The Neurology of Angels     Publisher: Friction Publishing     Date of Publication: 2008 EXCERPTS CHAPTER 1 Cambridge, Massachusetts #423—THIS IS THE ONE. Galen wrote the words into his notebook and yawned. Beside him, a hum emanated from a gently rocking platform of vials. He tugged on a pair of latex gloves and wrapped masking tape around each wrist to secure the fraying cuffs of his lab coat, then he settled onto a stool and drew a rack of slides across the counter. He slipped the first slide off the rack and positioned it under the microscope, looking at it for only a moment before replacing it with the next. He stifled another yawn. His eyes scanned the second slide, left to right, and stopped. Galen squeezed his dark brows together and leaned closer to the eyepiece. He increased the power on the lens then grabbed another slide and another. His breath came faster as he registered the discovery: the blue-stained tissue of the control specimens was marred with black clusters of dead cells, but the slides treated with formula 423 were spotless. With trembling hands, he adjusted the focus. Not a fleck of black on 423, just a blue sky of healthy tissue. The ocean rushed in his ears, and a memory of apple shampoo and caramel hair swept across his heart. . . . After so many trials, so many failures, maybe 423 would fi-nally be the cure. But then what? The words “this is the one” were written before every experiment in his notebook, part of him certain each time that it was true. But as the pile of notebooks grew, and the dozens of failed formulas turned into hundreds, the realist in Galen stopped thinking beyond the lab. So although he knew he’d have to do human studies to get FDA approval, he didn’t know how. Mice, he could order from a catalog; he doubted the same was true for people. He had no idea how a drug was scaled up from the lab bench to commercial manufacturing. He had no idea how it got distributed around the country. How long would it take? How much would it cost? The unknowns of success hit Galen in a wave of fatigue. . . . Arlington, Virginia Elizabeth forced herself to remain seated in the red leather chair opposite Dr. Frio’s desk. She had kept the appointment with the genetic counselor for nothing more than a reason to get out of bed. “I thought Mr. Rose would be with you today,” Dr. Frio said as she flipped through a file. “He—he couldn’t make it.” . . . Dr. Frio laid before Elizabeth three photos labeled EIF, each displaying what looked like stereo equalizer bars. “These are pictures of a section of a normal gene sequence compared to yours. You can see there are some differences. Based on these tests, we think that you and Mr. Rose both have variations in an enzyme called the eukaryotic initiation factor, or EIF, which is necessary for proper development of brain cells.” Elizabeth stared blankly at the photos. Her mind wasn’t processing the words, only the thought that if she didn’t speak, the world might continue to turn. “Clearly, your brain cells and your husband’s have developed normally.” Dr. Frio hesitated. Oh no, please don’t say it. “But both of your abnormal genes will likely be passed on to your children, should you choose to have them. EIF is implicated in a number of fatal childhood diseases, leukodystrophies in particular.” “I’m pregnant.” . . . CHAPTER 43 “HEY KIDDO, I’M going for a run. Do you want to come?” Eddy said. Abigail was already dressed for it. She closed her pencil in her trigonometry book, and they jogged down the hill toward the beach. Eddy slowed when they came to the rocks where he, Joy, and Abigail had spent hours climbing after they had first moved years ago, before the dark specter of stroke had descended upon them. . . . It was still pre-season, so Abigail and Eddy had the beach to themselves. They climbed down and walked along the shoreline. “How’s school?” Eddy said. “Tolerable. Have you passed any good bills lately?” Eddy laughed. “Lots of them. Funny thing, though—the cost of health care keeps going up.” Abigail hesitated then said, “It’s probably because your bills lower the cost to consumers.” “That is the general idea.” “There’s this girl in my class who just had a baby, and she said it only cost her fifteen dollars. One co-pay and the rest was free.” “A girl in your class just had a baby? We should have sent you to private school.” “Don’t be a snob, Dad.” He elbowed her in the side with a wink. Her feet splashed at the edge of the water as they walked along. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I figure it’s kind of like buying pizza, right? If you only have to pay a dollar no matter what kind you get, and your parents are going to pay the rest, are you going to order cheese pizza or the works? If everybody paid for pizza like that, the pizza shop would be stupid to keep making the cheap stuff.” She shook a piece of seaweed off her foot. “It’s the same thing if you keep lowering the cost to consumers; they’re just going to want more and better health care.” “Interesting idea, kiddo. But it’s a little more complicated than buying pizza.” Abigail stopped walking and stared after him. “I know it’s not that simple. It’s called an analogy.” She turned and ran back up the beach. Abigail’s words hit Eddy like a spitball. He immediately re-gretted patronizing her, but he just couldn’t bring himself to have that conversation. Not with her. He started running as hard as he could, in the opposite direction of Abigail, and away from one of the greatest fears shared by fathers—that their little girls will stop seeing them as heroes.