Use Only As Instructed ((UnHolyPimpHand & VampiricTouch))

[UnHolyPimpHand]

((Collaborated Works))

Clark Peterson sat with the back of his chair facing the interior of his office, Gabriel Ortega CFO was still waiting for an answer, none too patiently. The trouble was, Clark didn’t have an answer. Knowing that he wouldn’t find the answer looking out his floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the ocean didn’t stop Clark from looking for it there.

“I just wanted to help people,” Clark sighed, turning back to face the unwelcome news that they were out of runway and further from FDA approval than when they’d started, “I told you it was too soon to take the company public.”

“Bullshit, Clark,” Gabe hadn’t slept in three days and was not letting Clark pin this on him, “you burned through our runway on legal settlements and endless studies that just led to more lawsuits. It doesn’t work—or more specifically, it doesn’t matter if it works because it’s unsustainable. The side effects related to production are too severe!”

“But what about the people we’ve helped—the kids we’ve saved?”

“They’re grateful, Clark—but they don’t work for the FDA and the FDA is who we need to impress.”

“But we’re improving—we’re getting better. One strong candidate could make dozens of treatments possible.”

“One is still too many, damnit! We’re talking about rendering someone sterile in their prime—”

“We still don’t know that those side-effects are permanent!”

“Even if they’re temporary! It’s people’s reproductive rights you’re fucking with.”

“Politicians have been fucking with women’s reproductive rights for decades. We’re just talking about one person—wo-man! Singular. A volunteer maybe…”

“You’re grasping at straws, Clark. I’m going to go clean out my desk.”

Clark turned back to the window abruptly. It couldn’t end like this… there had to be something he was missing. Clark wasn’t about to admit defeat—not now, with the goal so close…

“Emily, could you bring me the requests for treatment book?” Clark turned back and spoke to his receptionist through intercom.

“Right away, Mr. Peterson,” Emily answered through the speaker.

The answer was in that book… it had to be.

***

She sits in the hospital room; listens to the steady beep-beep-beep of the monitor. His eyes open and he smiles weakly, reaches up to brush his hand along her face, before it drops on the blankets. "Eva," his hoarse voice whispers. His hand's clammy, and she fights the tears as she holds his hand and those eyelids flutter back closed.

She weeps when they wheel him away.

Non-specific autoimmune disorder, doctor-speak for 'no idea what's wrong' - only that his immune system's attacking his body. Once, his lungs, causing pneumonia, another time his kidneys, one consumed and the other barely functional. Their time together is delineated by trips to the hospital, learning the first names of the entire hospital staff.

She’s watching him through the glass when his doctor asks for a word; pulls her into a room and closes the door. “We both know he’s at the end of his road,” he says, voice bleak as it trails into the distance. “There’s not much that we can do now. I absolutely hate to suggest this, but there may be a drug, “ he sighs, and pauses long enough that she thought he’d never continue.

“ReNova just got FDA approval. Extremely limited low rate production, just enough samples to pass the certifications; production ended for unknown reasons. It’s a miracle drug, though. I had a patient with multiple organ failure, similar to this scenario; within a month of regular dosage he regained all functionality of his organs and made a full recovery. It was truly a miracle.” His awe is palpable as he recounts the experience. Then, his face falls. “Unfortunately, Zephyr Corp ceased production and he relapsed once the medication ran out.”

*-*-*

“Please understand, Mrs. Cohen, if there were anything that could be done, I would be behind it whole-heartedly. The reason I began Zephyr was to help people like your husband, but the process is just too costly—and I don’t mean money,” Clark was standing, facing away from the distraught, soon-to-be-widow.

The sunset had stained the vast horizon blood red and the clouds were capped in purple off into the distance. Helping people had been great, but Clark might miss this view most of all when the IRS came to seize this building.

“We published findings as a medication, which the use of ReNova is a part of it—but that’s an oversimplification that we spread as a means of protecting certain confidential practices. You see, the lion’s share of the work that happens here in correcting auto-immune disorders is carried out by nanomachines. I know, it sounds like science fiction—but the reality is that we’ve perfected the actual science of engineering certain strains of protein with the ability to repair DNA coding errors at a molecular level—and though the process has been proven to work in clinical trials, the acquisition of these proteins has proven… prohibitive. I regret to say.

“So while I’d be delighted to sell your husband mountains of ReNova, I’d only be selling you false hope without access to more of these proteins—which we have been expressly prohibited from producing more of.”

Clark finally turned back from the window and sat back at his desk. His Armani suit was perfectly tailored and matched down to the socks and the gems that he wore in his cufflinks. His watch looked like something from the future.

“I understand your desperation, but short of… really extraordinary and likely unpleasant measures, there’s nothing more that I can help you with. Please…” Clark gestured toward the massive pivot-door, carved from a single piece of cross-cut Teak wood.

Inwardly he wondered if she’d dressed like that intentionally, was she inviting his gaze? Was she willing to betray her marriage to save her husband? Clark wasn’t sure, but he also knew better than to be the one to suggest it.

 

[VampiricTouch]

Deals with the Devil

Finding Zephyr’s headquarters had been easy. Getting a meeting with any of their executives to resume production... not so much. She had sat in their lobby daily for two weeks. Repeatedly asking the receptionist to please grant an audience with one of the executives and was repeatedly told that they were busy.

It’s after a month of persistence, that the famed CEO happens to walk through the lobby and Evaline accosts him with her plea. By some stroke of luck, he waves the receptionist off and shows her into the executive elevator, up the high rise and into his office. All the while, he patiently listens to her tale of woe, and the glimmer of hope he may hold in his hand.

There is that distinct feeling of bewilderment and hope that she finds herself walking into Mahogany Row to sit in his office… Only to arrive at a conclusion of crushing despair.

There is a long held silence when her face falls and she fights the tears. The high collar is tight around the lump in her throat. The cascade of ruffles lining the front of her blouse tremble with her barely contained emotion.

Studiously studying the line of decorative buttons lining the side of her pencil skirt. She counts the big black buttons to calm the threatening tears. No. She needs to make this appeal. To convince him to restart. When she trusts her voice again, she asks quietly, “What sort of extraordinary and unpleasant measures?”

She looks up, her eyes glittering with resolute persistence, “Mr. Peterson, it isn’t the cost. And you didn’t say it was impossible.”

She stands, smoothing her palms over the skirt that falls past her knees. Her heels click in measured paces across his tiled floor. Her fists ball and rest on his desk, as she searches desperately for words.

“You just said it was extraordinary. But aren’t these the moments, when a man’s life is at stake, when so many lives hang in the balance… aren’t these the times you should pursue those extraordinary measures?”

 

[UnHolyPimpHand]

The Devil and his Due

“Oh, my dear, dear Mrs. Cohen, I do not for a moment doubt your resolve or your passion—I truly hope that you do not think me dispassionate, but you understand that I’ve had to refuse young mothers treatment for their children in much the same way I’m telling you now… but I’m afraid much of what there is to tell is proprietary information. I’m legally bound from revealing certain details to you that may impact share prices…” Clark laid his hand over the back of her balled up fist on her desk, appearing to comfort while at the same time overwhelming her smaller hand in his own.

“Suffice to say that your obviously incorruptible loyalty to your husband is precisely the thing that makes it impossible for you to do much that would meaningfully help him,” Clark sighed, slipping his fingers inside of hers to hold her hand, “if you could save him, but it meant being disloyal to your marriage, could you do that?”

The question hung heavy and Clark deliberately let it sit. It was the kind of question that needed answering if things were going to move forward as he intended them to. It was just the first of several soul-searching decisions she’d be forced to make down the road.

“So now you see what I mean about your loyalty. The proteins we need have to have DNA in order to be restructured to tag and fight the illness—in other words, they need to come from someone. The medication that facilitates production of these proteins has a long list of side-effects—including but not limited to, heightened sexual sensitivity, prolonged bouts of insatiable arousal, increased endorphin and pheromone production as well as temporary sterility. Clinical trial patients described feeling… please excuse my frankness, uncontrollably and insatiably horny all the time. The slightest touch would cause knee-buckling pleasure, one male patient described having a sudden and unbidden ejaculation, just because the wind suddenly changed directions.

“There’s more, but I have to reiterate my responsibility to protect certain proprietary information,” Clark sighed again as if physically struggling against his compassion and duty, he clutched her hand in his own and raised it to his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as if fighting tears, “I’m so very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Cohen—but short of you completely abandoning your ethical identity, I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done.”

A challenge… show me that you’re not the prim and proper school-marm I’m characterizing you as. Show me how dirty you can be if you want your husband to live. Clark actually managed to work up real tears.

“I am so, so, dreadfully sorry.”

 

[VampiricTouch]

Her eyes squeeze tight with frustration and she pulls her hand from his grasp. She walks back to her chair in measured steps, taking the time to gather her thoughts. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you truly are concerned about my marriage.”

“Everything you listed can be overcome. It’s the equivalent of lashing Ulysses to the mast, to restrain him from the Sirens temptation.” She takes a deep breath to steady her words before continuing.

“Let me read the reports, understand the ramifications. Let me understand the risks, and what one must endure to make this drug. What protection can be placed to protect that… how did you phrase it…. Ethical Identity. If you’re concerned that I’ll walk away with intellectual property, give me an NDA to sign. Zephyr is the best chance I have to make ReNova, I don’t have time to go find another company to reverse engineer this and it certainly won’t do me any good to sink the company”

“If you truly want to save lives, to make more ReNova, help me, so I can help you. Please.”

 

[LitShark]

Clark sighed, thumbing away his allegator tears. She was adamant, which he supposed would pass for enthusiasm in most cases.

“My concern isn’t my intellectual property, my concern is your well-being. But if you insist on knowing the truth, I’ll tell you. You don’t need to sign anything. The production of ReNova depends heavily on the use of stem cells—but not just any stem cells. The process requires the use of freshly fertilized eggs. After a week, once the DNA sequencing finishes encoding the basic genetic formation—latching to the uterine wall, the cells become useless to us.

“The collection process is invasive and often fails to yield viable samples. The fertility drugs necessary to the process come with a laundry list of side effects and the most effective ones are completely illegal in the United States. Furthermore, it requires donors to have almost constant, unprotected, vaginal sex with multiple partners—something that even sex workers cringe from. Believe me, I’ve asked them.

“We paid a small fortune for our first round of donors and even more for the second round—now we’ve paid settlements to the first donors and are still receiving lawsuits from the second round. The FDA is currently drafting blanket bans on the use and study of unencoded stem cells in response specifically to the work we’re doing. Nobody is lashing you to the mast, Mrs. Cohen—the ship is sinking.”

Clark pushed his chair away from his glass-top desk, turning his back to Mrs. Cohen to look at his view. If Mrs. Cohen didn’t take the bait it might be the last time he got to take in the sight of the city from above.

“However…”

He let that hang in the air. Dash her hopes then dangle a tiny thread. He was fishing for three little words: I’ll do anything.

“Off the record and legally divested from Zephyr Corp, I’ve developed a… device which could increase the efficacy of the gathering process such that a single volunteer could provide multiple samples each week. Though I worry that it may have come too late.”

Clark fished into his jacket, retrieving a tiny little device, copper wire, a tiny glass chamber, collapsing arms in the shape of a capital T. He held it up toward where Mrs. Cohen was seating.

“It basically works the same way as an IUD, except that instead of blocking the eggs from entering the uteris, it collects them and holds them in a semi-permeable containment chamber where it can be held and also can be fertilized. Even multiple eggs at once can be fertilized and collected.

“I didn’t want to mention this before to avoid offending your sensibilities, but now that it’s done, what would you really do to save your husband?”

 

[VampiricTouch]

Eva had leaned forward when he finally relented to tell her the truth. There had been a glitter of hope in her eyes that she had softened the stone heart of corporate pharma… All of that vanishes as his words slowly sink in. The color drains from her face as she listens to the candor of his explanation and she deflates. It was like listening to her husband’s prognosis all over again, only now, all of her hopes were dashed.

Her eyes glaze over with grief, glassy with tears. She holds it all, just barely until he finishes, before her face crumples into her hands. “I… I understand now what you mean by ethical integrity.”

Her shoulders tremble, but her tears are silent. With a deep haggard breath she stands, turning her face away, “You were right. It… this is… there is nothing that can be done.” She chokes the words out before fading into a whisper. “I - I am sorry for having wasted your time…”

She pauses with her hand on the chair to steady herself before making her way to the door.

 

[LitShark]

Clark grimaced, faintly when Eva balked at his offer. He’d hoped that her desperation was sufficient to enable him to begin a new round of testing in earnest—but there was a second option. Just as she seemed to be preparing to stand, Clark cut into the tense silence.

“There is another theory, though lack of testing has prevented any confirmation, that the type of stem cells that we need could be found in breast milk. An untested cocktail of hormone treatments may enable a healthy young woman to lactate a stem cell dense milk.”

Clark produced a well-worn note pad. It was just a long list of drugs to be included in the so-called cocktail.

“But unlike the other method, there has been no testing whatsoever. It might be futile to even attempt… And the medication must be delivered rectally. And vigorously. I’m sure you can imagine what method would likely yield the greatest results.”

Clark turned away, it was a long shot. If the first option was enough to send her running for the hills, he doubted this method would be preferrable. Especially given the lack of any concrete evidence that it would even work.

“In the end, it’s all up to the subject to give us what we need. We have no control over their ability to do so.”

A challenge, make her feel responsible. It was better than nothing—though, not by much. Clark didn’t expect much, but his training recommended that he not stop talking until he got the answer he wanted.

 

[VampiricTouch]

Eva stops with her back to him. The rollercoaster of emotion too much to contain. Her grief too raw to be tempered by his words. “As you’ve just stated… it’s untested. How do you even know if this cocktail will produce viable results? Or if those stem cells can be coaxed into ReNova? Had a known recipe and SOP existed this would be enticing, but I am out of time. And I no longer have the luxury to… experiment with my husband’s life.”

Her voice breaks, “Mr. Peterson. I believe you now when you said ReNova was truly not viable and could not be produced, as such my husband’s life is slipping away like sand in an hourglass…. Perhaps it is best for me to spend my time at his side.”