Dr. Marsteller Chapter 26
26
Dr.
Marsteller’s confident demeanor did not go unnoticed by the faculty at Oxford
and Cambridge who were allowed to meet with him during the couple days he was
invited to visit. He gave a talk to
anyone in the student body of both schools who wished to attend. His demeanor was of a man who knew what he
wanted and knew what he was capable of and the rest of the researchers respected
him and were impressed. No doubt arose
between them about the research as can sometimes occur after a talk by a
prominent scientists. No whispering
conversations among colleagues about it being a crackpot scheme. No loud proclamations from graduate students
in smoky pubs that what he presented was a ‘load of shit.’ They all bought it, like naïve rubes buying
snake oil at a country carnival.
Everyone was more interested in the ramifications of eternal life.
His talk was successful for two reasons;
the first was that after many years in science he knew how to maintain
composure even during the most dubious of the slides in his power point
presentation. It’s a trick he learned -
if a graduate student completed some research he didn’t trust, he still
presented it as if it was his own.
Because it was just research after all.
It couldn’t be perfect all the time.
They were doctors of philosophy.
Not doctors of fact. The second
reason was his continued visits with Mrs. Viscane even after the disaster that
occurred with her and Ezekiel. She was
still doing fine and his confidence increased daily. So he could rest easy with his research. Because in human beings his theory ceased to
be a theory and was a fact. He felt like
someone who had hidden a treasure that pirates wanted. As long as he kept his mouth shut they
couldn’t kill him because they needed him alive to tell them where the treasure
was.
He also had prepared the presentation
intricately. Peppering it with jokes and
humanizing himself with the audience by telling how the research came to
fruition. How all the graduate students
and techs were in the dark on what was occurring with the mice, and how amazed
he was when it worked and how hard it was to keep it to himself. They loved him. He was a member of the old guard making good
with new science and expanding the possibilities of humanity. One question he received after the talk was
disconcerting. A paper out of Canada had
recently been published which debunked his research. They claimed they tried to duplicate it rats,
but the rats were all riddled with cancerous growth and died before
maturity. Well, he responded, they must
have screwed something up in the preparation of the retrovirus.
-How have you been, Sly?
-Excellent Paxton.
Dr. Marsteller sat in the office of Dr.
Paxton Pullman, a neuroscience researcher, one of the current leading figures
who jumped on the stem cell bandwagon, and who was in the biology department as
a graduate student at Yale as the same time as Dr. Marsteller. They had been friends for 40 years but rarely
kept in contact. Dr. Marsteller
unbuttoned the rumpled white shirt he wore under his drab black suit. His clothes could have used an upgrade, but
most researchers didn’t wear suits for talks anymore and he figured since he
wore a suit he was already going above and beyond the call of duty. It didn’t matter if it was Armani or
not. Dr. Pullman wore drab clothes as
well in English style - a dark sweater with dark pants and dark shoes. His full head of uncombed hair moved as if a
breeze blew through the actual dead air in the office. Outside the window of the ancient building it
rained.
-You gave them a hell of a speech, Sly.
-Thanks.
It was very fulfilling to give this speech. I have an incredible amount of respect for
these institutions and their history.
Better than the TV interviews.
-Yes, I have seen some of these. So, I want to ask you straight away, this is
legitimate isn’t it?
-Of course Paxton, it really is
exciting. I haven’t felt so young in my
life. Pardon the pun.
-Ha ha.
Of course. Well, I have to ask
you, do you have anyone on board to perform some neuroscience experiments with
the retrovirus?
-We will soon at Garret, I suppose, but I
haven’t decided exactly what to do. As
you’ve seen, I have been doing some of these experiments myself, but may want a
neuro guy for the immunohistochemistry.
You can always do this on your own.
-Well, yes, but the thing that is
worrying is the recent paper they asked you about. Someone in the front row said they tried to
replicate it and failed. These
retroviruses have known to cause problems if you don’t know what you’re
doing. That’s the nature of gene therapy.
-Yes Paxton, but they say that paper was
out of Canada?
-Yeah.
-Pull up webofscience.com.
Paxton searched the keywords to look up
the paper. He clicked on the
abstract.
-Do you want me to print off the paper
for you?
-No, just tell me where the paper was
published from and who published it.
-Jackson, AO and Meursault, S out of some
pharmaceutical company in St. John’s, Newfoundland.
-Ah, I see.
-What does that mean?
-That’s a disgruntled graduate student I
had that graduated last year. She was
completely upset she wasn’t allowed to have her name on these projects. I tried to get her a job at Yale but she
didn’t want it and took off to Canada.
Now she’s apparently trying to pick up the research, but couldn’t get it
to work. It’s sad. Well, you can’t keep them all on the right
track. They gotta find their own way.
Dr. Marsteller said it solemnly as if
talking about a wayward child.
-Yeah, I’ve had some problems with some
students too. Breaks your heart. You want them to do so well.
They both nodded their heads in agreement
until their heads almost toppled off their necks.
-Here’s the deal Paxton, I’ll be starting
a company in the future with this therapy.
When everything is up and running, I’ll send you some for free if you’re
serious about performing some neuro experiments.
-That would be wonderful.
-Sure, anytime.
-You are
going to have a hell of an operation going over there.
-Hey,
sometimes we just get lucky.
-Don’t sell
yourself short, Sly.
Dr.
Marsteller smiled benevolently and folded his hands across his belly. At that point, Dr. Pullman’s phone rang.
-Hello…Yes….Yeah, he’s right here….It’s
for you, it’s your wife calling from the states. I don’t know how she found this number.
-Hello.
-Honey, you have to come home as soon as
you can. Mrs. Viscane keeps calling here
wanting to talk to you. I try to tell
her you’re in England, but she just won’t listen to me. Your cell phone doesn’t work. I called and got your schedule and they said
you were meeting with Paxton. I’m so
glad I got a hold of you.
His wife was speaking rapidly, without
breathing. When she finally took a deep
breath Dr. Marsteller stole the opportunity to speak.
-Slow down,
honey, what’s the problem?
-Mrs.
Viscane has cancer.
This originally appeared in Dr. Marsteller