by Bob Blanton
Catie had grabbed three of the six shrimp and was working on her second while Natalia was thinking.
“So how hard can it be,” Natalia said. “He already has one down here, won’t he just copy that?”
“There’s that whole half-g thing to deal with, plus it has to be designed to be able to handle microgravity for short periods of time,” Catie said. “Then we have to design the whole air and water purification scheme.”
“Don’t you already have a design for this?” Natalia asked. “You know on the Sakira.”
“Not really the same thing,” Catie said. “We’re talking about a system that can handle three- to five-thousand people. The Sakira’s system is for five hundred.”
“Would that mean I would need to live up there?” Natalia asked.
“At least part of the time,” Catie replied. “I plan on living up there, and I know Daddy is going to move up there as soon as some cabins are ready. The first system only has to handle a few hundred people, but it needs to prove out the design.”
“Ladies, are you ready for your salad?” Kenyon asked as he removed their now empty plates.
“Yes, we are,” Catie said.
“Those shrimp were delicious,” Natalia said.
“No dodging the subject,” Catie said. “What do you think?”
“It sounds like a lot of work and a lot of stuff I don’t know anything about,” Natalia said.
“But you’ll learn,” Catie said. “ADI can structure your coursework so you’re studying what you need for the job and fill in the rest when you have time. That’s what I do.”
“But you’re a lot smarter than I am,” Natalia said.
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit,” Catie said. “And ADI agrees with me. She says you’re doing really well in all the work she’s assigned you.”
“But she’s taking it easy on me,” Natalia said.
“No, Cer Nattie,” ADI said. “I am not taking it easy on you. Your studies are harder than they would be at a university because I don’t give you anything you already know.”
“See,” Catie said. “Now promise you’ll think about it. Besides, it will give us stuff to do together.”
“Sure, I’ll try,” Natalia said. “I know Tomi, ADI, and you will keep me out of trouble.”
“Your salads, Ladies,” Kenyon said as he placed the salad in front of them. “It is our house salad with greens, pineapple, mangos, and tomatoes. The dressing is our special mango vinaigrette.”
“Delish,” Catie said. After Kenyon returned to the kitchen, she continued with Natalia. “We also need to figure out what the best plants are to grow up there. We have to have a greenhouse and hydroponics setup that is even better than what we have here.”
“Now that part I can do,” Natalia said. “I like helping you with the farming here.”
“Are we going to use the farming sections for air purification?” Natalia asked.
“We’ll use it to convert the CO2 to oxygen,” Catie said. “But we’ll have to really filter the air afterward. We don’t want anything getting into the air system and growing. I read a book where they got mushroom spores into the air system, and it really messed things up. We have to avoid anything like that.”
Natalia laughed, “That would be terrible,” she said. “But you’re going to have stuff on people’s clothes and things like that.”
“The farm areas have to have airlocks, and the workers will need to change into a jumpsuit when they go in. I think we may even need them to wear a respirator like they do in a hospital. That way, they can’t breathe in some spores in the farm area and then breathe them out in the main area.”
“That does sound complex,” Natalia said. “Oh, here comes the main course.”
“Finished with your salads?” Kenyon asked.
“Yes, we are,” Catie said, leaning back to provide room for Kenyon to remove her salad plate.
“And for our main course, we have grilled jerk chicken marinated in our signature jerk spices and sauce with a fresh cabbage, broccoli, and carrot medley. Also, a small order of fried plantains and some rotis.”
“What are rotis?” Catie asked.
“Jamaican flatbread, very much like the Indian flatbread you may have had before,” Kenyon explained.
Catie and Natalia talked a bit more about the work, but most of the time they concentrated on eating the meal. When they finished, Kenyon came back to clear the dishes.
“I hope you have saved room for dessert,” Kenyon said. “We are serving a traditional Jamaican Black Cake, it’s a dark, rich fruitcake that you’re going to love.”
“Oh,” Catie groaned. “Only a small piece, please.”
“You can give me the rest of hers,” Natalia said.
“Would you like some coffee with your dessert?”
“Please,” Catie said; Natalia nodded in agreement.
After Kenyon served their desserts and coffee, Catie decided to give him the good news. “If you’ll send me the info on what you need to borrow,” she said, “I’ll work up the loan papers. I think we’re charging three percent.”
Jaylin was listening at the kitchen door and came rushing out to thank Catie.
“We will make you proud of us,” he said.
“If you can serve food like this, I’m sure you’ll be a success,” Catie said. “That is, if your customers don’t all explode from overeating!”
As they were leaving the Deogene condo, Natalia asked Catie, “Since when do you guys have a bank?”
“We don’t,” Catie said. “Can you believe it. I don’t understand how we missed setting up a bank. I’m going to bring it up at the next board meeting. We should have a credit union at least.”
“So, who’s going to loan them the money?”
“Oh, I will,” Catie said, “unless we get the bank set up first.”
“Aren’t you running out of money?”
“A little,” Catie said. “But ADI has been managing my investments for me, so I’m making it back. Where do you have your money?”
“Bank of New Zealand,” Natalia said. “But I’d move it to your credit union if you open one.”
Chapter 4
Catie’s Surprise
Everyone was gathered at the entrance to the new park Catie was unveiling. She’d been keeping it a secret, and even Blake had avoided flying over it to see what was behind the walls Catie had erected to keep her secret. Now there was a curtain covering the fifty-meter entrance that Catie had the community gathered at.
“I want to thank everybody for coming,” Catie announced. She saw Sophia looking anxious to get the details so she could get it into the Delphi Gazette right away.
“I hope all of you love Delphi City as much as I do,” Catie continued. “The thing I miss about Manuae and Rarotonga is the beach. I know the kids would love to play in the sand, and I also have heard some of the adult residents complain about having to ride the ferry to Manuae or Rarotonga to go surfing or wave boarding. It is a bit strange to live on an island city in the middle of the ocean and not be able to do those things. As you know, this is going to be the central park for the city once it is complete, and as a central park, I felt it needed to be special, so here it is. Our very own ocean beach,” Catie said as the curtain was pulled away.
Catie led the way through the now open entrance and into the park. “I give you Kealoha Beach, after our head of security and surfing aficionado, Kal. The lake you see is seawater,” Catie continued. “It is surrounded by real beach sand and has a wave machine that creates waves that are just right for a bit of surfing or wave boarding.” As she said that she pointed at Kal who was surfing on a wave coming toward them. He expertly rode the wave all the way into the shore.
“It’s not as challenging as some of the waves around the islands, but it does give you a good ride,” Catie continued. “We can make the waves bigger, but then they tear up the beach. That requires a lot of cleanup afterward, so we won’t do it very often, but
it would allow us to hold surf competitions.”
Kal came running up the beach, dropping his surfboard as he hit the grass area. He continued running until he reached Catie. “That was one nice ride,” he said as he gave Catie a big hug. The children in the crowd ran to the water and started splashing around in it. Two security personnel quickly took positions in the lifeguard towers to watch over them. There were several groupings of buckets and shovels strategically located, which were quickly found by the younger children, and sandcastle building commenced immediately.
“This was quite an undertaking,” Marc said as he hugged his daughter.
“It was,” Catie said. “But I think it’ll be worth it. Uncle Blake has set aside those three blocks on the east side for a hotel. We’re hoping we might actually generate a bit of tourist trade.”
“How are you planning on doing that?” Samantha asked.
“Well, we are kind of unique. A floating city,” Catie said. “Plus, we’re going to do some things to encourage our artistic residents to express themselves so there will be a nice shopping experience. We also have some amazing restaurants going in.”
“Yes, add virtually zero crime, and you might have something,” Samantha said.
“Yes, and we can set someone up to do snorkeling and scuba charters on the Mea Huli. We might even get someone to bring their own boat here and start up a business like that,” Catie added.
“How long has Kal been in on it?” Blake asked.
“Just a couple of weeks. I needed a surfer to help me tune the wave generator,” Catie said.
“How do you keep the water clean?” Liz asked.
“It’s continuously exchanging with the ocean below us,” Catie said. “About twice its volume gets exchanged every day. It’s set up to do a fast exchange late at night when nobody’s around.”
“Are you sure nobody will be around?” Liz asked.
“Well, we turn the wave machine off at night, and Kal’s security will be checking it. I don’t think we really care if people come down at night,” Catie said.
“I can guarantee you that there will be teenagers here at night partying,” Kal said. “We should put in a fire ring so they can have a fire. It’ll be just like home.”
“Oh, I never thought about that,” Catie said.
“That’s because you haven’t been a teenager long enough,” Blake said. “As teenagers, your dad and I used to go to the beach to party whenever we could.”
“Kal, I think you’ll want to assign extra security here at night,” Marc said. He laughed as he thought about some of the parties he and Blake had gone to.
“Oh, you were bad boys, were you?” Samantha teased.
“I think we should have a beach barbeque to celebrate,” Marc said, quickly changing the subject.
“I’ve got a hibachi and fixings right over there,” Kal said as he pointed to a section of the beach with one of his security personnel standing watch.
“Squirt, you thought of everything,” Blake said.
“If you don’t stop calling me Squirt, I’m going to bar you from the beach,” Catie said to her uncle as she slugged him in the shoulder.
“Come on, Squirt, I’ll show you how to cook shrimp on the barbie,” Blake said.
Chapter 5
Press Conference
“Good day, ladies and gentlemen,” Marc said. “We at MacKenzie Discoveries have invited you here today for an important announcement. Members of our board will be available after the press conference for further interviews. Now let me begin by saying that we know there have been many rumors about us having a treatment for Alzheimer’s disease. I’m here today to tell you that the rumors are mostly true. We do have a treatment. It has completed ten months of trials with dramatic success. The data from the trials will be available in the handout after the conference.”
Marc waited while various reporters jumped up, trying to ask questions.
“Please let me finish the announcement, then I will take your questions.”
Marc had to wait for another minute before the reporters gave up shouting out questions. They finally figure out he wasn’t going to answer any, no matter how provocative they were.
“Our trials have shown that ninety percent of the patients make a full recovery while the other ten percent make a significant recovery. We are currently opening a clinic in Tijuana, Mexico, and one here in the Cook Islands on Rarotonga,” Marc continued. “The clinics should be able to handle about five hundred patients per month and will open next week.”
Marc gave in to the stampede of questions, deciding that the rest of the information would get out just as well during questions.
“You have a question,” Marc indicated the woman who was practically jumping up and down as she waved her arm.
“How much are these treatments going to cost?”
“The price is five hundred thousand per patient, but . . . but we are charging on a sliding scale based on the patient’s ability to pay.”
“How can you justify such a huge amount of money for a medical procedure?” the reporter jumped in with a second question.
“It costs over fifty thousand dollars per year to take care of an Alzheimer’s patient, plus it is a terminal disease. We feel the charge is warranted, and remember we do have a sliding scale.”
“How will your scale work?”
“It will be based on the patient’s assets and income and the income statements for the previous ten years,” Marc said.
“Why ten years?”
“We don’t want people who have been able to set up a trust, shall we say, to protect their income, to get a better deal than the person who has worked for his entire life and has never built up enough assets to take advantage of such financial vehicles.”
“Why only two clinics?” another reporter shouted.
“I’m going to take that question,” Marc said, “but from now on if you shout out a question, I’m going to ignore you. Please wait until you’re called on. Now to your question, sir, we have plans for more clinics, but we need to iron out the process first.”
The reporter waved his hand, giving Marc a desperate look.
“I assume you have a follow-up question?”
“I do, where will you open the other clinics?”
“We are planning on one in the Bahamas to help serve the Americas. One in Casablanca, Morocco, and one in the city of Neum, Bosnia, to serve Europe. And one in Chittagong, Bangladesh, for Asia,” Marc said.
The reporter was just beside himself, wanting to ask another question.
“I’ll give you one more,” Marc said.
“Thank you. Why those cities, or more specifically, why those countries?”
“One of the missions of MacKenzie Discoveries is to help balance the income disparity around the world. We felt those cities would benefit the most from the added income generated by the clinic. They will also benefit from the increase in tourism that will come as families accompany their loved ones to the treatment centers.”
Other reporters started waving their hands and calling for attention.
“Yes, the lady in the blue suit,” Marc said, pointing at the reporter.
“Why not simply release the treatment and charge for the medication?” she asked.
“Several reasons,” Marc said. “First: I don’t trust the drug companies to provide the sliding scale that we will. Second: it would take too long to get approval from the FDA and other oversight agencies. And third: there are proprietary technologies used in the treatment that we don’t wish to share at this time.”
The reporter signaled that she wished to ask a follow-up question.
“Your follow-up.”
“Yes, how can we be sure the treatment is safe?”
“We have one hundred case studies from our trials,” Marc said. “We also have twenty case studies from earlier trials for a similar treatment. Due to confidentiality and privacy issues, we cannot release them to you; however, no patient in those trial
s has had any adverse effect for twenty years after the trial.”
The reporter was clearly not happy with the answer.
“I’ll give you another,” Marc said with a smile.
“But without agency oversight, how can we trust you?”
“You don’t have to,” Marc said. “The treatment is voluntary. But I will say that my daughter’s great grandparents received the treatment. And I received it before that to prove to myself that it was safe. Those are all the assurances we can provide.”
“Next question. You in the green kaftan.”
“Thank you. If you locate the clinics in those remote cities, won’t that affect the patient’s ability to pay?”
“The cost of the treatment includes travel for the patient and one family member. The clinics will have double rooms so the family member can stay with the patient. It takes two to three weeks for the full treatment, depending on the patient.”
Marc nodded, indicating that she could ask her follow-up.
“You’re saying that if my grandparents need treatment, you will pay for them to travel to the Bahamas?”
“I’m sure that if your grandparents need treatment, you and your family can afford to send them to the Bahamas,” Marc’s comment received chuckles from the rest of the reporters. “But to your point, if a family in Detroit with a modest income and minimal assets were to apply for assistance, we might charge them five thousand dollars for the treatment, and it would include travel and two to three weeks in the Bahamas.”
“Next,” Marc pointed to another reporter.
“This is going to generate billions of dollars per year,” the reporter said. “How can you justify making so much money on these victims of such a terrible disease?”
“We are in this business to make a profit, and to make the world a better place. I can assure you that we will treat as many patients as we can, that’s why we’re offering the sliding scale. If the price becomes prohibitive, we will make adjustments,” Marc said. “Next question.”
“Can you tell us how the treatment works?” the reporter asked.
“I can give you the basics without revealing our proprietary secrets,” Marc said. “Basically, it scrubs the plaque from your brain.”
