The Fair & Foul (Project Gene Assist Book 1) (2 page)

“No. I mean yes. I mean, other than being mortified that you just saw that, I’m okay.” As the woman attempted to stand, Juliane noticed the woman’s pant leg was torn at the knee. The woman took a step toward her scattered paperwork and winced.

Juliane bent to help collect a few of the scattered pages. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“It’s just a scrape. It looks worse than it feels. Dr. Than is going to kill me for getting her paperwork out of order.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Have you ever met her?”

Juliane smiled. “I’m sure she is no worse than some of the people I’ve worked with over the years. I also think she’d probably be even less understanding if you bled all over her office. How about this? I need to go into a meeting, but I’ll have someone swing her precious paperwork by her office before the end of the day. In the meantime, you go clean yourself up.”

The woman glanced at her torn clothing and the stack of papers. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Juliane held out her hand. “Aren’t we all here to make life better for others?”

The heavy slam of the auditorium's double doors punctuated her entrance as a similar sound echoed on the other side of the room. Even with the delay in the courtyard, she must have arrived at the auditorium at the same time as Alan. Alan launched into basic introductions without preamble as he made his way to the stage. Juliane had been right to be concerned about the timing of her own entrance. Alan never wasted an opportunity, not even a minute.

The audience was captivated by Alan instantly. He could have been reading the ingredients from the back of a cereal box and they would still be eating out of his palm. She began handing out carefully-bound supplement materials without needing to be cued. Presentations changed, but some tasks were routine as muscle memory.

The words "My lovely assistant" caught Juliane's ears, and it was all she could do to keep her face expressionless.
Now’s not the time,
she thought as she fought the urge to grind her teeth in annoyance.

It will all be worth it,
she thought to herself for the hundredth time during these project review board presentations. She and Alan both worked for an organization known as the ACI, a multibillion-dollar entity, part private enterprise, part university partnered think tank, whose breadth of technology product offering was only surpassed by the size of its research and development.

Alan was its superstar. He had received his doctorate in biotechnology before he was fifteen, and had published the same year. His inbox was always stuffed with peer submissions awaiting his review. He commanded the best audiences whenever he presented. All the premier journal editors jumped at the chance to take his call, and if the various co-eds that always appeared to line the hallway outside of his office were any indication, he possessed more than a few groupies.

She had been aware of his reputation even as far away as Berkley, where she completed her postgraduate work. When he called, inviting her to join his team, she jumped at the opportunity. At the time, that phone call had sounded like validation of every sacrifice she had ever made. Partnered with him, she was convinced that she too would soon join the upper echelons of science within the end of the first year. She took only what she could carry on the first plane to the East Coast.

"In 2013, a team of researchers were able to find methods to not only store a megabyte’s worth of data into a speck of human DNA, they were also able to retrieve that stored data. This, of course, has allowed us to move away from semiconductor technology over the years for memory storage; however, we still have not been able to find a means of accessing that data without some computer interface to interpret the results. That is until now.” The audience stood in rapt attention as Alan continued. Juliane didn't blame them. She too had once been awestruck in Alan's presence, especially when he discussed his work.

It had been a shocking, mere nineteen degrees the day she arrived in Meriden, Connecticut, but the weather soon proved to be the least of her surprises. After only a few weeks of working together, her gratitude became dismay. Alan could have easily gotten what he wanted out of a teammate by enlisting the help of a coat rack. She found she was relegated to a mere prop in his presentation, her contributions overly simplified time and time again, rather than relied upon as an expert in her own right.

"And I am sure you will be happy to report to the junior Mr. Evans that initial trials with synthetic tissue have well exceeded our wildest expectations."

Juliane's attention snapped back to the present as Alan's words registered. She was certain that only a nanosecond of surprise had flashed across her face, but equally certain that Alan had noticed it. The ACI was privately held and entirely controlled by the Evans family. To date, the family had been generous in their endowments over the years, not only in their company investments, but to the global community as well. The elder Mr. Evans was respected and admired even by the competition.

His son, Louis, was rumored to be a completely different matter. He had grown up near the coast of Italy, enjoying hobbies such as windsurfing and extreme sports. She knew he had attended the Swansea University in Wales and that he had led the boating team to victory year after year only because she had witnessed more than a few individuals try to cite similar experiences as a way to earn favor with the board. The efforts had always backfired.

To her knowledge, Louis had nothing to do with the company. At least he hadn't for as long as she had been employed. But Alan's offhand remark implied that Louis's role was now much larger. Juliane cringed at the thought. Putting a jock like Louis in charge of the ACI could have only one outcome.
Epic disaster.
Unless she made a name for herself and did so quickly, her own future plans could easily go down in flames.

Alan did not appear to share her concern. He was now strutting around the room making broad gestures. He was proud as a peacock displaying his plumage. She mumbled under her breath, "Showtime."

Alan paused for effect. Juliane could see the attendees practically salivating in anticipation. They should. It was a discovery that would indeed drastically impact society. The things they would be able to do once the technology was further proven would cement the ACI’s place in history.

Juliane absently patted the back of her hair, which was still as dark and glossy as a teenager’s. Today, her hair was knotted viciously in a bun at the nape of her neck, as if to reassure herself that each strand was still in its proper place. A weaker-minded individual might be satisfied watching history be made from the wings; however, her mind was the least weak part about her. She was more than just Alan’s lovely assistant, and it was time the rest of the world knew it. She had to find a way to inject herself into the conversation.

As the lights dimmed, Alan turned to verify that the projection on the wall matched his talking point. He caught her eye and paused for a moment. Juliane’s heart started beating as she thought,
This is my chance
. She fought to control the excitement from showing on her face.

Alan’s lips turned up, but the smile he directed her way was anything but sincere.
No.
She knew then that Alan had never been blissfully ignorant of how he minimized the team during crucial moments. No. He did, in fact, understand that this was the type of work that reputations were made on, and had no intention of sharing those honors with anyone. She fought the urge to cry. She would not cry in front of the board. She would not cry in front of anyone.

“Ladies and gentleman, today we can say that we have mastered the ability to access data through the mind alone!”

The presentation, which at this point had been filled with standard two-dimensional charts, graphs, and data points, spun into a breathtaking computer-rendered simulation. Not trusting that an impartial digital designer would properly understand her vision, Juliane had spent the last several weeks programming it herself.

“And it is all thanks to a simple firefly. The science behind how these simple creatures illuminate the night, its bioluminescence, is nothing new. But what we've been able to do with that enzyme certainly is. Through a process of genetic imprinting, we believe we can now signal human epidermal cells to release a similar enzyme."

"You want to make people glow in the dark? Like bugs?" asked a man seated in one of the center rows.

There was a collective intake of breath in the room. No one interrupted Alan during a presentation. Juliane would be surprised to see the man in the auditorium ever again.

Alan's lips tightened, but he continued without addressing the audience member directly. "Note that this technique would also allow for a degree of cellular control unmatched in the animal world. A person's skin would illuminate only just enough to be recognized by a receiving node. Then, through a series of high-frequency flickers—so rapid that they are nearly imperceptible to the human eye—a person's cells would then be able to transmit data packets similar to data transmitted by LEDs.” Alan paused once again to drink from a water bottle, although Juliane suspected the pause was more for the audience's benefit than to address his own thirst.

"So where are the receiving nodes?" the man asked.

I hope for his sake that his resume is up to date, thought Juliane.

The corners of Alan's lips twitched as he turned his attention to his questioner. "They could be found in the traditional router, but they could just as easily be found in the person next to you. A sunflower is able to track the position of the sun even though it has no eyes. It can do this thanks to yet another specialized cellular protein. The same sequence that can force the production of one enzyme can be used for another."

As irritated as she was with Alan, Juliane couldn’t help nodding like a proud parent. While Alan’s work centered on getting the data to interact with a person’s internal cells, her algorithms were the key ingredient in making the system dynamic and adaptable. Together, what they had accomplished was almost magical.

"Imagine a world where no one has to worry about another ugly wireless tower going into their backyard, a world with ageless infrastructure. Imagine a world with Internet-enabled telepathy. I call it, Project Gene Assist."

As the lights came back up, Juliane readied herself to answer whatever questions would come her way. Her algorithm, in theory, was designed to automatically calibrate performance regardless of skin tone, age, or gender. It was perfect. She could still salvage this opportunity. All Alan had to do was hesitate long enough to give her the opportunity.

As the minutes passed, her shoulders ached from refusing to slump in defeat. Alan was able to answer every question with ease and confidence, never once looking her way for assistance. She had to acknowledge he had come to this meeting well prepared. It dawned on her that she may have made a tactical error in her career by teaming up with him. The projects she would have worked on might have been less impressive, but she would have had an easier time distinguishing herself from less capable team leaders.

Juliane frowned and shook her head.
No,
she thought to herself. She hadn't gotten this far in life by settling for less than she deserved. She just needed to change her tactics. That smile had proven Alan knew exactly what he was doing. Perhaps it was time to take a more direct approach.

As the last of the board members filed out of the room, Juliane dropped her statuesque calm facade. “What the hell, Alan!”

“I beg your pardon? Do you think something went wrong? I rather thought our presentation went perfectly.”

“Oh, now it’s our presentation?”

“Your name was on it, was it not?”

“Oh yes, in small print on the opening slide. Very memorable.”

“I don’t quite understand what your complaint is. You stood with me the whole time.”

“Yes, but you never acknowledged I had any input on the project whatsoever!”

“You could have chimed in at any time during the question-and-answer round.”

“No, I couldn’t. You answered every question.”

“And were any of my answers wrong?”

“No, but it was my area of expertise!” She knew she had started to sound like a whiny child, but trying to regain her self-control was like trying to plug a broken dam.

“I see, and had they followed up with a question about how the data is stored in the proteins, or how the brain can access the information, could you have followed up on that?”

“We both know I wouldn't be prepared for that.”

“So you agree that we both knew enough about your
contribution”—s
he didn't need to see his fingers make the air quote gesture to hear it in his tone—"to provide expert answers, but only one of us knew enough to provide complete answers on any topic.” Alan paused. “If we had done things your way, this entire process would have continued twice as long, and for what? Your ego?” As he paused his eyes bore into her own. “What is that thing you like to say? Our purpose here is to find ways to make life better for others. There is no place for ego in the pursuit of the greater good, only efficiency. We make our presentation, get our funding, and go on to the next project as quickly as possible.”

Juliane said nothing as she absorbed her words twisted against her. He was obviously as prepared for her accusations as he had been for the presentation. She was forced to concede that he had won this round. She would leave, lick her wounds, and come back to fight another day.

“I am going to interpret your silence as agreement.” He shut down the wall projection and put together the balance of his belongings. Without waiting for reply, he turned and disappeared. Juliane closed her eyes and clenched her fists, swallowing a scream of frustration before it could consume her. Her time would come. She just had to be patient.

Shadows stretched across the greenway as she exited the building that housed Dr. Than’s office. It hadn’t taken much effort to organize the woman’s paperwork before handing the stack over to an idle runner in the lobby. Her office and lab space was in the Gould Building near the center of the ACI campus. When it was constructed, Louis Evans Sr. had just begun expanding his company's holdings. He had always been quick to invest in technology. As a result, the building was one of a number of structures built in the ‘experimental’ style loathed by the town's historical community.