Thawing A.C. Nielsen--Sharing Ch. 7

 This just in-- a five star review from "Readers Favorite"! Will be posting it here soon (and to Amazon on my page there when I finally have it up and running).

Today I'm sharing chapter seven of "Thawing A.C. Nielsen! I hope you'll read it. I'm trying to share a chapter a day, although at some point I will have to take them all down as the book starts to go to press.

I am wondering if any of you would consider reviewing the book. It will be released on Amazon/Kindle on October 18th. I need reviews posted to amazon on the release day, if possible. You get a FREE pdf, word.doc or .mobi (Kindle ebook file) copy  and plenty of time between now and mid-October to read it. Let me know, friends!

 In chapter seven Kate gets to visit the ExitStrategy building and learn more about the history of cryonics. What you'll read is based on true stories about real cryo labs, even the Bumble Bee Tuna anecdote!

I had fun working these two lines in:
 
“Sure, Mike is wooing you big-time. Resistance is futile—you will be assimilated,” Norm quipped.

And later: "Yes, we will talk honestly now. Franklin and I believe in the importance of being earnest, Kate."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Before parting ways at the hotel on Friday, Gloria insisted on scheduling a lunch date with Kate for a month later. “Time for us girls to get to know each other better,” she’d said as she kissed Kate on the cheek. Then it was time for Mike and Franklin to show Kate around Energy Source/ExitStrategy. They left the hotel and drove north on Lake Shore Drive since I-94 was a mess. It was a beautiful day—people out on the lakefront jogging trail, Lincoln Park harbor and the zoo off to the left. They zoomed on, eventually zipping onto Green Bay Road. Mike was driving, so Kate engaged Franklin in some small talk in the backseat.

“So, Franklin, you were an actor? What was that like?”

“Oh, it was great fun. I never hurt for work. And I lived in sunny LA—I still don’t know why Mike insists on living here year-round, brr.”

“Might I have seen you in any films?”

“Yes, and no. When I was really young I did stand-in work. I’d be Ryan O’Neill’s or Warren Beatty’s or someone else’s backside. Did some stunts, too. Just about got killed by a crazy horse one day—threw me and started kicking me. I was in the hospital for a week. I graduated from that racket and did television work back in the 1980s through most of the 1990s. In fact, if you watch reruns I’ll turn up somewhere, of course looking a lot fitter than I am now.”

“So when you had speaking roles what kind of parts did you play?”

“I was typically one of the bad guys. You know, the guy who’s trying to punch out Jim Garner on Rockford P.I.—stuff like that. I had some recurrings for a while, too—Law & Order, a couple other more forgettable shows. I was crap at comedy, so I was pretty much typecast as a bad guy in dramas. The directors liked my threatening scowl. Wanna see?”

“Sure.” Franklin glared at her, his eyebrows arched, his mouth parted to show off some pretty wicked incisors.

“Whoa—that’s good.”

“Yeah, I had steady work. No problemo.”

“Kate, Franklin knows everyone in Hollywood,” Mike piped in. “Not just actors—directors, cameramen, grips, set design, makeup people. Everyone big and small.”

“Ha, maybe because I had a weakness. Well actually, I still have it,” Franklin said.

“And what’s that?” Kate asked.

“I pick up tabs. My dad and Mike taught me that. Always happy to treat others when there was a great get-together. You watch if we ever go out with a group sometime. Everyone will sit there and keep their mouths shut, looking around pretending to not notice that the check has come. They’ll all be waiting for Mike or me to pick it up.”

“We don’t mind—it makes us very popular fellows!” Mike added.

The small talk continued for a while more. They drove past the corporate offices for many Fortune 500 companies. Sandwiched between were small, yet amazing tech start-ups.

“What are all these green and white circular buildings I see?” Kate asked. “Right in back of these companies?”

“Ah, good eyes, Kate,” Franklin exclaimed. “Those are ice system air-conditioning units. I’m glad you noticed them! They’re designed, constructed, and licensed by my uncle.”

“So, Mike? Ice systems?”

“Yes, Kate. It’s heat transfer—what I do. This type is simple enough that a third-grader could understand it. You know there are variable rates for electricity from the power company, right? This system makes ice at night when electric rates are low. Then in the morning, say about six a.m., we shut off the ice production and let the ice melt. Air blown over the ice is cooled and circulated throughout the building. Just repeat every day and voilà—you’ve got a forty-five percent saving in air-conditioning costs. It’s a ridiculously simple formula and it’s an easy Energy Source revenue stream to help out what we’re doing at ExitStrategy. I sure as heck didn’t invent the idea, but I tweaked it for efficiency. And here—we’ve arrived!”

There it was, the home of Energy Source/ExitStrategy and to dozens of patentable discoveries in heat-transfer research, cryonic stasis, and more. Kate was impressed—the building looked like something out of the future.

“Oh my, it’s so huge and so modern,” Kate gasped. “A massive solar array? That must produce crazy amounts of wattage. I wasn’t expecting this. Huh, you have a tennis court off the parking lot—seriously?”

“Yes, built just for you,” Franklin quipped.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mike said. “Gloria Dunham had it built for someone. But you can use it whenever you like.”

“So, this is a big circular wall, and then that’s the building rising out over the top of the wall?”

“Actually, no,” Mike said, prying his girth out of the car. “What looks like a wall is the outside edge of an enormous circular hallway that goes all the way around. If you could see the building from the air you would liken the design to a wagon wheel. That tall part rising up in the middle—see it there? That’s the hub. Then there are five spokes, or wings, which connect to the outer ring you’re looking at now. You’ll get a better idea of it once you’re inside.”

“This must have cost a fortune to build.”

“It did, but in baby steps. We started with the central hub and two wings. The other wings and what we jokingly call the ‘collider ring’ were added later.”

“Collider ring? Oh, yeah, I get it,” Kate said.

“So let’s go in the main entrance, which is the A wing,” Mike said before calling security and then entering. “So, Kate, this wing holds all the offices, including mine and yours. Also, a few office staff, a few people who do the ice construction; licensing, also the sales of the solar energy electricity to our neighboring buildings. There’s my office, and right here is yours. Let’s pop in and take a look.”

“Mike, you make it sound like I’m totally ready to sign a contract,” Kate protested.

“I don’t think that will happen until you see the lab,” Franklin interjected.

“Oh my, this is swanky.” Kate walked here and there, checking out all the highlights: multiple computers and monitors, a video system apparently running a live feed from the lab, whiteboards of various sizes, filing systems, a large steel and glass desk in the center of the room, voice-commanded direct and indirect lighting, a mini-kitchen, a private bath with shower. “It’s beautiful, such a modern design. I think you could live here. This office is as big as my whole apartment.”

“Check out the coat rack, Kate,” Mike said.

“Ooh, look at that, upscale lab coats with my name embroidered by hand, it looks like. All different colors. You’re sparing no expense.”

“That’s true,” Franklin said. “Now walk back out and go to the end of the hallway and you’ll be at the center—the energy center—of the whole building.”

As they left the hall, the space opened up into the circular hub area—the ceiling extended to about forty-five feet. At the center of the hub was a giant monolithic tower.

“Oh, my God. It’s huge. What is that?”

 “Well, guess,” Mike said.

“I’m guessing it’s your main power generator. But it’s almost silent. Is this where the solar energy comes in, over here? And you’ve got some kind of heat-transfer system, maybe this part over here, I’m guessing, to run your cryosystem?”

“That’s pretty close.”

“He’s got about twenty-five patents just sitting there, Kate,” Franklin said. “Not that we’re planning on disclosing the workings of all this yet.”

“Wow, oh wow. This is amazing,” Kate gasped as she walked the entire circumference of the towering steel and copper monolith. There were monitors, displays, dials, and weird-looking gizmos here, there, and everywhere.

“Oh, here come Chrissy and Norm,” Franklin said. “‘Clipboard Norm’ people call him. He’s married to that thing—the clipboard, I mean, not the woman with him. Norm, Chrissy, come on over. I’d like to introduce our new head of research, Katherine Pearson. You know, the one we’ve been telling you about.”

“Oh, it’s so good to meet you, Kate,” Chrissy exclaimed, shaking Kate’s hand. Chrissy appeared to be about fifty, a very fit woman with wavy brown hair, green eyes, and an abundance of freckles. “When do you start?”

“Well, I haven’t even agreed yet. Although I already seem to have a number of lab coats with my name on them.”

“Sure, Mike is wooing you big-time. Resistance is futile—you will be assimilated,” Norm quipped.

“These two have been with me for years,” Mike said. “Chrissy from day one and Norm a little after. I stole him from GM. Norm is the brain behind the brawn of that beast you see in front of you.”

“No, you invented it, Mike. You are the brain. I just keep it running, and happy,” Norm said.

“Mike, what if you had a power outage? What’s the backup?” Kate asked.

“Kate,” Norm interjected, “we are so redundant on energy supply it’s ridiculous. Don’t worry about that!”

“All right, Kate, you ready to see your lab?” Mike asked. “It’s near the start of B wing, over this way. Walk with us, Chrissy, Norm.”

They entered the B wing and immediately ducked into a large room that opened up to total about two thousand square feet.

“Oh my God, look at this,” Kate gushed, trotting from spot to spot. “Electron microscopes—the latest models? Eppendorf centrifuges, a speed vac concentrator, an ELISA washer—this looks like custom glassware over here, right? And computers and monitors everywhere, a sample preparation station, oh wait, three stations? Oh my! Wait, is that what I think it is? A brand new proton ion DNA sequencer? They just bought this model at Northwestern, but they wouldn’t let me touch it—for full professors only. Oh my God, this is insane!”

“Like a kid in a candy shop, right, Mike?” Chrissy said, grinning over at him.

“You bet,” he replied. “Can you blame her? A very expensive, well-stocked candy shop, I might add!”

Kate discovered more and more gadgets and toys to drool over. Maybe it was finally time to put up or shut up, she thought.

“So shall we talk now, Kate?” Mike asked. “Let’s just you and me step into my office and see what you think.”

“All right,” she answered, still overwhelmed by the totally tricked-out lab.

###

“So first let me ask you a couple questions,” Kate said. “Why me? Aren’t I awfully young? All I have is a master’s degree. And why am I replacing a doctor? Shouldn’t you simply just get another MD?”

“Kate,” Mike confided, “we talked to your advising professor at Northwestern. He said you have more potential for creativity than any grad student he’s seen in years. Went on and on about you. We’re looking for serious potential, new ideas. We’re trying to find someone who can do cutting-edge hard science and add a hell of a lot of imagination, too. And someone who isn’t afraid of a failure or two along the way. He says you’re the one, and we believe him. And you’re humble, too. We could just have Norm keep the cryosystem running forever, but we want to go way further. We want to revive these people, not just keep them frozen. What’s the point of that?”

“And what makes you think you can do it? I know we talked about this a little bit, but then Miss Dunham’s lawyer shut things down. Do you want to talk freely to me now? I might be about to commit to this, now that I’ve seen some of the operation. But I need to know where you are, where you are trying to go, and I really need to think about the ethics of this, too. Understand?”

“Yes, we will talk honestly now. Franklin and I believe in the importance of being earnest, Kate. Just to clarify, Randolph Morgan does not work for us. He’s just Gloria’s lawyer. And Gloria has a habit of poking her nose into people’s business. We usually let her do what she thinks she wants because then we just circumvent her anyway. Sometimes this is just a big game for Franklin and me—the ‘Outfox Gloria Game,’ I suppose you could call it. That game goes all the way back to 1985 or so. Franklin has been into mind-games since he was a kid. Believe me, he played devilish tricks on me the whole time he was growing up.”

“So Gloria is a bit of an oddball, I take it. Is she senile, or just weird? Both?”

“Hmm.” Mike doodled on some stationery, trying to decide how to answer the question. “You saw the tennis court. She had it built for an individual who has been here in cryo for years. What does that tell you, Kate?”

“What? A tennis court for someone in cryostasis? That’s crazy.”

“Agreed. Watch yourself around her, okay?”

“Sure. Should be interesting when we have lunch together next month, huh?”

“You’ll be fine. Ninety percent of the time she’ll blather on about her show-biz career and how awful her two ex-husbands were to her. You can just sit and nod. But I have to say that when she learned you played tennis it made her even more interested in meeting you. You also went to the same high school as her tennis-playing friend here in stasis. She tells me it’s fate that you’re here.”

“New Trier? This person went to New Trier High? Hmm, interesting.”

“Yup.”

“All right,” Kate said. “So what truly sets you apart from the corpsecicle places, like you called them? What do I need to know?”

“Saltieri and I agreed, let’s stay away from deep cryo. It’s unnecessary. We go to just before the glassy state and hover there. We don’t chill people to the point that their skulls crack—hey, I noticed that made you gag when I mentioned it. Sorry, but that’s what those hacks do. But don’t worry, they say, the doctors of the future will fix everything! We say stop being barbarians. We can do far better if we apply real science to this field.”

“Keep talking,” Kate said, nodding.

“Enzo and I set out to scientifically reinvent the whole cryonics field—blow past the pseudoscience our competitors were doing. We had a lot of ideas, and some of them were shots in the dark—just hunches. But we think we nailed a lot of stuff. ‘Stuff,’ Kate—that’s a scientific term, you know,” Mike said, his eyes twinkling.

“Hunches or dreams can yield results. You and I know that they’ve been there throughout the history of science, right?”

“Agreed, and I’ve been blessed to have had those moments myself now and then in my career. So we decided to perfuse the body with helium, driving out moisture. In addition, I invented the polymer pods, which are more stable and are less prone to icing and so on. A few other tweaks and changes in procedure I can tell you later. And then the final piece of the puzzle—what Enzo was working on.”

“Yes? Yes? What was it?” Kate asked eagerly, moving forward on her chair.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know,” Mike said, grimacing in frustration. “That’s why you’re here, Kate. He was up to something. But between the lung cancer and the Alzheimer’s he was struggling. It seemed like he had ideas percolating. But when he would tell me about them and I didn’t understand immediately what he was getting at, he would get very frustrated, and then the Alzheimer’s would kick in. He would lose his train of thought and storm away—mad at me, mad at the world. You’ll have all the files to look through. Vet whatever of his you can decipher, or discover solutions yourself. That’s the opportunity here, understand? You’re the one who can decide if we can truly revive these patients—all these wonderful people here, waiting. Let’s walk down to Enzo’s office.”

They walked down the hall to Saltieri’s old office. Mike swiped a keycard, opened the door, and motioned Kate in. “What does this look like to you, Kate?”

“Ha. It looks like Albert Einstein’s office—that famous photo of his office taken on the day he died. It was a mess. Well, to us it looks like a mess, but I’m sure to him it was just how he worked, right?”

“Right. And what you see here is the desk of another genius—Dr. Enzo Saltieri. Enzo taught medicine at the University of Bologna in Italy for years. A small man with a ginormous brain. Johns Hopkins lured him to the States. He was guest lecturing at University of Chicago when we met, and we discovered that we both had a bent for this crazy idea of cryo. Anyway, Kate, all the work is here—and yes, I know it’s a mess. His notes are a jumble, sorry. Some of it is on computer drives, but a lot of it is page after page of scribbles on legal pads. What Franklin and I want you to do is this—take some time, say ninety days, and evaluate absolutely everything Enzo was studying. Beyond that, your real bottom-line assignment is to formulate a procedure to revive the patients here. Make a magic potion, click your ruby slippers three times, or whatever else it might take to turn them back into normal, healthy, walking and talking people again. That’s it in a nutshell. Not so hard, eh, Kate?” Mike grinned.

“Mike, you do realize that every internal organ has to work in order to pull this off, right? And right away we have to fix what killed these people in the first place. What was wrong with most of them when they died?”

“Cancer mostly. And just remember, no cryo company ever promised revival and the cure for any patient’s disease or illness. Cryonics just presents the opportunity for a human body to exist into the future where cures might be discovered, right?”

“Hmm, so much to think about.” Kate stood and paced Saltieri’s office and pulled at her hair—a habit of hers when she was trying to blast through a tough problem. “So what do people pay to be here?”

“What do you think people pay at other facilities?”

“I have no idea, sorry,” she said, stopping to finger through the pile of scribbled-upon papers heaped on Saltieri’s desk.

“For a full-body cryo, the tab is anywhere from eighty thousand dollars on up to two hundred thousand. Pretty steep, huh?”

“Hey, you want immortality you better have the buckos for it, I would guess,” she said, suddenly realizing this whole day was the strangest one of her life. She wondered what Aria would think of all this and how many goofy, comedically inappropriate questions she would ask Mike if given the opportunity.

“Right. So that’s what others charge. Our fee is one million dollars,” Mike declared.

“One million? Wow. Oh my gosh, all I’ve been saying since we got here is ‘wow,’ huh?”

“Yes, I noticed, but who wouldn’t say ‘wow’? You see, Kate, the people we’ve brought in, mostly from Franklin’s networking—the famous actors and directors, painters and sculptors, novelists and sports stars, the old money folks and the nouveau rich lottery winners—none of them are going to try to do this Walmart style. The wealthy can be a pain in the ass and do plenty of stupid stuff, but overall most of them are damned smart with their money. They rarely bargain shop for anything, whether it’s shoes, cars, homes, boats, or a cryo facility. We’re number one because they’ve learned by word of mouth that we are the only ones who care enough about science and have a chance to make this work.”

“And who regulates this? State health agencies? The FDA? No, wait, that makes no sense,” Kate said, confused about how this could be monitored in any logical manner.

“No one. Can you imagine some state-employed drudge comprehending any of this?”

“They’d be very confuzzled,” Kate said, borrowing one of Aria’s favorite made-up words.

“Confuzzled indeed,” Mike said, grinning. “There’s a little patient paperwork involved. Some minor legal issues that I’ll explain to you later. They’re really not a concern. How about some food? I’m starving. Let’s hop over to our lunchroom, okay?” They jaywalked through the hub and entered the cafeteria. They saw Franklin was already there, getting himself an iced tea.

“Hi, Kate,” Franklin greeted, smiling. “Glad to see you again. Walk over this way. So here we’ve got our own chef from eleven a.m. until two. You can order anything you want as long as James has the ingredients on hand. It’s a company perk. Nice, huh? James, this is Katherine Pearson, she’s going to be our new head of research. Are you ready to show off your talents for her?”

“Sure, Franklin. So, Miss Pearson, what have you got a taste for? I do have some killer avocados today, maybe we can work them into something for you,” James said. He was a tall, hunky young man, maybe twenty-five or so. I would definitely enjoy having this man cook for me every day, thought Kate. Bet Aria doesn’t have a chef cooking for her at the symphony in Milwaukee. The best she can usually do is pop into Usinger’s for brats and a beer. Tasty food, but mostly guys with well-developed beer bellies there.

“Well, James, first, just call me Kate. And I would absolutely die for a fajita with those avocados being one of the stars of the day.”

“Not a problem. Chicken? Beef? How do you want it?”

Hmm, there’s a line Aria would jump on. She always knows how to flirt with hunky guys. Wait, I’m here for a job, need to get my mind back on business. “Why don’t you surprise me, okay?”

“Sure thing,” James said, flashing a million-dollar smile.

“Okay, Kate, go get something to drink over there and meet us at a table,” Mike said.

Kate grabbed a bottle of Italian soda. In a few minutes their food was ready and they continued their talk.

“So, Kate,” Mike said, between bites of beef stroganoff, “our operation doesn’t look like a scene from a Svengoolie movie, huh?”

“That’s for sure. But I guess that other lab with Ted Williams’s head, as you told me, would certainly qualify.”

“Kate, do you like tuna?” Franklin asked.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, don’t gag, but they decided to place each head upside-down on a can of Bumble Bee Tuna to keep it, I mean the head, from sticking to the cryo unit surface. Not kidding!”

“Well, that’ll make her lose her appetite, Franklin. Stop torturing the poor girl.”

“Never you mind, Mike,” Franklin answered. “And then, Kate, guess what happened once when they tried to transfer one of those heads. They picked it up and the can was frozen tight to the head. Now there’s a Svengoolie picture for you, huh? So, they started banging at the can with a hammer, but it wouldn’t pop off until they slammed it like fifty times. I kid you not. It’s all in a book written by a former employee of theirs. Can you imagine?”

Kate suddenly broke out into a fit of laughter. Just the absurdity of it all had finally bowled her over. Mike and Franklin grinned at each other and finally laughed, too.

“Okay, Kate, ha-ha—that was good. We laugh a lot around here, by the way,” Mike said. “Hey, we don’t know how much of that book is true. But there it is. Anyway, back to reality, in your résumé you mentioned a doctor from the Caribbean somewhere, a fellow you worked with now and then on cryobiology projects. What was his name again?”

“Oh, yes, Edouard—Edouard Radelet. Brilliant man. Bet you he’s head of the World Health Organization before he hits forty. An amazing mind.”

“If you’re on board we want to hire him to work with you,” Mike offered. “Would you like that?”

“Would I? Of course. That lab and me with Edouard? That would be amazing, although I don’t know if he’s available.” Kate finished off the last of her delicious lunch. This was a great perk, she decided.

“We’ll figure that out. All right, listen, I have some things to attend to for a few hours,” Mike said. 

 “Could we drop you by your place—it’s close, right? And then meet us back here maybe about seven and we’ll tour the operating room and walk you down a wing or two to see the actual patients. Okay?”

“Sure. Aria—that’s my roommate—can drop me back over.”

“Wait, Mike, why don’t we let her use one of the company cars?” Franklin said. “Enzo’s is sitting there doing nothing except collecting tree sap and bird droppings. He won’t be driving it anytime soon, right? Keith, the head of security will start that car up and hand you the keys, Kate. Meet back here at seven. We’ll have a fancy gold pen for you to sign your contract, won’t we, Mike?”

“Fancy pen? Oh yes. My lucky pen you’re talking about. Right, Franklin?”

“Yessir, Uncle Mike. The lucky pen!”