Kristen nodded emphatically. She’d been waiting for someone else to recognize the implications of the Vatruvian cell. “I don’t see how everyone isn’t questioning Professor Vatruvia. The technology is expanding way too fast. Most of all I’m concerned about the ethics involved. The Vatruvian cell isn’t living according to the regulatory definitions—”

“So in theory,” Cara continued Kristen’s thought, “the Vatruvian cell technology can develop without having to adhere to any scientific law.”

“Right,” Kristen said as they stopped at an intersection, the rich landscaping and dignified stone buildings of the Columbia campus sprawling before them. The sound of cars and taxis swallowed their conversation. “In truth we don’t really know what the Vatruvian cell is. We know its physical properties and how it works. But what if the biology textbook definition of living isn’t up to date with modern science. The Vatruvian cell could be outright dangerous. We’re messing with a completely unknown and untested technology.”

As the light signaled walk, Cara squeezed Kristen’s shoulder. Kristen could feel the urgency in her touch. “Can I trust you not to tell anyone what I’m about to tell you?”

“Of course,” Kristen said.

“I’m serious. No one. Professor Vatruvia explicitly told me if I tell anyone about my findings, he would have me released from my doctorate program.” Cara relinquished her grasp of Kristen’s shoulder. “My life would be over.”

Kristen shook her head in confusion. “What is it?”

“It’s big.” Cara’s face coiled in distaste; she sighed nervously. “It’s really big. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Professor Vatruvia said if I discussed my findings, it would give people ‘the wrong impression’ of the Vatruvian cell. He said the whole thing might be above my intellectual capacity and that he may have made a mistake in accepting me to the program.”

“You’re kidding me!” Kristen said, genuinely shocked, but mostly intrigued. What could Cara possible know that she did not? “I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Okay, I trust you. You’re worried about where this research is headed and what the applications for the technology will be. Well, in truth, Kristen, you and the team don’t even know half of the inherent risks of our research.”

Kristen shook her head, her eyes unflinching. It was hard for her to believe she didn’t know half of the dangers of the Vatruvian cell. It was her research that spurred this project, after all. “What on earth do you mean?”

“Over the past few weeks I’ve been performing stress tests on some of the Vatruvian cells. The specific cells I’ve been working with had their DNA transcribed from a single-celled bacterium. So, yes, the Vatruvian cells function and perform as most prokaryotes do. But get this . . .” They had come underneath an old elm tree. Cara leaned in to Kristen, bringing her voice to a whisper. “All the physical properties of the Vatruvian cell proved to be more resilient than the biological original. I’m talking everything. From physical environment requirements to subsistence levels, the bacterium Vatruvian cells were so much stronger than the bacterium cell templates that the two were almost incomparable.”

Kristen stared at Cara, at a loss for words. It was more dire than she ever could have imagined.

Cara exhaled angrily. “And worst of all, Professor Vatruvia is insisting I made a mistake somewhere in the data recording. I didn’t. Imagine not triple-checking data that showed a Vatruvian cell flourishing in a one-hundred-eighty-degree oven when the cell it was modeled after died at ninety-nine degrees. It’s an insult! My data collection is meticulous. I graduated number one in my biology program at Stan—”

“Wait.” Kristen held up her hand. “So what you’re telling me is the Vatruvian cells have more robust physical characteristics than the original cells used to transcribe them? That shouldn’t be possible. They follow the original cell’s DNA blueprints—they have nearly identical genetics aside from some of the ones that code for structural proteins.”

“I’m telling you what my data shows, what the facts show,” Cara said. “What they continue to show over and over again.”

Kristen took a deep breath. “Okay. First of all, I believe you. But if that is true . . .”

“It’s true.” Cara’s eyes narrowed. “The Vatruvian cells are superior to their biological counterparts.”

“Good lord.” At once, Kristen understood the magnitude of Cara’s discovery.

“That’s exactly my point.”

“But how could that be possible?” Kristen pondered the basic composition of the Vatruvian cell. “How could the Vatruvian cells have traits that differ from the template cells used to construct them? They’re forged using mostly the same DNA.”

“You tell me. You know the framework of the technology better than anyone on the team.”

An undergraduate in sunglasses walked casually past them. Kristen ran a hand over her forehead, her gaze following his shoes as she waited for him to be out of earshot. Once his Sperrys were far enough away, she continued. “Aside from a few signaling hormones and structural proteins here and there, just about every aspect of the Vatruvian Cell is based off mimicry.” Kristen stopped to consider the details. “I guess it’s possible the synthetic composition could function at a more efficient capacity than the natural one. That could provide greater physical thresholds and strengths to a Vatruvian cell, but it runs counter to the whole foundation of our research.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing that’s absolutely certain,” Cara said, her whisper staunchly matter-of-fact as they ascended the stairs to the Legrande building. “The Vatruvian cells are physically superior to their original cells—in every tested aspect. And Professor Vatruvia has explicitly threatened me against telling anyone about my findings. I have no idea what I’m going to do.” They joined a small group waiting to enter the large auditorium.

“Unbelievable.” Kristen murmured, stepping over the tall entry threshold into the bustling auditorium. Several hundred people were crowded into rows of seats.

“You’re telling me.” Cara sighed anxiously. She pointed to a poster by the entrance, where the Columbia student debate team’s program schedule was listed in a flowery hand. “Fitting subject for us.”

Kristen turned and read the first topic: Ryan Craig, sophomore Anthropology major, and Alden Harris, consulting lobbyist for the Rijcore Company discuss the ethical principles in the ever-growing field of genetic engineering.

“Oh boy,” Kristen said.

They pushed through the standing crowd and sat in a pair of seats, Kristen still replaying the images of the replicating Vatruvian cell and all of its constituent parts in her mind. The Vatruvian cells were superior to their natural versions. Kristen had no doubt Professor Vatruvia knew this truth from the very beginning.