Arts
“Okay then,” said Timi. She took a deep breath. “Well. According to my vision, there’s a way—a way for you to do the work you love, and stay in Corwin, and help to heal the world. And all we have to do is figure out what it is.” John laughed. “That Goddess didn’t give you the business plan?” “Nope. So, I guess we just have to work backwards. Picture yourself making a presentation to those people at Rogers Markham. You’re proposing a project that involves you setting up a lab in Corwin. What are you telling them?” “Well, if you put it that way, I do have something with me that they would really be interested in. I have my work on the super-strep pathogen. And I think I’ve isolated the antimicrobial agent in the sulfur shelf.” “Would they pay a lot, for something like that?” “Well … they’d be interested, but maybe not hugely interested. The world really needs new antimicrobials, but the sad truth is that there isn’t a whole lot of money for pharmaceutical companies in that kind of thing. It’s a kind of drug people take briefly, and very occasionally—you know: you get sick, you take it for a week, you get better, you stop taking it. Big pharma is, understandably, more interested in things they can sell more of, and at higher prices. “Still, if we have the only known effective antimicrobial against a rapidly spreading new strain of strep, they’d be very interested. And I could give them a huge head start. Usually, they fund research programs that search for new drugs. With what I have, it’d be like offering them the needle instead of the haystack.” “I think you could at least hint that you have more to offer, too,” said Timi. “I was talking this over with Mom and Grandmother last night. They suggested that they have some remedies you might like to do some research on. Mom says, for instance, that she has something for erectile dysfunction that works better than Viagra.” John’s eyes opened wider. “Now you’re talking!” he said. “Antimicrobials are something the world really needs, but a next-gen ED treatment? That would definitely get the investors’ attention.” “Speaking of,” said Timi, “Grandmother also told me to tell you that we have plenty of capital, if you need some start-up funds for your lab, or like that. She says, if you’re planning to create a business, don’t sell it all to strangers before you’ve offered shares to us in the Circle.” John laughed in surprise, but then grew more serious. “But really,” he said, “that brings up a concern. I’m proud of my work on this, but after all, so many people were a part of the sulfur-shelf remedy. Mark and his tree; our squirrel friends; Lois brewing her Winter Noodle Mushroom; Sandra having it tested on herself. It doesn’t feel right that I should profit from it alone.” “Well,” Timi said reasonably, “we can talk about that with everybody, when we get back to Corwin. But for now, let’s just think about putting a proposal together. We’ll be in LA in two days—Sunday morning. Assuming you can set up a meeting in Palo Alto for, say, Monday, what will you say? What will you offer, and what will you ask?” They worked on a proposal all afternoon, while the train lost its race with the sun and darkness fell on the lands around them. They continued to brainstorm about it all through dinner in the dining car. They lingered over wine afterward, moving on to less businesslike topics; Timi kept John entertained with stories he hadn’t heard, or hadn’t heard in full, like the story of Mark’s first flight, when he woke up in a tree with no idea how he’d gotten there. Finally, she said, “John, I don’t want to alarm you or anything. But have you noticed that you’ve been speaking to me comfortably for, like, four hours?” John smiled. “I have, haven’t I? Why haven’t we talked like this before?” “Well, it might be because you’ve been terrified of me.” He blushed and looked down, and grunted his assent. “Good grief, John, don’t go all tongue-tied again!