David resisted saying something about New Age bullshit. But just barely. His voice was tight when he said, “Talk to me when you’ve lost someone close to you.”
Shy reached across the table, her eyes full of sympathy. She touched his cheek. He tried not to flinch. He was furious, and she seemed completely calm. It made him even angrier.
“We all lose someone eventually.”
David grabbed her hand, too quickly. He saw a brief flash of surprise—maybe even pain—in her eyes, and immediately regretted it. But he was still angry. Shy was too perfect, too unscarred, too young, to know exactly what was at stake here.
He stood up and opened his wallet, throwing some bills on the table.
Shy remained seated. “Are you leaving?” she asked.
“We’re both leaving,” he said. “I want you to meet someone.”
WHEN THEY ENTERED THE hospital, the aging security guard at the reception desk didn’t even make them sign in. He smiled and waved at David. “Good to see you again, son,” he said.
Shy looked at David, a little amused, a little perplexed. “You come here often?”
They were in the lobby of All Children’s Hospital. David was still angry at her. He muttered something in return.
Shy kept her face calm, because she knew that if she smiled at him, he’d think he was being mocked. He was so very serious.
She let him lead her to the elevator.
They got out on the seventh floor, in the Pediatric Cancer Center.
Again, the nurses and doctors all waved at him. One pretty nurse, a blonde, gave her a sharp look before turning a radiant smile on David. “We haven’t seen you for a while, David. I wondered if you’d forgotten us.”
He gave her a distracted smile back. “Busy at work, that’s all. Is she up?”
The nurse rolled her eyes. “Constantly.”
“Okay if we head on back?”
“She’ll be delighted to see you.” With another unfriendly look at Shy, the nurse turned and went on her way.
David led her down another corridor, to a patient’s room. Shy felt an artificial wind as he opened another set of doors. The area maintained a negative-pressure environment, to keep germs and other contaminants out.
Shy was unprepared for the pain seeping from the rooms as they passed. Through the open doors, she got glimpses of the patients and heard snatches of the cartoons on their TV sets. Their parents sat in chairs by the beds, doing their best to smile, to put on their bravest faces.
What was worse were the kids themselves, most not yet ten years old. They had been scalded down to pale echoes of themselves by the toxic soup of chemicals pumped into their bodies in an effort to kill their diseases. They were bald and hollow eyed and thin, their skin pale and translucent.
Almost all of them were doing the same thing: smiling in an attempt to reassure their parents, to look brave.
It reminded her that she did not have any monopoly on pain. But life was pain, she knew. She didn’t need a reminder of that, if that’s what David was trying to do.
David knocked on an open door. A young female voice answered.
“No,” she said. “No more blood today! Vampires! Go suck on someone else!”
David laughed, and she saw the anger evaporate from him. He moved aside the curtain around the patient’s bed and revealed a young girl, maybe nine or eleven years old. It was hard to tell because of the shrinking effect of the chemotherapy.
But her smile and eyes shone, and she wore a multicolored scarf over her bald head, along with insanely bright Powerpuff Girls pajamas.
“David!” she squealed. She couldn’t quite rise up. Her IV tethered her to the bed.
David came to her and leaned in for a hug.
Over his shoulder, the girl’s eyes locked onto Shy.
“Oh, you finally got a girlfriend. About time, loser.”
She punched him, surprisingly hard, in the arm as he pulled away.
“Ow,” David said. “What was that for?”
“I haven’t seen you in a week. Don’t you know that my time is limited?”
His smile vanished. “Don’t talk like that.”
“Wimp,” she said, dismissing him instantly and turning to Shy. “Hi. I’m Elizabeth. David’s apparently too rude to introduce us.”
“I’m Shy,” she said, and shook hands. The girl’s fingers were like a bundle of straws and radiated a fever heat. She was right, whether she knew it or not. She did not have much time left. Shy could feel it.
David tried to smile and reclaim some good cheer. “I wanted you two to meet,” he said. “Shy didn’t know I volunteered here.”
“Yeah. When you can spare the time,” Elizabeth said sourly.
“Work has been busy. But you’re right. That’s no excuse. I’ll make more of an effort.”
She made a face. “I’m only teasing.” She turned to Shy again. “So. Is he a good boyfriend? Does he take you nice places? Has he asked you to marry him?”
“Elizabeth.”
Shy laughed. “It’s all right, David. Yes, he’s a good boyfriend. We don’t go out much.”
“Oooooh,” Elizabeth said.
David flushed a little bit red.
“And no, he hasn’t asked me to marry him. It’s still very early for that.”
“Has he bought you anything yet?”
“No.”
“Ha! He’s bought me stuff.”
She pointed to a stack of books on the bedside table. “Mostly books, though.”
David looked offended. “What else could you want?”
“How about something pretty, dummy?” she shot back. “Girls like that stuff. Didn’t you know?” She gave Shy a look that said, Can you believe this guy? “So, how did you two meet?”
“Through work, sort of,” David said.
“I didn’t ask you,” Elizabeth said. “Be a dear and go get me a soda, will you?”
“Cancer loves sugar.”
“Then a diet soda.”
“Pretty sure you’re not allowed to have anything but ice chips when you’re on the IV.”
“Fine,” Elizabeth growled. “Ice chips. Don’t hurry back.”
David squeezed Shy’s hand on his way out of the room, his mood softened now.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Elizabeth said.
Shy laughed. “How old are you?”
“Eleven. I’ll be twelve in two months.”
Then a shadow passed over her face. As if she were actually considering the chance of seeing her twelfth birthday.
“How do you know David?” Shy asked.
The shadow flitted away and the brightness returned. “He comes by and helps out every now and then. I guess he’s a doctor, too, but not a medical doctor. I mean, they don’t let him do procedures or needles or anything. But he sits with the kids here when their parents need to get a shower, or something to eat, or sleep. He holds our hands when we puke and brings books and toys and stuff.”
“But not enough pretty things.”
“I know, right? I’m in here a lot, so we’ve spent some time together.” She looked around, then leaned in, as if imparting a deep secret. “Don’t worry. I won’t steal him from you. He’s too old for me.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate that.”
Shy laughed again. A chrysalis, she thought. A rosebud, about to bloom and flourish, already showing signs of the magnificence and color she’d display, given just a little more time.
Time she was not, Shy could see already, going to be lucky enough to get.
“So, what do you do?” Elizabeth asked.
“Executive recruiter,” she said.
“Oh, a headhunter.”
Shy smiled. “Some people call me that.”
“Is it fun?”
“It has its moments.”
“Sounds boring to me,” Elizabeth said. “All that sitting around in offices, talking on the phone. I’ve spent enough time indoors already in my life.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Aquatic paleontologist.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“It’s because I invented it,” Elizabeth said proudly. “I figure there have to be a ton of dinosaur bones we haven’t found yet because they’re underwater. So I’m going to learn to be a marine biologist and a paleontologist, and set up digs on the ocean floor.”
Then she seemed to remember where she was. She looked at the hospital room and her bed and the tubes in her arms. “At least, that’s the plan,” she said.
There was an awkward silence. Shy didn’t know what else to say to the girl.
“It’s all right,” Elizabeth said. “I know this probably isn’t your idea of a fun date.”
“I’ve been on worse.”
Elizabeth’s eyes lit up again. “Really? Tell me all about it.”
“Let’s just say I’ve had some very awful boyfriends in the past.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t keep me hanging like that.”
David returned with the ice chips then, rescuing her.
“Here you go, Your Majesty,” he said. “Ice chips. With lemon flavor.”
“Aw, he really does care,” Elizabeth said. She took the paper cup from David’s hand and poured some of the ice into her mouth, crunching it between her teeth.
“You ever want to lose weight, Shy,” she said, “let me tell you, there’s nothing like the chemo diet.”
A pretty, but haggard, young woman entered the room. She stiffened, but then smiled when she saw David.
“Oh, hi, David,” she said. “Elizabeth was wondering where you’ve been.”
“Hi, Amber,” David said. He introduced Shy to her. She was Elizabeth’s mother. She tried to smile and exchange pleasantries, but Shy could see that none of it was really touching her. All of her thoughts were focused on the girl in the bed. She practically hummed with anxiety.
Elizabeth seemed to fade then, too, her energy dimming as if someone had flipped a switch.
“Tired,” she said in a croaky voice.
“We’re going to go,” David said. “I’m sorry for the interruption. I’ve got a shift coming up this week. I’ll be here for sure.”
“Right. Sure,” Elizabeth said, turning on her side.
“It’s the chemo,” her mother explained, half apologizing. Whispering: “She doesn’t want you to see her, you know . . . throw up.”
“Shut up, Mom. Jeez.”
David and Shy made their good-byes. Elizabeth barely responded. But on their way out, she found the energy to call after them.
“You’d better buy her something pretty, David,” she said. “That is, if you want her to stay your girlfriend.”
“I will,” he said.
She didn’t respond. Her mother waved at them, then went back to stroking her daughter’s scalp where there used to be hair.
SOME OF THE ANGER seemed to find its way back to David as they rode down in the elevator. He was stiff and held himself away from her.
They were outside, walking back to the car, before she tried speaking to him.
“She’s a lovely girl,” Shy offered.
“Yeah. She is. And she’s dying. Acute lymphocytic leukemia. Recurrent. There’s usually a better than fifty percent chance of a cure, but she’s on the other side of the coin flip. This is her fifth round of chemo. It’s failing. She’s got maybe three more months at the outside.”
He was fuming now, frustration and helplessness curdled to anger, searching for someplace to vent. “So, you tell me again about your larger plan and the balance between life and death. You tell me how that girl deserves to die.”
She stopped and took his hands in hers. He did not pull away, but she could see that he wanted to.
“She doesn’t,” Shy said. “A lot of people don’t. But we all have to face it. People are still going to die. There will still be car accidents. People will still fall down stairs. There will still be madmen with guns opening fire on crowds of complete strangers. Little girls will still die, even if you succeed. There will still be evil in the world. Even more of it, in some cases.”
David looked baffled. “You think what I’m doing is evil?”
“I don’t think you can see the end of the path you’re choosing.”
“No. You just don’t see what I’m trying to do. I don’t care about getting rich off a wonder drug. I want to keep people alive. Sure, there will be some rich assholes who try to hoard this for themselves. That’s the way with every medical advance. But eventually everyone benefits. It’s like vaccination. Or protease inhibitors for AIDS patients. Eventually, everyone will get access.”
“You think Conquest will really allow that?”
He took his hands away from hers. “Enough. I’m not arguing this with you anymore. This is pointless, and I have work to do.”
“Right,” she said. “You have to save the world, after all.”
“Look,” he said, taking a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself. “This is science, not magic. The way this has been going, I may never get an answer. I could spend years on this and never come close to succeeding. And even if I succeed, it doesn’t mean the end of death.”
“Now you’re lying to yourself,” Shy said. “I believe you will succeed, if you keep trying. And you know it’s going to mean much more than a cure-all for a few diseases. You’re doing something unnatural. You’re severing a connection between life and death. You’re going to give people a way to put off dying for years. Even decades. Or longer.”
David looked at her, utterly bewildered.
“How is that a bad thing?”
She gave him a sad smile. “I suspect you’re going to find out.”
FROM THE NEW YORK TIMES BUSINESS SECTION, PAGE ONE:
WONDER DRUG UNDER INVESTIGATION BY FDA FOR LINK TO CANCER
Revita, the massively popular antiaging drug from Conquest Biotech, is under investigation by the federal Food and Drug Administration for potentially causing tumors of the spinal cord and brain, the Times has learned.
The FDA, through a spokesperson, confirmed Revita was the subject of an active investigation, but declined to comment further. However, sources both within the FDA and close to Conquest gave details about the investigation to the Times on condition of anonymity.
Dozens of patients who have used Revita have contracted cancer, the sources said. The drug, which is supposed to encourage healthy cell growth, apparently has damaged the cells’ reproductive process in some cases, leading to runaway cell division in nervous system tissue, causing tumors.
The sources within the FDA stressed that these findings are preliminary. But sources close to the company said that Conquest is aware of the complications caused by the drug, and may have even hidden these problems from federal investigators.
If true, these charges would be a massive blow to Conquest’s bottom line. Sales of Revita were responsible for 70 percent of Conquest’s revenues in the past year.
Legal experts say that this scandal could mean a class-action lawsuit or worse against the company. “Liability for something like this could be in the billion-dollar range,” said Michael Bartlett, a trial attorney specializing in high-stakes liability cases. “If it’s true that the company knew the risks but put the drug on the market anyway, they could be looking at enormous punitive damages.”
A spokesperson for Conquest declined to comment. Efforts to reach Simon Oliver IV, the company’s recently installed chief executive, were unsuccessful.
CHAPTER 12
DAVID STOOD UNDER the cold spray of his shower. The hot water ran out a while ago. He barely felt it.<
br />
He was trying. God knew, he was trying his best. And he was failing. There was no answer in the cells of any of the test subjects. Whatever miracle whipped through them and cleaned them up and rebuilt them, as if they were fresh off an assembly line, did not leave a trace.
At least, not one he could see. He’d tried everything. Computer modeling. Genetic sequencing. Tests for foreign matter. Nuclear resonance imaging.
None of it worked. He found nothing.
Failure.
On his last visit to the hospital, he found Elizabeth had checked in again. He’d had a stupid, desperate hope that he would crack the code of the miracle cure in time to get her into clinical trials. But he hadn’t been fast enough. She was not going to make it. It was a matter of weeks, if not days.
Failure.
Things were even bad between him and Shy. True, he was still seeing her almost every night. In his paranoid moments, he suspected that she was keeping him exhausted to keep him from focusing completely on his work. It was an insane theory, but it would explain the distance that had grown between them since they’d fought.
He looked down into the drain of the shower. He was having a hard time finding the energy to get out, dry off, and head to the lab to fail again.
He noticed something. Hair. More than usual at the drain.
Terrific. On top of everything else, male-pattern baldness. It almost made him laugh. Here he was, trying to cure old age and disease, and he’d have to get a prescription for Propecia himself.
He got out of the shower, toweled off, and began to shave. A scrape and a sting on his chin told him that he’d pushed one too many days out of the razor blade. Either that or his skin was getting thinner, too.
Everything falls apart. Everything ages. Everything dies. Failure.
Of all people, he should have known this was inevitable. Somewhere in his cells, a tipping point had been reached, and the downward slide had begun. Free radicals ricocheting around his body, breaking things up like a drunk in a bar. Mutation erupting in his genes as ultraviolet light and transcription errors piled on top of one another. And the never-ending strain of breathing, eating, and bleeding, every day. We are not built for long-term success, David remembered. Aging was constant and unstoppable, the continual erosion of the body against time. Over time, we are all dead.
The Eternal World Page 12