“Good idea,” Pia said with enthusiasm. She led George to a nearby computer terminal, and with a few clicks she brought up an image. She stood aside and proudly gestured toward the screen. The image was in black-and-white, showing multiple, dark, shiny microbivores in the presence of a larger donut-shaped object. Pia pointed toward the object. “That’s a red blood cell. The rest are the microbivores.”
George stepped closer for a good view. What he saw amazed him. “They look like spaceships with a big mouth.”
“I never thought of it that way, but I see your point.”
“What are all these circular objects arranged around the hull?”
“Those are the sensors that detect the targeted microorganism or protein, as the case may be. They also contain reversal binding sites to cause the target to stick. The very tiny circles surrounding each sensor are the grapplers that come out to move the target along the microbivore in a kind of bucket-brigade fashion before pulling it into the digestion chamber.”
“Is that what this hole is?”
“That’s right. Once the target has been swallowed, so to speak, it is enzymatically digested into harmless by-products, which are then pushed back out into the bloodstream.”
“And this whole thing is six times smaller than the width of a human hair? It seems incredible.”
“It’s got to be that small to get through the smallest capillary, which is about four microns in diameter.”
George straightened up and looked at Pia. She was still doing well with maintaining eye contact with him. “How does this miniature robot know what to do and when to do it?”
“It has an onboard computer,” Pia said. “Thanks to nano circuitry and nano transistors, it has a computer with five million bits of code, twenty percent more than the Cassini spacecraft had in its onboard computer on its mission to Saturn.”
“It’s all hard to believe,” George said, and he meant it.
“Welcome to the future. When we get back to my apartment I’ll give you an article on microbivores written more than a decade ago by a futurist named Robert Freitas. He predicted all this back when molecular manufacturing was nothing but a pipe dream. It’s pretty exhaustive.”
“I bet that’s fun reading,” George said, unable to resist a bit of sarcasm. Luckily it went over Pia’s head, as she had returned her attention back to the microbivores image. From her expression and posture, he could tell how proud she was about what she was doing.
“I think you’ll find it fascinating.”
“So doing this is what the head-hunters brought you out here to Boulder for?”
“No. What brought me out here was that the CEO, Berman, had read about Rothman’s work on salmonella that I was involved with. You see, from an operational standpoint, microbivores are having a problem with bacteria that have a flagellum. You know, little whiplike tails, like salmonella has. When the microbivores ingest a salmonella, the flagellum doesn’t get into the digestion chamber but rather gets detached and floats off, and the flagellum can cause as much immunologic havoc as the intact bacteria. With my experience with salmonella in Rothman’s lab, they thought maybe I could help with this problem.”
“Were you able to help?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it and have done some work toward a solution. I do have an idea of how to solve it, but when I learned of the biocompatibility issue, I got more interested in that. The flagellum problem is mechanical, the biocompatibility is more intellectual. I find it more of a challenge.”
As Pia talked, George couldn’t help but ruminate again of how he had ended up at UCLA.
“When did Nano actually make you the offer?”
“The offer? I don’t know, late June, I guess, just before graduation? Why are you asking about that again?”
George’s frustration surged again—again being reminded that his whole move to Los Angeles had been a wild-goose chase. He should have stayed in New York. Luckily, before he could say anything, his attention was diverted. The door to the lab swung open, and a woman in a lab coat strode into the room. George regarded her. She was striking, athletic-looking, and taller than Pia, with light blond hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She had a decidedly imperious air, and her demeanor was not friendly as she looked first at Pia, then at George, and back to Pia. The blond woman referred to a clipboard she was carrying. George felt immediately uncomfortable.
“This is Mr. Wilson?”
“Yes, Mariel. Dr. Wilson, actually,” Pia said.
George stepped forward and stretched out a hand. “Nice to meet you. George Wilson.” He assumed this had to be the boss Pia had mentioned.
The woman merely nodded, and George withdrew his hand.
“Mr. Berman is on his way back. He may even have landed. He doesn’t like visitors to Nano, which is why they are not encouraged. I thought you understood this. I would hazard to guess that he will be especially displeased about young men coming to visit you, Pia. We are counting on your being productive here at Nano. You were recruited for very specific reasons.”
George looked over at Pia. What did she mean by that?
“George and I were med students together in New York. He’s a resident at UCLA, and he’s staying with me as a houseguest for a couple of days. I can’t imagine Mr. Berman would find that irregular in the slightest. It is not going to have any effect on my productivity.”
Houseguest? thought George. That was the first encouraging news about where he was going to stay, but he kept quiet. Tension sparked between these two women, and it was obviously related to Berman and Pia. Perhaps his intuition and vague fears had been justified, knowing what he did about Zachary Berman. Too often George had seen how a lot of men reacted to Pia, himself included. And a brand-new VW sports car seemed a bit beyond the pale for any casual boss-employee relationship.
“What exactly is Mr. Wilson doing here in the lab?”
“I’m just checking on several of my biocompatibility experiments that I started last night,” Pia said. “I just wanted to be sure they were running properly. I knew it would be quick. He’s merely accompanying me. We’re almost done.”
Mariel Spallek glanced at George and gave him a look that made the discomfort all the more intense. The situation reminded him that there was an unfortunate history of Pia’s ability to get him into trouble.
“I’ll be sure to let Mr. Berman know you’re around.” Mariel looked over at Pia as she left, but George wondered if she meant him.
“What was that about?” George questioned. “Or shouldn’t I ask? She seemed to be implying something about you and Berman or am I reading more into it than I should?”
“It’s probably better that you don’t ask,” Pia said without elaboration. She was pleased. Now she was certain that Berman would hear that she had a gentleman visitor. Perhaps, as she had hoped, it would cool Berman’s ardor. As far as what George might be thinking subsequent to this episode with Mariel, the issue didn’t even enter her mind.
4.
NANO, LLC, BOULDER, COLORADO
SUNDAY, APRIL 21, 2013, 2:45 P.M.
The pleasant sense of calm that Zachary Berman had felt during the plane flight had dissipated completely. It wasn’t that there’d been any hitch in the arrival and delivery, and everything had run smoothly at the general aviation terminal at the airport. The dignitaries were driven in one of Nano’s Suburbans to company headquarters, where they would be set up in their accommodations. The involuntary guests were discreetly carted off the plane by means of a catering truck and were also at Nano, in less comfortable surroundings than their compatriots. Berman impatiently demanded that his driver get him to his office as soon as possible. Berman’s unofficial arrangement with the airport allowed him easy access to all areas, and his car was able to take him right off the tarmac and out onto the airport’s perimeter road.
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With Whitney Jones trailing behind him in a separate limo, Berman entered the Nano facility through an unmarked private vehicular entrance. Once at the proper building, an inconspicuous outer door opened into a compact lobby, where two armed guards stood at an inner door, on either side of the iris scanner that everyone, Berman included, had to negotiate before gaining access to the core of the facility. Passing through the scanner and hustling along, Berman reached his office to find Mariel Spallek waiting for him.
“How was the flight?” asked Mariel.
“Who’s the guy with Pia?” Berman demanded, ignoring the question.
Mariel knew Zachary would latch on to that part of the email message she had sent as Berman drove in. He wouldn’t tell her about the status of the four new subjects; he would neglect to bring her up to date on the state of the financing negotiations; he wouldn’t ask her about progress in the multiple trials that were going on in the private and the public areas of the facility; he would want to know about Pia and the young man who had accompanied her here to Nano.
“His name is George Wilson and he’s a radiology resident at UCLA. He checked out.”
“What’s he doing here?” Mariel could tell that Zachary was trying to be calm, but he was failing miserably. He was like a lion in heat. He picked up memos and reports from his desk, feigning interest in them, but his eyes were elsewhere, darting across his desk and back. This piece of news about George Wilson was driving him crazy, and a part of Mariel relished his discomfort. She didn’t know the nature of Pia and George’s relationship, but she didn’t mention that. She was content to allow Zachary to think the worst.
“She said he was visiting for a few days. They were classmates at Columbia Medical School. The background check we ran on Pia before we hired her mentioned him; they had been friends for the duration of the four years. The exact nature of the friendship had not been mentioned. What had been mentioned was that he had been involved in that kidnapping business.”
“Right, I remember. He was the guy who was supposed to get shot.”
“That’s right,” said Mariel. “He certainly seems to be a lucky young man.”
Berman looked up and fixed Mariel with a stare. Was she messing with him? He knew that Mariel was fully aware of his unrequited interest in Pia, and he knew with ever greater certainty that his brief affair with Mariel had been a mistake, a big mistake. She had latched on to him like a limpet and had taken some shaking off, despite the chasm in status between the two of them at work. Mariel had been spurned, but he was certain she was hoping that passion would be rekindled, and if so, she would come back to him in a second.
Berman would have liked nothing more than to fire Mariel so he wouldn’t have to be continually reminded of his mistake, but no one knew more about Nano’s medical nanotechnology program than she did. The sum total of everything she knew about Berman and Nano could be dangerous to him, so he was constantly walking a tightrope with her. Perhaps one day he’d jump off, but not today. Berman wondered why Mariel couldn’t be as mature as Whitney Jones. Whitney knew the working relationship they had was too important to jeopardize over something as frivolous as a few rolls in the hay.
“Do you want to go and see her?” Mariel broke the uncomfortable silence. “When I left her, which wasn’t that long ago, she was in the lab with the young man checking on some of her experiments. Perhaps she is still there.”
“How are those experiments going?” Zach was well aware of what Pia was doing and was impressed, which only fanned his desire. She was erotically gorgeous and smart, both qualities Zach found irresistible, especially in the same person.
“Seems they’re going well. So far no suggestion of any immune response. But they are not over.”
“Right,” Zachary said. He got to his feet. “I need to talk to her about the flagellum issue. Now that she’s been making such progress on the biocompatibility problem, she needs to get cracking on what she was initially hired for.”
“Of course,” said Mariel, backing away to let the onrushing Berman past. She knew the real reason he wanted to get down to Pia’s lab, and she set off slowly behind her boss, letting him charge ahead. In his eagerness he was soon out of sight. “Men, they are so predictable,” she muttered disparagingly.
When she got back to the lab where Pia worked, she found Berman standing alone in the center of the room, holding a file.
“She left,” he said. “What does this mean?” Berman handed the file to Mariel. She was well aware of Pia’s ongoing experiments—she had helped to design the protocol herself for most of them.
“It is a summary to date of what is currently running. As you can see, everything is negative for any suggestion of an immune reaction, which is encouraging. The new microbivore design with the polyethylene glycol molecules incorporated into the outer shell apparently is a stroke of genius. Obviously, Pia was right, and I think we should use it you know where.”
Mariel might not have been the easiest person to get along with, but she was honest to a fault. She disliked Pia not only because of Pia’s signature aloofness but also because Berman was so obviously physically attracted to her and not to Mariel. She also knew that Berman’s ardor was fueled by Pia’s rejection of him, meaning he wanted what he couldn’t have. Although Pia was a reminder to Mariel that Zach had rejected her, she was able to give Pia credit for her intelligence.
“If these positive results continue,” Berman said, “I think we can start considering moving to mammals for safety studies.”
Mariel studied Berman’s face. It appeared as though he had forgotten momentarily about Pia. She recognized his expression—he had it every time they made a step toward the major breakthrough they sought. The look on Berman’s face suggested more to Mariel than just excited anticipation of a seriously profitable business accomplishment, it was almost yearning.
5.
PIA’S APARTMENT, BOULDER, COLORADO
SUNDAY, APRIL 21, 2013, 3:30 P.M.
Pia sat on her couch, going over a copy of the same results Mariel and Berman had just seen while George took a shower. The results were certainly favorable, enough so that she anticipated she’d soon be encouraged if not forced to return to the flagellum conundrum, and her mind wandered to it. Her intuition told her that it was not going to be as easy to solve as the biocompatibility problem. As she had explained to George, the flagellum issue was more of a mechanical problem, and she thought the solution would have to be mechanical, too. Pia had developed a clear picture in her mind of the battle that would take place in the body between the bacteria and her beloved nanorobots.
“What’s the figure again, ten to the minus nine?” George’s question disturbed Pia’s concentration. George might as well have clashed cymbals together, and Pia literally jumped at the intrusion. In the eighteen months she’d been in Boulder, Pia had never had company in her apartment.
Pia shot a quick glance over to see George standing in the doorway, loosely wrapped in her only large bath towel. She’d put out a hand towel, of which she had several, and apparently it wasn’t adequate. Pia had a thing about her space and her stuff. In foster care she’d always had to fight for both.
“A nanometer is what size?” George continued.
“Yes, that’s right, a billionth of a meter,” Pia responded. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She found the towel issue irritating; she was irritated he was there at all. What the hell was she going to do with him until Tuesday?
“I was really blown away when you described the relationship of a nanometer to a meter being the equivalent of a marble to the size of the earth. And when you said human fingernails grow at a rate of a nanometer a second. I really have an appreciation of how small a nanometer really is.”
“I’m glad,” Pia said with a hint of sarcasm that was lost on George.
“Before today I really didn’t know any
thing about nanotechnology. And you say in a few years, fifteen percent of everything manufactured will use nanotechnology in some form or fashion?”
“Maybe within three years. In 2011 nanotechnology had already spiked to over fifty billion dollars a year worldwide. Now it is around seventy billion.”
“And who’s regulating it?’
Pia drummed her fingers absently on the arm of the couch. Social and political issues about nanotechnology didn’t interest her. For her it was all science, extraordinarily promising science.
“I don’t know, George. I don’t think there’s any real regulation. I mean, who cares whether tennis racket frames are lighter and stronger. I certainly don’t.”
“I’m thinking more about those nanoparticles you mentioned in the car on the way back from Nano: the buckyballs and nanotubes. As small as they are, I imagine they’d be absorbed through the lungs, maybe even through the skin. Seems to me that health and environmental issues should be considered, especially if they are as stable as you described.”
“You’re probably right,” Pia conceded, but her mind was already back on the flagellum issue. A mechanical solution was beginning to germinate in her mind.
“And the microbivores that you are working with. Are they safe do you think?”
Pia rolled her eyes as her incipient creative thoughts fled from her consciousness under George’s persistent questioning. “Proving microbivores safe is what I’ve been doing for the last eighteen months.”
“Not really. So far you’re just making sure they are immunologically inert. That doesn’t mean they are safe, necessarily. What if they begin doing something you don’t expect, like chewing through capillaries or eating red blood cells? I mean, the way you have described these things, they might turn out to be insatiable, miniature great white sharks.” George chuckled at what he thought was a humorous metaphor. He vigorously dried his hair, pretending to be unaware of his nakedness.