She cleared her throat and paused to regain her composure. This was the part where she was supposed to discredit the voice-tech software. She searched the crowd and found Sid Zane near the front. He smiled at her, his eyes shining brightly behind his square-framed spectacles. He gave her the thumbs up.
Minnie chose her next words carefully. ‘Mr Greene was adamant that he does not want to endorse one particular project or programme that is affiliated with the disease. Or care clinic for that matter.’ She didn’t mean to say the last part of the sentence; it just popped into her head. She knew it was wrong to antagonise Levchin.
She paused long enough to put some distance between Greene and what she was going to say next. She didn’t want her opinion to be confused with Greene’s. She was, however, going to support Sid no matter what the consequences were going to be. ‘I believe that we must keep an open mind. You are gathered here because many of you took part in recent research based around this new technology. You helped to make thousands of voice recordings in an effort to speed up diagnosis so we can slow down the disease. We know we can never give up hope when it comes to finding a cure. I think that it is about making your voice heard whether there are faults in it or not. We are experimenting, questioning and striving to overcome something that is currently bigger than we are. Sid Zane wants me to thank you. He emailed everyone who took part in the voice recognition research and asked you to turn up today to show your support. You did more than that – you spread the word and brought more people with you.
‘This shows me that you support the efforts of all those people: the mathematicians, scientists, neurologists and all the others who want to explore and understand the complexities of the human mind – its greatness and its acute complications.
‘We cannot underestimate the huge emotional impact an illness like this has on someone. I’ve read the emails and it has given me a better understanding of the loneliness of a disease. Unless you have Parkinson’s, or any illness for that matter, you simply cannot understand the diversity of emotions and, at times, the actions of someone who is sick – the denial, the helplessness, the frustration and the rage.’
Minnie faltered when she caught the eye of a man in the crowd. He had tears streaming down his face. She swallowed hard and thought about Greene. She had to concentrate and not humiliate him.
‘This symptomatic loneliness can make people retreat further into their own world, taking a solitary path through the universe, unattached to anyone. This route has its appeal because you don’t have to answer questions or pretend to be fine when you are falling apart.
‘I have permission from Bob Jones, who lives in Connecticut, to share some of his thoughts.’ Minnie didn’t need the email in front of her to remember the words she had read. Greene might have dismissed the printouts but Minnie had read every single one.
‘Bob says that he hid the fact that he had Parkinson’s from colleagues and friends for almost six years. It was the loneliest time of his life, he admits. He became paranoid and starting lying to family, friends and colleagues. He started drinking heavily and became defensive and aggressive because he didn’t want people to know that he had Parkinson’s. He said he pushed people away when he needed them the most but he couldn’t stop. He became a virtual recluse because he didn’t feel worthy of love – he felt more like a burden than a father, a husband and a son.
‘He was even prepared to miss his own daughter’s wedding because he didn’t want to make a speech. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to stand up and speak without people realising that something was very wrong. Attending the wedding would mean the game was up. It was his lowest point but it was also his turning point. He couldn’t hurt his daughter, so he finally had to admit that something was wrong. When I emailed him to ask him for permission to share his email with other fellow Parkinson’s sufferers, he said he had one piece of advice. He said, “Don’t wait until you hit your lowest point to face up to Parkinson’s. You will miss out on too much. You don’t die of Parkinson’s, it dies with you, so you might as well live with as much determination and passion as possible.” Thank you for sharing this, Bob.
‘I am a mathematician. I can convert negatives into positives. Because of my mistake people spread gossip about Ashton Greene over the Internet through social media sites, blogs and news portals. Gossip has the potential to inflict devastating harm on someone’s personal life and on their business and career. I sincerely wish I could have spared Mr Greene this pain.
‘I recently had a lot of time to just sit and think – hours and hours to be precise, which doesn’t happen very often. I’ll spare you the details but it’s rare to get time to truly think about how we behave, what we say and how we act. I can’t take back what I said to Ashton Greene at The Savoy. It remains in a cloud above my head and I am aware of it every day. Once words are out, they’re out. But if I am to live with it then I have to try to create something positive from it. Your presence here is one way I will achieve that. You are here because of that technology and the research experiment posted on the Internet by Sid Zane.
‘Finally, Ashton Greene is one of the most well-informed men I know. He has a brilliant mind and an innate business sense that is inspirational and visionary. He is smart and intuitive, which is why I trust him when he says, forget about him, focus on what matters. The fight back against Parkinson’s is not a one-person crusade, it’s a worldwide effort.’
She stopped speaking. It didn’t amount to 10 minutes’ talk time. It probably didn’t even come close but everything that needed to be said, in Minnie’s opinion, had been said. She didn’t once mention Levchin. She didn’t discredit Sid Zane. And she wouldn’t do it differently if she had to do it all over again.
Her exit pause was drowned out with applause.
17
Freak radicals
After the speech, with the applause still ringing in her ears, Minnie retreated to the hotdog campaign bus. It had emptied out because Parker Bachmann had seized the moment to rush outside and work the crowd. ‘Good publicity, darling!’ shouted Bachmann with two thumbs up, as she darted past Minnie. ‘I’m going outside to speak to everyone about taking healthcare in a new direction.’ She didn’t seem too bothered that Minnie had spurned the official speech. Minnie had apologised to Greene and evidently this was all that mattered in Bachmann’s book.
Bachmann’s entire staff rushed out in her wake. Minnie practically spun on the spot as the human train charged past. She exhaled. She was alone and, for once, it was a welcome silence. She needed a few moments to contemplate what she had just done. Her career was potentially in tatters as was her reputation. James George would never forgive her if he found out that she could have prevented the demise of Row Reduction. Angie would understand and would be gracious but damage would be done. Minnie thought about Colin the dog. His fate was in Greene’s hands now.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t noticed someone had slipped into the bus behind her.
‘You didn’t stick to the script,’ said a voice.
Minnie spun round. Levchin stood in the doorway. Minnie’s eyes flitted beyond him but there was no one else around. He quietly closed the door and took a step further into the bus.
Minnie instinctively took a step back. She was alarmed at his expression. His mouth was stretched across his face; a horribly wide coat-hanger grimace. The strange solar-bright light in his eyes she had previously noted was no longer visible, just bottomless blackness. He started taking quick breaths as though he had smoke damage to the lungs. There were small beads of perspiration glistening on his forehead. Minnie noticed a slight sheen from the silk-weave material on his expensive suit, too.
Levchin crept forward with soft, threatening footsteps, his bespoke thick-soled shoes silent on the deep-pile carpet. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on Minnie. ‘It was supposed to be a simple three-point plan,’ he said seething. ‘Deny that Greene had the disease; discredit the voice-recognition research; and last, b
ut not least, recommend Levchin Care Clinics around the world. What part did you not understand?’
‘It was supposed to be a public apology. I did what I thought was right,’ said Minnie.
Levchin stared at Minnie as though she was the brain-destroying agent in Greene’s life, not a motor neurone catastrophe. ‘In the medical world, we have a bespoke diagnosis for people like you.’ He paused, exhaling noisily, then spoke in a staccato manner, spitting out each word to get his point across. ‘You are “freak radicals” – individuals who cause untold damage when allowed to get out of control.’
He closed his eyes and shook his head as though the sight of Minnie disgusted him. ‘You are a destructive presence in Mr Greene’s life. How much more trouble to do you plan to cause?’
Minnie was shocked. ‘I want to help him,’ she said in a hushed voice, aware that Levchin was blocking the only exit. ‘It was only ever my intention to do the best for him – in his personal and professional life.’
‘Freak radicals are unstable,’ panted Levchin, working himself into a rage. ‘The overproduction of stupid people is very harmful indeed. Idiots like you are multiplying all over the world as we speak.’
‘No,’ insisted Minnie.
‘I have zero tolerance for stupid people,’ hissed Levchin, practically frothing at the mouth now. ‘Did you actually think that your cute from-the-heart speech would make a difference? People need to invest in their health. I provide a service and it’s not my fault that it is a profitable one. Five-star clinics, foot rubs, prescriptions and a peaceful retreat; it is up to the individual to make their own decision.’
Minnie flinched. The word zero resonated in her mind escalating the situation from bad to worse. Minnie tried to respond positively, ‘These people are vulnerable. People are spending $200 on a simple foot rub because the Levchin brand has brainwashed people.’
‘Brain dead people.’
‘The people outside this bus are not brain dead,’ snapped Minnie rolling her eyes. ‘Did you bother to speak to anyone in the crowd?’
‘I don’t need to speak to these people. I know all there is to know.’
‘I find it incredible that you’re not open to new research. Sid Zane’s work might not take place in a chemist’s laboratory but it doesn’t mean it is less relevant.’
‘Your deluded notions about this disease are laughable. You seem to think that some mathematical multiplications and a voice recording can make a world of difference.’
‘It is more complex than that,’ said Minnie, stung.
‘Next you’ll proclaim that there is no need to visit clinics for check-ups because this can all be done through voice recordings.’
‘Is that so terrible?’
‘What about Levchin Care Clinics?’
‘What about progress?’
Levchin jabbed a finger at Minnie. ‘What about minding your own damn business?’
Minnie took another step back. Levchin had made her feel trapped and vulnerable. She thought the best thing to do was to keep him talking. It only had to be a matter of minutes until someone came back to the bus.
‘I think the Levchin Care Clinics’ business model needs to be clearer,’ replied Minnie smoothly, desperately looking towards the door. ‘Currently, you are giving people the impression that you can cure them. Yet you tell me there is no cure for Parkinson’s. You also give the impression that the more they spend, the better they will feel.’
‘Does it matter?’ sneered Levchin.
‘Well, yes, of course it matters.’ Minnie frowned.
‘These people are already dead,’ he snapped, taking a few quick steps nearer to Minnie. ‘There is no cure for Parkinson’s. There never will be. Sooner or later, these people will be drugged to the eyeballs with pills to control their symptoms. We are talking about prescription-reliant zombies. I sell pills to make a profit. It’s what’s called being,’ he used his fingers to make quotation marks, “business-friendly” within a thriving billion-dollar pharmaceutical industry.’ He leered at Minnie. She shivered. Levchin was starting to make her skin crawl.
‘You must excuse me,’ said Minnie unable to listen to him for a minute more. ‘I have friends waiting for me.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Please let me past.’
‘We are not done here.’
Minnie took a step to the right to walk around him but he moved and blocked her path. She could feel the heat pulsing off him. The temperature in the bus, due to the broken air-con, was still uncomfortably hot.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Minnie, now more frustrated than frightened.
‘I’m making sure you know what you’ve done.’
‘I know what I’ve done,’ replied Minnie, keeping her voice low and level so as not to infuriate him further. She could see he was struggling and failing to control his temper. ‘But I truly believe I did what was best for Greene.’
‘Greene isn’t worth the effort,’ scoffed Levchin, clenching a fist. ‘He is no one now. You’ve seen how everyone has deserted him.’
‘That’s not true.’
Levchin continued. ‘He’ll resort to chemicals to control the symptoms as he desperately tries to hide his Parkinson’s from the world but the cracks will start to show sooner rather than later, his balance and coordination will be impaired. Can you imagine Greene shuffling into a room when he’s the kind of man who likes to give the impression that he can walk on water? He will become invisible because his pride will force him to live like a prisoner in his own home. Greene will never allow someone to see him jerking and drooling like an idiot.’
Minnie gasped. ‘You are a disgrace to your profession.’
Levchin reacted with surprising speed and slapped Minnie hard across the face. Stunned, she staggered backwards and fell against the interior wall of the bus. There was a large conference-style table to her right, filing cabinets to her left and Levchin directly in front of her. She was effectively boxed in. She instinctively touched her cheek and could feel the heat beneath her fingertips.
‘We must eradicate freak radicals,’ hissed Levchin. He lunged towards Minnie. She shoved him away hard but he barely budged, heavy shoes suckered into the carpet. He pushed his angry face into hers, his breath was garlicky sour and warm. ‘I have spent years and years building up my business. I have put so much time and research into Parkinson’s. I deserve something back.’
Minnie turned her face away from him, holding her breath so she couldn’t inhale him. Levchin grabbed her chin and forced her face towards him. He bent his head until mouth was close to her ear. ‘You have ruined Greene’s reputation and business but I will not allow you to ruin mine. I don’t run a charity, I’m a realist. I understand how the brain works and I can recognise a stupid person when I see one.’
‘Let me go,’ pleaded Minnie. ‘You’re hurting me.’
Levchin squeezed her chin tighter. ‘People who get Parkinson’s are losers in life’s health lottery but stupid people, like you, should know better.’
Minnie, using all her strength, wrenched her face free from his grip, furious and upset. ‘Like it or not, the people outside are here because of new research,’ she shouted, rubbing her chin, trying to erase the impression of his fingertips. ‘This research might work or it might not but it is better than believing in nothing. People need to believe in something. In the real world, we have a bespoke diagnosis for something like this. It’s called “hope”.’ She was almost tempted to use her fingers to make quotation marks but the thought was literally knocked out of her. Levchin lunged at her with a furious bellow. This time he grabbed her throat with both hands. His fingernails ripped into her skin scratching her painfully. He rattled her back and forth as though attempting to shake some sense into her. Then he started to squeeze and squeeze. The sharp smell of his antibacterial handwash mingled with his sour breath filling her nostrils as his warm hands tightened their grip. He was panting wildly and his eyes had glazed over in trance-like r
age.
Minnie struggled desperately, thrashing her arms in an attempt to wriggle free. She also desperately tried to kick out but there was no room between them. She was flattened further into the wall – a mural with its subject, Minnie, in great distress. She could feel sinewy tissue popping and crunching as her windpipe was crushed underneath Levchin’s iron grip. His deathly black eyes locked onto hers daring her to look away. She was usually frightened of the dark but when the moment came, the velvety blackness that overwhelmed her was a welcome escape.
She could no longer see Levchin. She could no longer hear him. She could no longer see or hear anything at all.
The sunshine painted everyone in a favourable light. Parker Bachmann, attentive and talkative, worked a path through the crowd that had showed up to hear Minnie speak. One of her staff had tracked down Sid Zane and now Bachmann cornered him. He seemed happy to be cornered, a little awe-struck, perhaps, as Bachmann praised him on bringing everyone together at such short notice. She was introduced to his supporters and soon wasn’t the only one getting a point across. Jackson and his friends waited around to speak to Minnie. She had arranged to meet them and Sid Zane after she had collected her bag from Bachmann’s campaign bus.
Minnie’s speech had been recorded and uploaded onto the Internet as expected. Sid Zane was now watching it back on his iPad. Bachmann watched it with him, her golden head studiously focused on the footage. He placed a link to his website while explaining to Bachmann that there were no biomarkers such as blood tests to diagnose Parkinson’s. She wanted to hear more about voice-based tests that could be completed in under five minutes at a very low cost.
People seemed reluctant to leave, especially as Parker Bachmann was still making her stellar presence felt. People acted like planets in the solar system, orbiting the Bachmann star. The acting mayor was the centre of attention but it was all for a good cause and a well-received appearance that would make a global reputation strategist proud.
Minnie Chase Makes a Mistake Page 19