‘The committee has decided that Sci-Med’s request that the government actively engage with drug companies to introduce a vaccination programme for the general public to provide protection against agents likely to be used in biological attack... be declined.’
Macmillan nodded and exchanged a look with Steven who risked a small smile.
‘The application from Professor Dorothy Lindstrom for funding to continue and expand her work on epigenetic control mechanisms... has also been declined.’
‘Totally?’ exclaimed Lindstrom clearly taken aback.
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘What short-sighted stupidity. Unbelievable.’
Dalrymple seemed momentarily startled but decided to ignore Lindstrom’s outburst and continued. ‘The supplementary grant to cancer research will remain at its current level.’
Sir Nigel Carter nodded and accepted the decision without comment but Dorothy Lindstrom was reluctant to retire from the fray. ‘Why?’ she demanded.
Dalrymple recovered quickly from his obvious surprise. ‘I’m sure I need hardly remind you that cancer is a major killer in our country, Professor.’
‘It’s a major killer in every country,’ said Lindstrom. It has been for a very long time.’
‘Your point, Professor?’
‘Isn’t it about time they cured it rather than gobble up money sine diem?’
‘Oh, come on, Dorothy, you know it’s not that simple,’ protested Carter. ‘We have been making real progress.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ retorted Lindstrom, something that brought gasps from round the table.
Carter was becoming agitated. ‘The cancer figures are plain to see. People are living longer and longer. No one disputes that.’
‘People are living longer and longer with cancer,’ said Lindstrom. ‘You’re keeping people alive for longer and longer with cancer. Their quality of life can be poor to bloody awful but that doesn’t appear in your figures, does it? Quality of life never does. The bulk of your research is concerned with diagnosing the disease, telling us what causes it, screening for it, everything but curing it! You’ve got money streaming in from slick advertising which costs a bundle and makes people feel guilty if they don’t start shelling out on a monthly basis or running a marathon backwards dressed as a blooming kangaroo and you still want more!’
‘Professor Lindstrom, I know you are disappointed but I really must ask you to desist,’ Dalrymple intervened.
‘I’m not disappointed; I’m furious and I hoped I might be allowed to put my point of view,’ said Lindstrom.
‘You’ve certainly done that, Professor. We must move on.’
Dalrymple shuffled papers in front of him unnecessarily, still reeling from what had happened. ‘The committee has decided that funding for therapeutic genetic engineering be held at its current level.’
‘Why?’ interjected Lindstrom.
‘Really, Professor. This is completely unprecedented. The committee is under no obligation to explain its decisions to anyone... but I will tell you that it felt that the putative treatment of disease by genetic engineering techniques continue to be given a priority rating.’
‘A priority rating,’ repeated Lindstrom quietly. She took a moment before saying in deliberately controlled fashion. ‘Science discovered the gene for cystic fibrosis in 1979. Money poured in to fund a genetically engineered cure and here we are in 2014 no further forward apart from having a regiment of scientists on the CF payroll.’
‘That is monstrously unfair,’ said Walman. ‘The problems involved in inserting a replacement gene are enormous.’
‘That’s an excuse for failure not a claim for success,’ retorted Lindstrom. ‘You may never come up with a suitable vector.’
‘That’s not a reason for stopping trying,’ said Walman, clearly rattled.
‘No, it isn’t,’ agreed Lindstrom. ‘But it is a reason for reconsidering priorities before they become traditions,’ she added with a glance towards Carter.
‘If I may be allowed to continue...’ said a clearly stressed Dalrymple, raising his voice to overcome the hubbub. ‘The committee has granted a ten percent increase to the stem cell research budget.’
‘Quite right too,’ said Lindstrom to Dalrymple’s obvious relief. ‘It’s our brightest hope.’
‘I’m glad you concur, Professor,’ said Dalrymple.
Simon Laing nodded his satisfaction. ‘Not as much as we’d hoped for, but in the circumstances, very welcome.’
Carter, still smarting from Lindstrom’s attack, said, ‘Perhaps Professor Lindstrom would be good enough to tell us why she considers her work more important than research into cancer and genetic engineering?’
Walman nodded his approval of the question.
‘Because it’s new and I know where I’m going with my research. Your people are going up side streets, around in circles, doing the same things over and over again because of a lack of vision. It’s fresh ideas you need not more cash.’
‘Whereas,’ said Walman angrily, ‘piddling around with what makes us happy, and what makes us sad is really important?’
‘It’s a start,’ said Lindstrom evenly, ‘but my research group have come a bit further than that. We accept we can’t make changes to the human genome when there are copies of it in nearly every cell in the body but it’s becoming clear that we can exercise control over it and we’re coming ever closer to learning how to turn genes on and off. We’re pretty sure we know why placebos work. It’s not magic; it’s the epigenome in action, the switchgear working. When one patient is given a drug and another a sugar pill and both get better it’s the belief that he had been given an appropriate drug that triggers the response in the placebo patient. It’s not a positive attitude in itself that helps patients deal with illness and overcome it, it’s the genetic switches that are thrown when a patient develops one. There’s a genetic reason why certain people have photographic memories and others not. There’s a genetic reason why some autistic savants can perform the most amazing calculations and others sit down and play a Beethoven sonata on the piano after hearing it for the first time. It’s all down to the switches and we are homing in on them. We may all have these abilities within us; it could just be a matter of learning how to throw the switches and in the right order.’
‘Or not,’ said Carter sourly.
‘Mind over matter,’ said Walman with a shrug of disbelief.
‘You’re right; it is mind over matter,’ said Lindstrom. ‘But what we have to do is translate the vagaries of mind into actual chemical reactions, identify them and simulate them.’
‘That does indeed sound an exciting prospect, Professor,’ said Dalrymple, attempting to mend fences. ‘I’m truly sorry that the committee could not see their way to offer support at this stage.’
‘No matter,’ said Lindstrom, getting up to leave, ‘I’m sure not all grant-funding bodies will be so short-sighted.’
‘Ouch,’ whispered Steven as this was taken to signal an end to the meeting.
‘Well, what do you think?’ asked Steven as he and Macmillan walked through to where coffee was being served.
‘She’s a formidable woman... but not exactly a sad loss to the Diplomatic Corps.’
‘Do you think she’ll find alternative funding?’
‘I suspect you’d have to be closer to finding these chemical switches before the pharma companies come on board, but it would be pretty wonderful if they could do it,’ said Macmillan. ‘Imagine being able to cure debilitating conditions through triggering a switch.’
‘I’m beginning to feel gutted she didn’t get support,’ said Steven.
‘Didn’t you say she had some?’