Outlier: One mistake can destroy everything.

by Jacob Mesmer

  “There is one thing. I doubt there’s any connection, but I suppose it may be better than nothing,” Dr. Bernard Roth said.

  “Yeah, I’ll take anything at this point, Bernie.”

  “Well, you didn’t hear this from me, but one of the other, uh, persons I asked about this told me—obliquely—that BioGyn was interested in using Rockport as one of their study targets.”

  “BioGyn, huh?” he said, searching his memory. BioGyn made a whole range of common, over-the-counter remedies. Dr. Nguyen couldn’t think of any prescription- based medication that they were involved with. But there were so many, he would have to verify to make sure.

  “Any idea what they were looking at?”

  “Well, all I heard was that it was some kind of all-purpose stress reliever. But I didn’t get many details. In all honesty, it was from somebody who heard from somebody, so I’m afraid I can’t be of much help.”

  “Oh, no, Doctor; that’s at least a start. I was starting to think Star Trek theories.” They both laughed.

  He stared at the documents again after hanging up. He’d have to check everything BioGyn had on the market. Finding out what they were working on may be difficult, as no company developing any kind of drug would reveal the precise structure until they released it.

  An over-the-counter, all-purpose stress relief drug. What would be the composition of that, and how in the world would it be involved in creating a forcible exit of brain matter through the eye sockets?

  Chapter Nine

  Monday, 10 a.m.

  Sean punched away on the keyboard of his office computer. He’d come into work, but made sure to explain that he wasn’t there officially. He was in no shape to interact with the public in any capacity. The chief didn’t seem to have a problem and didn’t even ask what he was doing. All the others in the office didn’t seem to know how to talk to him. They just politely asked him if he needed anything, which he politely refused.

  First thing he called up was BioGyn’s website. Nothing but marketing. “Your partner in common remedies to common ailments.” He clicked on “Products” and found a listing of everything they made. Cough drops. Nasal spray. General cold and flu relief. Most of the stuff he was familiar with. He looked over the copy of the email from Sheryl’s house. LoZiet. Some kind of stress relief drug. He Googled “stress relief.” He got a bunch of relaxation techniques. He tried “Medication for stress relief.” Prozac. Elavil. Luvox. A bunch of others that sounded similar to LoZiet. He clicked on the second page. Over-the-counter drugs. Kava Kava. Valerian root. He looked at the email again. Read it a few times. Looked like they were making something similar to the first few. He’d seen plenty of commercials for Prozac on TV. Something similar? A competitor maybe? He Googled “How does Prozac work?” Something about serotonin. He Googled “Serotonin.” A monoamine neurotransmitter. He was getting nowhere. He decided to call the number.

  After navigating their computerized system, he finally got an operator.

  “BioGyn Pharmaceuticals, how may I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m calling in regard to the LoZiet clinical trials?”

  “Sure, may I have your participation ID please?”

  He quickly scanned the email; nothing.

  “I don’t seem to have it. I just wanted some information.”

  “I’m sorry; any information regarding the LoZiet trials is restricted to the participating patients and the attending physicians.”

  “Do you have a list of the participating patients? Or how long the trials have been going on?”

  “I’m sorry; any information regarding the LoZiet trials is restricted to the participating patients and the attending physicians.”

  He hung up, frustrated. At least he wasn’t at a dead end. He’d ask the doc, and then he’d ask Alan. Maybe Alan would have some pull with these guys. He really didn’t know.

  He remembered Saturday night and Bethany. He hadn’t spoken to her or called since that evening. He wasn’t being rude on purpose. He didn’t really remember much of that night anyway. She seemed nice enough. He decided he should call her if only to keep any ugly rumors from starting. After all, his fiancée died on Friday, and he hooked up with somebody on Saturday. That wouldn’t look good—not at all. Especially if he was going to end up sticking around. He checked his phone. Apparently they’d exchanged numbers, and she or he’d typed her name in.

  She picked up on the first ring. “Hello, Sean?”

  “Hi, Bethany?”

  “Beth! OK?”

  “Yeah, Beth. Say, I wanted to talk to you about what happened on Saturday. I was kind of out of it. I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful; you really did help me. I just…people might talk, you know? Not that I’m blowing you off, I just…”

  “Oh, I totally understand!” she said, seeming happy just to talk to him. “I won’t tell anybody; I promise!” He suddenly realized he’d have to play this very carefully. He didn’t need any unnecessary grief. What to do?

  “I appreciate that. I just—I’m still kind of shocked; I really wasn’t myself. If people find out—that just a day later, I mean—”

  “Don’t worry, Sean. Take your time. Anytime you need somebody to talk to, I mean about anything, I’m here for you, OK? Where are you now, at home?”

  “No, I’m at work, taking care of some stuff. Paperwork, mostly. Nothing official. I’ll be out of it for a couple weeks, at least.”

  “OK. Well, if you don’t call me in a few days, I’ll just check up on you. I don’t want to be a pest!”

  “OK,” he said, smiling slightly. He sat for a while as he put Bethany into the back of his mind. He turned his attention back to BioGyn.

  Who first, and how to ask?

  Doctor Nguyen or Agent Alan Long?

  Chapter Ten

  Monday, 12:30 p.m. Houston. BioGyn.

  “OK, so what have we got?” the executive at the head of the table asked. The meeting was routine; nobody was overly worried or excited. All the other participants were wearing suits and had bored looks. They all had open files in front of them.

  “Well, we’ve finished testing, and we should have enough to submit in six weeks. So far, the data is looking just like we expected.”

  “Any outliers?” the head exec asked.

  “Yes, only one—big fat negative, but we can dismiss it,” answered Dr. Finley, the research manager.

  “Please explain; we need to report all data, just to cover ourselves. Does this expose us in any way?” the head asked.

  “Well, the outlier was neutral, meaning no response to any stimuli, even up to the highest level.”

  “So that means if LoZiet doesn’t work, there’s no effect, correct? No negative impact? No unforeseen consequences? How will that affect the submission?”

  “Well,” Dr. Finley began, “the submission is to the FDA, and that is only to prove there is no danger above and beyond what is currently on the market. Certainly, if this didn’t work in half the population, that would affect our marketing claims, but it wouldn’t impede our FDA submission.”

  The executive at the head of the table checked his watch, a little nervous. They all understood why.

  “Forgive my incompetence, but please explain to me the details, just to prep me for this conference call coming up in ten minutes.”

  They all chuckled at that. BioGyn was a subsidiary of Tanner Industries, a huge global conglomerate with interests in all areas of the consumer and government market. They ran everything from airport security scanners to government spec weaponry to special nutritional food additives specifically for third-world countries. Few people even knew they existed, let alone what they produced. It was run by a very powerful group of people who sat on various boards of other companies just like BioGyn. The recently appointed CEO of Tanner Industries was a very young and very ruthless Susan Weismann. She was the one who’d be calling in ten minutes.

  “OK. LoZiet is an all-purpose stress relief drug. Because stress is a root cause of
many health issues, it’s going to be marketed as an over-the-counter cure-all for everything related to stress and anxiety, and all of the secondary symptoms related to lack of sleep. It’s believed that reducing stress will save billions or even trillions of dollars per year in healthcare costs. On a personal level, it is shown to help customers stay relaxed and keep the heart rate and blood pressure lower.”

  “OK, but we can only market it as a general stress relief, right? We can’t really say it will lower blood pressure or any of those other benefits?”

  “Well, yes and no. We’ve collected blood pressure, average hours of sleep per night, and dependence on self-medication; so far, our samples have shown significant reduction of blood pressure, significant increase in sleep, and a slightly lower use of self-medication. But the real reason we can’t say it directly lowers blood pressure is the way the law is written.”

  “And the law was written the way BioPharm wanted it to be written, correct?” This brought laughter from the other members of the meeting. BioPharm was their major competition, and they had helped write the laws regarding marketing of blood pressure medication. Current law stipulated that any drug that promised a lowering of blood pressure must directly lower blood pressure, not lower blood pressure as a secondary effect.

  “That’s correct. But the most important thing is that in all of our tests, LoZiet increased patient compliance by as much as two hundred percent.”

  This brought broad smiles and shared looks from the other members sitting around the very expensive oak table.

  “And can you quickly explain how those test results were collected?” the head executive asked, once again checking his watch. Five minutes to go.

  “Sure. We had them watch regular TV programs with slightly altered commercials. Certain trigger words were used in commercials during the first half of the show, and then those trigger words were used in product placements in commercials that were shown during the second half of the show. Response to those second-half commercials were nearly perfect. All subjects exhibited not only a strong desire for the products but a strong intention of buying them as soon as they got the chance.”

  They all sat around smiling. This would please Ms. Weismann. Tanner Industries and their subsidiaries produced a vast range of consumer products. And they were about to sell an over-the-counter stress relief drug that would significantly increase the sales of those products.

  And this was just the beginning. Tanner Industries also had extremely close ties to all branches of the government, including the Armed Forces.

  LoZiet would prove to be incredibly useful and extremely profitable.

  The head executive pushed the “speak” button on the first ring.

  “Ms. Weismann, we’ve been expecting your call.”

  “Mr. Diamond, I believe this is the first time we’ve conversed. Please call me Susan.”

  “OK, Susan, please call me James.”

  “OK, James; I hear you’ve got good news for us?

  “Yes, Susan. Absolutely brilliant.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tuesday

  Jay pushed his broom methodically across the floor. His daily tasks were easy enough if he just went through the motions. He wasn’t certified to fix anything, and he knew who to call if he had anything he couldn’t handle. Most of the students and the rest of the staff wondered why he didn’t wear earbuds or something to pass the time. Once a freshman had asked him, and he replied that he enjoyed listening to his thoughts. It was this kind of response when anybody tried to talk to him that made him seem a bit off.

  He was not dangerous or even creepy; just a little bit different. And a little bit slow. Once one of the kids wondered if he was some kind of idiot-savant, and had asked for help with some math homework, but Jay was stumped. It was only sophomore-level algebra, but that was too tough. Most folks just figured guys like Jay were content to sweep up, empty the trash in the classrooms, rake up the leaves on the football field when they needed to be raked, and go home at quitting time.

  It was just past three when some of the advanced students had their free period to work on extracurricular activities. Jay knew to stay out of Room 312, the drama room, during that time, because there were only kids in there. They were supposed to be supervised, but the staff was short, as was the budget; so the football coach, who was supposed to be watching or helping them, was usually gone.

  Jay didn’t like those situations. He felt uneasy around kids. It made him feel like he was back in school, just waiting for them to look at him the way they did. He was pushing his wide broom past the big window looking into Room 312 when it happened. But Jay would later not remember any of it.

  “OK, so they might ask us about separation of government, and how certain branches try and usurp their power,” Chi said. She was a sophomore, one of the students on the debate team. They were practicing for a match coming up that weekend.

  “I thought it was how to keep them from usurping their powers,” replied Josh, another debater. Josh was also QB on the football team. His parents weren’t rich, so they were pushing him as much as they could to get some kind of a scholarship. Nobody really believed he was good enough as a QB to get a full ride to any decent four-year school.

  “Well, they may ask one or the other, so let’s assume they’ll ask us the best way to keep it from happening,” Chi said.

  “Keep what from happening?” Josh asked, looking a little confused. Chi just rolled her eyes.

  “Dude, you’d better figure this out. We’ve only got four days, and don’t you have a game on Friday? That means you should be ready by Thursday. Which is the day after tomorrow! So, how do you keep the separate branches of the government from usurping each other’s power?”

  “I thought that was built into the constitution or something?” he asked, not sure of himself.

  “Well, suppose Congress, for example, tries to circumvent the constitution; how would the president or the Supreme Court keep that from happening?” she asked.

  “Um, lemme see, presidential powers? Wait, no; veto! Right?”

  Jay stood transfixed, staring at Josh from outside the window as if in a trance. He couldn’t help but remember when all the students in his class had had to give an oral report. A book report. His was on Lewis and Clark. He’d begged and pleaded to get out of it. No way could he stand up in front of the other students and talk. But Mrs. Anderson had said it wasn’t optional.

  She said everybody had to do it, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as most thought. She advised him to go first, so everybody else would be worried about giving their speech, and not even paying attention to him. That way, if he made a mistake, nobody but her would know. Only that’s not what happened. Jay was about thirty seconds into his presentation when his worst nightmare began. He froze; he wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Just stared out at the class for what seemed like an eternity.

  Then some of the students started laughing. Some turned away in embarrassment. Most of the boys started whispering to each other. Some of the girls started giggling; others had looked on in horror. Jay had suddenly found the energy to move, so he fled. Mrs. Anderson followed him out into the hallway, which is where Jay had discovered what everybody was laughing and pointing at. There was a big wet spot on his crotch and halfway down his right pant leg. He’d peed his pants in front of his classmates. He hadn’t returned to school for a week after that.

  “Oh my God! Dude, did you piss yourself? What the hell?” Chi screamed.

  Jay suddenly snapped out of his hallucination. It had happened again. Why, oh why, oh why? He dropped the broom and ran down the hall. Before, he could just run home and hide. Now if he did that, it meant he’d be fired. No more job. No more money. Then he’d have to listen to his mom yell at him or stare at him with those ugly eyes while she thought those horrible thoughts he was sure she was thinking about him.

  He went straight to the restroom, which, fortunately, had hand dryers. If he was lucky,
he’d take his pants off, dry them on the hand dryer, and claim he didn’t know what that girl was talking about. He looked at himself in the mirror to see how bad he’d wet himself.

  Nothing. His pants were dry. Did he just imagine everything?

  What was wrong with him?

  Chapter Twelve

  “Alan, you got a minute?”

  “Sure thing, Detective Lovac; what can I do for you?” Alan answered cheerfully.

  “Well, I’ve got some questions about a company called BioGyn.”

  Sean had decided to work from his office. Much easier than home, and he could tap the extra resources of the department if he needed to. Not that they had an abundance.