The Race Read Online Free PDF Page A

no way back for her. But you can help keep other people from living in my mother's twilight zone. And not just that, Senator. I'm sure you know the science—embryonic stem cells have the potential to reverse diseases like Parkinson's and type 1 diabetes, and to repair spinal injuries that cause paralysis. How can a decent society turn away from that?"
    "Oh, I think
you
know the moral argument, Ms. Hart. For many of my colleagues, life doesn't start at birth. So any component of life, like a fertilized embryo, is entitled to protection—"
    "A frozen embryo," Lexie interrupted with a trace of asperity, "is not a life, and the leftovers in fertility clinics never will be. A humane society can make that distinction without opening up the floodgates to genocide and euthanasia."
    She intrigued him enough, Corey realized, that he wanted to move her off her talking points—or, at least, persuade her that he was not a fool. In an even tone, he countered, "A humane society, some would say, knows that a fetus
is
a life, and values it too much to play God. But without knowing you at all, Ms. Hart, I'd bet my town house you're pro-choice, and don't distinguish between a frozen embryo and the fetuses you and I once were before we escaped the womb."
    At this, Lexie sat back, arms resting at her sides, her cool eyes now appraising him. "Even if that were true, or fair,
you
can surely make that distinction. So please don't use my supposed beliefs as a reason for not considering your own. A petri dish is not a womb, and an adult with Parkinson's—I think we can both agree—is certainly a life. Or are you one of those pro-life folks who love people only till they're born?"
    Even as he chuckled, Corey realized that he found her lack of deference engaging. "Tell me about your mother," he asked. "I've never known anyone with Alzheimer's—for better or worse, I guess."
    As she folded her hands, looking down, Corey sensed her deciding how much to reveal. "It's terrible," she said at length. "When I sit with her, it's like being in the presence of death. I have this instinct to whisper, though it wouldn't matter if I shouted. She's living so deep inside herself that the simplest things, like eating a sandwich, can take minutes or even hours. It'll just remain in her hand, unnoticed, and then her hand moves to her mouth again, her eyes still dead, as if the hand has a life of its own.
    "I try talking to her, of course. But I can't know if my voice stirs memories, or whether it's like the drone of her television." Lexie shook her head. "The night I won the Oscar, her nurse turned it on for her. During my acceptance speech, the nurse said, my mother began blinking. I like to think that, for a moment, she knew me. But there's no way she fathomed what I'd achieved."
    Her voice, Corey thought, held the disappointment of a child proud of an accomplishment she could not share. "When did this start?" Corey asked.
    "Seven years ago. But each stage of the disease brought something more. First came the endless list making as she tried to remember chores; then the staring at my father's photograph, trying to remember
him;
then the day she could not remember him at all." Her voice became soft with resignation. "For a time after that, I was still me. Then she thought I was a friend she'd known when she was six. Then the friend, too, was forgotten. The simplest choices upset her. And then, just before she lost the power of speech, nothing upset her anymore. Her eyes turned as blank as marbles." Lexie sat back, as though distancing herself from her own emotions. "You and I have been debating human life. Our memories are what make us human, Senator. This disease took that from my mother."
    Corey studied her for a moment. "There are those who say we don't need human embryos to combat Alzheimer's—that adult stem cells are sufficient."
    Swiftly, Lexie left the personal behind. "That's nonsense," she answered. "It's a triumph of the culture wars over science, where