Margaret wasn’t surprised. Cheng was a climber and a glory grabber, no doubt, but he was no fool and he had a small army of scientists at his disposal. Creating multiple strains was the logical approach. The more weapons they developed, the better chance of having one or two that would devastate the enemy.
“Developing variant strains is mandatory, Doctor Cheng,” Margaret said. “But that doesn’t address mass production. How are we going to make enough of this stuff to dose over seven billion people?”
Cheng’s easy, arrogant smile returned. Margaret knew he’d come up with an original idea, one he’d be entitled to claim as his own.
“Breweries,” he said.
Margaret’s eyebrows raised… not just an original idea, a brilliant original idea.
Clarence looked from Cheng to Murray to Margaret — he didn’t understand what Cheng was talking about.
Tim leaned back in his chair, surprised. He looked almost disappointed that Cheng had thought of it and not him.
“That’s great,” he said. “How many breweries are involved?”
Now it was Murray’s turn to smile. “Most of the breweries in America, Canada and Mexico are onboard. President Blackmon’s been on the phone nonstop with beverage company executives. Believe me, she’s quite convincing.”
Tim shook his head slowly. “Well, spank my ass and call me Sally,” he said. “Cheng, I always thought you were a smelly, stupid douchebag with the integrity of a five-dollar whore, but you know what? You’re not stupid at all.”
Cheng started to give a nod of thanks, then stopped, unsure if he’d just been insulted.
Clarence looked at Tim, then to the screen, then at Margaret again, anywhere for an answer. “Sorry, can someone tell me what’s happening? Breweries?”
Tim slapped the table again. “Beer, man. People have been using yeast to make beer for, shit, well since before we started recording history. We don’t need to build production facilities for” — he turned to look at Cheng — “for Saccharomyces feely” — Tim turned back to Clarence — “because all over the world there are places already equipped to brew yeast cultures around the clock. Those places are called breweries.”
Cheng’s face was reddening. Tim had refused to let the man have his moment of triumph; Cheng couldn’t help but chime in.
“And the distribution infrastructure is already in place as well,” he said. “Most of the breweries have either their own bottling facilities or direct contracts with them, fleets of trucks, dedicated distribution centers — they can brew it, bottle it, and ship it.”
No wonder Murray thought he was going to win.
“Sounds good in theory,” Margaret said. “But will it work for the entire planet?”
Murray waved a hand in annoyance. “Do you mind if we focus on the USA first, Margaret? This is a massive effort, yes — one of the biggest projects in our nation’s history. Fifty of the largest breweries already have starter cultures. Each of those fifty is delivering subcultures to at least ten more. In two days, we’ll have fifteen hundred American breweries producing inoculant. We can make everyone who drinks it immune.”
“Temporarily immune,” Margaret said. All eyes turned to her.
“Let’s not forget that one dose doesn’t last forever. Tim’s inoculant is good for…” She turned to Tim. “For how long?”
His eyes glanced upward in thought. He pursed his lips, tilted his head left, then right.
“Oh, about a week,” he said. “Then it’s going to fully process through the body.”
Margaret nodded. “A week. So you’re not just talking three hundred and twenty million batches for the good ol’ USA, Murray, it’s three hundred and twenty million batches a week. If the disease gets to the mainland, the inoculant can slow the disease’s spread — but it can’t stop it altogether.”
Cheng huffed. “Unless the disease breaks out in the next three weeks, we’ll have enough repeat doses for everyone in North America.”
Margaret shook her head in amazement; Cheng was really starting to piss her off.
“This disease could give a fuck about borders,” she said. “If you don’t get regular doses to the entire world, you’re looking at a disaster of epic proportions. This is about logistics as well as production. Across the planet, one person in seven is starving not because the world doesn’t produce enough food, but because we can’t get food to all the people. And you really think that you can get a regular supply of this to everyone?”
Cheng’s face turned red with anger. “Yes, that is exactly what I think. This event will bind the human race together.”
Margaret saw the expression on his face, understood it — he was annoyed because she doubted his ability to save the planet. He wanted to see his face in the history books.
Careful what you wish for, Cheng…
“We can’t even bind Americans together, let alone the world,” she said. “And what are your plans for the people who refuse to take it, like the idiots who refuse to vaccinate their own children? What do you do when the companies that are so helpful now decide that they’ve done their part and they have to go back to business as usual?”
Cheng’s face furrowed into a tight-lipped scowl. “Doctor Montoya, this is the answer to the problem. We will find a way.”
Margaret wanted to grab his fat cheeks with both hands, twist his head, make him whine like the little weakling he was. She wanted to slap him.
“We have a chance at a permanent solution,” she said. “What about the hydra organism? There were ten people in that human artificial chromosome clinical trial — have you tracked down the other nine?”
Cheng leaned back. The scowl faded. He looked smug, like he’d defeated her argument merely by letting her say it out loud. He waited.
Murray answered her question.
“The president doesn’t like the hydra solution,” he said. “She doesn’t like the idea of introducing one unknown disease to fight another. And as you pointed out, it’s possible that the hydras are an airborne contagion — if we use them, they could spread uncontrollably and we have no idea what they might do. President Blackmon told us to focus on the yeast. If Cheng’s… excuse me, if Feely’s inoculant works, there’s no need to expose the population to an unknown organism.”
Her face felt hot. Now Murray was against her as well?
“Blackmon doesn’t like it,” she said.
Margaret knew what was happening. Cheng was sabotaging her work, whispering in the president’s ear. Margaret felt an intense anger welling up inside of her.
She stared at Cheng. “So the president doesn’t like it, eh, Cheng? And who gave her the idea that the hydras were so godawful dangerous, huh?”
Cheng’s eyes sparkled with delight.
“You did, Doctor Montoya,” he said. “Your reports labeled the hydras an incalculable risk.”
She blinked. Her reports had said that.
“But… but that was before,” she said. “Surely you’re not so incompetent you can’t see what we’re up against. We still don’t even know if Tim’s yeast works. And if it does, what if the disease evolves to beat it? We have to at least pursue the hydras as an alternate solution.”
Cheng shrugged. “We have some people seeing if they can track down other patients of the HAC study, but to be blunt, I don’t put much credence in your theory, Doctor Montoya. I hardly think infecting people with your contagious space worms is a viable solution.”