by Noga Porat
We further enumerated how long the assay would take in minutes, to head off any questions about how this would affect the production process, emphasizing the high reliability and cost savings that could be shaved off the end product.
This is the solution, I wrote, believing in the mission with all my heart. DNA.
On to the next slide.
It got easier from there, since we proceeded to explain how we were about to achieve our technical goals and what our end product would look like. Our assay would work like a switch; light on meant female and light off meant male. The light would be read by a fluorescent reader. We did not mention anything yet about what kind of fluorescent reader would be required, not needing to complicate the explanation too much in this first meeting.
To this slide, we added what Todd thought was our most prized possession: an animated scheme of the way the assay would work. Todd had made it clear to me that business people loved animated images, and thus he invested $600 in having a graphic designer work something up for us. I have to admit, it wasn’t bad; I liked it.
“We have to give them a sweet taste of the future or else they will not want to buy us,” he said as he embedded the animation into the slides.
We described the constraints of alternate technologies, and again underscored how our technology was the finest of the lot. I loved the language Todd came up with for this slide: This problem has unique characteristics that restrict the number of admissible solutions. Our approach is reliable and designed specifically for this task.
With that kind of positive attitude and conviction, I had no doubt that Todd would make an excellent business representative for Spells. And I was learning a thing or two. With our confidence snowballing in the best possible way, we soldiered on. I made contributions where I could, and Todd did the same.
“We should probably talk about what still needs to be done, right?” I pointed to one slide.
“Great idea, Scarlet,” he replied. “That way, we won’t get blindsided by anything.
We knew better than to leave ourselves open to unnecessary criticism. The trick was to get people on board with Spells, not make them question us. Todd wrote down the four steps we needed to take in order to achieve the prototype: full proof of concept, development of our signal setup, sample extraction, and statistical evaluation.
I wanted to add the results here and show my lab figures, but Todd said to wait with them. They were important, but nonessential, oddly enough. Every investor we’d spoken to wanted to skip over the results section since they hadn’t wanted to get into the biology; however, they had been very interested in the numbers and potential profits. Todd said we should proceed to the cost projections in accordance with the order that he had outlined.
He calculated that for the next year, we would require the sum of about $500,000 for additional human capital, including engineers, lab technicians, and another business consultant; rent for a lab; and lawyer fees. We then proceeded to his favorite two slides—Market Potential and Business Model—which included our potential collaborations and our potential end customers.
Todd inserted a table illustrating the number of laying hens worldwide, as well as the number of broilers, which he’d obtained from publicly available economic reports. He noted that if you multiply these numbers by one cent, which is the cost of manual egg sorting, you get the current cost: around $1 billion worldwide.
If you take our estimated net income for sorting each egg to be one tenth of a cent, he explained, Spells could make at least $100 million a year. Not too shabby, I’d say.
I then read what he had written under the title “Business Model.” Under our potential collaborations he listed the three names of the hatchery automation companies, one of which, NavoLogic, we were preparing this presentation for.
As our potential end customers, he listed the four major players in the poultry industry in the United States. These were, in fact, the end consumers currently paying for the manual sorting, so they would be the ones paying for automated sorting, if it were to become available. It was amazing to me that only four companies ruled this business.
“Todd, how much would we be saving all these companies if we automated the chick sorting?” I asked.
“Well, it is a matter of interpretation because today, they pay one cent per egg for the sorting procedure. We figure we can do the assay for less than two cents per egg,” he said, talking faster and faster, visibly excited by the calculations he was jotting down on a notepad for my benefit. I felt my eyes start to glaze over. Poor Todd. I started to check back in just as he reached the final figure. “The range of the game is, I would guess, somewhere around a half cent cost per egg, which means around $500 million a year can potentially be saved.”
This was music to my ears, and, I hoped, to those of our future collaborators, as well.
I was learning not to get too proud of myself for reaching milestones like we had the other night in preparing for our call. There was still so much more work to be done. Todd called me the following day; he had talked to a contact at a hatchery who had samples for us that were drawn directly from the needles injected into the eggs. We took samples for practicing against our method in the lab. I also got four new blood samples from fully grown chickens, two females and two males, taken from a vein underneath the wing. It was always a little funny to see how easy it was to take blood from the female chicken, while by contrast, the male’s ego was so bruised; it would scream and shout its lungs out. Three people had to hold the male down just to draw 5 cc of blood. The females, however, were always calm and trusting.
Back at the incubator, I took the samples back into the lab and placed them in the fridge. The fridge was divided between three start-ups, and we each had our own section. We also had our own benches with closet space on top. I left the lab and waited until the next morning to start working on the samples. We added anticoagulants that do not allow the blood to clot so they would stay fresh in the fridge a few days before I processed them.
The next day, I started processing the adult blood first, which meant extracting the DNA from the blood and taking some of it for calibration purposes. My materials were expensive and I did not want to waste them, so each time before I used the blood, I did a maintenance check on it. I would amplify the signal first to make sure that it was female or male with a standard laboratory method. Then I would test mine.
I was expecting everything to be fine; I almost didn’t notice the glitch. This time, the results were different from before. It showed that there were residual signs of DNA from female chickens in the male sample. This meant that my samples were contaminated, which had never happened to me before.
I was shocked. I knew it didn’t happen when we took the samples, because I watched the collection with my own eyes. The tubes, the needles—everything we used was sterile and new out of the box.
What could have happened? Could anyone have touched it besides me? I was certain that none of my lab mates had touched it. We worked together in trust and respect. This is a big issue when working in a lab; we all have a sense of communal obligation to science and to one another. I felt despair and confusion and anger all at once. I repeated the test again and again, but with the same unfortunate result.
I couldn’t find an explanation for the contamination, but I refused to believe it was internal to the incubator. So again, I went to the hatchery and asked the manager if I could take samples one more time. He was helpful; I apologized to him for the trouble and explained that I had to make sure the samples were good and that the first time, it did not quite work out as I had intended.
Todd and I were staring intently into the monitor of our video conference while the other end came into focus. Darrel Dubreuil, first to materialize out of the pixels on the screen, introduced himself as the CEO of NavoLogic. He sat at a small, round table that felt more like an interrogation room than a conference room—at least, from what I could see. Sitting at the table with him was the CTO, Pierre D
ebauchee.
On our end, it was just Todd and me in his basement office in front of our computer.
“It’s so nice to meet you today, Pierre and Darrel,” Todd began, making air quotes around the word meet. “We started this company with a singular application in mind: chick sexing. We’re determined to see it through. So far, we’ve received investments that allow us to do the work as frugally as possible, taking very low salaries and using most of the funding for rent, equipment, and essentials. We are very close to a proof of concept, and we estimate it will take us two years to reach a prototype.”
This was met with a stony silence.
Todd continued, “If you will allow us, we have a presentation to show you.”
“Yes, please do,” said Dubreuil. “And you. You are the young mademoiselle Todd spoke of on the phone, correct?”
I nodded, scooting a little closer to the camera.
“It’s your idea to use the DNA to sort the chicks?”
“Yes, sir, in a new specific way” I said, trying to convey confidence but not cockiness. “I believe it is the best way to reach definitive results. DNA does not lie.”
“Oui. It would be wonderful, I think, to have something you can check without invading the egg,” he said.
“I wish I could think of a way to make that happen,” I said. “But without injecting anything into the egg or extracting any samples, I don’t see how that can be done. The sex organs are too small to recognize with ultrasound, and you’d have to check them one by one anyway; multisampling is surely preferred to save time.”
I played dumb, not mentioning that I had heard about their heartbeat method. I wanted to see if he would tip his hand. In the background, Todd had finished setting up the presentation. I turned it over to him. We had planned that he would talk until we came to the lab results, and that I would carry on from there. I loved listening to Todd talk business; he was a pro for sure. He could truly sell ice to the Inuit.
When the animated scheme of the method played through, Debauchee said he was quite impressed by what he viewed to be a genuinely innovative method.
“Yes, sir,” I answered. “I am now in the process of narrowing down the search for the sequences, which appear multiple times in the chicken genome. This will allow for producing a repetitive signal, which, in turn, will provide enough amplification to acquire a signal within the required resolution.”
“Interesting,” said Debauchee, considering further implications. “If you have such a method, it can be used to identify other species as well, yes?”
“Correct. Repetitive units—in other words, sequences—are frequent in every living organism, and they are usually unique to that species. These sequences are now being determined by genome-sequencing projects, which can provide useful information of repetitive sequences for detection by our method,” I said.
“Tell me then,” Debauchee continued with his line of inquiry, “if you have a way of detecting species in low quantities and in non-lab settings, why have you started with the chick-sexing application? What about medical biodiagnostics? There’s a lot of money there.”
I tried to channel all the advice I’d gotten from Todd, all of the confidence and fierceness that he displayed in his deft handling of negotiations.
“That’s an interesting question, Mr. Debauchee,” I admitted. “We’re passionate about this application. You can certainly understand the utility, correct?”
I was trying to dig for information without really saying so. I hoped that Debauchee would admit either that their company was, or was not, trying to pursue the solution to this problem, themselves.
Dubreuil may have sniffed this out, because he cut back into the conversation.
“Pierre is always full of interesting questions,” he said, imbuing the air with a slight degree of tension.
Todd continued with the presentation, and I tried to smile, though not while Todd was talking. I would occasionally sip from a glass of ice-cold water, letting it slide past the lump that was forming in my throat. I hoped my gulping wasn’t obvious.
When Todd got to the Market Potential slide, Dubreuil asked, “There are 130 billion eggs produced worldwide?”
“Yes, sir.” Todd answered. “This data comes from the latest industry economic-trends reports.”
“What happens if you don’t convince the whole world to use your machine? Who do you think you can get for sure, and how much would that be worth per year?” Dubreuil asked, putting on the pressure, turning up the heat.
“Well, as you may have guessed, we are talking to companies with the required injection equipment. Those companies have connections to the poultry-processing companies, which I’ll actually list on the following slide,” said Todd.
“I see. So you’re assuming penetration into the US market?”
“Absolutely. As you can see, that adds up to a large profit per year,” Todd said. “I wanted to ask—if you don’t mind sharing—do you have information on the European market? What are the numbers like over there?”
“I’m sure we can get that information for you, can’t we, Pierre?” asked Dubreuil.
Debauchee nodded. I tried my hardest to read their facial expressions, but alas, they were inscrutable.
“So you said you’ve been speaking with the egg-injection companies too, then?” asked Dubreuil.
“Yes,” confirmed Todd. “But we’re keeping our options open, as you can see.”
We skipped through the Results section faster than I would have liked. Debauchee, in addition to being the company’s chief technology officer, was a veterinarian by trade, and said that he preferred that someone on his research team with a more specific background in molecular bio take a more in-depth look at our materials. When we finished the presentation, they both smiled and nodded to one another.
“To be honest, we’re actually looking to set up a research-and-development group in molecular biology,” shared Debauchee. “This would take on three projects at most, one of which would be chick sexing. We have looked at other potential solutions to this issue and we are considering where to put our funds. Perhaps we will invest in more than one method.”
“This is good news,” I said.
“It is good news, indeed,” said Debauchee, “because I very much liked what I saw here today! I think we can collaborate with you and give you the information you’ve requested. We will monitor your progress, and perhaps we will be able to make you an offer of sorts in the near future. Let’s agree to stay in touch. Is this OK by you?”
“Certainly,” Todd replied, “We look forward to it. Thank you again for giving us the opportunity to show you our work.”
We all said our good-byes, and Todd switched off the camera.
“It was a good meeting,” he said. “It definitely ended on a positive note.”
I agreed with him, but I had to admit, I was a little disappointed. After all the buildup, I was expecting more commitment from them. If Debauchee was going to set up a molecular-biology lab and was checking out prospective projects, and he’d liked our work, what had stopped him from making an offer to us right there and then? Why wait?
I was still mulling over the call when Lauralynn called to ask if I wanted to accompany her to a party that evening.
“There are going to be lots of interesting folks there,” she said. “Maybe some people you’d hit it off with for Spells. Plus, you’ve been working so hard, you can probably use the distraction!”
I was quite thankful for the invitation and I didn’t hesitate.
I had made a conscious decision to really let loose that night, and I was so glad I did. The party was a blast; delicious barbeque and cakes towered over tables, while the fine wine flowed like water and everyone was dressed to the nines.
Lauralynn got a kick out of introducing me to her friends.
“Have you met Scarlet? She’s the chick sexy girl!” she’d say, and guffaw at their reaction. People always wanted to know more. “You can come to my offi
ce and pay $376 an hour to hear more about it.”
I was all for it; I loved to talk about my research, after all. But such an introduction probably would make them think they were in for a very different explanation.
I learned pretty quickly that I was rubbing elbows with the elites of our city’s society. There was the scion of the real-estate entity, a tall and curly young man, just out of school, having finished his master’s degree and looking to obtain a Ph.D. in a scientific field. His father, who owned the highest skyscraper in the city (among many other properties), had sent him to the party to sniff out potential investment opportunities. Another real-estate tycoon talked my ear off about the four Jaguars he owned, his hotels, and his various properties. He also had a lot of patents, as he bought them as investments.
“If yours is for sale,” he said, looking me up and down, “I’ll gladly buy it.”
He toasted me with a glass of wine, and told me his name, although I just thought of him as Bob the Apartment King, on account of the various apartments he claimed to own throughout the city. (“Just put your finger on a map, and I’ve got one nearby. Come and visit.”) He gave me his business card and said he had a lead on some warehouse and lab spaces for rent; I thought that might be useful, so I slid it into my clutch.
“Let me know if you reconsider about that patent,” he said.
It was an exciting night and a great crowd. I think Lauralynn had met most of the people she knew there on social networks. I caught myself wondering if anyone there knew William. While I was dancing to some ’80s pop, I looked across the room and locked eyes with none other than Roseword.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in the lab?” he asked, smiling. He seemed more relaxed than I’d ever seen him before.
“Oh, sure, that’s all I do,” I said, playfully mocking him. “I’m in the lab 24/7. Hey, did Todd give you the good news?”