“It will do three things. One—it will convert the cells at the wound site into what basically amount to stem cells. Cells that can be used in the healing process to recreate all the different types of tissue needed. The bone, the muscle, the skin, the everything. Two—it will accelerate the healing process into hyperdrive. Even if we could get the healing process to work, it would take a long time to finish, especially in humans. Years, possibly. Even in ideal situations, no human can be confined for that long. So we have to speed that up.”
“How fast can you make it?” asked Donald. He was writing notes in a notepad. He scribbled quickly.
“I mean, the limit is only the constraints of the body, and that brings me to the third thing it would need to do, which I haven’t figured out yet.”
“And that is?”
“The third would be to accelerate the rate of caloric absorption. You can’t create something from nothing. There has to be fuel. And however much I combine oral and intravenous injection, it’s not fast enough. I can get results in rats quickly enough, but it will be a problem when I scale up to larger animals, who have more complicated systems and are just—bigger.”
“So, if I understand it, the problem is we can’t eat and absorb calories quick enough to provide the rate of healing we want?”
“Yes, basically,” said Jon. “And I don’t have a solution for it. Even if an animal is eating food that is incredibly calorically dense, it can’t convert those cells fast enough. It’s a two-fold problem, and what I’ll be trying to solve while Mel is modeling.”
“Okay,” said Donald. “I’m going to look into it, and see if any of our other projects can help you with that. But let’s say we solve that issue. What then?”
“Once that’s solved, it’s about finding the right serum, testing it on a live rat, and then, if that succeeds, moving onto larger animals, in graduated steps, until we finally get to humans. But on Mr. Shaw’s timescale, even with the computer modeling, I just don’t see how it’s possible to move fast enough.”
“We’ll play it by ear,” said Donald. “You tell me what you require, and we’ll get moving. I’ll make sure there won’t be any delays on your resources.”
“Well, I need rats. I have almost everything else I need in the lab already. It’s a pretty comprehensive kit in there.”
“We have thousands of rats,” said Donald. “And basically any other animal. How many do you want?”
“Ten to start,” said Jon. “We’ll need more.”
“I’ll connect you with our quartermaster,” said Donald. “You hit a button, he’ll get more up here.”
“Thanks,” said Jon.
“Let me know if you need anything else, and I mean literally anything. And keep me updated with any progress.”
“Will do,” said Jon. Donald stood up and opened the doors, the glass defrosting.
“That was a fast meeting,” said Jon.
“Words are cheap,” said Donald.
“I’m going to get to work,” said Jon, and he left Donald’s office, heading back to his lab, less than a hundred feet away. He turned around a frosted glass corner and ran smack dab into someone. Jon fell in a shower of papers, dazed. He looked up to see the big man from the day before, the one who glared at him. His eyes looked similarly now, as he stared down at Jon and his empty hands.
“Sorry,” said Jon. “I didn’t—”
“Didn’t look where you were going?” asked the man.
“I guess not,” said Jon, even though he couldn’t have helped it if he had tried.
“You should be more careful, Dr. Matthews,” said the man.
“You have me at a disadvantage,” said Jon, waiting for him to extend a hand to help him up. It didn’t come, and Jon pushed himself off the floor.
“Dr. Stone,” said the man. Jon picked up the papers for him. Stone didn’t help him.
“Nice to meet you,” said Jon.
Stone didn’t answer, only glared at him.
Jon slowly stopped picking up the papers, handing Stone the few he had grabbed. This was more than just Jon running into him.
“Do we have a problem? Did I do something wrong?” asked Jon.
Dr. Stone held his glare. He shook his head, sighing. He narrowed his eyes.
“Your lab is twice the size of mine,” said Stone.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” said Jon. “I’m sure—”
“And they gave you Dr. Underwood,” said Stone, cutting him off. Jon didn’t bother speaking again. “Limb regeneration, right?”
“Yes,” said Jon, finally.
“You’ve been on the surface more recently than I have,” said Stone. “Maybe you can tell me. Is there a huge rash of missing limbs killing thousands of people?”
Jon stared back at him, at Stone’s dark, unblinking eyes.
“Oh, there isn’t?” asked Stone. “Not a terrible emergency, you say?”
“I was invited down here—”
“You were invited down here because Shaw wants his arm back. Period. End of story. Close book. Anything else he tells you is a lie.” Stone got closer to him, peering down at him. He stood six inches taller than Jon, his shoulders broad. Jon didn’t budge.
“Do we have a problem, Doctor?” asked Stone. “Yes. It’s you. You’re the problem. You’re taking up space and attention from other projects. Everyone else is here to save the world. You’re here to regrow a billionaire’s arm.”
Stone turned and left. His assistant came out a moment later and picked up the fallen papers.
Jon stood there, taking deep breaths. He wouldn’t let his anger guide him. He breathed out until he was calm, and then he returned to his lab.
“Are you okay?” asked Mel.
“I’m okay,” said Jon. “Why do you ask?”
“Dr. Stone looked like he was about to crush you,” said Mel.
Jon paused. “He doesn’t appreciate my presence here,” said Jon.
“He seems like a dick,” said Mel.
Jon didn’t answer, and Mel returned to her work. Jon began brainstorming ideas and tried to push Stone’s comments out of his mind.
Mel wasn’t wrong. Stone was assuredly an asshole.
But Jon was worried that he also might be right.
5
The cafeteria was a gigantic space, with rows of tables lined up, hundreds of seats, all given ample room to spread out and eat.
But the place was mostly empty. A lone eater got up just as Jon entered, putting his tray back and throwing away his trash.
It felt eerie, but Jon’s stomach wouldn’t wait, so he went up to the old-fashioned cafeteria line and grabbed a little bit of everything. To be honest, he was starving, and he tried to thank all the lunchroom workers. He wondered where they came from. Were they Shaw’s employees up top? Did they get to bring their families?
Jon took his tray of food and cup of water and sat down in the middle of a long table. His chair scraped against the floor. It echoed throughout the room. He ate slowly, enjoying the food. It was great, much better than typical cafeteria fare. Shaw had spared no expense. Jon stared idly as he ate. A few people came through, all grabbing something to go.
He looked down to his food, Stone’s comments ringing back through his head. Stone had accused him of just being here to regrow Shaw’s arm.
But was it true? Why was he here?
Everything had happened so quickly, he hadn’t really thought of the why. The richest man on Earth had thrown him a hail mary, a way to continue his research and keep his son safe, all at the same time. Why would he have said no? Out of some misbegotten drive to give resources only to those who had completely altruistic reasons?
Jon had never bought into that. If anyone did good, it didn’t matter why they did it. If it was to earn respect, or credibility, or if it was only out of the goodness of their heart, it still brought good into the world. Good done for selfish reasons was still good.