MIND FIELDS Read online

  “Great presentation, Sandi. You did a hell of a job in there today. I can’t wait to see the headlines in the Sun tomorrow.”

  Sandi walked in silence. She knew Paul too well. He was not much for small talk, and this was small talk. She realized what he was doing. She couldn’t believe that he was seriously considering selling out to private industry.

  “So what should I pick up at the market? Got a craving for anything special?”

  “Some pasta salad would be nice. And if you can scrounge it up, I’d love some cider.” It was tough to come by apple cider this time of year.

  They hardly said a word on the short drive home. Paul dropped her off and watched as she ascended the four red brick steps leading up to the small wood porch in front of their house. Once she was inside, he headed down to Lexington Market to pick up lunch. It wasn’t going to be the relaxing afternoon he had hoped for, but he knew that if he could only find the right words there would be more to celebrate than either of them had imagined when they woke up to start this day.

  By the time he pulled into the small one-car garage behind their row house, Sandi had set the picnic table that rested in the filtered shade of the dogwood trees out back. He put the bags down and gave her a kiss.

  “Looks good,” she said, obviously still preoccupied.

  He laid out the food and poured two glasses of apple cider. They sat down next to each other, and Paul took her hand. He had been struggling to find the words that would help her to see things his way, but he didn’t know where to start.

  Sandi looked down at her hand, her fingers intertwined with his. “I thought I knew you better than this.” She fought to hold back the tears.

  Paul couldn’t believe the resolve in her voice. They’d been living together for nearly a year now and had dated twice that long. He was sure that they had the perfect synergy, that she understood what made him tick. He knew that she was not a big fan of private sector research, but he couldn’t believe that she was so close-minded about this. He wanted to share his discoveries with the world every bit as much as she did, but what was wrong with making a buck off of it? What was so wrong with being able to live the good life?”

  He tried to convince her while they ate, to make her feel the way he did about this. “I want more than this, Sandi. I want more than this for us.”

  “More?” She was incredulous. “You’re a professor at Johns Hopkins, for God’s sake. You run the most prestigious lab at the university and you’re only thirty-one years old. It doesn’t get any better than this. I’ve got everything I want right here.”

  “Look around you, Sandi. Look at this place.”

  “I have looked. It’s perfect. This has been the happiest year of my life.”

  “No,” he said, “it’s not perfect. We’re perfect.” He motioned to the house. “Sure this place has a lot of character, and it’s been great for what it is, but open your eyes. There’s a whole world out there. I want more. It’s not just for me, but for us, for the family that I want us to have.”

  Sandi looked up at him, her face wet with tears. “I thought we were perfect too … but now …” her voice trailed off.

  Paul couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was willing to write off their entire relationship, a chance to build a life together that most people only dream of. Sandi came from a wealthy family, and he knew that she took great pride in having made a life for herself that was not based on money, but he didn’t realize how strongly she felt about this. He had come from a very different background. This was one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place, his simple roots. He’d come from a large family in West Virginia. It was a tight-knit family, but one that never had much in the way of material wealth. His father had raised them on a coal-miner’s salary. Paul was the most financially successful of his siblings, and was thankful for what he had. He had been satisfied, no...happy, with his life, but now he had an opportunity for even more.

  “Look. Sandi, I never talked about this because it never occurred to me that we might get a chance like this. I’m a realist, and I never wish for something that’s not within my grasp. But this is within our grasp. We’ve got the chance to lead the kind of life I never dreamed was possible. It’s a chance for me to give my kids, the kids I want to have with you, the things that I had never had.”

  “Is that what this is about?” Sandi was angry. “The money?” Her lips were quivering. “I could understand the lure of having BNI help to propel your research to the next level, but what do you need more money for? What don’t you have that we need to be happy? I did have those things when I was a kid, and I watched my dad struggle to get those things. I watched him suffer as those things slipped away from him, and I watched the pain in his eyes when my mother blamed him for losing those things. I don’t want those things, not for me or my children.” She pulled away.

  Now Paul was getting angry too. He could feel it welling up inside of him. He rarely got angry, but when he did, his anger took control of him. He knew that what he was about to say was the wrong thing, but he could not stop himself. “Poor little rich girl. The only reason that the money’s not important to you is that you’ve always had it. You can’t stand the thought of a little prosperity, can you? You enjoy partaking in ‘the poor life’, huh? Well let me tell you about the poor life.” He saw the look of pain on Sandi’s face. He realized that he had gone too far.

  Neither of them said another word as they cleared the table. The day had not gone the way that either of them had planned. As they climbed the back steps toward the kitchen, Sandi swayed and started to fall. Paul dropped the dishes and grabbed her, lowering her gently to the ground. She was woozy, but still conscious.

  “Hey, you O.K.?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled. “I just need a little sugar. I guess I didn’t eat enough today.” She had taken her usual daily insulin injection the night before, but in all the excitement of the day, she had eaten little for breakfast and almost nothing for lunch.

  Paul sat next to her on the steps, holding her steady.

  “I’ve got it,” she said pulling away. “Just get me a packet of sugar, would you?”

  “Sure.” Paul got up slowly, making sure that Sandi could steady herself O.K., and then ran inside to grab a sugar packet.

  A few minutes after getting her blood sugar up, Sandi felt much better, but the stress of the day had gotten the best of her. She went up to bed while Paul finished cleaning up.

  __

  That was the last meal they would have together. After a meek attempt at changing Sandi’s mind once more at breakfast the next morning, Paul called JT Anderson to set up a meeting. Anderson had anticipated the call and met Paul for lunch that day. By the time that Paul had returned home, Sandi was gone along with most of her things. Mr. Coffee sat on the counter as a dour reminder to Paul of what he had given up.

  Anderson had really wanted to hire Sandi, but he was satisfied to settle for Paul, who joined BNI. Sandi remained at Hopkins as interim lab director, eventually taking over the official directorship three years later in, 2048.

  Chapter four

  Five years later —

  Washington D.C., April 21, 2050

  “I can’t stand this,” Sandi said to Sam as she waited to testify before the Senate Subcommittee on Nanotechnology. “I’m a scientist, for God’s sake, not an administrator. Why don’t the suits take care of this stuff?”

  Dr. Sam Collier had been working with Sandi on the nanobot project for almost two years now. He was a big fan of her work, and he had approached her during the last year of his neurology residency about developing neuronanobots specifically engineered to treat the devastating effects of stroke or traumatic brain injury. He was sure that the pathophysiology of these neurological conditions lent themselves perfectly to nanobotic therapy, and he managed to convince San
di of it. He joined her team shortly thereafter. The more Sandi investigated, the more she became convinced that this would be the perfect prototype for organic nanobots in the treatment of human illness. For the past two years, all of her time and energy had been focused on the neuronanobot project. They had made great strides, but funding was running low, and they desperately needed this grant that hinged on the approval of the Senate subcommittee. The project was not without controversy. Anything that could influence the workings of the human brain was rich fodder for social disputation.

  Sandi Fletcher was waiting nervously on a bench outside the committee room. She had asked Sam to come along for emotional support. He had a knack for taking life’s twists and turns in stride, and Sandi was hoping that some of that calm demeanor would rub off on her.

  Sam could sense the tension. “Relax, Sandi. It’s not like you haven’t done this before. Remember what you told me about the first meeting a couple of years back? ‘Like taking candy from a baby,’ you said.”

  Sandi forced a smile. “I was only trying to impress you. You were new back then, and I wanted you.”

  Sam looked up with a grin.

  “Oh, no no no,” Sandi said, “not like that. I didn’t want you, I wanted you. You know, for the lab.”

  Sam looked disappointed. Sandi thought it was cute, but tried hard not to laugh. “Not that you aren’t an attractive guy, Sam, but I wanted you for your brains.” This time she did laugh. “That still doesn’t sound right, does it?” It was a nervous laugh. “Not wanted…needed, yeah, I needed you for your brains. I needed you to take neuronanobotics to the next level. If you’d gone into private practice, I never would have been able to make this work.” Sandi had no problem talking with Sam about science, but romance was another story. She could feel a blush washing up over her face.

  Sam smiled. “It’s OK, Sandi. I know what you mean.”

  “Thanks.” She was relieved.

  It had taken a long time for Sandi to get over Paul. In fact, she wasn’t really sure that she ever had. She was determined to keep romance as far from the lab as possible. A few months after she had left Paul, her friend Janice took her down to a club near the harbor to listen to a folk guitar player named Guy Andrews. Janice had talked her into going on the pretense of having a girls’ night out, but it turned out that Guy was Janice’s cousin, and she figured that he was just what Sandi needed to forget about Paul. Much to Sandi’s surprise, Janice was right. Guy was no rocket scientist, but he was a fairly bright guy who had just decided that music was more fun than a desk job, and much to his parents’ dismay, had dropped out of college after his third year to pursue his music career. It hadn’t taken him very far. At first, that didn’t really matter to him; he didn’t need much. But as his friends moved into their careers, they gradually distanced themselves from him. He was starting to doubt his career choice when he met Sandi, but she took his mind off all that, at least for a while. They had been living together for about a year now. Sandi wasn’t quite sure why, but she felt good when she was with him.

  From the moment they met, Sandi was convinced that they were soul mates. He seemed to always know what she wanted, what she needed. When he took her out to dinner, he managed to find her favorite restaurants without ever asking her so much as what kind of foods she liked. He instinctively knew her favorite drink, her favorite flowers, her favorite color. It was uncanny. As she discovered much sooner than she would have ever imagined, he even knew her favorite erogenous zones.

  Sometimes he would seem so distant that she found herself wondering just what it was that she saw in him, and then he would do something subtle, but so special that all doubts were erased. When she had a great day at the lab, he wanted to hear all about it, even though she was pretty sure he didn’t understand too much of what she had to say. And when things weren’t going well, he always knew exactly what to say. He seemed to know her almost as well as Paul had, but what had taken Paul years of experience seemed to come naturally to Guy. It was as if he had a guidebook to her soul. He was perfect, except … she could never quite put her finger on it; maybe it was just that he was not Paul.

  __

  A man in a pinstripe suit emerged from the door of the committee room. “They’re ready for you, Dr. Fletcher.”

  Sandi stood, smoothed her suit and looked to Sam for approval. He nodded ever so slightly and smiled, giving her the thumbs up. Sandi turned and hurried to follow the man into the committee room. It was a small but formally furnished chamber, with a slightly elevated stage at one end on which the committee members sat behind a semicircular mahogany desk. Senator Stanton Cole, the chairman of the committee, sat in the center with a small podium on the desk in front of him. To his right, sat the vice-chairman, Senator Russell Stetson. Each of the seven senators had a microphone in front of them, which seemed an absurdity to Sandi given the small size of the room. Whatever makes them feel powerful, she thought with disdain, trying not to feel intimidated.

  Senator Cole motioned her to a chair behind the front row table, which also supported a microphone. She took her seat and pushed the microphone aside.

  “If you will, Dr. Fletcher,” Senator Stetson said, pointing at the microphone. “I realize that it seems a bit silly in such close quarters, but all committee hearings are recorded. I’m sure you understand.”

  Sandi nodded sheepishly.

  “We’ve read your brief, Doctor, but I for one didn’t follow it too well. We’ve asked you here in the hope that you can translate some of this technojargon for us so we can make an intelligent recommendation to the full senate regarding your request.

  “Of course, Senator.” She paused and took a deep breath. “As you know, nanobots have already been approved for some uses in medical care, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of their potential. Four years ago, my lab at Hopkins embarked on a project to develop a nanobot treatment to cure diseases of the central nervous system such as stroke or brain injury. The idea is to minimize the damage that occurs immediately after the injury, and then to replace the damaged nerve cells, known as neurons, with specialized artificial cells called neuronanobots. What I proposed was a two-step process. The first step is to inject Phase One nanobots into the body, which are programmed to go to the area of damage and clean it up. They get rid of blood and chemicals that accumulate when nerve cells are injured. The second step is to inject nanobots that will go to the area of damage and turn into neurons, nerve cells that can replace the ones lost in the initial injury.”

  Sandi paused to peruse the faces of the senators. She was relieved to see that they were all awake and there were only one or two blank stares. Although the information she was presenting was quite technical, the younger senators in this group had grown up with at least some robotic and nanobotic theory ingrained into them in school. Even the older senators, perhaps especially the older senators, knew about nanobots from personal experience, as these tiny robots were now the primary treatment for cleaning out clogged arteries in the heart or other areas of the body. She felt it was safe to continue at this technical level without too much risk of losing anyone in this room.

  “We developed the Phase One neuronanobots fairly quickly. Their function was relatively basic, mechanical in some ways. The hardest part was getting them to go to the right place in the body once we injected them. We solved this problem by having them maintain their motility until they find an area with a large concentration of certain chemicals that we know occur when brain tissue is injured. Once they arrive in this area, they stop moving and they activate themselves to clean up the surrounding chemicals.

  “Our emphasis over the past two years has been in the development of Phase Two bots. We inject these bots into a vein in the arm and they find their way into the brain within a matter of hours. When they come near the Phase One bots, they synapse with…that is, they attach themselves to… these Phase
One bots. This way they are right where we want them — in the area where the injured brain cells used to be. The really tricky part comes next. In order to get these bots to take over the job of the nerve cells that have died, we had to figure out how to sequence their DNA so they would develop into nerve cells after they attached to the Phase One bots. We recently found the answer to our dilemma; we now know how to get the Phase Two bots to turn into nerve cells at the site of injury, and how to get them to attach to other healthy nerve cells in the area. Once they do this, they can completely restore the function of the damaged brain.

  Sandi looked up at the peanut gallery again. Their eyes were all glued to her … now she had them.

  “We’ve done it in monkeys. We’ve taken monkeys that have suffered traumatic brain injuries and restored them to normal function in less than three weeks. We have shortened the recovery time from traumatic brain injury from years to days, and improved the completeness of the recovery one hundred percent … no residual weakness, no cognitive problems, no seizures.”

  Sandi paused for dramatic effect. “The only thing that remains, gentlemen,” she looked each of them in the eye with a growing confidence, “is to do this for people. I need your authorization for human trials. If I can get that, stroke and traumatic brain injury will be as curable as a cataract. I’ve done my part, senators. It’s up to you now.”

  A few minutes later Sandi came out of the room drained of energy and slumped down on the bench next to Sam. As she dropped her head down into her hands, her thick brown hair fell around her face.