Seeds of Lazarus
Noreen Kirkbride was at an age when, like many enormously wealthy titans of commerce, she was often preoccupied with philanthropic pursuits. A girl from humble roots, she amassed her fortune by hard work and a talent for cooking. Her empire began with a single, modest bistro in Provincetown, Massachusetts: Cooking Inspirations. Within ten years the business grew to include five-star restaurants in Boston, New York, Chicago, Houston, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Seattle, Atlanta and New Orleans. After authoring a series of bestselling cookbooks that offered a diverse range of recipes that appealed to both gourmet chefs and working mothers with budget constraints, Noreen hosted her own successful cooking show on the Food Network.
As her popularity increased, her empire expanded. New restaurants were opened in Savannah, Dallas, San Diego, Denver, Miami and Phoenix. Her next step was a line of high-end cookware, which sold in the country's more expensive department and specialty stores, followed by a second, more affordable line available at Walmart, Target and amazon.com. A millionaire before the age of thirty, Noreen no sooner earned her billionaire badge five years later than she branched out into prepackaged foods. Consumers could purchase Cooking Inspirations cake mixes, frozen dinners, canned soups, bottled salad dressings and dozens of other food products at their local supermarket.
By the time she celebrated her fiftieth birthday, Ms. Kirkbride was more than a celebrity chef and one of the richest women in America; she had become a cultural icon. In a poll of international tourists, respondents were asked to name their favorite attractions in the United States. Included along with the Grand Canyon, the Statue of Liberty, the Las Vegas Strip, the Broadway theater district and Walt Disney World was the experience of eating at one of Noreen's restaurants.
You may wonder how such a busy woman found time for a social life. In truth, she didn't have one. A workaholic, she never married and only rarely dated. When not making business decisions, her every waking thought centered on food.
"I love to cook and create new recipes," she told Barbara Walters during a televised interview. "There are so many different ingredients out there to choose from: different varieties and cuts of meat, poultry and seafood. Add to that the wide range of fruits, vegetables and legumes. Then there are the cheeses and other dairy products and the spices and condiments. The possible combinations are limitless! Yet most people eat a very narrow selection of food. My own mother used to prepare the same meals over and over again: lasagna, spaghetti, meatloaf, fried chicken, grilled cheese sandwiches and pot roast. And when we ate out, it was pizza, hamburgers, hot dogs and occasionally chicken chow mein at the local Chinese restaurant."
Noreen's foray into the previously unknown world of philanthropy came when she was asked by then-First Lady Michelle Obama to help educate America's Youth about healthier eating habits. From her concern for the growing obesity rate in America, she went on to become an active participant in the United Nations' fight against world hunger. She donated vast sums of money to food banks and relief efforts, but she did not see it as being enough.
"I read an old Chinese proverb the other day," she told Gordon Daltry, her company's chief financial officer, before the start of the quarterly board of directors meeting.
"Oh, was it written inside a fortune cookie?" he laughed.
She ignored the joke and continued, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."
"Fish, huh? Are you planning on opening a seafood restaurant or writing a new cookbook on a hundred and one ways to serve tilapia?"
"Sending money to impoverished countries to feed starving people is like giving a man a fish."
"And you suggest we teach these people to fish instead?"
"No, not exactly. I think a better solution is to make more fish available."
"I don't follow you—and, furthermore, I don't like fish. I'm a meat and potatoes man myself."
"What I'm really interested in is genetics."
"Okay. Now you've really lost me."
"GMOs: genetically modified organisms. You've heard of those, haven't you?"
"Yes, but usually used in conjunction with the prefix non."
"Ah, yes. That's the new catchphrase: non-GMO. It ranks up there with gluten-free and organic these days."
"But they're dangerous, aren't they?"
"Farmers have been genetically modifying their crops for thousands of years. They cross-bred plants and animals to arrive at the best possible hybrids, which were bigger, tastier and juicier than the parent crops. Gregor Mendel, best remembered for his nineteenth century experiments with pea plants, is revered as the father of genetics."
"So, you want to invest money in genetically engineered fish? I get it."
"Forget about the fish, already!" the CEO exclaimed, rolling her eyes in frustration. "I want Cooking Inspirations to acquire a company that will develop sustainable agricultural crops that are more nutritious, will grow in harsher climates and will produce a higher yield. I also want to hire the most eminent scientists in the field. And, I'll need a top-notch PR firm to handle the bad publicity we'll surely get if we make such a move."
"All right," Gordon said with a heavy sigh. "I'll see if I can use my influence on the members of the board to agree to the expenditure."
"Thanks. I knew I could count on you."
"If they don't go for your idea, you can always consider replacing the dissenting directors at the next election. You are the founder and chief stockholder, after all. And you know that old saying: there are plenty of fish in the sea."
Noreen gave him a courtesy smile since his lame jokes rarely warranted genuine laughter. While he was not the wittiest of men, she had little doubt that Gordon Daltry was a genius when it came to finances.
* * *
Gordon was waiting for Noreen at the airport. From there, they would drive to their meeting with Dr. Creighton Weale, who had headed the Cooking Inspirations bioresearch team for nearly a decade.
"How was Barcelona?" Creighton asked when he greeted his two guests.
"It's a beautiful city," Noreen replied. "Have you ever been there?"
"No. I'm the quintessential weird scientist who rarely leaves his lab."
"You should go sometime; you'd probably like it. There's a church there—the Sagrada Familia—that looks like it's received a steady diet of growth hormones."
"That's the one designed by Antoni Gaudi, isn't it? I've seen photographs of it," Gordon added. "It reminds me of something out of a Tim Burton movie."
With the obligatory small talk concluded, Noreen was eager to get down to business.
"Why don't you bring me up to date on your ongoing projects?" she asked.
"Most are still in development, but there is one success that I'm quite proud of," Creighton answered, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Oh? Is it the frost-resistant orange plant that will grow in colder climates?"
"No, my team is still working on that."
"What is it, then?"
The geneticist opened a desk drawer and removed a small box. He opened it and handed the object that was inside to Noreen.
"What is this?" she asked.
"I call it the Lazarus fruit."
"Lazarus as in the Bible?" Gordon asked. "Why did you name it that?"
"Because not long after the initial fruit was picked, the plant looked as though it was dead. But within hours not only was it green and in excellent health, but it began to show signs of bearing fruit again."
"So soon?" the CEO inquired.
"Yes. And without any pollination."
"Was this a one-time anomaly?"
"No. For the past eight months, Lazarus has been yielding a new crop of fruit every two to three weeks. In fact, as the plant continues to grow in size, the yield increases, as well."
"That's amazing!"
"We've taken grafts from the original plant and duplicated the results. Right now, we have more than two dozen Lazarus plants in the lab, all busily turning out fruit like they were Ford assembly lines."
"What about the fruit? How does it taste?"
"Try it for yourself," Creighton suggested.
Noreen, never reluctant to sample any type of food, put the new breed of fruit to her lips and bit into it. While it was unlike any fruit she had ever tasted, she detected subtle hints of raspberry, strawberry, pomegranate and kiwi.
"It's delicious!" she announced and took another bite.
"And nutritious," the scientist proudly added. "Lazarus contains more vitamin C than the guava fruit does, more potassium than a banana, more fiber than a mango and more antioxidants than blueberries."
"Did you try growing these plants outside the laboratory?" Gordon asked.
Creighton smiled widely as though auditioning for the role of the Cheshire Cat.
"Two months ago we transferred grafted plants to plots of farmland in both Canada and Mexico. Neither the cold nor the heat seamed to deter their growth pattern. Encouraged, we tried desert land in Arizona and swampland in Louisiana. I have to admit I'm most encouraged. These plants seem to thrive no matter where we put them."
"What do you suggest our next step be?" Noreen asked.
"We need to introduce them to consumers. That's your area of expertise."
"Let me have a few dozen ripe Lazarus fruits. I'll take them home and experiment with them in my test kitchen. I'll come up with a few tasty recipes and put them on the menu of every one of Cooking Inspirations restaurants. If public response is positive, we'll take it from there."
It came to no one's surprise that within two years of appearing on Noreen Kirkbride's menu, the newly created Lazarus fruit became the bestselling food crop in the world.
* * *
When Creighton Weale saw the chauffeur-driven limousine pull up to his lab, he ran out of his office and went outside to greet his guest.
"Noreen," he said. "Congratulations on receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom."
"Thank you. It was quite an accomplishment for the daughter of a bus driver from South Boston; don't you think? What did you want to see me about?"
"There's been a new development with the first generation of Lazarus plants."
"They haven't actually died this time; have they?"
"Come and see for yourself."
The first time Noreen had seen the plants in Dr. Weale's laboratory they were approximately fifteen inches high and bore fruit the size of small plums. Having recently experienced a tremendous growth spurt, the plants were close to twelve feet high, and the fruit they produced was the size of a cantaloupe.
"What have you been feeding them?" she asked, her eyes wide with amazement.
"Just water. In fact, I've never used plant food or growth-inducing chemicals of any kind."
"How do you explain the drastic increase in size then?"
"Simple evolution."
"Come on, Creighton! I'm no scientist, but I do know evolution is an extremely slow process."
"That's true. What we're dealing with is an accelerated evolution. And the rapid growth rate is not the only change."
"Oh? What else is different?"
Creighton picked a Lazarus fruit from the tree and cut it in half.
"Is that a pit?" Noreen asked.
"Yes, it is. Lazarus has evolved from being a seedless plant to having an internal pit."
"What about the flavor and the nutritional value of the fruit? Has there been any change?"
"None. Try it and see," the scientist suggested.
Noreen cut the fruit into bite-size chunks and ate them with the concentration of a professional wine-taster.
"Interesting," she declared.
"What's that?"
"The outer part of the fruit nearest the skin tastes the same as it always has, yet the part closest to the pit is more flavorful. Even the color is different. The flesh of the fruit is a darker shade of red near the center. Have you tried opening the pit?"
"Yes. When I pried open the outer shell, I discovered it was filled with seeds similar to those in a pomegranate."
"Are they safe to eat?"
"Unlike stone fruits such as apricots, cherries, plums and peaches, they don't contain the compound amygdalin, which, as you probably know, breaks down into hydrogen cyanide when ingested. The seeds in the center of Lazarus's pit are far from being poisonous. They're actually little powerhouses of nutrition."
"Can you break this pit open? I'd like to try the seeds."
Creighton did as requested, and Noreen placed several of the ruby red seeds on her tongue. Her eyes closed and a smile spread across her face.
"Mmm! The taste is absolutely amazing!"
"I imagine you could make a delicious jam with these seeds or even a pie."
"Why spoil the flavor by adding sugar? These seeds are perfect just the way they are. They're like the caviar of the fruit world."
As Noreen left the laboratory and got into the back seat of her limousine, she wondered how long it would take for the hundreds of billions of Lazarus plants profusely propagating on six of the seven continents around the world to evolve to the point of the first generation and develop pits.
I wouldn't be surprised if, once the world has tasted the seeds of Lazarus, Creighton is awarded the Nobel Prize!
* * *
"For she's a jolly good fellow that nobody can deny!"
Noreen Kirkbride stood up at her place of honor on the dais and, after the applause died down, blew out the seven candles—each representing a decade of her life—that were placed on the elaborately decorated three-tier birthday cake. Sitting beside her, Dr. Creighton Weale then handed her a solid gold cake knife, engraved for the occasion.
"Let me guess," she said into the microphone before she cut into the world-renowned pastry chef's masterpiece, "it's a white cake with a Lazarus seed filling."
It was a natural assumption to make. Now that all the plants had evolved to the point that they were producing pits, Lazarus seeds had become the single most popular food in the world.
"I was wrong," she laughed, when the first slice was removed from the top layer. "It's chocolate cake, but I was right about the Lazarus seeds."
More than five thousand people were seated in the Venetian ballroom in Las Vegas to celebrate Noreen's seventieth birthday. The room was filled with celebrities, friends, family and Cooking Inspirations employees, past and present. Even Gordon Daltry, who was enjoying his retirement in the south of France, was in attendance along with his wife. To feed so many people, additional cakes had been baked. Once the tiered cake was cut, servers wheeled out carts of pre-cut slices from dozens of sheet cakes and distributed them to the guests.
"As I flew into Vegas this morning," Noreen said, continuing her speech. "I looked out the window at what was once the Mojave Desert. Now it is a lush garden of thriving Lazarus plants."
The sound of applause thundered through the room.
"I confess I have been unfairly given the credit for that change and for so many others. While I may have financed the research project, it is the scientific genius of Dr. Creighton Weale and his team of dedicated geneticists that gave the world the Lazarus fruit and its seeds."
The applause was repeated, this time for the Nobel Prize-winning scientist.
"Please," he said, when urged to speak himself, "we're here to celebrate Noreen's birthday, not my achievements."
Just then Creighton's cell phone rang.
"Sorry. I forgot to turn the damned thing off. You know," he laughed, "if I really wanted to do something great to benefit humanity, I'd find a way to get rid of all the cell phones."
When he looked down at his iPhone and saw the identity of the caller—his research assistant—he felt a stab of apprehension in the pit of his stomach.
She wouldn't try to contact me here unless it was absolutely necessary, he thought.
"I'm sorry," he said into the microphone. "I really have to take this call."
"To paraphrase Marie Antoinette," Noreen addressed her guests, "let us eat cake!"
Dr. Weale, who had stepped away from the table to avoid being overheard by the others on the dais, answered his phone.
"Wait. Slow down. I can't understand you."
Noreen tried not to eavesdrop but could not help overhearing his side of the conversation.
"It did what?" the scientist cried, his voice rising several decibels.
The feeling of discomfort in his belly worsened.
"What's happening now? Hello? Are you still there? Can you hear me? I ...."
The cell phone fell to the floor, and Creighton gripped his stomach with both hands. The contorted features of his face attested to the severe abdominal pain he felt. His mouth opened, but no sound emerged. Instead, a leafy branch of a Lazarus plant grew out of the orifice.
Noreen screamed in horror as the seeds that had germinated inside Creighton's stomach rapidly grew into a full-sized Lazarus plant. Within moments, the Nobel Prize-winning scientist—much like Mary Shelley's famed Dr. Frankenstein—was destroyed by his own creation, literally torn apart from the inside.
Before the evening was over, five thousand people in the ballroom of the Venetian shared the fate of Creighton Weale and the billions of people around the globe. Ironically, in another amazing feat of evolution, the Lazarus plants—lauded as the food that ended world hunger—fed on the very humans they were supposed to nourish.
As she felt the seeds begin to grow and push out of her own stomach, Noreen knew she would never see another birthday; and, unlike the biblical Lazarus for which the plant was named, there would be no miraculous return to life.
Honestly, Salem, that's not a Lazarus plant. It's a new species of catnip I created from a spell. Go ahead and try it!
