The Synchronizer

by Francis Tint

  THE ISOTOPES SERIES

  THE SYNCHRONIZER

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Tremor

  “Would it hurt you to put your phone down for just a second?” Ellen sighed. She threw her fork down beside a plate of half-eaten beef carpaccio appetizer, trying to get some attention from her dining companion. “God, I feel like I’m celebrating our anniversary by myself.”

  “Sorry, babe. Just one last line to my boss, then I’m all yours,” Mike spoke as his fingers swiped quickly on his beat-up phone, quite unaware of the trouble he was getting himself into. “Here you go. What did I miss?” He put his phone down beside his supposedly crunchy spring roll hors d’oeuvre, which had surely become a soggy, greasy mess.

  “Every year, it’s the same. I choose the restaurant, make the reservation. Hell, this year I even had to buy my own anniversary gift.” Her eyes started to become teary. “I know you’re crazy busy and it’s hard for you to make time. But, for just one day a year…”

  He pursed his lips, struggling to find the right words. “Look… I’ll turn off my phone. Zero distraction.” Just as he was holding the button to turn his phone off, he received an incoming call. His boss’s name flashed on the screen. Timing couldn’t have been any better.

  He looked up at his wife of five years, trying to gauge her reaction. The ringtone pierced through the tense air. “Just pick it up,” Ellen frowned. “I need to use the restroom anyway.” Flight had always been her default option.

  She walked away, probably too gently she thought. Should she have made a scene? Mike had not committed any cardinal sin. Most girls would kill to be married to Mike: he’s loyal, financially stable, clean, and the sex was great. He was just a little too occupied with work. A slight understatement, but no one’s perfect. She took off her wedding ring and washed her hands. She wiped away her tears in front of the mirror, and painted her smile back on her face.

  “I understand. Is it ok if I get the presentation done for tomorrow morning? It’ll be in your inbox by ten at the latest,” he continued on his phone as he gestured at the waiter for more wine. Moscato had never failed to cheer his wife up. All he had on his mind was the late hours he needed to endure to complete the slide deck. The waiter filled up the glasses, gave him a gentle smile and walked away.

  And no, he did not notice the mysterious powdered substance the waiter had slipped into his wife’s drink. By the time Ellen returned with a brand-new smile, the substance had completely dissolved.

  “See. Device off. It’s just you and me for the night.”

  “I’ll give you an hour before you turn that sucker on again.”

  They parked the car on a mountaintop overseeing a dimly lit cityscape. Their favorite song was playing on the stereo. The smell of the leftover seafood paella lingered in the car. He had really stuck to the device-off policy for the entire night. “So, did I do alright?” asked Mike.

  “Marginally acceptable,” Ellen joked. Year after year they would return to the exact same spot, where they had first met and where they had become engaged, on a mountaintop by a trail popular among joggers.

  “The rain came really suddenly that day,” Ellen reminisced about the first day they had met. “I should’ve known by the fact that the trail was unusually empty. I suppose most other joggers got the memo about the weather.”

  “And it was perfect,” Mike said charmingly. “Otherwise, we might not have ever met.” He leaned in for a passionate kiss. He held tightly in his arms the woman of his dream, the mother of his child. “Are you feeling alright, babe? You are burning up.” He placed his hand on her forehead.

  “It’s probably just the Moscato. You know how much of a lightweight I am,” she lied. Saying that line alone was causing shortness of breath. She winced, no longer able to contain the pain from the inferno burning up inside her. “I think…” she paused, “I think we should go back…”

  “Good idea.” He reached out to start the engine.

  But the engine never started. In a deadly explosion, it was incinerated along with the rest of the car and the young couple inside.

  “Hi sleepy-head. Did you pull an all-nighter?” asked Tylor.

  “No, not really,” Blake responded with a yawn. She could barely keep her eyes open, let alone string together a complete sentence. All she could think about was coffee.

  “Here you go. A double-shot latte with almond milk, just the way you like it.” Her tall companion handed her the coffee cup with the sleeve on, wearing a smile that could light up the town.

  “Aw… that’s sweet, Ty. Just what I needed.” She smiled back. Was that sincere enough? Damn, she’s way too tired to think about this stuff.

  “Woah, what party did I miss out on, girl?” said Julia dramatically, twirling her perfect wavy brunette hair. “And where’s my personal barista service?” she asked, winking conspicuously. Tylor froze at that remark. “Relax. I’m just joking. I prefer the deluxe brand complimentary from our boss anyway,” she said, air-quoting “deluxe”.

  The trio took their usual seats at the company’s canteen, a ritual they had developed since they had been interns at Ashlea Edwards. “Gosh, girl, you’d better caffeine up. Boss won’t be too happy if you screw up that centrifuge.”

  Blake chucked down the latte. If only there was a way to directly inject some into her bloodstream. “I had this really strange dream last night. It really shook me and I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

  “There’s this herbal remedy my grandmother used to give me when I had nightmares. It’s absolutely effective,” Tylor said as Julia subtly shook her head, as subtle as she could for a drama queen. And he knew it was his cue to stop talking.

  “Yes, Ty, I would love to try out your herbal remedy,” Blake returned the gesture genuinely. “But it wasn’t quite a nightmare,” she continued, “and it didn’t feel like a dream either.” She proceeded to narrate the details of the anniversary dinner, the fight, and the reconciliation. “It was so vivid. I could literally smell the seafood paella in the car.”

  “Ok, but why does the dream bother you? It doesn’t sound too worrisome,” Tylor said.

  “It actually sounds kind of boring,” added Julia indifferently.

  “Well,” Blake continued, “there’s more...” She trailed off. How was she going to explain that a woman had just spontaneously combusted? And the fact that she had woken up to the smell of burned metal. Blake looked around, seeking a rescue. As if on cue, a news alert flashed on the TV and caught her attention.

  Tylor followed her gaze and caught the news program. “Oh, that was definitely tragic. A car burned down to ashes. They’re saying it’s a double suicide,” he narrated as the faces of the victims appeared on the screen.

  “Those would be the people I dreamed about,” Blake spoke in shock, “Mike and Ellen.”

  In one of the countless biotech labs at Ashlea Edwards, an intern in an oversized lab coat stood behind the lab bench inspecting a test tube. “Shoot!” Rachael adjusted her glasses with a frown on her baby-face. “Why’s my solution clouding up again?”

  “Let me take a look,” Blake offered in her gentle soft-spoken voice. “You probably haven’t given enough time for the substrate to bind with the reagent. If you add a little bit of the stabilizer, your solution should clear up in no time.”

  “Oh my god, it worked! You’re awesome.” Rachael’s mood seemed to have swung a complete one-eighty. “God, I’ll never be good at this.”

  “Don’t put yourself down. Everyone makes mistakes and we all learn from them. That’s what the internship’s for.”

  “Not everyone. I hear you were already a superstar during your internship.”

  “People exaggerate. I made my fair share of silly errors when I first started.
You’re doing just fine.”

  Blake took out the fresh centrifuge samples and inspected the results carefully. She smiled to herself with satisfaction. The lab was the place where things always made sense for her.

  Perhaps she had seen the late-night news and had unconsciously thought that she had dreamed about the couple. And all the food details? It’d probably been just her cravings for fine dining. That sounded like a logical explanation. There’s no need to be bothered by it.

  The desk phone interrupted her thoughts. She glanced at the call display. She didn’t recognize the extension. Everything’s done through emails and instant messaging. Who still used the phone?

  She picked up the handset hesitantly. “Blake speaking.” It was definitely not someone she was expecting. She tried to suppress her gasps, but her facial expression betrayed her astonishment. “Certainly, Ms. Edwards. I can definitely make time. I will be right up.”

  Did people call her “Ms. Edwards”, or just “Ashlea”? How she wished she had dressed up a little more formally.

  She took a deep breath and tidied her straight jet-black shoulder-length hair. Just act natural, Blake thought to herself, as much as possible in front of a legend. Youngest woman to head a biotech firm on the Fortune 500 List, Ashlea Edwards had founded her company sixteen years ago with the launch of a miracle drug, Imperiall, that substantially suppressed Hyperkinetic Mindfulness Insufficiency Disorder (HMID) symptoms on teenagers and young adults. She had subsequently grown her company to expand to materials science and forensics. All the major players in the field had been skeptical of her when she had announced the clinical trials on Imperiall. Years later, she had become an industry disruptor and a force to be reckoned with.

  The elevator doors opened to the top floor. A humbly decorated hallway welcomed Blake as she walked past the pictures of patients treated with Imperiall. Blake had expected a more majestic interior design with elaborate fixtures, but this reflected more of the Ashlea Edwards she had read about, always on the frontline focusing on the patients.

  A petite energetic woman startled Blake from behind, with a coffee cup in her hand, smiling enthusiastically at her from behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. “Blake, I assume?”

  “Yes.” She tried to look composed. The woman standing in front of her was very modestly dressed, in a pair of worn-out runners and basic denim. “Ms. Edwards?”

  “Oh please, just call me Ashlea,” she replied, reaching a hand out to Blake. They shook hands. “Come, follow me to my desk.”

  Blake had always imagined executive offices to be decorated with elaborate furniture, fancy pot lights, comfy couches overlooking the city’s skyline. But Ashlea’s office was quite down-to-earth: a desk buried in paperwork, and bookshelves packed with biotech textbooks. It made her basement bedroom at her parents’ place look like a luxury unit.

  “You’ve done great work here, Blake. Amazing enhancement to our first-gen Imperiall process, tripling the product yield. The design was just ingenious.”

  “Thank you so much for your recognition, Ms. Ed—Ashlea,” Blake corrected herself. “I’m confident I can further reduce the processing time by optimizing the temperature profile. I’m working on fine-tuning the temperature fluctuations in the incubation period. I should have some preliminary findings in a couple of days.”

  Ashlea nodded approvingly. “And I look forward to those results. Meanwhile, I have an exciting opportunity I want to share with you. We’re investigating a diagnostic process for HMID in young infants, and even during pregnancy. As I’m sure you’re aware, Imperiall looks to be more effective on younger patients. For the older ones, there’s a lifelong dependency on the drug to control the symptoms.”

  “It would definitely be amazing if we could achieve successful prenatal diagnosis and apply treatment as soon as they’re born. I’m sure everyone would be excited.”

  “Well, not everyone. The Board wouldn’t be. Nor would the shareholders.” Blake looked a little puzzled. Ashlea explained, “You see, drug dependency secures profits. But that’s not what I care about. To me, it’s always been about the patient.” Ashlea looked at Blake assertively, “And that’s why, we need to keep this initiative under wraps.”

  “Oh…” Blake didn’t conceal her surprise. She wasn’t a stranger to all the evil pharma firms out there profiting off the helpless. But she had thought it would be different at Ashlea Edwards. She had been laser-focused at growing her career there because she wanted to do some genuine good to the society following in the footsteps of a philanthropic visionary. And in some way, the conversation proved her right about her boss. However, it shocked her to learn that even the legendary Ashlea Edwards, CEO and founder of the groundbreaking biotech firm, was not immune to the cliché pharma agenda.

  “There’s been a number of attempts in the scientific community to diagnose HMID during fetal development, none with great success. Much of the effort has stopped, some due to funding, some due to the lack of candidates. But we’re in a great position here since we help a lot of expectant mothers who suffer from HMID. I think there’s a lot to learn from studying their amniotic fluid.”

  “That wouldn’t be a problem. I worked with amniocentesis before in my undergrad.”

  “Well, actually, I want you to take on more of a leadership role, guiding the team and monitoring the progress. The team won’t need to learn all the details, only you need to. And for you to be effective, you probably need to put down your lab coat.”

  “Yes, for sure.” A part of her was delighted with the remark. This would be the next step of her intended career progression. Her hard work was paying off. But she had never thought she would need to be hands off.

  Ashlea gave an understanding smile. “Look. It was hard for me as well at first. Oh, how I miss those days running chromatography to the dead of night. But now, it’s all just business talk.” She grabbed an old lab notebook from one of the shelves. “The Board laughs at me when I speak like a scientist. They tell me to forget my older self.” She flipped open the book and started to scan the faded handwriting. “But I’m not going to be a sell-out. That’s why I keep these books here where I can see them. To constantly remind myself of who I am, a scientist.

  “I see my younger self in you, Blake. It won’t be easy to let go at first. My door is always open for you.” Ashlea gave Blake a pat on the shoulder. “Now, go get me some findings.”

  “Seriously, a kale salad for celebration?” teased Julia, as she put down three cups of “deluxe” company coffee on the canteen table.

  “What celebration?” asked Blake.

  “Words travel fast here,” Tylor said as they took their seats beside Blake for lunch.

  “Usually, when someone’s called to the big boss’s office, there are only two possibilities,” Julia added, gesturing with her hand. “A: said person royally screwed up, or B: said person is working on a top-tier project, the next money-maker, on the fast lane to glory, and all that jazz. And seeing that you weren’t escorted out by security, the only logical conclusion is that you, Blake, fall under the ‘B’ category.”

  “It’s nothing like that. I assure you,” Blake said, her face burning with embarrassment.

  Hoping for a more elaborative narrative, the pair stared intently at Blake, who clearly was more interested in enjoying her healthy meal choice. “Is that how you’re going to treat us? C’mon. Spill!” Julia demanded.

  “It’s just … on the electrophoresis analysis stuff with the chromatography thing that I talked about before.” Blake really needed to get better at being discreet.

  “Right,” Julia nodded, “so you’re just going to confuse us with some big biotech terms.”

  Drowned in guilt, Blake opened her mouth but no words came out.

  “Well, whatever the assignment is,” said Tylor sincerely, “congratulations. You truly deserve it.” Their eyes met for a brief second. His boyish smile under the slightly unkempt hair with the heartfelt comment genuinely moved her.
/>   “Thank you,” she replied softly.

  “We’ll let you off the hook this one time,” interrupted Julia dramatically. “Anyhow, Ty and I want to share something with you. We got a hold of certain evidence, quite stealthily might I add, on the tragic double-suicide couple from the news this morning.”

  “By that,” Tylor said, “what Jule actually meant was that we’re part of the team assigned to examine the evidence from the car explosion with the Crime unit. This is the same protocol we’ve been following for the past year since the company secured the contract with the government.”

  “What do you have against some figure of speech?” Julia interjected. She proceeded to tell Blake about the extent of the damage near the front of the car. It looked as if the couple had orchestrated the double suicide by rigging the car battery to cause the explosion.

  “Now this part, it’s going to blow your mind,” Julia continued. “We were able to salvage some unburned samples from the back of the car for Ty’s team to examine.” Julia gestured to her investigation partner.

  “And Blake, you were absolutely right,” Tylor continued the narration. “They did have seafood paella for dinner. How did you know about it?”

  “Lucky guess, maybe? I must’ve seen it on the late-night news or something, and thought I dreamed the whole thing,” Blake said dismissively. There was no other way to explain it.

  “Anyhow, there’s one thing that’s been bothering me,” Julia said. “I couldn’t find no diamond ring whatsoever. I mean, who doesn’t wear the frigging holy symbol of their marriage to their anniversary dinner?”

  “Perhaps it was some inexpensive ring that melted in the explosion,” Tylor explained.

  “Well, actually,” Blake considered for a moment, “I think I might know where it is.”

  The trio got off the bus after a long ride in the afternoon rush-hour traffic. “Wow, this is some baller restaurant,” Julia exclaimed. “I mean, even if we can’t find the ring, Blake could still treat us to a fancy dinner.”