The Black Market DNA Series: Books 1-3

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Ana might have to wait days, weeks even, before she’d get her hands on any of those reports. She didn’t need the exercise in patience, especially when she knew a few lab rats with equipment of their own.

  Chapter 9

  A list of neurological diseases projected from Robin’s comm card. Next to each, a red “negative” shone. She pulled a hand through her hair. She had feared the worst when she’d noticed the plaques in Jacob Wright’s brain. The best explanation for the appearance of those dangerous protein aggregates in a child was a sort of prion disease. Prions, unfolded infectious proteins, initiated a chain reaction triggering other proteins to misfold. These malformed proteins aggregated and caused the death of tissues and cells around them.

  Robin had once read a story of a hospital that unknowingly spread a prion disease through contaminated beef in the early 2030s. During those years, no permanent cure to infectious prions had been discovered, and dozens of the hospital’s patients succumbed to fatal plaque formations.

  As a precautionary measure, she’d asked the MRI tech to check a few of the other patients in her ward. She’d dropped by the offices of the chief medical officer and chief operating officer to ensure they were aware of the potential transmission of prions within the hospital. They promised they’d act accordingly, thanked her for informing them, and organized a team of lab technicians to test the hospital’s food supply for any prion contaminants while placing a temporary lockdown on the kitchens.

  When the tech had returned to her with the scans, she studied the images of her patients’ brains and breathed a sigh of relief. All the others were free from the plaque found in Jacob. It was a small reprieve while she waited for the results from the kitchen’s food assessments. She knew, even if there had been a prion contaminant, all evidence of it hitching a ride in the beef stew or a pork chop sandwich may well be impossible to find now.

  “Find anything interesting?” Sam asked, looking up to Robin with a hopeful expression.

  “No, no positive matches on any of this. The prions we’re seeing in the blood sample don’t match any well-characterized disease.”

  “Any partial matches?”

  “It seems like it could be a new variant of Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open. “CJD? That’s mad cow disease, isn’t it? Jesus, I thought it disappeared.”

  Robin stared back at Sam.

  “What? What did I say?”

  “You’re right. It did disappear,” Robin said. “And then all of a sudden this shows up.”

  “If it’s a variant...”

  Robin sighed and peeked into the hospital room. Nancy Wright leaned over Jacob and brushed back his blond tufts of hair. Doug held her hand as he gazed at their son.

  “We’ve got to try something,” Robin said. “The plaques are bad.” She wracked her mind for the optimal solution. With the boy’s brain still in such a plastic state, any neurological damage done by the plaques could permanently disable him. Even the best neuroregenerative tissue engineering techniques could not efficiently guide a child’s brain on its complex journey to full maturity.

  She knew of only one potential solution and withdrew her comm card from her pocket. “We’re going to have to go with Styryldine.”

  “They still make that? Do you think our pharmacy will even be able to fulfill the order?”

  “I hope to God they can.” She sent the order through the hospital’s intranet to the pharmacy’s automated drug prescription-filling station. “And this variant better respond as CJD does to the drug. If so, the Styryldine should be enough to knock it out.”

  Styryldine, a drug produced by the pharmaceutical company Protiomics, had been developed in the late 2030s as an answer to the CJD—or mad cow disease—scare of 2032. After the drug’s successful testing and application in clinics across the United States and the rest of the world affected by the spread of CJD, there had been almost no cases of prion disease since. Once the Styryldine proteins entered the extracellular fluid surrounding the brain, they worked almost immediately to refold the native proteins misfolded by the prions, effectively reversing the plaques. The native proteins were returned to their natural state, and the prions were refolded as well so as to be turned innocuous.

  If the hospital had the drug on hand, they might be able to turn the tide of the disease progressing across Jacob’s brain.

  Robin’s comm card blinked with a message that the prescription had been filled. Relief spread through her.

  “We’re all good then?” Sam asked, a grin spreading across her own face.

  “They’ve at least got medicine,” Robin said. “Let’s hope it works.”

  ***

  Hours after Robin delivered the Styryldine into Jacob’s bloodstream via an intravenous injection, another MRI tech arrived to perform a second scan. Nancy chewed her bottom lip, her forehead scrunched in worry. Doug held her hand and stood tall and stoic.

  Robin gave him a reassuring glance. Despite his confident posture, she could see the nervous fear in his eyes. She made a conscious attempt to hide any of her own doubt as the MRI tech placed the white helmet back over Jacob’s head.

  Once the machine quieted, the tech opened the holoscreen, and Robin leaned over his shoulder to examine the three-dimensional projection of the boy’s brain.

  “What? What is it?” Nancy asked, her voice shrill.

  “Take a look,” Robin said. Jacob’s parents peered around her at the image. She pointed at the hazy gray splotches in the MRI. “The plaques are dissolving.”

  “It’s working?” Doug said. “It’s actually working?”

  “It looks that way,” Robin said. “We’ll need to check on him every couple of hours until all visible signs of the protein aggregates disappear.” She stood and placed a hand on Nancy’s shoulder. “But I think your son is going to be okay. We should also be able to start him back up on the nanotherapeutics to finish cleaning out the leukemia.”

  Nancy wrapped her arms around Robin and squeezed her. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” Robin said. “This is what I’m here for. I promised you we’d take care of your son, and I meant it.”

  She led the MRI tech and Sam out of the room. Over her shoulder, she watched Jacob’s parents lean over his bed and stroke his head.

  “He’s going to be fine,” Sam said. “But I can tell you’re still worried. Is something else wrong with him?”

  “No, not him,” Robin said. She might have ensured the dangerous proteins covering the boy’s brain tissues would be eliminated and the damage reversed, but the mere existence of the prions alarmed her. There must be a source, contaminated food, something leading to the disease. “I’m wondering who else might have this CJD variant.”

  Robin was no epidemiologist, but she couldn’t go home and sleep. Thoughts of where the prions originated from, who else might be infected, and how many others might be walking around with ticking time bombs in their skulls would keep her awake.

  “I know that look,” Sam said. “You’re already here past your shift. You aren’t going home, are you?”

  Robin shook her head.

  “All right. I was supposed to be off an hour ago, but if you’re staying, I am, too.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  Sam prodded Robin’s shoulder. “You don’t have to either. But we’re both going to. If you think there are others, we have to find out why.”

  Robin sighed. “There haven’t been any other reports of CJD in any of the hospital’s patients, right?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I’ll check with the lab to see if they scrounged up any possible prion contamination in the kitchens.”

  “Thanks,” Robin said.

  Already bounding down the hall, Sam waved back. “Don’t mention it.”

  Robin doubted Sam would return with any positive finds. Given the MRI tech’s survey over the oncology unit indicated no other cases of CJD, it appeared unlikely the hospital bore responsibility. Ther
e’d been no traces of the infectious proteins in the pharmacy’s supplies, either.

  Peeking back into the Wrights’ room, Robin stood by the doorway. Nancy and Doug laughed, both of them cooing over their young son. He giggled back as they made faces and tickled him. Though she didn’t have a child of her own, Robin had seen the same powerful relief when she told other parents their son or daughter was going home with them, healthy and vibrant. She’d also seen the pain when she told parents there was nothing more she could do and nothing more they could do.

  Her stomach twisted into a painful knot as a gruesome realization poured through her. She cursed herself for not considering the possibility before, but another hypothesis of where the prions originated from materialized in her mind. She rushed into the room.

  “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Robin said, her heart thumping against her rib cage. “I need you two to answer a couple more questions.” As she spoke, she tapped on her comm card to call an MRI tech back to the room. She marked the request as an emergency. “Jacob is still being breastfed, right?”

  Nancy’s brow furrowed. “Our pediatrician said it would be good for him. He’s not even one.”

  “Right. That’s entirely acceptable—encouraged, even. He’s not yet eating any solid foods, baby foods, formula, or anything else, is he?”

  With a hand over her open mouth, Nancy’s eyes widened. “Do you think we gave him something causing this? Did we do this?”

  “It’s not your fault,” Robin said. “But it would be helpful to make a list of anything else he might have consumed. If it’s a contaminated product, then there could be other children out there with the same infection.”

  “Okay, we can do that,” Doug said, already jotting notes in his own comm card. “It’s a short list anyway.”

  “Good,” Robin said. She wasn’t convinced the culprit of her mystery lay on such a list. If it was a contaminated baby formula, she thought it unlikely she was the first doctor in the nation to uncover this type of case. Maybe...But it seemed improbable. “I want to do more comprehensive blood work, if that’s okay, too.”

  “Whatever you need,” Nancy said.

  A knock at the door caused all three of them to turn their heads.

  “Hello,” an MRI tech said. “Looking for Dr. Haynes?”

  “Come on in.” Robin turned to Nancy. “Would you mind undergoing a quick scan?”

  With a confused look on her face, Nancy nodded.

  The tech placed the helmet over her hair, and the machine buzzed for a few seconds. He clicked on the holoscreen, and Robin fought to keep her jaw from dropping as her eyes trawled across the reconstruction of Nancy’s brain.

  “You haven’t experienced any convulsions?”

  “Seizures? No.” Nancy shook her head.

  “No noticeable changes in your memory?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid we’re going to need to start you on Styryldine, too.”

  Chapter 10

  “The techs reported no issues with the hospital’s kitchens,” Sam said, her cheeks flushed from racing down the hall back to Robin.

  “Thanks. I worried that was the case. Mother’s got CJD, too.” Robin placed her elbows on the nurse’s station and leaned over the counter.

  “What about the father?”

  “Nope,” Robin said. “Just the mother. They swear they both eat the same meals at home. I suppose the mother could’ve gotten an infection from a restaurant with contaminated food, but she says she packs her lunch pretty much every day of the week, and they haven’t gone out much since Jacob’s birth.”

  Sam’s mouth opened, but she closed it before saying anything. She brushed back her blonde hair and tapped her foot on the tiled floor.

  “What? Go on,” Robin said.

  “I don’t mean to suggest anything, but do you think it’s possible Mrs. Wright is...is on any kind of drugs? Maybe even street biotech?”

  “You think she’s a closet enhancer or something?” Robin scoffed but then froze. Sam had a point. Black-market biotechnology like neural implants and genetic enhancements went through no regulatory experiments to ensure their safety, so a contamination issue would not be reported to the FDA. And enhancers and other street biotech users generally avoided hospitals. It was illegal not only to sell enhancements but to use them as well. Any evidence of illicit implantations or injections might land a person in prison. Coming into a hospital with a body rife with enhancements was like a convicted felon walking into a crowded mall with a loaded gun. One was bound to get caught, and the law was not forgiving.

  Sam shrugged.

  Taking a deep breath, Robin steeled herself for returning to the Wrights. She did not envy the emotional turmoil the parents had endured in the hours since Jacob’s convulsions. Her staff would inquire into any other potential CJD cases as a result of the baby formulas the Wrights had listed, but Robin no longer considered the possibility. They’d also check with all the companies, manufacturers, and distributors associated with the foods in the list the Wrights had compiled. But those prospects did not appear promising, either.

  “Robin!” Sam called.

  Robin turned back from the door. Sam motioned for her to return to the nurse’s station and pointed to a holodisplay projecting more information from Jacob’s blood tests from earlier.

  “Damn it,” Robin said. “I hoped you were going to prove our theory wrong.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  Before them, the results reported a nonpathogenic foreign material in Jacob’s circulation. The text described a string of unrecognizable nucleotides—the building blocks of DNA. Robin flicked through the lab write-up until a glowing spherical object appeared before them. The entire object was a tiny fraction of the size of a human cell. She rotated the microscopic 3D image of the globe and then examined a cutaway of the DNA–based structure. It revealed a hollow interior.

  Robin knew what that hollow space was used for. Chris had once showed her his old designs for genetic enhancements, and he’d employed those same technologies in the delivery of their recent therapies for removing genetic modifications with HDXT.

  “The nucleotide sphere here appears to be a delivery capsule,” Robin said.

  “The Wrights’ medical records don’t report any such delivery techniques used in any of Nancy’s or Jacob’s medications,” Sam added.

  Robin felt more certain than ever the answer to the prion issue would not be found in any food or baby formula contaminant.

  “Those empty spheres show something was delivered into Jacob’s bloodstream, and I bet we’ll find those same empty spheres in Nancy’s circulation. Whatever those cargo carriers left probably introduced the prions infiltrating their brain tissues.”

  “Good God,” Sam said, her face ashen.

  Robin marched back to the room’s entrance and knocked on the open door to get the Wrights’ attention.

  Nancy turned, a smile still on her face. It melted as she gazed on Robin. “What’s wrong?”

  “I wanted to make sure there were no medications you or Jacob took that you did not list earlier.”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “Are you positive?”

  “One hundred percent.” Nancy’s head bobbed enthusiastically. “No other medicine.”

  “Okay. I think we all need to sit down and chat.” She motioned to the two felt-covered chairs near Jacob’s bed. She pulled a chair closer from the other side of the room and sat. The Wrights followed suit. “I want you to know a couple of things. First, I am bound by patient–medical care provider confidentiality.” She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she paused and gathered her thoughts for a moment. “But I am also bound by child-protection laws to report anything suspicious I find.”

  Both the Wrights’ eyes widened.

  “Don’t tell me you think we did something to Jacob,” Doug said. His fingers curled around the chair’s wooden armrests.

  “I’m not accusing anyone of
anything, but I’m still required by law to report unusual circumstances. In this case, we found delivery vectors still circulating in Jacob’s bloodstream.”

  Glaring, Doug leaned forward. “Delivery vectors? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Tiny capsules, generally used for delivering chemicals or DNA to cells, were in the blood samples we took earlier.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nancy said. “Why were they there?”

  “If they aren’t being used to deliver medicine or therapeutics,” Robin said, “the most common use of these vectors is the transport of genetic enhancements.”

  Nancy cocked her head, and Doug pulled a hand through his hair.

  “Are you telling me you think we gave Jacob genetic enhancements? That we would give a baby, our son, a genie?”

  “No, I’m not saying that. This is all very unusual, but unregulated medical technologies are responsible for some of the unusual contagions we find in patients. Without any regulatory oversight, things like genetic enhancements have caused all kinds of viral, fungal, and bacterial infections. If such a substance was injected into Jacob—or passed to him through breastfeeding from his mother—then it could be the cause of the prion infection.”

  Doug sat back in his seat and then glowered at his wife. “Well, did you use them?”

  Her lips trembled, and her jaw dropped. “God, no! Are you seriously asking me?”

  Over Robin’s time in the hospital, she’d confronted many patients who refused to acknowledge their medical problems, as if ignoring them meant they didn’t exist. Some told her they were experiencing no more pain and were ready to go home despite their clenched jaw and their hand wrapped tightly around a bedrail. Some looked her straight in the eyes and told her they’d never done drugs in their life while the vessels in their eyes shone bright red and they reeked of burned plastic—the classic symptoms of synthetic cocaine abuse.