Max was on the interplanetary line, talking to Dr. Yaar. He had just finished telling Yaar
about the blood tests.
“Of course the Earthlings thought the hemoglobin was abnormal,” said Dr. Yaar. “They don’t know about the climactic conditions here. We all have hemoglobin values like yours. For us it is normal.”
Max said, “They’re still puzzling over my DNA. They’ve never seen so much.”
He heard Yaar chuckle. “They’re still in the Dark Ages with genetic engineering. At the time we discovered the secrets of DNA, what is now Earth was still a swirling cloud of dust and vapors. You remember what your science teachers taught you about DNA, don’t you, Max?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well let me refresh your memory. Eons ago we found that if we doubled the DNA in our nuclei it would give us, in addition to a number of skills—.”
“You mean our ability to run faster, jump higher, like that?”
“Yes. But even more importantly it’s the reason we can replace our worn-out parts. We have built-in organ replacement farms.”
Max said, “Earthlings can’t do that?”
“Nah. They’re still fooling around with embryonic stem cell research. Maybe in about twenty years they’ll figure out how to replace their old hearts, lungs, brains, kidneys, by growing them from double DNA stem cells like we all have in our bodies.”
Max had enough of Dr. Yaar’s science refresher. “You know I’m still on suspension from football.”
Dr. Yaar said, “That’s something I can’t help you with. Gotta go. Keep in touch.”
Sunday found Max pacing the sidelines while his Ram teammates were having their problems with the Broncos. He wasn’t even permitted to dress in his uniform for the game. After he had bowled over the offensive coordinator while charging up and down the sidelines, the coach told him, “Max, you’re getting in our way. Go on up to the press box.”
In the press box he found a seat next to Ham Gleason, the reporter who covered the Rams for the Herald. Gleason said, “How much longer will they keep you on suspension?”
Max said, “Your guess is as good as mine, maybe better. What galls me is that it isn’t even something I did that they’re punishing me for. The’re just combing through the rule books trying to find a reason for turning me loose or an excuse for keeping me on suspension.”
On the field, it was now third quarter and the Broncos were ahead by a touchdown. The Rams were in the Broncos Red Zone; they appeared poised to come away with either a score to tie it up, or a field goal to narrow the gap to four points. Albright dropped back to pass. He had Luke Taylor, his wide receiver in the back corner of the end zone and fired a bullet aimed for Taylor’s midsection. Suddenly, a Bronco cornerback leaped in front of Taylor and snared Albright’s pass, rolling to the turf with the interception clutched to his chest. Up in the press box, Max’s groan could be heard from half a mile away.
On the next series of plays, the Rams still reeling from the loss of momentum, lost their incentive as well. Their listless play resulted in a defensive line that leaked like a sieve. By the middle of the fourth quarter, with the Broncos leading 30-13, the stands began to empty as the fans headed out to beat the homebound traffic jam.
Max sat seething as he watched from his perch in the press box. He had seen half a dozen wasted opportunities by which the Rams could have gotten back in the game. If only he could get down on the field, he was sure he could fire up the team. They needed a leader, someone to prod them. The few faithful fans who remained felt as he did. They began to chant “Bring back Max!” Their faith should have cheered him, but Max was more concerned by the Rams’ losing the game, than his own esteem. When mercifully the final gun was fired, he trudged out of the stands. He briefly considered a stop in the locker room to consol his teammates, but knew they felt as bad as he did and spared himself any further grief