Blockbuster

by Lisa von Biela

  In school, she had trained exclusively on the Pathosym. It provided, in a single piece of equipment, the functionality needed to develop a new drug from start to finish—all in a remarkably compact physical footprint. The entire thing was perhaps five feet across, and rose about three feet up from a desktop-like surface with touch panels and displays built right in. Two rolling ergonomic desk chairs sat before it.

  Sylvia took a seat at the Pathosym and quickly checked things over as she waited for Jerry to suit up. The leftmost panel held a dozen one-inch by five-inch hermetically sealed incubator slots. Inside these chambers were glass Petri dishes containing their supply of active, unprocessed colonies of the MRSA-II organism. Indicator lights showed that the colonies were healthy and growing as necessary—for now. It comforted Sylvia to know that, when they were no longer needed, a simple command would destroy them with a blast of intense autoclave-like heat.

  The upper set of slots in the center portion of the console was empty. They had already used them to develop a detailed DNA map of the MRSA-II bacteria. That task had taken about twenty minutes.

  A feeling of dread descended on Sylvia as her gaze came to rest on the lower central slots, the ones that performed the culture and sensitivity testing against different candidate antibiotic compounds. Sylvia was afraid to check the most recent results, afraid of continued failure to find the right compound.

  Avoiding the new C&S results for the moment, she glanced at the rightmost portion of the console and wondered if they would ever progress far enough in this project to use its powerful functionality. In addition to testing the effects of the bacteria itself on humans and various subpopulations, like diabetics, pregnant women, or children, this Pathosym module tested the effects of the bacteria and candidate antibiotic together in a simulated human trial. It provided results in hours rather than years, and with far greater accuracy than ever before possible.

  But even with all that power and functionality, so far they’d batted zilch.

  Jerry emerged through the sliding metal door, took his seat at the Pathosym, and nodded at Sylvia.

  “Well, let’s see what it has to say.”

  Sylvia logged on with a hollow foreboding at the pit of her stomach. She pressed an icon on the touch screen before her, and the latest test results filled the display. Her shoulders slumped as she averted her eyes from the report.

  NEGATIVE RESPONSE.

  Jerry let out a breath. “Nothing. Absolutely no effect.” He hung his head. “I presume you saw the news, right?”

  “Yeah. The media did everything they could to avoid calling it an epidemic. But what they described is an epidemic, no matter how they want to try to soft-peddle it.”

  Jerry sat up, his gloved hands clenched into fists. “People are dying. Too damned many people.” He turned to Sylvia. Dark circles lay beneath his bloodshot eyes. “And Horton Labs will die, too, unless we think of something soon.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Dan Tremaine sat at his desk and sipped his coffee. Black, strong, and hot. Just as he liked it. Today was going to be a good day. Good for him, good for the president, good for Denali Labs.

  Not so good, however, for Horton Drugs. And that made it all the better. He smiled, pressed a tiny button on his PortiComm to activate voice operations, and then said, “Call Vince.” He absently fingered the tiny speaker/microphone insert in his left ear as he waited for Vince to pick up.

  “Yes, Dan?”

  “I just want to verify everything’s ready to go on the antibiotic for MRSA-II. You did complete all the testing, right?”

  “Yes.” Vince cleared his throat, and his tone of voice took on an irritated edge. “I completed all that several months ago. It’s been ready to productionalize long before the epidemic got this far.”

  “That doesn’t matter. I had my reasons for delay, and they’ve paid off. We’ll have a lucrative government contract, and the distribution will be taken care of for us. We won’t even need to worry about fancy packaging and marketing. The profit margin for this drug will be through the roof. The other fringe benefit is that it will cement Denali’s place at the very top of BigPharma. With your profit-sharing arrangement, you stand to rake in plenty of cash yourself, so quit whining about the timing.”

  Vince sighed and replied more softly. “So what are you going to name this one?”

  Dan thought a moment. Usually he put much more time into crafting a name for a new product, calling in focus groups and Marketing. No real need on this one. Demand would be rock solid, no need to pimp it. “Let’s call it Lucracillin.” He chuckled. “All right, get busy, Vince. I have some calls to make.”

  He then ordered his PortiComm to call the special private number President Coleridge had given him for the express purpose of providing any progress updates.

  “President Coleridge here.”

  “Mr. President, this is Dan Tremaine. I have important news.”

  He then explained to a very relieved president that the new antibiotic Lucracillin would provide the cure so desperately needed in the war on MRSA-II. They arranged for the various logistics to be handled, and ended the call.

  And now for the best part. Dan made his next call.

  “Phil Horton here.”

  “Hello, Phil. This is Dan Tremaine.” He suppressed the wicked laugh that threatened to break free. Barely.

  “Yes?”

  “I just spoke with the president to let him know the news. We found the cure for MRSA-II, and are now working to begin production and distribution. We’re calling our new drug Lucracillin.”

  After a long pause, Phil uttered a single word as if he had just had the air knocked out of him. “Congratulations.”

  Dan grinned and took another sip of his coffee. He wasn’t quite done. This was too good a moment not to savor. He leaned back in his chair and gazed toward the ceiling before he delivered the rest of the blow. “I suspect this will be the blockbuster that dwarfs all that have come before. Demand will be massive and built-in. We’ll have no marketing costs. Distribution will be handled for us. There’ll be a profit margin like never before.” He waited for a response. Hearing none, he continued. “This ought to put Denali Labs at the very top of BigPharma by any measure you’d care to use.”

  Again he waited for a response. None came. Then he realized the call had disconnected at some point. He laughed. Maybe Phil Horton didn’t have time to chat further. He probably had a lot of work to do—like preparing to wind down his mortally wounded company.

  Dan decided a little celebration was in order. He reached inside his top right desk drawer and retrieved a small zippered bag. He unzipped it and laid its contents out on the desk before him: a small mirror, a tiny blade, a disposable straw, and a metal container with a screw-on lid. He opened the container and shook a bit of Stardust onto the mirror. He took pleasure in using the blade to arrange the powder into five nice, even lines.

  He bent down and inhaled them, one right after another, using one breath apiece. Then he sat up, closing his eyes and leaning his head back as he savored the sensation of the drug spreading warmth and euphoria throughout his system, into his limbs, into his brain.

  Dan felt like he could do anything. No, he knew he could do anything. It was good to be Dan Tremaine. Very good indeed.

  * * *

  Phil quietly disconnected the call partway through Dan’s boastful rant. He’d congratulated him. That was enough. He didn’t feel he needed to have his face rubbed in his failure so Dan Tremaine could stroke his already oversized ego.

  Dan’s obnoxious self-aggrandizement aside, the truth was this likely signaled the death knell for Horton Drugs unless something really amazing and unexpected happened. Phil felt like he’d just sustained a physical blow to the gut. He’d hardly even had the chance to try to turn things around, and it was probably Game Over already.

  Feeling like he’d aged twenty years in the last ten minutes, he pressed a button on his PortiComm and spoke a message for Jerry and Sylv
ia to come to his office right away. Phil bowed his head and stared down at his desk as he waited for them to join him.

  When they showed up at his door, Jerry apologized for them both. “Sorry it took so long. We were in the lab, and had to get out of our hazmat suits. What is it?”

  They both wore weary looks as they took their seats and waited. Phil knew they’d been working feverishly over the past weeks to find the MRSA-II cure. But somehow Denali had happened upon it first—and in record time.

  Phil struggled to find the words to start off the conversation, then cleared his throat. “I just received a call from Dan Tremaine. They’ve found the cure.” He sat back in his chair and stared into his lap.

  Silence filled the room for several minutes as they all absorbed the news and its implications. Jerry finally broke the spell. “How the hell did they do it? It’s been weeks, sure, but that’s not that long. Not for a pathogen this vicious and resistant.”

  Sylvia shook her head. “We haven’t found any compound that even touches it. No effect at all. Absolute zero. They must have just stumbled on something. No way could they have run through the usual approaches and found it this quickly.”

  Phil could hardly bear to see his two best drug developers sitting in front of him, defeated—and especially given the stakes. They’d been beaten in what amounted to an all-or-nothing effort to save the company. He’d have to work hard to see if there was any way to save Horton Drugs despite this setback. He owed that to them, to the company, to his family.

  But right now, he had no idea how he could make that happen. He ended the discussion as kindly as he could, and sent them on their way for the time being. He couldn’t stand to see the pain on their faces.

  He needed to be alone to think and he’d damned well better do the best thinking he’d ever done in his life.

  CHAPTER 16

  Todd set the insulated to-go sack on the passenger seat and took a deep, appreciative whiff of the tangy aroma that wafted out. He’d decided to pick up Sylvia’s favorite Chinese food on his way home from the law school. She’d been working so hard lately, he figured she might enjoy a break from cooking. Tonight they could just relax together on the couch, watch a movie, and lazily eat right out of the containers.

  For that matter, he, too, wouldn’t mind a little break in the routine. The fall semester was hitting the home stretch, and the 1Ls in his Civil Procedure class were starting to get panicky over the looming final exam. He’d endured a virtual stampede of them during his office hours today. They all demanded to know how they could be expected to hold all those rule numbers in their heads for the exam unless they were allowed to have open-book materials.

  Of course, soon he would be panicking about the final exam, because he still needed to draft the questions—and prepare for the onslaught of grading them all within the school’s deadlines. But for tonight, he planned to set that all aside and enjoy some quality time with Sylvia.

  Soon he turned into his driveway and pressed the button to open the garage door. As he pulled in, he noticed that Sylvia wasn’t yet home. Hopefully she’d arrive soon, or he’d have to zap the food. As advanced as the ZapperBox was over those old microwave ovens, he swore he could still detect a slight degradation to the flavor and texture when cooked food was reheated.

  He stepped inside the house, set the bag on the counter and got himself a beer. No sooner did he open it than he heard the growl of the other garage door opening. He opened a beer for Sylvia and handed it to her as she came in.

  “Hey, thanks. There’s some nice timing.” She gave him a kiss, then took a sip.

  “Got your favorite from Jade Garden, the Hunan pork.”

  She glanced over at the counter and noticed the bag. “Oh, what a great idea. I am a little tired tonight.”

  “I know you’ve been working your ass off lately. Go ahead and change and get relaxed. I’ll take everything out to the living room and we can pick a movie.”

  “That sounds great.” Sylvia gave him another quick kiss and headed upstairs.

  Todd took a serving tray from the cupboard and placed the wooden chopsticks, containers of food, a couple of napkins, and their beers on it. He went out into the living room and set it on the coffee table. He flopped down onto the couch, then powered up the entertainment center and left it on the main menu of movie selections.

  Sylvia appeared wearing black yoga pants and a pink T-shirt and joined him on the couch. “You go ahead and pick the movie. I’m tired enough I may fall asleep before it’s over anyway.” She smiled as she removed the paper wrapping from her chopsticks.

  Todd waved the remote toward the entertainment center. “We could just listen to music if you’d prefer.”

  “No, I’d like the distraction of a movie. I just might not make it all the way through.”

  Todd set down the remote and studied Sylvia’s face for a moment before speaking. “Is something wrong? You’ve been unusually quiet about your work, even though you’ve been putting in major hours lately.”

  She avoided eye contact with him as she reached into her container and deftly snagged a piece of pork with her chopsticks. “Well, I’ve been working on that high-priority project with Jerry for some weeks now, the one to find a cure for MRSA-II.”

  “And?”

  “It hasn’t gone well.”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t really discuss the project in any more detail than that. It’s confidential. I can tell you I’m pretty sure it was a bet-the-farm project for Horton.” She sighed and stared down at her food as she stirred it with her chopsticks. “I’m worried this project’s failure might mean the end of the road for Horton.”

  Todd took her hand. “I didn’t realize Horton was in that much trouble. They’ve been around forever. But you shouldn’t be worried about being able to find another position. Your skills are cutting edge. Another drug company would snap you up.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right about that. But you know, I’ve only been there a few years, and I really like it there. It has an old-fashioned sort of feel. Not like the cold grind of the larger, newer firms.” She popped another bit of pork into her mouth. “But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe it’s just not possible to compete in the BigPharma arena these days without just being a cold machine of a place.”

  “We’d be okay on just my salary for a while. You could take your time to find the right fit somewhere else if it comes to that.”

  “I suppose so. You know, I feel worse for Jerry. He’s been there forever. His skills are very, very good, but a little on the old-school side. He might not have such a good landing if Horton were to bite the dust. He’s really a good guy.” Sylvia shook her head, then looked up at Todd and smiled. “Hey, let’s worry about it later. Your food’s getting cold. What did you get, anyway?”

  “Kung Pao shrimp.” Todd unwrapped his chopsticks and plucked a shrimp out of the container. “Good stuff.” He grabbed the remote and picked the first action/adventure movie that appeared on the menu. “There. A little escapism for the night.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Phil Horton ended the call with his wife Livvie, then rubbed his temples for a moment to try to dispel some of the tension that had built up there. It would undoubtedly make for a far more pleasant evening for her to have dinner alone than if he were to go home now. Livvie understood him well, and had learned over the years that when he had a tough problem to solve, it was best to let him have his space to focus on it.

  He stood, stretched, and went to his window. He gazed out at the parking lot behind the building. Few cars remained in the gathering dusk. Most Horton employees had gone home by now—all but Sylvia and Jerry remained ignorant of the high-stakes gamble they’d lost today.

  At least no one would come to his office and bother him. He could think in peace—and he didn’t intend to leave his office until he had a plan.

  He returned to his desk and took out a fresh legal pad and pen. Despite all the modern computi
ng conveniences, sometimes low-tech worked better for him when he really needed to encourage groundbreaking thought—and God knew he needed some of that tonight.

  He went over to his work table and cleared everything from its surface with one sudden, frustrated sweep of his arm. Papers fluttered to the floor around him, but he paid them no heed.

  Phil sat in one of the chairs, placed the pad squarely in front of him and took the pen in his hand. He drew a deep breath and faced the blank page. Earlier he had reviewed Horton’s monthly revenues and expenses. He had also checked the current reserve balance. He wrote those numbers on the pad and stared down at them.

  It didn’t take a fancy calculator to see this couldn’t go on much longer. Horton was operating seriously in the red each month and had already started to consume the reserves it had built up over the good years. It could go maybe another year at this rate, but probably not much more.

  Phil scowled at the bleak numbers on the paper. So what was the true underlying problem? Personnel? Equipment? Management direction? Or just piss-poor luck? Why had the pipeline been so dry for so long? And how the hell did they lose the race with Denali on this project? He clenched the pen in his fist. That would have been the shot in the arm Horton needed. It would have boosted revenues, reserves, and, perhaps most importantly, could have bought time to develop one or more blockbusters to complement it and right the financial ship.