The Cicada Prophecy: A Medical Thriller - Science Fiction Technothriller

by J. R. McLeay

  For this reason and others, the privacy of the investigation had to be carefully protected, and all parties involved in the preliminary planning were sworn to secrecy. The last thing Tian wanted was a scandal revealing abuse of inside information. Even the appearance of impropriety was unacceptable, and she was mindful of protecting the venerable image of the United Nations.

  It was determined that the fairest and safest way to choose the suppliers was through an open bidding process, with at least one official supplier to be chosen from each continent. Upon satisfying the U.N.’s requirements for quality control and scale of operations, each supplier would then be responsible for supplying only that continent’s customers, with continuing oversight by the WHO.

  Tian had decided to save the bulk of the detailed planning until after the suppliers were chosen, as this would minimize the period of time before an announcement could be made, and reduce the chances of any personal advantage being taken in the intervening interval. She had scheduled a press conference for this morning at U.N. headquarters to announce the program changes.

  The press were dutifully assembled in the briefing room, eagerly awaiting Tian’s arrival. The Secretary-General rarely held open press conferences like these and the subject was inevitably important news. At precisely nine o’clock Eastern Standard Time, Tian entered the room and strode briskly to the podium. She appeared luminous as ever, wearing a smartly tailored dark-gray suit with her hair tied in an oriental knot, serving to complement her worldly image.

  “Good morning ladies and gentlemen,” she began. “Thank you for coming to our little gathering on this rainy Tuesday.”

  The press corps chuckled politely.

  “I have an important announcement to make regarding the ongoing management of our Global Longevity Initiative.”

  A soft murmur rose from the assembly. The Global Longevity Initiative was of paramount concern to all parties, and this was the first announcement on the subject in a long time.

  Tian knew that the wheels of politics and commerce would begin spinning right away, and she wanted to make a preemptive strike before rumors started circulating even now. The press conference was being filmed live for broadcast throughout the world, and she knew various financial and information brokers would be reacting to her every comment. She chose her words carefully, but spoke with a deliberate and confident tone.

  “The United Nations, in concert with the World Health Organization and the Surgeon-General, has been mindful of our continuing obligation to assure the health and security of our many constituents around the world. And of course we are all pleased with the unbridled success of the Global Longevity program. But we are also ever-searching for ways to improve the reliability and the collective economic utility of the program.”

  Fingers were moving with increasing speed across miniature electronic keyboards, as various members of the gallery reacted to Tian’s statements. Conjecture of various kinds had preceded the conference, and no one wanted to be behind the curve in taking first advantage of any new disclosure.

  “We believe,” continued Tian, “that although the current arrangements are working very well, there is an opportunity to broaden the economic advantage from the current patch supply arrangement to be more inclusive of our many economic and political stakeholders.”

  A buzz immediately filled the room as many surprised journalists turned to speak with their colleagues, while others began typing furiously into their personal communication devices, passing along instructions and sound-bites to their editors and agents. Some financial brokers got up quickly to leave, to take advantage of the critical information already delivered.

  “Please!” announced Tian, eager to complete her statement. “Allow me to finish.”

  A loud “Shhh” spread across the room, and the hall quickly fell silent again.

  “For this reason, we have decided to allow the process of provisioning juvenile hormone patches to be put open to tender, effective immediately. We will make the bidding terms and conditions available upon the close of this conference, and all eligible parties are encouraged to participate.”

  Many arms immediately rose with questions begging to be answered.

  “Madam Secretary! Madam Secretary!”

  “I’ll take questions in a minute, but first I’d like to address some of the obvious concerns. Endogen will continue to fulfill its commitment as exclusive supplier until the current contract expires. We have no wish to interrupt the safe and reliable supply that this organization has provided all of us since the inception of the GLI.”

  “Will they be allowed to participate in the new tender process?” someone called out.

  “Yes, of course,” Tian assured, “we anticipate that Endogen will continue to participate in the program to the extent they qualify and bid competitively. We would like to make this process as painless as possible for all parties. We have no intention of cutting off a reliable supplier and their many thousands of dedicated employees around the world.” Tian took a deep breath. “Now, I’d like to take individual questions from the floor—one at a time please.”

  Almost immediately, a sea of hands shot up from the assembly looking for recognition. Many more people rushed out of the room, intent on looking after more pressing business. Tian knew this would change everything.

  So it begins, she thought, as she pointed to her first questioner.

  10

  Eva Bronwen had been looking forward to her appointment this morning with Jennifer Austin. Normally, she dreaded her twice-yearly fertility treatments, but after Rick’s illuminating description of her new endocrinologist, she felt a certain affinity for the doctor and was eager to meet her.

  “Good Morning,” Eva announced as she approached the reception desk. “I have an appointment with Dr. Austin at ten a.m.”

  “Yes Ms. Bronwen,” the receptionist replied, recognizing the statuesque Queen immediately. “Dr. Austin has been expecting you—please see yourself into her office.”

  This was a pleasant surprise for Eva. She was expecting another delay in the waiting room as with her prior meeting with Dr. Ross, and she was not looking forward to being scrutinized by another group of curious juveniles. As she entered the office, she saw Dr. Austin working quietly at her desk.

  “Ms. Bronwen, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jennifer declared as she quickly rose to greet Eva. “Dr. Ross has told me so much about you.”

  “Yes, I’m such a troublemaker—he must have warned you about me!”

  “Not at all,” laughed Jennifer. “In fact, I think you’re one of his favorite patients. He seems to think we’d have a lot in common, so of course I was excited to meet you.”

  Strangely, though the doctor and patient were not far apart in chronological age, they couldn’t look more different in terms of their biological age. The full-figured Queen looked every bit a young woman in her prime, whereas Jennifer fit the ubiquitous image of a pre-adolescent juvenile.

  “Well if he was referring to your appearance, I’ll take that as a compliment,” replied Eva. “I can see that Dr. Ross wasn’t kidding when he mentioned how pretty you are!”

  “And you Madam. You’re everything I could imagine a beautiful woman would be.”

  This was no false praise coming from Jennifer; Eva came from good lineage. The Queen had been chosen very carefully, knowing full well she and very few others would be the sole genetic link to future generations. She and her mother had been subjected to a battery of tests to determine they were genetically pure and free of hereditary diseases. There could be no chance of the diminished gene pool passing on serious defective traits or perhaps even halting the reproductive process.

  And of course, it was implicit that the Queen should be intelligent and beautiful, with an ideal body type. Eva had thick natural blond hair, flawless skin, and a model-perfect countenance. In each of the continents across the world, other cultures had chosen their own Queens based on similar cultural preferences—there was also an Afri
can, Asian, Indian, Latin, and of course Eva—the Caucasian Queen. It was hoped this plan would preserve both the genetic and cultural diversity of the human race.

  “I wonder what else we have in common,” Eva said, hoping to get to know Jennifer better. “I understand you recently transferred from Baltimore—is that where you grew up?”

  “Actually I’m originally from Kentucky,” Jennifer remarked self-consciously, imagining how far more worldly the cosmopolitan Queen must be.

  “Well, you’re certainly a long way from home!” Eva replied graciously. “How are you liking the change of scenery?”

  “It’s very exciting. There’s so much to see and do in New York, but I’m still building relationships and trying to get out more.”

  “I know how you feel—sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in a fishbowl in this big city.”

  “How do you mean?” Jennifer asked, picturing Eva jet-setting around the globe, feted at every turn. “I imagine you’d have all kinds of opportunities to meet the most interesting people in the most exciting places.”

  “You mean in my role as the Queen Bee?” joked Eva.

  “Well,” Jennifer replied, mindful of Rick’s earlier warning about Eva’s sensitivities on the matter, “I meant inasmuch as your having lots of important connections and a certain celebrated status…”

  “Sometimes celebrity can be a curse, doctor. It’s not easy being a young adult in a world dominated by juveniles. Besides, I’m not so sure I’m a celebrity as much as a curiosity. I think the elders see me as a bit of a sellout and the juveniles as a kind of freak.”

  “I can’t imagine,” replied Jennifer, beginning to like Eva’s unassuming nature. “I’m sure everyone admires your elegance and selfless contribution in this situation. I know I certainly do. Please—call me Jennifer, since we’re going to be spending so much more time together.”

  “I’d like that, Jennifer. And please call me Eva. I can see why Dr. Ross likes you so much.”

  Jennifer was surprised to hear Rick talking about her this way. She’d felt a certain chemistry between the two of them, but she wasn’t sure he felt the same way.

  “What makes you think he likes me—we’ve hardly just met?”

  “It’s obvious you’ve made a tremendous first impression. He was practically gushing about you at our last meeting. Though he pretends disinterest, I can see he feels otherwise.”

  “We’ll have to see about that,” Jennifer said. “So far, he hasn’t exactly been storming down my door.”

  “Maybe you two should open your doors to one another more often?”

  “Good idea,” chuckled Jennifer. “How about you, Eva—I understand certain doors may be opening your way, as well?” She was mostly referring to the pending insemination and pregnancy that Rick had mentioned earlier but also hinting at Eva’s relationship status.

  “If we’re talking about companionship, I don’t think I’ve got a lot to choose from—between geriatrics and juveniles.”

  What a shame, thought Jennifer. It doesn’t seem right for this beautiful, sexual woman to spend her whole life as a spinster.

  “There must be someone out there for you,” she said. “Perhaps we girls simply need to get out and mingle more often?”

  “That’s a good idea, Jennifer. It might be kind of fun to socialize with some real people for a change, instead of all those boring bureaucrats. Plus, if Dr. Ross knew he had some competition for your attention, perhaps he’d be more likely to do something about it!”

  “Sounds like fun. How would you like to go out somewhere this weekend?” Jennifer suggested.

  “You’re on,” Eva said, thrilled to have hit it off with a new friend.

  “Of course, you’ll have to be the designated driver,” Jennifer warned. “That is, if you were still planning to start your fertility treatments this week.” Both Eva and Jennifer knew alcohol consumption was contraindicated during the harvesting process.

  “I’d almost forgotten about that,” groaned Eva. “My favorite medical intervention. I don’t know why they call me Queen Bee; I might as well be Mother Goose. Sometimes it feels that all I do is lay golden eggs!”

  Jennifer knew this had to be one of the least pleasant aspects of Eva’s role as Queen. The donor cycle typically lasted two to three weeks, and it would mean another round of painful shots and bloating in preparation for the actual egg retrieval. First, Eva would have to inject herself daily with a special drug that would temporarily prevent her ovaries from releasing the usual one egg per month. After about a week, Eva would begin a new cycle of injections of super ovulating fertility drugs that would induce her ovaries to make many more eggs than normal.

  Near the middle of this cycle, she would require both ultrasound and daily blood tests to monitor the fluid in her ovarian follicles to see how the eggs were progressing. When the eggs were sufficiently ripe, she would need to take yet another drug to induce ovulation, then each egg would be carefully retrieved one at a time with a special needle inserted directly into her ovaries, under general anesthesia.

  The whole process significantly magnified the normal swings in a natural menstrual cycle and wreaked havoc on the patient, both emotionally and physically. All manner of compounded side effects from excess fluid retention, to breast and pelvic tenderness, to headache and fatigue could be expected. Jennifer could well appreciate how this would be an unwelcome procedure for Eva.

  “You certainly have a good sense of humor about the whole thing,” she remarked. “But now that you mention motherhood, Rick tells me you were getting ready to consider a pregnancy too?”

  “I don’t think I have much choice,” Eva admitted half-heartedly. “I’ve been told I have to keep the fertility window open.”

  Jennifer knew exactly what Eva meant. If Eva were to give birth even now, by the time her child reached reproductive age, Eva would be nearing the end of her own fertility lifecycle.

  “Yes, I suppose that with about twenty years in a typical reproductive life cycle to work with, that would put a little pressure on you,” Jennifer admitted. “If you need someone else to talk this over with sometime, I’d love to help any way I can.”

  “Thank you Jennifer, I’d like that very much. For now, I guess we’d better get this latest round of harvesting done then we can talk about implantation. Is my medication ready?”

  “Yes, of course. Did you have any questions or concerns about the ongoing process? I mean besides the needles, bloating, headaches, and nausea, of course.”

  Jennifer hoped some light-hearted humor might help ease Eva’s burden.

  “Ha! If only you knew what you’re missing—I think that must surely be the best part of being trapped in a juvenile’s body. It’s not easy being a full-grown woman, let me tell you.”

  “I imagine there must be advantages both ways,” suggested Jennifer. “Why don’t we compare notes over drinks this weekend?”

  “It’s a deal—though it’ll be an ironic twist that I’ll be the one having to drink Shirley Temples, don’t you think?”

  11

  Roland Jamieson was not looking forward to today’s Board meeting. Over the course of twenty-four hours since yesterday’s U.N. press conference, pandemonium had broken out at the Endogen corporate headquarters. As Jamieson had feared, the suspected announcement to diversify the juvenile patch distribution across multiple suppliers had caused Endogen’s stock price to plummet. The company had lost over forty percent of its market value in a single day of wild trading on world markets. Multiple class action lawsuits had been launched against the company by disgruntled shareholders, arguing that Endogen management had been negligent in not anticipating and hedging against the known risk. The press had a field day exposing the extent of the calamity and assailing management for its ineptitude in managing the affair. Front page news in both the business and mainstream press were calling for Jamieson’s head amid headlines screaming Asleep at the Wheel and Foolish Gambit.

  Perhaps most unsettling wa
s the fact that virtually everyone at the corporate campus knew the loss of the exclusive supply agreement would mean mass terminations of thousands of employees, and everywhere Jamieson went he was greeted with angry and accusing looks. To top it off, all day he’d been besieged with calls from alarmed creditors who were hastily trying to arrange meetings with the company’s top financial officers to discuss loans whose covenants were now technically in default. It had gotten to the point where he no longer wanted to pick up the phone or leave the relative sanctity of his private office.

  But the hastily arranged emergency meeting of the Board of Directors was one meeting Jamieson could not ignore. Normally, the Board met once every three months to review and approve proposals put forward by the executive committee and to sign off on quarterly financial statements. Until yesterday, with business going so smoothly, these meetings had become very amicable and accommodating.

  Jamieson knew today’s gathering was not going to be the typical meeting of the ‘old boy’ network. For the first time in his corporate life, he sensed his neck was on the line. Further compounding his sense of helplessness had been a recent move to separate the roles of Chief Executive Officer from Chairman of the Board in an effort to project greater shareholder representation and independent governance. Since it was now deemed a conflict of interests to blend these roles under the same individual, Jamieson was no longer able to dictate the agenda and exercise his influence as Chairman over Board activities and oversight. The new Chairman of the Board, Jack Knight, was a hard-nosed old-school administrator whose academic credentials as Dean of the Wharton School of Finance put him squarely at odds with Jamieson’s executive sensibilities.

  Jamieson waited nervously as the Board members slowly shuffled into the Endogen Boardroom. He greeted them in his normal chummy manner, and they politely returned salutations, but there was no denying the different tone of this meeting. Some helped themselves to refreshments and hors d’oeuvres and quietly made small talk among themselves, but for the most part they tried to ignore Jamieson altogether. Everyone knew this meeting was going to be contentious, and it was apparent they were already steeling themselves for the unpleasant business ahead.