a time almost six thousand years ago when the whole of human diversity existed within a single small population. And there had been at least two dispersions out of Africa, his professors said, if not more—a genetic bottleneck that supported the Flood Theory. But each culture had its own beliefs. Muslims called it Allah. Jews, Yahweh. The science journals were careful not to specify, but they spoke of an intelligent designer—an architect, lowercase a. Though in his heart of hearts, Paul figured it all amounted to the same thing.
Paul read that they’d scanned the brains of nuns, looking for the God spot, and couldn’t find it. He examined, too, the theory of evolutionism. Although long debunked by legitimate science, adherents of evolutionism still existed, their beliefs enjoying near immortality among the fallow fields of pseudoscience, cohabitating the fringe with older belief systems like astrology, phrenology, and acupuncture. Modern evolutionists believed the various dating systems were all incorrect, and they offered an assortment of ridiculous and unscientific explanations for how the isotope tests could all be wrong.
The evolutionists ignored the geological record. They ignored the ice cores, the hermeneutics, and the wealth of biological evidence. They ignored the miracle of the placenta and the irreducible complexity of the eye.
“After all, the eye,” his anatomy professor lectured, “is biologically useful only in the sum of its parts. It can’t be reduced to functional precursor components.”
During his sophomore year, Paul got a job cleaning cages in the biology department. There were snakes and rabbits and owls, and a lonely alligator with a broken jaw—a veritable mini-zoo on the campus grounds, all of it housed in state-of-the-art facilities and cared for by a small army of lab-coated undergrads.
That first day of employment, his trainer met him in the lobby, and he followed her around as she explained his duties. He watched her slender form as they walked the cement corridor. She was young, another student. Brown skin, beautiful dark hair.
“This job isn’t what you think” was the second thing she said to him. The first was: “I hate to break your heart.”
They took the stairs up to the second floor. “You come highly recommended, let’s get that out of the way” she said.
“I do?”
She shrugged. “Let’s assume. And you have stellar grades, too. You must, or you wouldn’t be here.” Her accent was subtle, hard to place at first. “But still, there are no strings you can pull to get a different set of duties, so don’t bother asking. The new hires all want the monkeys, but that’s not what you’ll be working with mostly.”
“Okay,” he said. He followed her deeper into the facility. The research building was huge. It was a maze of rooms upon rooms. White walls and white tile. The top two floors were dedicated to the research library, but the rest belonged to the animals. She wore her dark hair in a ponytail that exposed the delicate curve of her neck.
“Besides that,” she said. “You only think you want the monkeys. Monkeys are dangerous. They’re fast and insanely strong for their size. Seven times stronger than humans, pound for pound. Plus, they bite.”
She paused before a set of double doors and withdrew a pair of green foam earplugs from the breast pocket of her lab coat. Paul could already hear the barking from the other side, so he knew what to expect. As they entered the kennel, the sound became deafening. “And these are the dogs,” she shouted, in case there was any doubt. “Another popular aspiration for new hires. But you won’t be working with these either, unless one of the regular workers calls in sick for the day, in which case you’ll probably be responsible for the bigger dogs.” She gestured toward the row of German shepherds at the end. “They poop more,” she added by way of explanation.
They took another flight of stairs.
“We
Paul read that they’d scanned the brains of nuns, looking for the God spot, and couldn’t find it. He examined, too, the theory of evolutionism. Although long debunked by legitimate science, adherents of evolutionism still existed, their beliefs enjoying near immortality among the fallow fields of pseudoscience, cohabitating the fringe with older belief systems like astrology, phrenology, and acupuncture. Modern evolutionists believed the various dating systems were all incorrect, and they offered an assortment of ridiculous and unscientific explanations for how the isotope tests could all be wrong.
The evolutionists ignored the geological record. They ignored the ice cores, the hermeneutics, and the wealth of biological evidence. They ignored the miracle of the placenta and the irreducible complexity of the eye.
“After all, the eye,” his anatomy professor lectured, “is biologically useful only in the sum of its parts. It can’t be reduced to functional precursor components.”
During his sophomore year, Paul got a job cleaning cages in the biology department. There were snakes and rabbits and owls, and a lonely alligator with a broken jaw—a veritable mini-zoo on the campus grounds, all of it housed in state-of-the-art facilities and cared for by a small army of lab-coated undergrads.
That first day of employment, his trainer met him in the lobby, and he followed her around as she explained his duties. He watched her slender form as they walked the cement corridor. She was young, another student. Brown skin, beautiful dark hair.
“This job isn’t what you think” was the second thing she said to him. The first was: “I hate to break your heart.”
They took the stairs up to the second floor. “You come highly recommended, let’s get that out of the way” she said.
“I do?”
She shrugged. “Let’s assume. And you have stellar grades, too. You must, or you wouldn’t be here.” Her accent was subtle, hard to place at first. “But still, there are no strings you can pull to get a different set of duties, so don’t bother asking. The new hires all want the monkeys, but that’s not what you’ll be working with mostly.”
“Okay,” he said. He followed her deeper into the facility. The research building was huge. It was a maze of rooms upon rooms. White walls and white tile. The top two floors were dedicated to the research library, but the rest belonged to the animals. She wore her dark hair in a ponytail that exposed the delicate curve of her neck.
“Besides that,” she said. “You only think you want the monkeys. Monkeys are dangerous. They’re fast and insanely strong for their size. Seven times stronger than humans, pound for pound. Plus, they bite.”
She paused before a set of double doors and withdrew a pair of green foam earplugs from the breast pocket of her lab coat. Paul could already hear the barking from the other side, so he knew what to expect. As they entered the kennel, the sound became deafening. “And these are the dogs,” she shouted, in case there was any doubt. “Another popular aspiration for new hires. But you won’t be working with these either, unless one of the regular workers calls in sick for the day, in which case you’ll probably be responsible for the bigger dogs.” She gestured toward the row of German shepherds at the end. “They poop more,” she added by way of explanation.
They took another flight of stairs.
“We
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