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undertones of secrecy.
    Kristen slowed her pace alongside several heavy doors, and looked about as if searching for something hidden. The heavy steel doors had key-code entry pads and thick dead bolts securing them shut. Laboratories on the lower floors were at most secured with a simple padlock to prevent the theft of expensive instruments or compounds. Kristen paused in front of the doors and regarded an industrial lock that would have been more appropriate securing a bank vault. She reached out, touched the cold metal of the lock, and took a step closer, placing an ear against the solid door. Nothing could be heard beyond the door’s thickness.
    Professor Vatruvia was hiding a secret, a vault-sized secret. Kristen was sure of it. She gave the door a last suspicious glance before brushing her thoughts aside and continuing to Professor Vatruvia’s office.
    Three polite knocks.
    “Come in,” Professor Vatruvia called, his tone eager. He was sitting comfortably behind multiple computer monitors and a sea of papers. Sunlight streamed across his spacious office through south-facing windows, a striking view of Midtown visible between the tall buildings across the street.
    “Morning,” Kristen said, taking a seat in a chair across from him.
    “I wanted to give you a brief heads-up before we start the meeting today. I’ve—well, we’ve —made another big step forward.”
    “Really? How so?” Kristen feigned surprise, her expression utterly placid.
    Professor Vatruvia’s face broke into a sly, triumphant smile, and he turned one of the high definition monitors to face her. Kristen was suddenly taken aback as though someone had leapt out from a hiding place.
    “Oh . . . my . . . god.” She heard herself stammer.
    On the monitor were a series of images taken by a microscopic camera. Depicted were the several stages of an animal cell replicating. Yet after a moment’s examination it was clear the combining cells were not animal cells at all. Kristen could tell by the slightly unusual arrangement of the cell structures.
    It was a Vatruvian cell.
    “ The Vatruvian cell can replicate.” Kristen spoke the words slowly, her voice almost a groan.
    “It can.”
    Kristen could feel her insides sink like a heavy stone. This was exactly what she had feared. Unable to hide her emotions, she buried her face in her palms. Already, drastic possibilities were starting to form in her mind’s eye. If the Vatruvian cell could replicate, it could possess the capability to form a complex structure. Tissues, organs, full organ systems.
    “What do you think?” Professor Vatruvia asked.
    “I think there’s a lot you haven’t been telling me.” Kristen ventured. “And I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, but anyone who has even a layman’s understanding of biological systems will realize the implications of this. If the Vatruvian cell can replicate, it’s possible it can give rise to structures of substantially higher complexity.”
    Professor Vatruvia regarded her thoughtfully. “I agree.”
    “Professor,” Kristen tried to keep her mind from jumping to conclusions, to focus on what was at hand.
    “Yes?”
    “I thought we were only modeling the Vatruvian cells after unicellular microorganisms. Individual cells. Prokaryotes like bacteria, and so on.”
    “We were.”
    “Not only am I looking at a nucleus, I’m looking at an animal Vatruvian cell on that monitor. I wouldn’t call animals single-celled organisms.”
    “Well, we were only working with simple microorganisms. I had to expand the research beyond those crude single cells at some point. We didn’t create this technology to have some functionless synthetic bacteria sitting on a test slide.”
    “But we didn’t create the Vatruvian cell to be a type of mirrored cloning either. We, or I, had hoped to increase the efficiency of preexisting cells so they might benefit people. Our goal was to bestow efficiency, to improve efficacy, not to create . An