The Generation at the End, page 2
“Thank you, Doctor DeMoray, for taking the time to assure me you are hard at work on what sounds like a very difficult situation”
“Your friend Mr. Diebold is not the only patient we have with these same symptoms. There are now seven other patients suffering along with your friend. We sent requests to some other medical facilities in the area to inform us of any patients that were admitted with these same symptoms. We have only a few responses so far, all from Portland and Los Angeles”
Paul thanked the doctor again and headed back to Matt’s room. Matt was still sleeping. He was beginning to look like a very old man.
As Paul was getting in to his new Mazda, with the new windshield, he suddenly recalled something the man who had done the replacement told him yesterday. Paul had explained how the windshield had been broken. He told Paul of a replacement he did for a very lovely older woman last week. Her husband was admitted to the hospital less than a week ago with an undiagnosed condition. The woman said her husband was a healthy, robust man ten days ago.
Friday nights always meant dinner and either a movie or a game of hearts with Sharon’s neighbors, the Tomays. Since that wasn’t possible Paul would have to entertain himself. He immediately thought of his friend Frank. Frank Salazar was a detective with Portland’s finest. He had been with the force fourteen years and he almost always went bowling on Friday night. They occasionally played pool at the bowling alley in the Hollywood district. Paul hit Frank’s number on the speed dial.
“Yo,” Frank bellowed into the phone.
“You learned anything about shootin’ pool yet?”
“Enough to beat you. What’s a matter, you break up with Sharon?”
“You wish. How far are you from the bowling alley?”
“About as close as you can get. I’m there.”
“Great, I’ll see you shortly.”
Frank Salazar had married very young. He was not yet twenty. It didn’t last long. He caught his twenty four old wife of only three months cheating on him. It turned out to be a sad state of affairs. He followed her to a motel and caught her in bed with her fourteen year old nephew. Frank was pretty much a confirmed bachelor after that.
The bowling alley had six nice tables. It was a little more expensive than playing in a tavern but the tables were nicer and there was no deafening music. Frank was just returning his rented bowling shoes at the desk. Frank stuck out his hand.
“You were lucky, process server. I heard about your little target practice with the drunk.”
Frank knew how much Paul hated being called a process server. That’s why he always called him one.
“If that goof ball had been on “meth” he would have been all over you. I hope your soft heart doesn’t get you killed some day.”
“I’m not a 007 like you, bounty hunter. I don’t have a license to kill.”
Paul knew Frank had actually done some bounty hunting in his younger day. Frank hated being called bounty hunter.
“You want a shoot some pool or just shoot your mouth off.”
Whoever lost the first game had to pay for the table. Frank could beat Paul if he played serious. He very seldom played serious, however. Frank would rather perform some of his trick shots than win a game.
“How did that creep get close enough to swing a bat at you?”
“If you must know, I was daydreaming of my lover and vacationing in Aruba. And he never did swing it at me. He busted out my windshield. Would you have “shot to kill”, even though it was just a drunk with a baseball bat?”
Frank didn’t hesitate, “I would have sent one past his ear first. If that didn’t do it, the next one would have been the final one; for him and for me.”
Frank new about Matt being in the hospital.
“How’s your friend in the hospital? Have they figured out what made him sick?”
“It’s really a strange thing. The doctors seem to be stumped. There are seven other people with the same symptoms in there with Matt. It’s really odd. The guy who replaced my windshield told me about a woman whose husband was hospitalized and the doc’s can’t explain why.”
“I know just what you’re talking about, Frank said, as he missed another trick shot. My partner’s wife is a ward nurse at Good Samaritan and she said there are five or six patients with the same symptoms.”
Chapter five
Paul was almost asleep when the phone chimed.
“I hope I didn’t wake you my love. I have good news; I finished the brief just a few minutes ago.”
“Does that mean you can come with me tomorrow?”
“You bet. What time you gonna pick me up?”
“How about nine o’clock? If you want to stop for breakfast I could be there at eight.” “You have just made a deal, Mr. Brookings. I’ll see you at eight. Good night my love,” Sharon purred.
“Don’t do that,” Paul pleaded.
Paul had just laid the phone down when it chimed again.
“Now what?” he piped into the phone.
There was a few seconds of silence and then an unfamiliar voice asked, “Paul Brookings?”
“I’m sorry. This is Paul Brookings.”
“I’m Doctor Peters from Saint Vincents Hospital. I’m calling due to a request by Matthew Diebold. He has just been transferred to ICU. Yours is the only phone number on his list of people to call.”
“Can you tell me of his condition?”
“I’m sorry, I am not aware of his condition. Doctor DeMoray requested I call some people.”
“Thank you very much, Doctor Peters.”
Perhaps he should call Sharon and head to the hospital right now. It was just a few minutes before one in the morning. Sharon would no doubt be tired and Matt would be asleep or sedated anyway. Paul laid back and wondered how this could be happening. He got out of bed and went in to his office. He flipped a page back and looked at last month’s dates. He and Matt had played nine holes of golf twelve days ago. Paul didn’t know of any disease or condition that could be fatal in such a short time. Possibly the most deadly virus known to man could act that quickly.
Sharon and Paul had a scrumptious breakfast and were in a playful mood as Paul parked the car in the hospital parking lot. Sharon swatted him on the rump and ran for the elevators.
“Sure, start something you know you can’t finish.”
Paul put her in a bear hug and was kissing her sweetly as the elevator doors opened. The security guard smiled and wagged his finger at them. Sharon was properly embarrassed. They were kissing again as the doors opened on the third floor where the ICU was located. Paul asked the nurse at the station what room Matthew Diebold was in. She asked him to please wait a minute. In just a minute or two, Dr. DeMoray was walking down the hall toward him. The doctor didn’t need to say anything. He had “that look” on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, as he reached out to shake hands. “Mr. Diebold slipped into a coma just a few minutes ago.”
Chapter six
------- TWO MONTHS EARLIER -------
8/4
“Yes, it is a desperate, dangerous and despicable course of action.” cried the Chairman of the committee. “If any of you gentlemen have a less precarious plan that has even a snowball’s chance of working, let’s hear it.”
The meeting had been going on for nearly three hours. Stomachs were empty and tempers were short. Part of the frustration was caused by the fact this was the tenth attempt to provide a solution to a problem that had no solution. The inevitable had become reality. The Social Security Administration was near default.
There were eight members on the committee: the chief actuary of S.S.A, Cyrus Vaughn, two members from the S.S.A board ( one from the president’s cabinet and the commissioner of S.S.A), one from the congressional budget office, one officer from the treasury securities office (where most of the revenue of S.S.A is accumulated), one member of the ways and means committee, one member of the senate and one member of the house.
The chief actuary, who was chairing the committee, stood up and cleared his throat. He had in mind to press his point with cold, hard facts.
“Gentlemen, we cannot continue to speculate about the future. Nor can we expect any more outside assistance. In the past we have remedied our shortfalls by conventional methods. We have raised taxes, lowered benefits, raised the retirement age and/or tapped the general fund. Those options are no longer available. Three years ago our shortfall was $142 billion, two years ago it increased to $167 billion, and last year we incurred a $192 billion deficit.”
The chairman took a few sips of water, drew a deep breath and continued.
“Four years ago the S.S.A had a $500 billion surplus. Granted, extenuating circumstances and double digit unemployment were tantamount in exhausting that surplus. With fewer and fewer people working, the life blood of this administration diminishes daily.”
“Approximately $750 billion flowed through this fine administration last year. The citizen of this great country doesn’t see the money flowing out. He only knows he has been paying into it nonstop for most of his life. All he sees coming in is his insufficient little check each month.”
The chairman continued.
“Every man in this room knows the catastrophic consequences this nation would face in the event this Social Security Administration defaulted and collapsed. I have crunched the numbers three times, gentlemen. Without an unforeseen miracle, a large number of the checks that should be mailed out in January of next year would be declined due to lack of funds. Today is August 4 th . That is only a little less than five months away, gentlemen.”
There was uncomfortable squirming and murmuring. However, no one stood up to speak. With some difficulty and considerable emotion the chairman concluded. “Unless there is a resolute and responsible motion, in writing, on my desk in one week I will have no other choice but to contact Dr. Soshyant. It is on my heart as I am sure it is on yours; the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few. As we have already declared, every word spoken in this meeting is strictly confidential. All those in favor of adjourning please signify by raising your hand.”
It was unanimous.
Chapter seven
8/10
Doctor Ari Soshyant (re/so-she-aunt) had been described as heartless by many. Those close to him called him a man whose lifeblood was pure logic. Dr. Soshyant attributed his meteoric rise to the head of Biology at Stanford University in Palo Alto to the application of logic. He applied it, not only to his work but his personal decisions as well. At the age of forty four he had never married. His relationship with the opposite sex was purely nocturnal. The doctor strongly resented the term, “one nighter.” When questioned about any future plans for marriage Dr. Soshyant usually replied, “It would be illogical to devote enough time to become a proficient mate for one woman and deprive all the others.”
Dr Soshyant was born in Washington DC to Iranian parents. His father was a math teacher at the high school Ari attended. His father was only forty four when he died of stomach cancer. Ari’s mother took her own life three days after her husband’s memorial. Ari was on his own at the age of sixteen. He got a job at the Washington Post as an interpreter on the international staff. Ari spoke Farsi, also known as Parsi, and two other Persian dialects. He also spoke English better than most Americans.
Even before he graduated from Washington DC Mathematics Science Technology PCS, Ari had applied to Stanford Medical School. In high school he received the highest PSAT score in the school’s history. The score on his entrance exam to Stanford was the third highest on record. The majority of Ari’s tuition was paid by some of the inheritance from his father’s estate. The rest came from a scholarship from the Washington Post. Brilliant was a word Ari started hearing even before he graduated from high school.
Dr. Ari Soshyant became a millionaire at the age of thirty seven, just nine years after he received his second doctorate. Acquiring wealth for the sake of wealth would not be logical. Ari needed a considerable amount of money to reach the goal he set for himself shortly after his father’s death. The doctor was going to build a research center and find a cure for cancer. He also had in mind to change the way research was carried on in the United States, if not the world. Ari believed research was carried on incoherently. There was no openness, no disclosure. Most research centers labored with limited funding and only their singularity. Dr. Soshyant hoped to change all that when he instituted his own facility.
Ari had a PhD in bio chemistry and another in molecular biology. Two degrees were very logical to Dr. Soshyant. Even as a boy he was very curious how nutrition was converted to energy. After receiving his degree in bio chemistry, Ari still wasn’t convinced he had learned all about metabolism. Hence, the need for further study and the degree in molecular biology. During his in depth study of proteins, Ari was disquieted to discover how easily just one substitution in the alpha chain of hemoglobin can produce a serious illness in a substantial amount of humans. The alpha chain of hemoglobin contains 146 amino acid residues; substitution of the glutamate residue at position 6 with a valine residue changes the behavior of hemoglobin so much that it results in the sickle cell disease.
At the age of forty four Dr. Soshyant came to a logical conclusion; he was still hundreds of millions of dollars short of constructing his research center. Dr. Soshyant had developed a simple enzyme that would virtually eliminate the need for men over fifty to be scourged with painful and uncomfortable prostate problems. As with all discoveries of prescription drugs, the producing and distributing of those drugs comes with an onerous contingency. Receiving a patent on the new drug could take months if not years. With most new drugs, the big pharmaceuticals push the FDA to release the patents on the condition they are allowed to purchase them exclusively. One company would then obtain the patent. Upon obtaining said patent the big pharmaceutical would place it in a filing cabinet in the far corner of a warehouse.
Dr. Soshyant would have to come up with something other than a new wonder drug. Perhaps the phone call he received last week might require some more research. It was fascinating, to say the least. A Mr. Cyrus Vaughn, who claimed to be the chief actuary at the Social Security Administration, had left a message to call him about a serious proposition. At least determining what the proposition might be would be logical. He left a number which he claimed was his own private cell phone. Tomorrow, he would give Mr. Vaughn a call.
8/11
“Good morning, this is Cyrus Vaughn.”
“Good morning Mr. Vaughn, Dr. Soshyant here. I am calling concerning your serious proposition.”
“I do indeed have a very serious proposition to present to you. Even though this cell phone is very secure, the information I might disclose to you is top secret. Would it be convenient for you to meet in a location, we can agree on, to discuss this further”? “My work here at the school is vital, Mr. Vaughn. It would not be logical to compromise my schedule and fly to an undisclosed location without further submission of data on your part, Mr. Vaughn.”
“First, let me express my gratitude for taking your valuable time to return my call. I am well aware of your position there at Stanford. Your career and credentials have been on my mind a great deal lately. You might be amazed at how much I know about you, Dr. Soshyant. For example, I am impressed by your personal dream to build a research facility to find a cure for cancer.”
Mr. Vaughn hoped he hadn’t insulted the doctor with his expose’ of Dr. Soshyant’s life.
“I’m delighted you are pleased with my accomplishments, Mr. Vaughn. You have done your homework. However, I fail to see how this revelation would sway my decision to meet with you. As I stated earlier, my time is valuable. If you have nothing further, I bid you good day.”
In desperation Cyrus Vaughn blurted out, “How much would it take to build your research facility?”
Cyrus couldn’t decide if the silence on the other end of the line was good or bad. Finally, Dr. Soshyant spoke.
“What is the time frame of this proposition, Mr. Vaughn?”
“Time is of the essence, but money is no object.”
“The rest of today is already overloaded. Give me a call at this same number tomorrow, if you would, please. “
“Indeed I will. You may rest assured Dr. Soshyant.”
Cyrus Vaughn went straight to his office and told his secretary he didn’t want to be disturbed for at least an hour. What had he just done? If Dr. Soshyant was a true blue patriot he could become very burdensome. On the other hand if he was a very shrewd negotiator, he may very well demand more compensation than the budget would handle. Mr. Vaughn came to one conclusion he was sure of. It was time to recruit a co-conspirator.
Ari left his office and walked to the park bench where he did his best thinking. Mr. Vaughn had spoken a great many words without saying anything. He must be a very successful politician. One thing for sure, this proposition was not something the citizens of the good old USA would be voting on. Dr. Soshyant’s curiosity was definitely piqued. One phrase stood out in Ari’s mind, “money is no object.”
Chapter eight
8/12
“Dr. Soshyant here.”
“Good afternoon doctor; this is Cyrus Vaughn. How are you?”
“I am quite well. How are you doing, Mr. Vaughn?”
