nine in the evening when she left Hess Hall and walked briskly down off “the Hill” and across the university campus toward the library. Entering the expansive structure, fully lit and filled with busy students, she went to the desk and spoke to the clerk on duty, a young woman several years her senior.
“I have an order in for a book. Bea de Winter. Has it arrived?”
What the library clerk heard was a quiet, oddly childlike voice. And what she saw was a young woman who was a little smaller than average, with a nicely proportioned face but with eyes that were disturbing in their aspect. Only a single glance was given to those eyes, then the clerk looked away.
“I’ll check,” the clerk said, and strode through a doorway be-hind the counter.
Bea didn’t look around, seemingly without curiosity for the people or the setting around her. She ran a hand through her short hair, standing with what appeared to be absolute patience.
The clerk returned, smiled politely and handed over a bound textbook. Bea signed the card, said thank you, and left with the book tucked into her backpack. Still in self-contained isolation she walked quietly to the dormitory a few blocks farther, near the western edge of the campus. Her room was on the third floor, at the end of the hall, occupying a corner. It was one of the premium rooms, equipped with a small kitchenette and a sitting area. The bed was screened from the sitting area by a high bookcase, built into the room. In effect, she had a small apartment, a luxury few dormitory students, graduate or under-graduate, were afforded.
With the backpack emptied and stowed, Bea spent a few min-utes preparing a small meal for herself. She ate without fuss or fanfare. Actually, she cared little for food. Nor drink, with the exception of a good cup of coffee. She’d never drunk any alcoholic beverage, nor had any interest in them. This was in part because she wasn’t legally old enough to imbibe such drinks, despite the fact that age restrictions had never applied to her in other areas of life. Bea finished eating, then cleaned up her few dishes and changed into well-worn pajamas, slippers, and a warm-but-frayed bathrobe, tossing the khakis, shirt and under-wear into a hamper to be laundered, as always, every other weekend. The tasks of her day now done, she went to the mirror beside her bed and stood looking at her image. This was no examination of her appearance; she was looking herself directly in the eye. Then she sat down at her desk, tapped a combination into a lock on the drawer and withdrew a laptop computer. When it was booted up she took the memory stick she’d brought home and plugged it into one of the ports. She went to a file folder in the hard disk and started a program by clicking on “isolate.exe.” When it was ready Bea set it to work on a data array from the memory stick.
“Five hours and ten minutes, Magdalene, more of less,” she announced aloud to herself. Standing, she walked again over to the mirror and spoke to her image, “Tomorrow, with luck, we’ll finish the structure. Do you have any questions?”
After a brief pause, Bea continued, in a different, stranger voice. “Yes, I have a question. Are the appropriate self-assembly conditions for the viral precursors in all genetic strains of males?”
“Hmm,” she replied. “We get into that next week. But Magdalene, we certainly won’t make that mistake. Any further questions?”
“No,” she answered. Bea stepped away from the mirror, went over and poured herself a glass of water, then turned toward the mirror, and from about fifteen feet away, added, “So we’ll be ready to release soon.”
At this comment her face looked suddenly sad, and she spoke in a murmur, “Yes, soon. Very soon.”
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