The Origin of Evil

By Stephen N Berberich

The Origin of Evil

A group of well-intentioned geneticists in charge of the first designer baby project at a fertility clinic in Southern California were on the brink of an incredible discovery. Their arrogance ultimately led to a critical error in judgment. The dire consequences of that blunder wouldnt be evident for years to come. Unfortunately, by then, it was too late.

Vatican Citytwenty years later

Pope Peter II, the first American pontiff, began having nightmares so vivid and realistic that on the last night of each month, he was unable to sleep. The night frights were always the same. Horrific evil was spreading through population centers like an aggressive cancer. Worse yet, these nightmares had escaped the boundaries of the popes dreams and invaded reality.

Father Kevin McCarthy, a noted American geneticist, was urgently summoned to Vatican City to investigate these strange happenings. What he and his colleague, Meighan Cole, found would join science and religion at the hip and then turn each discipline on its respective ear.

They discovered that pure evil had its ancestral roots in human DNA and those individuals missing a prime gene, and their names were replete in the annals of history.

But what Kevin found while drilling even deeper into this matter was more alarming. This new and burgeoning generation of evil, led by Daman Leonard and his master plan, was not the product of classical evolution, but one created in a laboratory using a computer and a petri dish. This evil, if not confronted quickly, was destined to change the nature of man and turn the human race into an advanced species with no genetic soul.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543458237

Stephen N Berberich

Dr. Stephen Berberich is a retired interventional cardiologist with extensive training in the sciences. He is a graduate of Georgetown College and Georgetown Medical School. Dr. Berberich began an internship at the University of Pittsburgh and then moved on to a medical residency at Georgetown University Hospital. He finished his medical training with a cardiology fellowship at Emory University in Atlanta, GA. Dr. Berberich is the lead author on the first published review of Post Exercise Echocardiography. This test subsequently became one of the gold standards for the early detection of coronary artery disease. In 1974, Dr. Berberich moved from the Boston area, where he was chief of Cardiology at the Boston Naval Hospital, and came to southern California where he continued in the private practice of Cardiology until his retirement in 2004. Dr. Berberich is married and has three grown children. Just like Michael Crichton and Robin Cook, after 40 years in the fields of science and medicine, Dr. Berberich acquired the background that enabled him to explore the mind-bending possibilities suggested by Rebecca Canns seminal work on mitochondrial DNA and its relationship to the evolution of man. The novel comes as close to reality as Crichtons Jurassic Park and Cooks Coma.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Princeton University, North Central New Jersey—October 15, 2025

F ather Kevin McCarthy had just finished serving 7 a.m. Mass at the local Catholic Church in downtown Princeton. Anxious to get on with their day, the few remaining parishioners hurried to the exits. Despite the meager attendance at the service, McCarthy experienced a sense of inner peace. This clerical task was a very important and satisfying part of Kevin’s morning ritual. Although there were no directives requiring him to celebrate daily Mass, particularly when employed in the private sector, it was something he did freely.

After stowing his vestments, Kevin left through the side door of the rectory and walked diagonally across the church grounds to the main street.

This year Indian Summer arrived early on the east coast and the oaks and maples lining the street were at their peak of color. The temperature was an ideal 72 degrees and some of the variegated leaves, stirred by a gentle breeze, were beginning their final flight to a resting place on the ground. Kevin took a deep breath. The pungent aroma of autumn always awakened his senses and reminded him of the simple pleasures of life.

As was his habit, Kevin began a leisurely walk down Nassau Street leading to the main entrance to Princeton University. On the way, he stopped by his favorite coffee shop, grabbed a quick latte to go and then continued down Washington Road to the stone and metal entrance guarding the main campus. With time to spare, Kevin meandered along a wooded path to South Drive and finally arrived at his destination, The Lewis Sigler Institute of Integrated Genomics.

Father McCarthy’s laboratory was located on the second floor of the science building and overlooked 40-foot aluminum louvers that cast intricate shadows on the floor below. When the light was aligned just right, the silhouettes resembled the double helix structure of the human genome.

This was the place McCarthy had dreamed of working ever since his college years. And today those thoughts of the past were fresh in his mind. Perhaps it was the striking beauty of Indian Summer that awakened memories of his life in small-town Pennsylvania.

Kevin was the son of Tom and Catherine McCarthy and the oldest and brightest of their six children. The family lived on the outskirts of Ligonier, a Revolutionary War village located on the western slopes of the Pennsylvania countryside. Kevin, along with all the McCarthy kids, went to the local Catholic grade school located across the street from their parish church.

After teaching their son for several years, the nuns concluded that Kevin would make an ideal candidate for the priesthood. He was smart, compassionate, and self-assured; yet unlike many other boys his age, he was a devout Catholic and never questioned the teachings of the Catholic belief system.

Upon entering the fifth grade, he served as an altar boy at the parish church. His duty was to assist the local priest as he celebrated daily Mass.

Catherine, his mother, supported her son’s clerical calling, while his father wasn’t sold on the idea. He wanted Kevin to experience a bit more of life before making such a serious commitment. Besides, Tom heard some disturbing rumors about the predatory activities at some of the cloistered training centers and wanted to protect his eldest son from things he couldn’t begin to control. Despite his father’s misgivings, the nuns and his wife ultimately prevailed.

Kevin was to enter the seminary after high school, but his mentors suggested that he attend college first, since an advanced degree would give him immediate access to the clerical hierarchy.

So, after receiving excellent grades in high school and scoring well on the SAT’s, Kevin was given a full ride to attend Georgetown University in Washington, D.C.

Kevin was introduced to the DNA revolution early in his college years and became hooked on the idea that genes were the cornerstone of inheritance and the essential key to understanding the machinery of evolution. To him, the human genome was the ultimate window into the structure and function of biologic life and the key to the existence of God.

While his fixation on science remained a priority, Kevin soon discovered that there was more to college than academics. During his four-year tenure at the university, Kevin avoided social entanglements with those of the opposite sex. That said, his male friends were able to include him in some of their extracurricular hijinks. Those silly times revealed his appealing persona and he soon caught the eye of more than a few college coeds. These young women found him to be charismatic…perhaps for the reason he was beyond their reach. Despite all of this social dabbling, Kevin’s priestly plans endured, and mixed-gender relationships remained off limits.

Kevin entered the seminary immediately after graduation from Georgetown. He became a Jesuit priest and upon completion of his studies he was sent to Stanford University in northern California to earn a PhD in genomics. His post graduate dissertation was well received and within several weeks he was awarded his doctorate in the biologic sciences.

Though his degree was accompanied by job offers from some of the foremost academic institutions, he ultimately settled on Princeton University as his base of operations. Kevin was appointed director of the prestigious Lewis Sigler Institute, a state-of-the-art genetics laboratory located on campus, and upon his arrival he assumed the position as chief.

Kevin’s primary sphere of interest involved the basic structure of the human genome, with special emphasis on the origin and function of junk genes. This area of research was the topic of his PhD dissertation and in the first six months of his tenure at Princeton he and his team had made remarkable progress in further reducing the number of junk genes that had no known function in the human genome.

Kevin strolled into the busy lab and waved to each of his 15 technicians. He finally came to the cubicle of his first assistant and good friend, Meighan Cole.

Morning Meg. Anny progress in the junk gene arena?

"Morning, Kevin. Quite a bit. In fact, one of those noncoding switches we’ve been studying appears to regulate the secretion of substance that combats insulin shock. It’s one more junk gene that can be moved to the useful column.

That’s the good news, now for the really, really good news. We’ve finally condensed those pesky bits of junk DNA to less than 2% of the total human genome. Soon there will be nothing left but functional genes and a very small number of certifiable junk that has no purpose.

Kevin smiled. This was very good news indeed.

Great work, Meg. We’re so close to that brass ring I can almost touch it. And when we finally get there, we will have succeeded in creating the first bare-bones replica of human DNA.

Amen. I’m still amazed by how much of our DNA we called junk in the 1970s actually has a proven purpose. Whoever created this marvelous molecule in the first place was a certifiable genius.

Meg grinned impishly. She knew her remark touched on a subject near and dear to Kevin’s heart; one he had pondered and they had discussed for several years. Kevin took the bait.

Yeah Meg, as you say, DNA is the Grand Designer’s signature written into each and every one of our cells. It’s His way of reminding us how we came to be…

Kevin stopped in mid-sentence and smiled sheepishly. He had strayed into the religious domain once again and it was something he was loath to do, especially in the laboratory setting. It was also apparent Meg was up to her usual high jinx.

Anyway, keep me in the loop. Incidentally, can you do lunch?

She gave Kevin a thumbs up as he continued walking down the hallway to his office.

Kevin sat down at his desk and surveyed his personal space. The office was serviceable at best with few frills or diplomas to clutter the walls. Its austere appearance closely mirrored Kevin’s work ethic and no-nonsense approach to his chosen profession.

He swiveled his favorite chair from side to side while thinking about the brief conversation he had with Meighan, only now his thoughts were focused on proven science rather than religious doctrine.

These concepts we’re studying today were unknown to science 150 years ago. It’s like looking into a mysterious black box that has never been opened before. The cells are the stuff of life and DNA is the program that tells those cells how and when to operate. It’s like an organic computer with DNA as its program. And we’ve just begun to scratch the surface as to how it all operates.

In the middle of Kevin’s musings, he was interrupted by a knock at his door.

Enter at your own peril, he said.

The door opened. It was his private secretary, Betsy, and she seemed amused by Kevin’s comment.

Father, there’s an important call for you on line one. It’s from the Vatican; a Monsignor Russo and he wants to speak with you.

By all means, Betsy, put him through.

What was this all about, he thought? Whatever the reason for the call, it had to be something important.

There was a momentary delay, and then the intercom buzzed.

The Monsignor is on line one, Father.

Kevin picked up the receiver and pressed the blinking button.

Monsignor Russo, it’s an honor to speak with you.

"Please make it Michael, Kevin. We have some important business to discuss and I think first names will make things a bit easier.

"That said, I’ll get right to the point. Pope Peter II has asked that I speak with you about some urgent matters that have cropped up here in Rome. I can’t discuss any of the particulars over the phone but the Pontiff would like to meet with you personally at the Vatican as soon as possible. Your visit, at least initially, will involve a lengthy private audience with the Pope.

"As far as the meeting is concerned, I’m authorized to tell you only that your expertise in genetics is an important part of this investigation and you’ll be spending several weeks at Vatican City doing DNA research.

If you accept the Pontiff’s invitation, I’ll send a limousine to meet you at the front gate of the university, say around noon. You’ll be taken to Newark Airport where a private jet is awaiting your arrival. From there you will be flown non-stop to Rome. And Kevin, please bring your chief technician with you. The Pope has provided a high-tech genetics lab for your use while visiting the Vatican. Any questions thus far?

Kevin had plenty but he didn’t want to waste the Monsignor’s time since he was convinced they wouldn’t be answered, at least not over the phone.

None, Michael. My colleague and I will meet your driver at noon at the front gate to the university.

Then we’ll see you in 13 hours. Have a pleasant flight. And the Monsignor rang off.

Kevin again reached for the intercom.

Betsy, would you please ask Meighan to see me in my office right away?

Yes, Father, at once.

A short time later his chief tech knocked at the door.

Come in, Meg.

He thought she looked a tad uneasy and quickly dispelled any notion that he might be the bearer of bad news.

How would you like to take an all-expense-paid trip to the Vatican? Just the two of us on a private jet to do some genetics research for the Pope.

Meighan took a deep breath. She was stunned by the gravity of the invitation.

Tell me a little more about this trip.

Kevin recapped his conversation with Russo while stressing the clandestine nature of the mission.

Meg had a slew of questions as well, but they could wait.

Sounds okay to me. When do we leave?

At noon. I’ll meet you by the front gate.

Meighan rolled her eyes and thought, What’s the rush? Instead she said, Well then, I guess I’d better get moving.

After Kevin made a few calls to administration about an emergency leave of absence, he and Meighan left the genomics building and then went their separate ways to begin packing.

Chapter 2

A t the appointed hour, a stretch Mercedes Benz limousine rolled up to the front entrance of the university. The passengers were waiting at the gatehouse with their luggage in hand.

Kevin was dressed in a traditional black cassock with a Roman collar buttoned around his neck. In contrast, Meighan was wearing a fitted pair of khaki slacks, a simple starched cotton blouse and a suede jacket. The disparity between the two scientists was stark though reasonable considering their station in the real world.

Kevin was nine month’s Meighan’s senior and, at six feet two inches, he was the taller of the two. He was a handsome young man with a distinctly masculine way about him, so much so that more than a few young women secretly lamented his choice of the priesthood. And among those women was Meighan. But when pressed to voice those feelings, she would quickly change the subject.

Like all of the McCarthy brood, Kevin had deep-set Irish eyes, high cheekbones and a full head of jet-black hair. He was lean and fit with a ruddy complexion suggesting a penchant for the outdoors. Though for the faithful who sought his counsel, his priestly demeanor was the first and only thing they noticed. Most of all Kevin was regarded as a good and decent man of the cloth.

On the other hand, Meighan was a typical Scottish lassie with strawberry blond hair, devilish green eyes, and freckles scattered everywhere on her erstwhile porcelain body. On first impression, she appeared more approachable than her counterpart. That perception was largely based on her engaging personality. By way of contrast, Meighan had little spiritual training and no link to any organized religion.

Meighan and Kevin became fast friends while studying for their doctorates in genetics at Stanford. The two worked closely together on the Human Genome Project and were inseparable during much of their time at the university. They spent many-a-night at the local Italian restaurant eating homemade pasta and discussing the events of the day while enjoying a glass or two of Chianti. Because of their collegial relationship, Kevin decided to bring his friend and co-worker with him to help manage the genetics laboratory at Princeton.

And now they were fellow travelers on what would be the journey of a lifetime.

The driver loaded their bags into the trunk, left the city limits and joined Route 1 going north to New Brunswick. They merged with US Route 95 and ultimately exited the interstate to Newark Liberty International Airport. The chauffeur drove Meighan and Kevin to a satellite terminal then helped with the luggage. A Vatican representative from Manhattan greeted the couple inside the terminal and, after some pleasantries, led them to an idling Global 8000 private jet. A flight attendant stationed at the base of the air stairs assisted the passengers to their seats.

Minutes later the plane accelerated down the main runway and began its climb to the assigned cruising altitude. Except for the crew, they were the only passengers on board and the impeccable in-flight service spoke to that fact.

Meighan finally turned to Kevin with questions etched across her brow. It was time for a frank discussion.

Kevin, I need to know a bit more about our mystery trip. To me, the frills seem extravagant for a simple meeting with the Pope.

No private audience with the Pontiff is simple, Meighan. As to your question, I’ve told you everything I know back at the lab this morning. Since the Pope is providing a fully furnished genetics facility onsite for our personal use, the trip must be related to our background in genomics. That said, Monsignor Russo failed to mention why the Church invested a bloody fortune in scientific equipment for our use. With all this subterfuge swirling around our visit, it must be something important. And I repeat, this particular meeting was scheduled at the Pontiff’s request. That alone makes the discussion significant.

Well I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Is that your point?

Exactly, Meg.

The Papal jet landed in Rome at 6:10 a.m. Central European Time. As they deplaned, a second limousine was waiting at the foot of the air stairs. The Vatican chauffeur helped them into the back seat and then stood nearby while their bags were unloaded from the plane and then stowed in the trunk of the limo.

With everything in place, the driver left the airport and transited to route E80. Several minutes later they crossed the intersection to the Rome beltway and continued into the newer sections of the city.

So far so good, thought Kevin. He had heard stories of the horrendous traffic jams in the city, but those accounts seemed exaggerated, or so he thought at the moment. Yet, when the limousine reached the outskirts of ancient Rome, that opinion changed. Utter chaos reigned as four lanes suddenly became two and Vespa scooters careened in and out of traffic with reckless abandon. Conditions became so hectic that Meg had to shut her eyes to avoid the bedlam. Though with all the turmoil, their driver remained unruffled. Apparently, this was not his first rodeo, nor would it be the last time he dealt with Old Rome’s traffic.

Twenty minutes later they pulled up to an inconspicuous wrought iron gate tended by a lone sentry. The uniformed guard recognized the limo instantly and with the press of a button, he cleared the way for them to pass.

The limousine inched its way around the narrow streets of Vatican City, all the while moving closer to the most visible and venerable structure in the compound, the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica. After entering St. Peter’s Square, they travelled the distance of perhaps two football fields, and then turned south to a large five-story building called the Domus Sanctus Marthae apartments. Meighan was stunned. The structure was at best uninspiring and distinctly modern in appearance. She expected something much more papal. On the other hand, it did appear functional and provided a large number of suites for visiting clergy and lay dignitaries to use while visiting the Pope.

The chauffeur parked at curbside near the front entrance and opened the rear door. The visitors stepped onto the brick sidewalk and to their left stood a tall man dressed in a Roman collar and a trench coat. Dressed entirely in black, the imposing figure extended his hand and smiled.

Welcome to the Vatican, folks. And you must be Father McCarthy. I’m Monsignor Michael Russo…Mike to my friends.

As you mentioned on the phone, we’ll be working closely together, so please make it Kevin, he said while pumping Russo’s hand.

And this is my friend and associate, Meighan Cole. Meighan, this is Monsignor Mike Russo.

Kevin thought the Monsignor looked a bit surprised. Then Kevin remembered he hadn’t told Russo that his lab assistant was a female.

Russo recovered quickly, though, and shook hands with Kevin’s assistant.

Meighan, as Father McCarthy mentioned, we’ll be spending a lot of time together in the next several weeks, so let’s you and me be less formal as well. It’s Mike.

Meg just nodded, reluctant to call the Monsignor by his first name.

As they began walking, Russo continued the dialogue.

We’ve heard much about your work in genomics, Kevin, and believe me you’ll need every bit of that knowledge and training in the coming weeks. But if you don’t mind we’ll get to all that a little later.

Both Meighan and Kevin didn’t mind the delay but remained curious as to the mysterious circumstances of their trip.

Michael escorted his guests through the front entrance of building number one and then walked down the hall to a group of four elevators, two on each side. One of the lifts stood open, so they stepped in and Russo pressed the button for the third floor.

The Monsignor showed them to their apartment just as the chauffeur was delivering their luggage to the suite. When Meighan and Kevin entered, they were surprised and again disappointed by the austerity of their accommodations. The living area was smallish and sparsely furnished, with only the bare essentials scattered around. Off to one side were an even smaller dining room and a kitchenette. A single bathroom with a shower and tub separated two identical bedrooms.

Each bedroom had a twin bed that was placed lengthwise against a lath and plaster wall. A nightstand was placed to the right of the bed with an uncomfortable-looking wooden rocker on the left. A large crucifix hung from the wall just above the headboard.

The only natural light filtered through a smallish pane glass window overlooking the adjoining Vatican property. Thankfully, the morning sun dispelled a mild sense of melancholy.

Once the initial inspection was completed, Michael began summarizing a list of instructions.

Pope Peter will see both of you in the Papal residence. The audience is scheduled for 2:30, so I’ll pick you up here at 2:15. There’s no special timeframe set aside for this meeting. By papal standards, that’s quite extraordinary. The audience will continue until all issues have been thoroughly hashed out. So, get settled now and I’ll see both of you in several hours.

Nothing further was required of Russo, so he excused himself and left the couple to themselves.

As the Monsignor disappeared down the hallway, Kevin and Meighan made eye contact and shared a moment of confusion. What an odd experience the last 15 hours had been, especially in light of the traditionally parsimonious reputation of the Catholic Church. A private jet, two limos and a greeting usually reserved for heads of state…this matter to be discussed was quite obviously of great import and had something to do with genetics and its connection to the Church teachings. At a very basic level, Catholic dogma and DNA research just didn’t seem to mesh. Then again, maybe Pope Peter was looking into the moral and ethical considerations of in vitro fertilization. But as far as Kevin knew, the Holy See had addressed those issues years ago. So, the reason they were summoned to the Vatican would remain a mystery. Kevin looked at his watch. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be long before all was revealed.

But there was another matter to discuss. Obviously, Russo was