Black-Haired Genius Undergrad (2)
Stanford had produced quite a few Nobel laureates. There were already two people here who would win Nobels, so that said it all.
Sophomore year in undergrad. 1972. I went to see a professor who would soon become a world-renowned scholar. Academia... well, Stanford had more than one or two like that.
"Hello, Professor."
This was Paul Berg. Future Nobel Prize winner in Chemistry and Stanford Medical School professor. The scientist who earned the Nobel for his work on gene recombination. He wasn't world-famous yet, though.
The professor squinted at me. "Who are you?"
"Professor, I came here because I foresaw you winning the Nobel Prize."
Professor Berg gave me a look of utter disbelief. "You a Mormon? I don't buy that stuff. A Jew isn't gonna get converted."
He must've thought I was some cult missionary. For the record, Mormons believe the Promised Land from the Bible is America and that a reincarnated Jesus appeared to Americans in the 19th century. Anyway.
I scratched my head. Americans didn't seem to believe plain facts easily. Even telling a future Nobel winner they'd win one.
Scientists were a pessimistic bunch by nature. Jews even more so, and a Jewish biochemist like this professor? Forget it.
I cleared my throat. "Ah, I'm not a missionary. I'm a Stanford Medical School student. I'd like to do research on gene recombination with you, Professor."
Professor Berg smirked. "Research? You don't have enough experience yet, do you?"
What could I say to convince him right away? Something short enough to change his mind in seconds. One sentence to secure a spot on Nobel-winning research.
What would do it? I pondered for a moment.
"Einstein said that anyone who hasn't made a great scientific discovery by thirty never will."
"Too harsh. I'm past thirty myself."
Einstein himself had revolutionized science at twenty-six, so he could say that. I shrugged.
"Anyway, I don't think there's such a thing as too young for research."
"Fine."
Time for the main point. "I've read your papers, Professor. I think we can edit the genome of the tumor-causing SV40 virus using restriction enzymes from Haemophilus bacteria."
If this worked, it'd advance gene recombination and cancer research by a decade.
The color drained from the professor's face. "How do you know that?"
"If I explain my thought process, it's something you can see by considering layers."
"Layers?"
Now the professor was looking at me seriously, like he wanted to know what I meant.
"It's a shift in perspective. In the human genome, DNA-degrading enzymes are used for information repair, but in bacteria, DNA itself functions like an organ, subject to intentional variation by the organism's biochemistry..."
Professor Berg stood up from his chair. These were ideas decades ahead of their time. But any scientist who first discovered this would understand immediately. Of course.
To put it simply: Human genes are too complex to cut with scissors, so no restriction enzymes, but bacteria are simple and have them. To edit genes, use bacteria's restriction enzymes.
The professor flipped his attitude like a pancake. "Top of the class is different, huh. Follow me."
"Yes."
He paused, thinking. "Using bacterial restriction enzymes instead for the experiment. Never seen a student like you. I've seen geniuses, but that's not enough."
"Thank you."
"Multicellular organisms have higher-layer information, so DNA must stay close to the master copy, but for bacteria, DNA functions like an organ itself?"
That's why bacteria can cut or edit their own viruses.
"Yes. I think the core of genetic engineering is finding ways to handle DNA directly from phenomena in lower information layers."
Common examples: reverse transcriptase from retroviruses or CRISPR enzymes from bacterial immune systems.
The future Nobel laureate looked at me. "Alright... Medical school has undergrad research internships, right? Let's write a paper together."
Just as I'd hoped. Researching with a Nobel-bound scientist before graduation! The first step went pretty smoothly.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Lots to do on the road to a Nobel.
The second thing I studied was way easier than I'd thought. Plenty of stuff hadn't been discovered yet, so no need to memorize it.
I was sitting in Stanford's library with a stack of books. Had to grasp the 1970s level of knowledge properly. And study for exams, too.
"Hi?"
I looked up from my book. It was my classmate who'd placed second in admissions. Alice Harrington. She looked like a typical upper-class white woman at first glance. The face of elite West Coast American society.
"What'd you do over break? I didn't travel this time. You can see dolphins off California this time of year, right? So we took the yacht to the family villa and..."
They acted like having a yacht at home was normal. I chuckled inwardly. That was the empire academy for you.
"Went home."
Alice kept going with her dolphin story. She'd wanted to swim with them, but the weather sucked, so she just watched up close.
Alice wasn't malicious or weird... She seemed curious about me. We crossed paths in the library sometimes. She sat down in front of me, fiddling with her brown hair, then pulled a book from her bag.
"What're you studying?"
"Bacterial molecular genetics."
Alice frowned. "That's complicated..."
I nodded. It was tough stuff, but it was the topic that'd win a Nobel in Chemistry soon. Had to study it.
The American medical world was conservative. Some looked at me like a monkey in a zoo. Even without malice.
Stanford society still saw me as an oddity. Made sense. I was the only Asian in the department, years younger than my peers. Most classmates were California upper crust, different family backgrounds, big gaps all around.
Not just race. An adopted Asian topping the class drew eyes... Some with resentment.
Only thing to do: prove it. Top of the class was irrefutable.
Alice kept chatting from her seat. Seemed like nice talk, at least.
"Classes okay? I don't get Professor Berg's at all..."
"Headache, yeah."
Paul Berg. Professor who'd win the Nobel in a few years. No wonder his class was hard. Cutting-edge research. Molecular biology was pretty new back then.
Stanford's library was noisy. Debates, murmurs, page flips filling the air.
Alice sighed and turned to her book. A massive internal medicine tome.
"Who do you think'll top the class this semester?"
"Me."
I answered without thinking.
"Yeah, you'd say that."
Still, Alice didn't seem ready to catch me yet. She laughed, looking a bit exasperated.
I sipped coffee, staring at the test tube with fluorescent antibodies. Now that I'd earned the right to practice medicine, I solemnly swore to devote my life to serving humanity... Same oath as my past life. And now.
In 1970s me, the most effective way to fulfill it was advancing medicine itself. Couldn't see patients till licensed. Needed some patience.
The lab was hectic. I glared at the tube with bacterial gene synthesis enzymes. How many hours now? Dozing over an open book, the lab building janitor gave me a pitying look.
"What're you doing? Was about to lock up."
"Serving humanity."
"He's lost it."
The janitor bolted like he'd seen a weirdo. Just stating facts.
Research wasn't easy. Future knowledge or not, had to do the work and write papers.
Plus, Stanford was top-tier, but primitive compared to modern standards. No PCR machines, rough conditions. Which meant plenty to research.
Thanks to Professor Berg liking me, I could join major projects alongside classes. Mutual benefit? He wouldn't have results this fast without me. At least that's what I thought.
Time to hustle.