He pushed the front-door buzzer, heard a click, and was soon standing in a gleaming foyer with incredible works of art decorating the concrete walls. The institute was hardly quiet, and given the hour, Lee figured it was prime time for the after-school crew who came here to improve upon their respective disciplines. He wondered how many of those kids were consuming the ProNeural nootropics, believing they could not reach their personal zenith without them.
He was scanning the posters of TPI’s famous alumni when a hardy-looking woman approached. A slightly officious air dimmed her friendly smile. She must have been the one who had buzzed him inside.
“Dr. Lee Blackwood?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Irene Goodman, I handle the administration here. Yoshi asked me to show you to his office.”
Lee followed Irene up a wide concrete staircase that brought them to a hallway lined with glass cases displaying TPI-related news clippings and announcements, and trumpeting various success stories.
Assuming the Web site was up to date (and Lee had no reason to believe otherwise), tuition here was on the steeper side. With a cost of $2,600 each trimester (scholarships available) and roughly 280 students enrolled at any given time, the TPI generated more than $2 million in revenue annually, an impressive sum by any measure.
He asked himself: if Josh were a student here, gifted in some way, competing against the best of the best, would he let him take the ProNeural supplements? Lee liked to believe he was above peer pressure, but if his kid wanted them, and if others were taking them with no issues, no reported side effects, why deny him the advantage? Cognitive enhancers were fast becoming normative. Lee speculated that the majority of people who ingested various weight loss shakes and powders probably had no idea what was in those products. Was ProNeural all that different? If the packaging looked professional, and the testimonials were believable, why the heck not take them?
Irene led Lee to a nondescript wooden door at the far end of the hallway. She knocked and a slightly accented voice invited them to enter.
Yoshi occupied a spacious but sparsely furnished room on the second floor. A few bamboo plants caught sunlight from a windowsill. Black bookcases contained neatly arranged volumes of what appeared to be textbooks. His pedestal desk was uncluttered. The walls were covered with framed photographs of Yoshi with well-known people. It was a Wall of Fame, similar to those in every elected official’s office on Capitol Hill. Several of the pictures were of Yoshi and the first family (some with him and just the president). It was like a shrine to Yoshi, but Lee was not here to pay his respects.
When Lee arrived, three people were seated at the round conference table tucked in a corner of the room. He recognized only two of them. Irene excused herself as Lee reached across the table to shake hands with Yoshi and Gleason. Gleason gave Lee’s hand a predictably fishy shake hello, but Yoshi left his hand dangling in midair. He stood instead, pushed back his chair, and bowed slightly. A bit unsure, Lee pulled his hand back and returned a slight bow of his own.
Yoshi wore a pair of John Lennon glasses, his rakishly styled white hair contrasting sharply against an all-black ensemble. Gleason wore a suit and tie and appeared a little less formidable without his white coat embroidered with the presidential seal.
Lee took the only available seat, next to the older gentleman with a stocky build, puffy eyes, and wisps of gray hair sprouting from a sunspotted forehead. He shook that man’s hand last.
“Dr. Lee Blackwood,” Lee said, introducing himself as he settled into his seat.
“Dr. Hal Hewitt,” said the man, giving Lee’s hand a vigorous shake. “I’m on the board of the TPI.”
Hal’s name was one Lee recognized from Karen.
“I asked Dr. Hewitt to join us,” said Yoshi, “because from what Ellen told me this meeting is a medical one.”
“That’s great,” said Lee. “And thank you all for arranging your schedules to be here on such short notice. I think what we have to discuss is rather important.”
“Ellen said you wanted to know more about ProNeural, but wouldn’t elaborate, said you were better equipped to explain.” Gleason leaned forward, his leering look designed to inflict maximum discomfort. “I should be with the president right now, Lee, but as a favor to the first lady I’m here … with you.”
“Fred, I appreciate it,” said Lee, pouring himself a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. “We’re here because I have some concerns about these cognitive enhancers, the nootropics the students are taking.”
“ProNeural is perfectly safe, Lee,” Gleason said smoothly. “All the products are manufactured in the U.S. and have been independently tested and verified by reputable labs. I’ve confirmed this myself. Do you think I’d let the president’s son take anything if I wasn’t a hundred percent confident it would do no harm?”
“Dr. Gleason is right,” said Yoshi. “I have a doctorate in naturopathic medicine and mycology, and I can attest to the products’ safety.” Lee’s face showed his confusion. He’d heard the word “mycology” before, but could not recall its meaning. Yoshi noticed Lee’s puzzled look. “Mycology is the study of fungi for medicine, food, and other purposes,” he explained.
“Other purposes like altered minds—and poison,” Lee said, placing emphasis on the last word.
“Are you implying that ProNeural is poisonous?” Yoshi’s eyes became fiery. “Because I can assure you that’s not the case. Nootropics are as close to the natural supplements I’ve studied for years. They’re made of herbs, things like caffeine, vitamins B6 and B12—all substances the FDA has approved as dietary supplements and regards as safe.”
“That’s not all they contain,” said Lee. “A lot of these nootropics are comprised of complex synthetic compounds.”
“But not ProNeural, Dr. Blackwood,” Hal interjected, offering his first contribution to the discussion. “I know this because I’ve carefully reviewed the compounds at Yoshi’s request. As a set, the ProNeural product line enhances neuroendocrine function naturally, improving memory and concentration by changing cognitive performance as it encourages the brain to naturally release things like dopamine and other cognitive enhancers. In a way it’s comparable to a good night’s sleep and some yummy dark chocolate. Both affect the brain in similar ways.”
On his drive into the city, Lee had stopped at XLR Labs to pick up copies of the official report. He removed the folded pages from the inner pocket of his suit jacket and separated them into two batches. He gave one batch to Gleason and Yoshi to share; the other he slid over to Hal Hewitt.
“Confirming what you’re saying, I had the supplements professionally analyzed,” Lee said.
“Where’d you get the samples?” asked Gleason, shooting Lee a suspicious look.
“Susie Banks,” Lee said.
Gleason gave a soft groan, clearly annoyed with Lee’s unwillingness to let anything go. For Yoshi and Hal Hewitt’s benefit Lee said: “Susie is your student. You may have read about, or seen her on the news. Almost died in a carbon monoxide gas leak that killed her parents, and later someone assaulted her in the hospital.”
Both Yoshi and Dr. Hewitt expressed sympathy for the girl’s plight, but Lee did not accept that as proof of anyone’s innocence.
Yoshi scanned the pages quickly, while Dr. Hewitt studied them more carefully.
“And I agree with you, Yoshi,” Lee said. “I’d say these products are perfectly harmless. Though I’m not sure they’re all that effective.”
Gleason’s stare was cold. “Just hold it right there, Lee,” he said. “This product is incredibly effective. Yoshi, do you have the binder from the last round of neurofeedback testing? I want to show Lee those results.”
Yoshi got up from the table, went to a nearby bookshelf, and removed a black binder with the ProNeural branding running down the spine.
“Our partnership with ProNeural includes comprehensive neurofeedback evaluations,” Yoshi said, handing the binder to Lee, “and th
e results speak for themselves.”
Lee flipped through dozens of laminated pages filled with colorful charts and graphs, all professionally rendered, each branded with the ProNeural logo—a trail of fast-moving electrons encircling a drawing of a blue-colored brain. These days, most everything was measured and tracked—sleep, steps, heart rate, and such. If it could be quantified, some sort of wearable device was out there quantifying it, so Lee was not at all surprised by the depth and breadth of data aggregated from the student population. The results clearly demonstrated improved cognition in a number of key areas for all three supplements: SOAR, FOCUS, and SUPER O-3.
“Better memory, better concentration, reduced time on task when mastering new skills,” Yoshi said.
“How exactly did you collect all this data?” Lee asked as he leafed through the thick binder.
“Neurofeedback is essentially brain mapping,” Gleason said. “I’ve observed these sessions myself, so I’ve seen firsthand exactly what the ProNeural team does when they come here on testing days. It’s called quantitative EEG, qEEG for short.”
Lee did not need Dr. Marilyn Piekarski’s neurology training to know EEG was a way of measuring electrical activity in the brain. Every thought, every emotion is the result of electronic discharges from neurons firing.
“By studying the EEG in nineteen areas of the brain,” Yoshi said, “we’re able to help our students see opportunities for improvement, and we can also measure how the ProNeural nootropics can assist them in that process. That’s essentially what all those reports you’re looking at show.”
Lee could not deny the results were impressive.
Hal said, “Students wear electrodes while they perform their respective skills and the qEEG process puts to use complicated mathematical and statistical analyses that literally allow us to see into their brains.’”
Lee turned a page in the binder, revealing a photograph of Cam and Taylor engaged in a game of chess. Both boys had electrodes fixed to their scalps like space-age hairnets with wires.
“The first lady supported this?” Lee asked, showing Gleason the picture of Cam.
“At first she was a little hesitant, but I assured her the procedure was perfectly safe and completely harmless.”
The accompanying graphs visually documented the qEEG results with and without the ProNeural nootropics. The conclusions were as evident as the concentration on the boys’ faces. The ProNeural nootropics dramatically improved their cognitive function. In essence, the smart drugs did indeed make these kids smarter. It was all there in the data. Some measurements showed calmer brain waves for better focus, while others highlighted how their minds were optimized for skill mastery.
“ProNeural helps our students achieve a state of flow,” Yoshi explained. “Instead of more brain activity, we train our students to have less. Have you ever been so absorbed in a task that hours can go by without your notice? You feel incredibly alert, your concentration unyielding, emotions positively charged, everything but the task forgotten. Achieving this flow is the purpose of our work here.
“We don’t train people to win races, to reach some end. Instead, we train our students with meditation, relaxation, visualization techniques, and yes, cognitive enhancers, to help them maximize their true potential. The TPI is a blend of many Eastern philosophies with Western techniques to create a truly unique learning environment.”
Any doubts Lee had about giving Josh the pills would have been tossed out the window had he been given these charts. ProNeural, in conjunction with Yoshi’s Eastern methods, appeared to work wonders.
Yoshi continued: “With training, and these supplements, students here learn to quiet the mind, lowering theta, delta, and beta waves to heighten the alpha state, which is scientifically proven to be a state of relaxed alertness. With mastery, these neural connections become more ingrained, making it easier to achieve this state quicker, more efficiently. Our system simply speeds up this process.”
“What percent of students take these nootropics?” asked Lee.
“Seventy-five, thereabouts,” answered Hal.
“Clearly it benefits the kids,” said Lee. “I’m curious to know how it benefits ProNeural.”
“They’re a private company,” answered Yoshi. “We’re not privy to their financials, but the CEO told us since we agreed to make the TPI results public, sales and interest in the products have risen substantially. It’s helped them get PR and new adopters and there’s been a snowball effect. Wouldn’t you say, Hal?”
“Yes, for certain.”
“What’s your point in all this, Lee?” asked Gleason, his blue eyes turning frosty.
“My point,” said Lee, fixing Gleason with an unblinking stare, “is that I’m aware of four children afflicted with mysterious ailments, all of them with connections to the TPI. Two of those four are dead, and somebody tried to kill the third. The fourth—well, he’s safe for now.”
Gleason eyed Lee contemptuously. “This is about Cam, isn’t it? My God, Lee, you are tenacious.”
“I gather we’re talking about Susie Banks and Cam Hilliard, but who are the other children?” Hal asked.
“The Stewart twins,” Lee said. “Both were students here. I use the past tense because both of the boys are dead.”
Yoshi’s dark eyes bored into Lee. “They died in a car accident,” he said.
“Yes, I know,” said Lee. “I want to know what made the twins sick enough to come see my partner at our clinic.”
“How would I know such a thing? I am not their doctor,” Yoshi said angrily.
“Are you suggesting ProNeural made them sick?” asked Gleason.
“No,” said Lee. “I checked with a neurologist—you know her, Fred, Dr. Marilyn Piekarski. She shared some information with you about Cam that you didn’t bother sharing with me, if you recall. Anyway, she told me the compounds in ProNeural couldn’t cause these symptoms.”
“What symptoms are we talking about?” asked Hal.
“I’ll put the question back on you, Dr. Hewitt. Are you aware of other students here who have severe cases of myoclonus, cherry-red spots on the retina, enlarged organs, moodiness, and irritability?”
Hal shook his head that he was not.
“So if your friend at the MDC ruled out ProNeural as a cause, why are you here, Lee?”
Lee wanted to wipe the smug look off Gleason’s face with his knuckles.
“Because it makes no sense that four of your students would present with the same, incredibly unusual affliction. Want I want to know is what else you’re giving these kids.”
Yoshi leaned back as an angry look came to his face. “Dr. Blackwood, I take offense at your insinuation. Are you suggesting that we’re experimenting on our students?”
“I’m asking you to explain how there’s a cluster of some unknown disease centered around your school, Mr. Matsumoto.”
“Dr. Matsumoto,” answered Yoshi. “And I cannot explain that, nor will I even attempt to try. This is not my area of expertise.” Quick as his anger appeared, Yoshi’s expression turned suddenly neutral. Lee recalled what Karen had said about him being sphinxlike when it came to body language. If Yoshi held his cards any closer to his chest, they’d slip right under his skin.
“I respect your position, Dr. Matsumoto,” said Lee. “And I admit that I’m no statistician, but I’d wager several years’ salary that the probability of four kids who attend your school all coming down with the same strange symptoms, independently of this place, then coming together here by random chance, is about the same as me winning Powerball—twice. It’s not possible. This has all the characteristics of a cluster disease, and those are caused either by something environmental, the way contaminated groundwater can produce cancer clusters, or it’s something these students are taking. I’m betting on the latter.”
“I assure you, Dr. Blackwood, we do not, nor would we ever experiment on our students.”
“In that case,” said Lee, “I take it you wouldn’t obj
ect to having some testing done. If you’re not subjecting these kids to some experimental nootropic, perhaps there is something in the air or water here. I’m sure with the first lady’s help we can expedite a thorough environmental analysis.”
Yoshi rose from his chair, his brown eyes burning like two embers. “As you see fit, Dr. Blackwood,” he said. “But what we do at the TPI not only works in demonstrable ways, it is absolutely, positively safe. You may be willing to bet your salary, but on this, I’d bet my life.”
Yoshi strutted over to his desk, on which sat three jars of ProNeural. He unscrewed the lids, removed a pill from within each jar, opened his mouth, and swallowed them without so much as a sip of water to chase them down.
CHAPTER 37
Susie Banks pushed a button to raise her hospital bed so she could peer out the cabin window. She liked the woods, the birdsong, everything about this place. It was so quiet here, so peaceful.
But nice as it was, what she wanted more than anything was to be back home with her parents. In the kitchen, Josh was brewing a pot of coffee and cooking something for dinner. The delicious smells made Susie think about all the times she had cooked with her mother. A lump formed in her throat, so large that for a moment it was difficult to swallow or breathe. Funny how a simple smell could cause a flood of painful memories.
Tears flowed.
Gone. They’re gone.
A few minutes later, Josh brought over a tray holding a plate of pasta in red sauce, a leafy salad in a ceramic bowl, and some meatballs steaming in a clear glass dish.
“I didn’t know if you were a vegetarian, so I put the meatballs on the side,” he said, carefully setting the tray on Susie’s bed.
“Thanks,” said Susie, feeling famished for the first time. “It all looks great.”
Josh scrutinized his handiwork. “Hold on a second,” he said.
Josh scampered back to the kitchen, returning moments later with a small glass vase containing a single yellow flower.
The First Family Page 21
