“Let’s check the tissue cultures,” Eleanor said. She knew Edward would want to take the drug. It was the only way to determine if it was hallucinogenic.
They retrieved their tissue cultures from the incubator and examined them under a low-power microscope. One after another they appeared healthy. There was no sign of cellular damage from the new drug, even those subjected to high doses.
“There doesn’t seem to be any toxicity at all,” Edward said with glee.
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” Eleanor said.
They went back to Edward’s bench area and made up several solutions of increasing strength. The starting point was a concentration that yielded a dose approximating the dosage of the unmodified alkaloid that Stanton had received. Edward was the first to try it, and when nothing happened, Eleanor took it. Again nothing happened.
Encouraged by these negative results, Edward and Eleanor gradually increased their dosages up to a full milligram, knowing that LSD was psychedelic at 0.05 milligrams.
“Well?” Edward questioned a half hour later.
“No hallucinogenic effect as far as I can tell,” Eleanor said.
“But there is an effect,” Edward said.
“Most definitely,” Eleanor said. “I’d have to describe it as calm contentment. Whatever it is, I like it.”
“I also feel as if my mind is particularly sharp,” Edward said. “It has to be drug-related because twenty minutes ago I was a basket case, thinking my ability to concentrate was nil. Now I’m energized as if I’d had a night’s rest.”
“I have a sense my long-term memory has been awakened from a slumber,” Eleanor said. “Suddenly I remember my home phone number when I was a child of six. It was the year my family moved to the West Coast.”
“What about your senses?” Edward asked. “Mine seem particularly acute, especially my sense of smell.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of it until you mentioned it,” Eleanor said. She put her head back and sniffed the air. “I never realized the lab was such a cacophony of odors.”
“There’s something else I’m feeling that I wouldn’t have even been sensitive to if I hadn’t taken a course of Prozac,” Edward said. “I feel socially assertive, like I could walk into a group of people and do whatever I wanted. The difference is that it took three months of Prozac before I felt that way.”
“I can’t say I feel anything like that,” Eleanor said. “But I can say my mouth is a little dry. Is yours?”
“Perhaps,” Edward admitted. Then he looked directly into Eleanor’s deep blue eyes. “Your pupils also might be a bit dilated. If they are, it must be the scopolamine side chain we couldn’t totally eliminate. Check your near vision.”
Eleanor picked up a reagent bottle and read the tiny print on the label. “No problem,” she said.
“Anything else?” Edward said. “Any trouble with your circulation or breathing?”
“Everything is fine,” Eleanor said.
“Excuse me,” a voice called.
Eleanor and Edward turned to see one of the second-year doctorate students had approached them. “I need some help,” she said. Her name was Nadine Foch. She was from Paris. “The NMR is not functioning.”
“Perhaps it would be best to talk to Ralph,” Edward said. He smiled warmly. “I’d like to help, but I’m rather involved at the moment. Besides, Ralph knows the machine better than I, particularly from a technical point of view.”
Nadine thanked them and went to find Ralph.
“That was rather civil of you,” Eleanor said.
“I feel rather civil,” Edward said. “Besides, she’s a nice person.”
“Perhaps this is a good time for you to resume your normal activities,” Eleanor said. “We’ve made fantastic progress.”
“It’s only a harbinger of what’s to come,” Edward said. “It’s good of you to worry about my teaching and supervisory responsibilities, but I assure you that they can slide for several weeks without causing anybody irreparable damage. I’m not about to forfeit any of this excitement with this new drug. Meanwhile I want you to start computerized molecular modeling to create a family of compounds from our new drug by substituting side chains.”
While Eleanor went off to work at her computer terminal, Edward walked back to his desk and picked up the phone. He called Stanton Lewis.
“Are you busy tonight?” Edward asked his old friend.
“I’m busy every night,” Stanton said. “What’s on your mind? Did you read that prospectus?”
“How about having dinner with me and Kim?” Edward said. “There’s something you should know.”
“Ah ha, you old rogue,” Stanton said. “Is this going to be some sort of a major social announcement?”
“I believe I’d rather discuss it in person,” Edward said smoothly. “What about dinner? It will be my treat!”
“This is sounding serious,” Stanton said. “I have a dinner reservation at Anago Bistro on Main Street in Cambridge. The reservation is for two, but I’ll see that it gets changed to four. It’s for eight p.m. I’ll call back if there is a problem.”
“That’s perfect,” Edward said. Then he hung up before Stanton could ask any more questions. Edward dialed Kim at work in the SICU.
“Busy?” he asked when Kim came on the line.
“Don’t ask,” Kim said.
“I made dinner plans with Stanton and his wife,” Edward said excitedly. “It will be at eight unless I hear back from Stanton. I’m sorry it’s such short notice. I hope it’s OK for you.”
“You’re not working tonight?” Kim asked with surprise.
“I’m taking the evening off,” Edward said.
“What about tomorrow?” Kim asked. “Are we still going up to Salem?”
“We’ll talk about it,” Edward said noncommittally. “What about dinner?”
“I’d rather eat just with you,” Kim said.
“You’re sweet to say that,” Edward said. “And I’d rather eat just with you. But I have to talk with Stanton, and I thought we could make a little party out of it. I know I haven’t been so much fun this week.”
“You sound buoyant,” Kim said. “Did something good happen today?”
“It’s all been good,” Edward said. “And that’s why this meeting is important. After the dinner just you and I can spend some time together. We’ll take a walk in the square like we did the evening we first met. How about it?”
“You’ve got a date,” Kim said.
Kim and Edward arrived at the restaurant first, and the hostess, who was also one of the owners, sat them at a cozy table wedged into a nook next to the window. The view was out over a portion of Main Street with its collection of pizza joints and Indian restaurants. A fire truck sped by with all its bells and sirens screaming.
“I’d swear the Cambridge fire company uses their equipment to go for coffee,” Edward said. He laughed as he watched the truck recede. “They’re always out riding around. There can’t be that many fires.”
Kim eyed Edward. He was in a rare mood. Kim had never seen him so talkative and jovial, and although he looked tired, he was acting as if he’d just had several espressos. He even ordered a bottle of wine.
“I thought you told me you always let Stanton order the wine,” Kim said.
Before Edward could answer, Stanton arrived, and true to character breezed into the restaurant as if he were an owner. He kissed the hostess’s hand, which the hostess endured with thinly disguised impatience.
“OK, you guys,” Stanton said to Edward and Kim as he tried to help Candice into her chair. The table was narrow, and each couple had to sit side-by-side. “What’s the big news between you two? Do I have to pop for a bottle of Dom Pérignon?”
Kim looked at Edward for some explanation.
“I’ve already ordered some wine,” Edward said. “It will do nicely.”
“You ordered wine?” Stanton questioned. “But they don’t serve Ripple here.” Stanton laughed heartily as he sat down.