by J. R. McLeay
As he pondered his predicament, Calvin suddenly felt a warmth and peace come over him, for he heard God’s reply to his supplications. In a flash of clarity and affirmation, Calvin received his answer. He had a plan—a grand plan—one that would have a truly universal impact on his world. In a single act of divine inspiration, Calvin conceived of a way to redesign the world in God’s image and lead mankind out of the wilderness.
15
Rick was eagerly anticipating his meeting with Jennifer Austin this morning. He’d ostensibly arranged to discuss how things were going with Eva’s fertility treatment, but he hadn’t seen Jennifer for a week and had to admit he was having trouble concentrating on much else in the interim. Maybe a little face time would quench his preoccupation, or at least help him figure out what to do about this burgeoning interest in his new colleague.
“Hey you!”
Jeesh, Rick thought, half jumping out of his chair. Jennifer had done it again—catching him unprepared in a moment of distraction. He’d hoped that inviting her to his office for a formal meeting would give him a temporary advantage, or at least permit him to collect himself and put his best foot forward. But here she was again, peering around the door jamb like a playful girl and in one fell swoop, she’d completely disarmed him yet again.
Get a hold of yourself man, he told himself.
“Jennifer. How lovely to see you again. Although you’ve got to stop surprising me like this—you’re making it very difficult for me to maintain my suave, sophisticated image.”
“Is that the image you’re trying to project with me, Rick?” Jennifer teased. “Did you want me to become another one of your adoring subjects, seduced by your good looks and charm?”
So she wants to play, Rick thought. Very well—let’s get it on.
“Well,” he said, “I was also hoping to impress you with my big fancy office, with all these certificates and awards.”
“Yes—it is very large. And I know how important that is to you men.” Jennifer proceeded to walk slowly around his room, appraising the various plaques and pictures on the paneled walls, then she stopped at one in particular. “What’s this—it looks very official?”
“That’s a certificate of achievement from the United Nations, on behalf of my work as Surgeon-General with them over the years. Apparently, they seem to think I do important things.”
“Well you do save all those juveniles from old age and uncertain purgatory with a simple flick of your wrist. Perhaps they should paint a picture of you on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel next?”
“Blasphemy! Don’t you know all neurosurgeons are God? You know we’re the only ones with the power to reshape the human form. Only we have access to the inner sanctum of the cerebral cortex and the mysterious and all-powerful hypothalamus, where we can remove its agent of destruction, the pituitary.”
“Yes, but do I need to remind you that it was a woman whom God personified in his originally removal of man’s anatomy—and who was also necessary to populate the world?” Jennifer’s eyes narrowed as she came to a photograph beside the U.N. plaque. “Speaking of which—who’s the attractive Asian woman you’re snuggling up to in this photo?”
“That’s our Secretary-General, of course. Don’t tell me you haven’t followed the meteoric trajectory of one your esteemed colleagues-in-arms?”
Jennifer knew full well who Tian Yin was, and admired her greatly. She just wanted to test Rick’s reaction and assess her potential dating competition.
“Yes, of course. She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?”
“Well, I suppose if you go for that smolderingly sexy look.” Now it was Rick’s turn to make Jennifer squirm. “But I prefer the perky, puckish types—who are less restrained by the diplomatic ties of high office.”
“Uh huh.” Jennifer wasn’t going to bite. Continuing her bemused appraisal of the various artifacts Rick had spread around his room, she stopped at a black-and-white photograph of Rick sitting in a sleek wooden boat with a distinguished older gentleman. “Is this your grandfather?”
“Yes,” Rick’s tone suddenly turned melancholy, as he moved beside Jennifer to reflect upon one of his favorite images from childhood. That picture was taken more than fifty years ago, at my grandfather’s summer cottage in Canada. I loved going for rides with him in that grand old motor yacht. He’d occasionally take me water-skiing behind that beauty, and then we’d sit together in his big Muskoka chairs listening to the lapping of the waves against the dock. This was where we’d talk about the theory of antagonistic pleiotropy, and where he first developed the idea of extended longevity by way of delayed maturity. I remember having long and fascinating discussions with him about many aspects of biology and evolution. I was only ten or eleven years old in that picture.”
“It’s funny, you don’t look much different now from how you did then,” Jennifer remarked. And it was true: even though Rick was chronologically fifty years older—physiologically, his body hadn’t aged at all. “If only he could see you now.”
“Yes, it would have been nice if he’d lived to see me—and everybody else—benefit in such a profound way from his work. But I carry fond memories of him, and he continues to be my role model to this day. He’ll always be my hero.”
Jennifer was struck by this new sensitive side of Rick that she hadn’t seen before. His strong family connections made her admire—and desire—him all the more.
“For what it’s worth Rick,” she offered, “I think he’d be proud to see that you’ve achieved something just as great.”
“Thank you, Jennifer—that’s very sweet of you.” Rick’s eyes met Jennifer’s and lingered for many seconds, as they smiled at each other warmly.
“Hey, weren’t we supposed to meet today about something important?” Rick said, changing the subject. “I’ve totally forgotten why I invited you here!”
“Oh yeah.” Jennifer’s mind had wandered off topic also. “Something about Eva’s fertility treatments?”
“Right, Eva. The final piece in the troika. The one who binds everything together and keeps it all from falling apart. I snip off everyone’s destructive appendage, you replace the missing hormones to keep them alive, and she ensures we can rebuild the whole system if anything goes wrong. Brilliant! The only problem is that we have to keep replacing our very mortal queen. Have you assessed her reproductive fitness?”
Jennifer was a bit sad to have to get back to business so abruptly, but she was eager to discuss Eva’s progress and how well the two of them had bonded.
“She agreed to get started with a new round of treatment last week. As of Tuesday, she’s begun taking daily injections of Buserelin—so that suggests a harvesting window around the first of November.”
“Good. How did you find her general mood? Did she seem anxious about any of the procedures or next steps?”
“Well she did say something about having to be the Golden Goose laying all those eggs, but at least she’s got a pretty good sense of humor about it.”
“Yes,” Rick laughed. “That’s Eva. She’s a real trooper! How did you two get along?”
“Marvelously. We hit it off immediately. So well in fact that we decided to go out together and celebrate this past weekend.”
“You’re kidding? I knew you two would find some common ground quickly, but not that fast! Where did you go?”
“I took her to that new club in Times Square—The Hippodrome. We had a riot. She’s fascinating and a really fun girl.”
“Wow. And here I thought Eva was self-conscious about mingling with juveniles. You’ve obviously been able to bring her out of her shell.”
“She was a little gun-shy about going out to something so far removed from her usual official functions, but she eventually let her hair down and enjoyed herself. In fact, I think she might have actually found a new boyfriend.”
“What? A juvenile?! I hadn’t thought she—or anyone for that matter—would connect that way. Though I don’t suppose why not…”
“You have a point there. But what about…”
“You’re beginning to sound like Eva. What about what? It doesn’t always have to be about size you know—that’s so old school! Plus, he’s actually older than her, and he’s smart, handsome, and a successful lawyer.”
Rick was starting to feel vaguely threatened by this new stranger.
“It sounds like you were a little taken by him too, Jennifer.”
“I prefer the strong, silent types—you know, the ones who secretly think they’re God’s gift to the world,” Jennifer said sardonically.
“I see.” Rick suddenly felt self-conscious about his previous allusions to God. “I didn’t know you were on the market,” he said, fishing for an opening.
“If the right one came around, I might be inclined to test the waters,” Jennifer replied coyly. “But I’m kind of old fashioned—I expect to be properly courted. Whatever happened to chivalry anyway?”
“Well if you’re looking for some sensitive male accompaniment, I’ll be happy to offer my services,” Rick said, gently extending his hand, bending deferentially at the waist. “Assuming, that is, that I meet your lofty and exacting standards?”
“I suppose you’ll do, in a pinch,” Jennifer teased, gently squeezing his hand. “At least until the second coming.”
16
It had been less than a week since the U.N. announced its intention to parcel out the production of hormone patches to multiple suppliers, and Roland Jamieson’s world had begun to crumble all around him. Endogen’s stock price had continued to plummet amid multiple class action lawsuits launched by disgruntled shareholders against both the company and each board member, who bore personal liability in respect of his fiduciary responsibility for management oversight. But these were minor nuisances that Jamieson could put off for years with an army of corporate lawyers using creative blocking tactics in the courts. Of far more immediate concern, three credit rating agencies had recently downgraded Endogen’s debt to junk status, which put the organization in technical default of specific loan covenants. This meant that various bondholders could freely redeem billions of dollars in loans—money that Jamieson didn’t have the capacity to pay out from the company’s rapidly depleting working capital. And Endogen’s bankers were in no mood to provide bridge loans or extend lines of credit, given the company’s deteriorating long-term outlook.
Of even greater concern was the not-so-veiled threat by Jack Knight at last week’s Board meeting regarding the security of Jamieson’s position as CEO of the company. Jamieson knew that he could be summarily dismissed at a moment’s notice, and that the Board would be loath to issue a golden parachute to soften his landing, given the likely outcry from shareholders and regulators alike over his perceived mismanagement of the company’s recent affairs. But he wasn’t so worried about finding another high-level job elsewhere as he was about the extent of his own personal investment in Endogen and his associated liability. Jamieson had taken full advantage of the company’s generous executive share purchase program by taking out large discounted loans to purchase blocks of company stock—most of it at multiples well above its current value. Now his holdings were significantly under water, and he owed many millions more than the value of the underlying collateral.
The only way he could recoup his losses and exert continuing control over Endogen’s share price would be to remain in power atop the company’s management team and figure out a strategy to rebuild its value. But Jamieson knew he didn’t have much time. The Directors on the Board were frothing at the mouth and just waiting for the slightest indication that he couldn’t be counted on to fix the problem. Jack had put him on a short leash and expected a specific and credible action plan for pulling the organization out of this abyss—soon.
The only glimmer of hope was a new product his marketing team indicated might replace their lost sales and potentially put them back in a dominant market position, with a proprietary patch designed to enhance sexual function among juveniles. Jamieson sensed this might be the game-changer he was looking for and he had been leaning on his product development team led by Nathan Taylor to put together an accelerated project plan for bringing the product to market as soon as possible. He’d scheduled a meeting this morning with Nathan to discuss the technical specifics and review the preliminary plan.
At the appointed hour, Jamieson heard a quick succession of loud knocks on his office door. Jamieson and Nathan had never had a very amicable relationship during their long mutual tenure at Endogen, and until recently, Jamieson had actually gone out of his way to ignore his Chief Scientist by using his Marketing EVP, Sue Weldon, as a go-between. Even though Nathan held a key role heading the company’s five thousand employee Research and Development department, Jamieson had always found him to be too cerebral and volatile to deal with. For his part, Nathan had long resented Jamieson’s arrogant and abrasive management style, and felt he’d never been given proper recognition for perfecting the formula and helping to secure the Endopatch contract. Although they tried to avoid each other as much as possible, Jamieson knew that Nathan was simply too knowledgeable and brilliant a resource to lose, and there were times such as now where he needed his unique skills.
“Come in,” Jamieson announced from behind his desk.
“Nathan,” he motioned upon seeing his Chief Scientist enter, “have a seat. As you remember from our last management meeting, we have some important business to discuss today. I hope you’ve got that project plan ready for my review.”
Nathan pushed a large graphical spreadsheet toward Jamieson.
“I do. But I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”
It was a Gantt Chart, showing brightly colored bars displayed along a horizontal timescale, indicating a projected finish date of two years.
Typical Nathan output, thought Jamieson. Arcane, unclear—and overly conservative.
“What’s this? You’re saying it’s going to take over two years to bring this product to market?!”
“That’s actually an accelerated timeline,” Nathan replied flatly. “As you know, it usually takes new products at least five years to move through our pipeline from conception to final approval.”
“Yes, I know that, Nathan,” Jamieson retorted, irritated that Nathan was supposing to educate him about a central fact of their business. “But I’ve spoken with Sue, and she tells me we should be able to position this with our regulators as only a minor enhancement to an existing product rather than a totally new one—which would require minimal testing and approvals.”
“That’s debatable; I’m not sure the FDA will agree. But either way, the fact remains that we’re proposing to make a significant change to the formulation and dosing of a patch used by every juvenile around the world to keep them alive, and we have a responsibility to undertake rigorous testing to ensure it’s safe to use.”
“Let me and our legal department worry about the feds,” Jamieson replied. “The only requirements we need be concerned with at this moment are theirs. If we can convince them that this new patch carries no additional risks compared with the existing patch and that the only appreciable effects will be a positive ones, we should be able to move this forward very quickly. I just need you to figure out what needs to be changed and by how much and then work with production to tell me how long it will take to commercialize it.”
“This is a very complicated drug, Roland,” Nathan said, continuing to resist. “It’s not just a simple matter of turning up the dial to happily boost everybody’s libido. The formulation comprises a very careful
ly metered amount of nine essential hormones—from gonadotropins to adrenocorticoids to human growth hormone—each of which controls a critical endocrine function. Plus, there’s a separate patch for males and females to control their respective balance of estrogen, progesterone, and testosterone—and this must be precisely adjusted as well. If the balance on any one of these is thrown improperly out of line, any manner of life-threatening complications can result.”
Jamieson hated this part of his infrequent conversations with Nathan. As a bio-chemist and Ph.D., Nathan knew the science of endocrinology and pharmacology better than just about anyone, but Jamieson had studied undergraduate biology himself prior to starting with Endogen twenty years ago, and refused to be cowed by Nathan’s clinical explanation.
“Look, Nathan, we’ve already been told by various other experts that this is not only feasible, but that it’s a fairly simple process of increasing the dosage of only one of those hormones—testosterone—and that it will take only a minor increase in dosage to yield the desired effect.”
“That may be true, but we don’t know for sure what other possible side effects might occur in connection with a boost to this powerful luteinizing hormone. Too much, and it could cause females to grow hair on their chest, or males to become overly aggressive…”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Nathan. We’re talking about juveniles here, not mature adults. It’s all simply a matter of appropriate dosing.” Jamieson was losing patience with Nathan. It was time to play his trump card and exercise his authority. “Look—if you don’t feel you can do it, I’m sure we can find someone else who can figure it out.”