Memories For Sale

4. Clinical Results

Clinical Results

Washington, D.C., December 2027

Ginesh scanned the results on his computer screen then glanced at Nancy. “Three point one percent," he said.

Nancy sighed. "I got three point six. Not much different."

"What was it last time?" Ginesh asked.

Nancy tapped a few keys on the keyboard, then squinted as a new screen appeared. "Three point four."

"So nothing significant," Ginesh said.

"Not enough to matter. We needed a big jump. Something over 12 percent."

"And we knew that wasn't happening. We haven't seen more than a 1-percent deviation since we started."

"And that was a looooong time ago," Nancy said.

"Tell me about it. Raji wasn't even pregnant when we started."

The door to the lab opened and Barney Franklin, the vice president of RA (regulatory affairs) and clinical, walked in. "Anything new, Ginesh?"

Ginesh lowered his head, as if staring at the floor, then shook it slowly from side to side. "Not a thing."

"It's the next to the last week of the trial. We need something.” Barney said.

"I know that, but there's nothing new. I can't fabricate numbers. This trial produced almost identical results as the last time."

"So another failure," Barney said, and slammed his fist on the corner of Nancy's desk. "What the hell is it going to take to get something to work?"

"Sometimes things just don't work," Nancy said. "The brain is complex."

"I'll tell you what's not complex," Barney said. "The goddamn stock market. And if we don't get something going soon, that IPO isn't going to be worth s**t, which means your stock won't be worth s**t. And most importantly, my stock won't be worth s**t. So get something going. Now!"

Barney walked around the lab, shoving things aside and kicking at anything in his way. "If we don't do something soon, then we're all going to be looking for new jobs. I don't know about you, but I don't want to go through that turmoil. There's a snowball's chance in hell that I'd find a suitable job in D.C., and I don't want to move."

"Me neither," Ginesh said. "Don't worry. We'll get something."

"I don't know how. You've only got a week and a half left."

"Like I said. We'll get it."

Barney headed for the door. "Then you better get busy. Let me know if anything breaks."

The door slammed behind Barney as he left. Nancy turned to Ginesh. "What the hell did you say that for? We're not going to find anything in a week and a half. You know that."

"Then we turn the tables in our favor."

"What? How?"

"I don't know. Maybe we increase the dosage and see what happens."

"Are you nuts? We can't indiscriminately increase the dosage. There are guidelines."

"Screw the guidelines. I'm not moving. And it's like Barney said, it's doubtful if any of us would find another job here. This isn’t a biotech haven."

Nancy thought about her roommate and all of her local ties. "I don't want to move either, but what choice do we have?"

"We do what I said—increase the dosage of the drug and see if it affects anything. What do we have to lose?"

"Somebody could die. That's what we’ve got to lose. We have no idea what a dosage increase will do—how it will affect people, what adverse effects might happen.”

Ginesh scoffed. "Have you looked at the people in the trial? They're old. They've had strokes. If they die, they die. It's not our fault."

Nancy shook her head. "Are you kidding me? It will be our fault if one of them dies because of the drug. Doesn't that bother you?"

Ginesh could see he was getting nowhere with his argument. "Okay, forget I said anything, but I hope you like living in California or New Jersey, because that's likely where we'll end up."

"I don't want to move, but I can live anywhere as long as my conscience is clear."

"I guess you're right," Ginesh said. "But let's give it the best we can. We'll work like hell until it's over. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky."

"Maybe," Nancy said, and she started back in on her number crunching.

At the end of the day, Ginesh and Nancy left, walking out together. “See you tomorrow,” Ginesh said.

“Yeah, see ya’,” Nancy said, and got into her car and drove off.

Ginesh waited for Nancy to leave, then he waited another fifteen minutes. When he was certain that no one was around, he surreptitiously re-entered the lab and replaced the normal dosage with one of a higher quantity.

I'm not about to move to California.

The bell rang signaling lunchtime, and the kids poured out of their classes. Megan rushed toward the parking lot and found Justin waiting. He was leaning against a light pole about fifty feet from the building.

"You been here long?" she asked as she ran across the parking lot.

Justin stepped toward his car and opened the door for her. "Only a minute. Hurry up, though. We don't have much time."

Megan slid in the passenger-side seat and buckled up. Justin jumped behind the wheel. "We need to pick up the flowers first," he said. "Then we'll drop them off and scoot back here."

Justin drove to the flower shop, got his flowers, and then sped to the cemetery. He passed his father's limo driver on the way. "There goes my dad's show of love and dedication."

"He means well," Megan said.

"Like hell, he does. If he meant well, he'd deliver the flowers himself. Not send a driver."

"Isn't it better than not getting flowers at all?"

"No," Justin said. "At least if he didn't get them he'd be showing his honesty. He just gets the flowers so he can take a picture of them sitting in front of the headstone. Then he can display it in his office to look good." Justin looked at Megan. "He does that, you know. He has the driver take a picture of the flowers in front of the grave, then he gets it framed and sets it on his desk."

"Okay. I have to admit, that's pretty bad," Megan said.

Justin parked, then he and Megan walked through the cemetery to the plot where his mother was buried.

"I don't mean to be rude, but how was it she died?" Megan asked.

"That's not rude. At least you cared enough to ask. She was hit by a drunk driver on her way home from shopping."

"That's terrible," Megan said.

Justin laid the flowers in front of the gravestone next to the ones his father had sent. Then he knelt and said a prayer. Megan did likewise.

When they finished, they stood and started walking back to the car. "We can't take too long," Justin said. "If I miss geometry class one more time, I think it'll affect my grades."

Megan bent and picked up a handful of snow. She formed it into a snowball and threw it at Justin. It smashed on the back of his coat. "What? Your average will drop from a ninety-five to a ninety-four?”

He laughed. "Smart ass," he said, then he ran for the car. Megan followed suit.