by Robin Cook
Paula took a step back as if he had just thrown a splash of cold water in her face. “Hey, I’m just trying to be a friend, an appreciative one at that. I’m certainly not going to apologize for my compensation package, if that is what you are implying. I work hard for what I earn, and my work is valuable, as time is going to prove. Not just to my employers, but to the general public. Because of that, our company’s stock will rise. Considerably.” She paused. “We all make choices in life, George. I’m happy with mine. You should be with yours, too.”
George didn’t quite know how to respond. He had been feeling outclassed by Paula’s success and then annoyed by her hubris, but her frank response disarmed him.
“Hey! Remember our old argument about how wasteful you thought it was for me to be doing the combined MD-MBA program?” Paula asked. Her tone had changed again. It was now nostalgic and teasing.
“You’ve won that one, obviously,” George conceded.
She laughed, visibly relaxing as she took him by the arm, leading him to a quiet corner of the room. “Listen, no more of this. We’re friends. Why don’t you come over to my house for a visit? We can catch up some—in a more personal environment.”
“Well . . . ,” George stammered. She had him off balance again.
“Come on. I bought a house not too long ago and have barely had time to try out the pool.”
“I’m not sure that we should—”
“What? Catch up on old times? Truth is, George, I don’t have a lot of friends out here. Colleagues, yeah, I got plenty of those. But I have been working nonstop, twenty-four-seven—we both know what that’s all about. I’m realizing I need people I can relax around, where there is no competition to get a particular project done. I don’t have too many such friends here.” She laughed again. “Actually, I don’t have any at the moment. So, what do you say? No pressure.”
George studied her face. As far as he could tell she was sincere, which was sad in one way. It sounded as if she didn’t have much of a life. But he was in that same sad boat. “Sure,” he replied. Her vulnerability was not only appealing, it was her saving grace.
“Great! I’ll text you my address. It’s in Santa Monica. How about Saturday? One o’clock okay?”
“Well . . . I am off Saturday,” George conceded.
“Keep it in mind. A friend date. We’ve been down that other road, and it didn’t work. And . . . there’s one more caveat. You cannot mention Pia Grazdani. I do not want to even hear her name. Deal?” She smiled. A genuine warm smile.
“Deal,” George said. Her warmth was infectious. It made George want to be around her.
“I can even pick you up if you want. The company has, in their infinite wisdom, bequeathed me a brand-sparkling-new Porsche Carrera to show their iDoc gratitude.” She smiled again.
George shuffled his feet and changed the subject. “Is iDoc really that good? I mean, there were some pretty bold statements made in your presentation. Were you exaggerating a bit for the sake of the potential investors?”
“We were not exaggerating in the slightest. iDoc is truly fantastic. Maybe even better than we explained. To be perfectly honest, we actually held back to a degree.”
“In what way?”
“Well, for instance . . . and how is it that you can turn me into a shameless blabbermouth?” She wasn’t looking for an answer to her question, and George noticed that she had grasped his arm again. “Our beta-test group is using smartphones just like the one you have in your hand, Mr. Nomophobe.”
“Nomophobe?” George questioned. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s the fear of being out of mobile phone contact.”
George did have his phone in his hand. He had the ringer off but wanted to be sure to feel the vibration if Claudine texted him.
“What we could have added to the presentation was a solution that we have come up with during the iDoc beta test. The problem with the smartphone is . . . well, it’s not a problem so much as an inconvenience that has the potential to become a problem . . . is the battery. iDoc runs constantly with its vast array of wireless sensors. Batteries run down, fast. Our beta testers need to recharge all the time. Three times a day plus charging it overnight while asleep. While that isn’t a deal breaker, it is an inconvenience.”
“So what’s the solution to that?”
“Graphene,” she whispered.
“Graphene?” George replied, matching her hushed tone. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s been around since the sixties. It’s not like it’s a secret, even though I’m trying to keep this between us because we’re presenting iDoc to investors as it will run today, not tomorrow. Anyway, it’s also not a secret that we’ve established close relationships with the world’s major smartphone manufacturers. We became aware of graphene’s potential by accident. UCLA discovered a process to make a nontoxic, highly efficient energy-storage medium out of pure carbon. Graphene. It’s a ridiculously simple technology and Amalgamated helped fund their efforts in finding a way to mass-produce it with small embedded electrodes.”
“You lost me.”
“It’s a supercapacitor. It charges much more rapidly than a chemical battery. It’s high density, in that it can hold a lot of electrons, and we can make it one atom thick. Long story short, the technology will have the capability to charge a smartphone from zero percent to one hundred percent in one second. Flat.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. Smartphone models with graphene-based batteries will begin rolling out this fall.” She looked around; still, no one was within earshot. “Now, that is a secret of sorts. As co–patent holders in the technology, we’ve asked manufacturers to not release any information about it until we go wide with iDoc. We want to overwhelm the public’s perception that iDoc is revolutionary. The new battery technology coinciding with iDoc’s release will reinforce investors’ assessment that a new paradigm has been entered. And it will also help serve to get any non-smartphone users into stores to buy new ones.”
“And if you can’t afford a new phone?”
“We’ll subsidize it. Or, more accurately, Obamacare will subsidize it. That’s another bit of holdback, too.”
“How can—”
“Everyone in the beta test loves iDoc, George. It’s better than a real doctor. For all the little things patients want to talk to their doctor about and can’t because that doctor is unavailable. The acceptance of iDoc was immediate. It will change medicine. We’re talking health care, not sick care, as Bradley alluded to during the presentation. Let me give you a personal example of how this works. Recently I woke up with a sore throat. My first concern was strep, as a friend of mine had been diagnosed with it. I dropped a saliva sample onto the designated location of my phone’s touchscreen and asked iDoc for an analysis. Within so many seconds, strep was detected in the flora of my mouth. iDoc emailed a script to my local pharmacy and the prescription was waiting for me when I arrived. I was subsequently contacted by iDoc at later intervals, unprompted, asking to monitor my saliva again. Might have forgotten, but iDoc did not.”
“But what about this call center? Isn’t that cheating? Because real doctors are the backup?”
“Not at all. iDoc has been learning. Learning fast. Just as Lewis Langley reported. iDoc is using the ‘real doctor’ backup at a significantly lower rate now than at the beginning of the beta-test period.”
“Where is this call center located?”
“Upstairs on the seventh floor of the neighboring building, which houses Amalgamated’s home office. Would you like to see it? I’d be happy to show it to you.” She was enjoying this. Her tendency to show off was taking over.
“You can leave here?” George motioned to the crowd of investors.
“Yeah. The sad reality for me is that when it gets to crunch time, these hedge fund guys would rather talk to a man than a wom
an. They’re more than happy to make small talk and hit on me, but serious investment talk is reserved for Bradley. I think they believe that I’m some sort of a PR front man.”
George scrutinized her. If she resented the sexism, she wasn’t showing it. She just seemed to be acknowledging a fact.
“Okay. Why not? Let’s check it out,” George said.
• • •
George followed Paula into the Century Towers. The building was sleek, modern, high-tech, and oozed prestige. Paula reminded him that it also had an unfortunate nickname, the Death Star, a reference to Star Wars and the ultimate weapon in the Galactic Empire’s arsenal. The name had nothing to do with Amalgamated. The building was bestowed the moniker because its lobby bore a striking resemblance to the interior of the film series’ Death Star and because Hollywood’s top talent agency, so secretive and powerful that it literally terrified everyone, including many of its clients, had taken up residence in the tower. Paula said that Thorn didn’t mind the nickname. In fact he hoped its suggestive powers would cause employees and vendors to pledge their loyalty to him. A fantasy, of course, but Thorn liked to indulge in them from time to time.
Paula led George through the massive white marble lobby and over to a concierge desk, where she arranged visitor credentials for George. With the proper guest pass in hand, they approached the bank of elevators, where the IDs were scrutinized by two large and intimidating guards.
“They take security seriously here,” George said under his breath as they entered an elevator.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Paula replied.
After they exited the elevator they had to show their credentials to another couple of guards at the entrance to the call center. Even though they obviously knew Paula, they checked her ID and scanned it into a reader along with George’s. Paula and George walked into what looked like a call center on steroids. It was a massive open space divided into comfortable cubicles with six-feet-tall, thick glass partitions serving as walls. Each office was occupied by a single, carefully groomed, white-smocked man or woman. Each cubicle also held a sleek glass table and ergonomic chair. And that was it. Nothing else. There were no computers, no monitors, no headphones, no papers or pens visible. Nothing, save an occasional insulated coffee mug. What astounded George was that the glass walls acted as computer monitors. The keyboards were virtual impressions on the glass desktops. George could see images of medical files flashing by. FaceTime-style chats with patients were projected as well. The operators were zooming in on this or that by touching their desktops. George noticed that a few doctors were using some sort of 3D hologram while viewing MRI and X-ray images of internal organs and bone structure. They could manipulate and rotate these images as well. Some of the pictures were going from one doctor to another with texted voice-recognition messages. George was stunned.
Paula could tell George was impressed.
“What the . . . ?”
“Pretty sweet, huh? We combined cutting-edge technology with a couple of Hollywood set designers and . . . voilà!”
“Tony Stark.”
“Pardon me?”
“Iron Man. It reminds me of the movie.” George felt as if he had been literally transported into the future.
“It’s funny you say that, because, as I said, we actually did hire some Hollywood set designers to help with the design.” She pointed to various features as she spoke. “Each cubicle is wired for sound so there’s no need for headsets. Cameras are embedded in the glass walls for doctor-to-patient face-to-face chats. That’s why they wear the smocks. Professionalism is key to our patients’ having confidence in the system. We even have a hair and makeup room, and the doctors, they’re all board certified and work only four-hour shifts to ensure that they remain fresh and on top of their game. Overhead air systems suppress the sound of the conversations so there’s no background noise and privacy is protected. Medical records and current vital signs are displayed on the walls, as you can see. Whatever image or file a doctor cares to view is controlled by desktop touch controls. The doctors can also enlarge and highlight and make notes on any image they choose simply by touching their desktops. Three-D holographic technology enables the doctors to better view and evaluate a condition and then diagnose it.”
George noticed a young man and woman in white futuristic outfits similar to those he had seen at the presentation carrying beverages into various cubicles. Paula followed his eyes.
“We want to make the doctors’ experience as pleasant as possible, too,” Paula said, “so, among other things, they can order drinks whenever they want. No food is allowed, though. For that, we have a dining hall. Wolfgang Puck handles the food for us. It’s quite good.”
“I can imagine.”
“The doctors can take breaks whenever needed. There’s no punching the clock here. They earn, on average, twenty-three percent more income on a per-hour basis than that of a typical medical specialist. Their stress levels are much lower, too, because they don’t have to worry about running an office.”
George scanned the room. “You said these are all board-certified doctors?” He noticed that they did appear cheerful. The ones treating patients were doing so with a smile.
“Yep. They’re mostly internists, along with some pediatricians and ob-gyns. We have a few general surgeons, orthopedists, ENTs, ophthalmologists, and dermatologists, too. Questions from iDoc users are routed by specialty after being handled first by a general internist.”
George was upset. Even though the room was beyond impressive, it seemed as if doctors were being reduced to glorified call-center operators. “iDoc isn’t going to work,” George blurted before he even had time to process exactly why he said it.
“Why?” Paula asked, startled. The outburst came across like a dose of sour grapes.
George immediately regretted having said it, but he couldn’t take it back. But now that it was out there . . . in for a penny, in for a pound. “There are two major problems as I see it,” George said, thinking it through out loud. “First, there’s the lack of human touch, which, in spite of this here”—he waved his arm around the room—“can’t be replaced by what is essentially a robot that is acting as the first responder. Second, there’s the issue of confidentiality, which is huge. People will be carrying around their complete medical histories, which could be hacked or compromised even in an unintended way.”
“Human touch is not an issue,” Paula said, shaking her head. “That’s been proven by the reaction of twenty thousand people during the beta test. Hardly a small sample. iDoc’s acceptance has been extraordinary. And it has cut down regular doctor appointments and emergency room visits by an astounding forty-five percent. No one in the beta-test group complained about the human-touch issue. They did say over and over again how much they appreciated the ease of use on a twenty-four-seven basis. Being able to talk with their iDoc doctor when it suited them and for as many times as they felt the need to trumped any other issue. Think about it, the average person gets less than an hour of face time with their primary-care physician in an entire year. You call that a human touch? I call that missing in action. Availability trumps all other issues. Doctors over the years have made themselves progressively harder and harder to reach. Email has helped, but not enough doctors have embraced it to make a difference.”
George opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t think of any rational comeback.
Paula sensed she won the point and pressed forward. “As for hacking, iDoc has the most advanced firewall technology available. And we don’t see privacy as the issue it once was. In an era when one hundred percent of the population has health insurance available to them and preexisting conditions can no longer preclude getting insurance, privacy diminishes in importance. As to your last point about accidental access, the iDoc app is biometrically accessed. It will only open for access when the intended user presses his fingerprint on the app. Acces
s closes after sixty seconds of nonuse. And that’s just the first level. iDoc uses voice recognition in answering questions or divulging personal information. It also uses Eye-Verify, which analyzes the blood vessels in a user’s iris to verify authenticity. Its accuracy is on par with that of a fingerprint. Also, since iDoc monitors vital signs, it always knows where the user is in relation to the phone. Finally, iDoc is quantum cloud based. Very little actual personal medical information is stored on the phone itself. What data is stored we encrypt. So, if someone’s phone is stolen, there’s not much anyone can get off it. We can also wipe a phone clean remotely if a patient notifies us of a lost or stolen phone or in the event of death, when iDoc recognizes that vital signs have ceased.”
George was silent. They seemed to have all the bases covered, and covered well. He still didn’t want to believe it was all so nice and tidy, but there was little he could say that would sound reasonable.
“A doctor working here in the call center isn’t all that different from a radiologist like yourself. You’re both just interpreting data generated by technology.”
George ignored the comment and moved to firmer ground. “You’re blurring the line of what a doctor is by cutting the primary-care physician out of the equation and acting as one yourself. ‘Yourself’ being Amalgamated, an insurance company. When did their executives go to medical school?”
Paula stared at George with her lips pursed. “A blue-ribbon team of the nation’s top doctors contributed their knowledge and experience to the development of our algorithm. iDoc also has all known and recorded medical knowledge at its disposal—textbooks, lab studies, journal articles. In short, it is the most knowledgeable doctor in the world, and it forgets nothing and is constantly updated. On top of that, it has the added benefit of continuous, real-time vital signs. It can compare that data against the patient’s complete medical history in less than two-tenths of a second. It can take any new information, such as test results, and compare it to the patient’s historical data and all known medical knowledge and make a diagnosis in less than half a second. I don’t mean to offend you, George, but with a choice of being treated between you or iDoc, I choose iDoc.”