“I’m familiar with antidepressants.”
“Do you have any questions about the medication or the trial?”
“When do I start the new drug?”
“In a few days. First, you need to sign the consent form, then I’ll give you a complete physical, including an electrocardiogram to make sure your heart is healthy. I’ll also draw some blood. We’ll test for illegal drug use, anemia, mineral imbalances, and such.”
The doctor crossed her legs and leaned forward. Robbie got a glimpse of cleavage and his blood responded.
“You’ll take home a two-week supply of therapy today,” she continued. “But you must stop taking your other medication for two days before you start. I’ll give you a journal to jot down your experiences every day. Please note your emotional feelings as well as any changes in physical health. Any questions?”
“No.” Robbie had barely been listening. Dr. Lucent was quite attractive.
The doctor handed him the clipboard with the final page of the consent form on top. Robbie signed it and handed it back. Dr. Lucent smiled brightly.
The blood pressure and heart rate check took five minutes, and the touch of Dr. Lucent’s hands made his heart pound a bit. The electrocardiogram took longer and made him appreciate how careful the researchers were to ensure the clinical trial didn’t harm anyone.
In the end, Dr. Lucent announced he was in fine health and retrieved a pharmacy bottle from a locked cabinet. The plain white container had a bar code and a lot number and nothing else.
“Be sure to come back for a new supply before your current supply runs out. It’s important not to miss a day.” She peered over her glasses to emphasize her point. “If you experience anything unusual or concerning, please call me right away.”
“I live on campus, I experience unusual things every day.”
Dr. Lucent smiled. “Seriously. Call me if you experience any mental or physical problems.”
“All right. See you in two weeks.”
It wasn’t raining when he left so Robbie rode his bike out West 18th toward Prolabs. The ride energized him. In fact, he felt pretty damn good. For a moment, he had second thoughts about changing medications. Then he remembered how excited his father had been about this drug when Prolabs’ scientists first started to test it. That was years ago, when Robbie still lived at home and his parents were still together. He had never seen his father look so happy, so sure of something. He might as well give the drug a try.
As he was pedaling down Prolabs’ driveway, a car came up beside him and slowed. Sula, the company’s PR person, stopped and chatted with him for a moment. He’d gotten to know her a little and liked her a lot. She was too old for him as a girl friend, plus she had a kid. Still, she seemed like someone he could count on as a friend.
Cricket stood outside the entrance to the city council meeting holding a big sign that read No Exceptions! on one side and Water Quality First! on the other. He’d arrived at city hall at six in the evening, and every person entering the special session had seen his message.
The land Prolabs wanted to build a new factory on was within the city limits and was designated wetlands. He knew the state land-use codes, and the property could not be developed by any party other than the city. Even the city was required to apply to the land-use commission for a re-designation. The rules were clear, but as usual, big business was trying to go around them.
Cricket accepted that he and his group might not be able to stop the Prolabs/JB Pharma expansion, but at least they could keep it from being too easy. Sometimes, if they threw up enough roadblocks, the corporate money suckers backed off and went looking for another opportunity.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Cricket was enjoying himself. He smiled at everyone who had come out on this bright but cool evening to speak their minds. Groups of college students, middle-aged couples in matching Birkenstocks and sweaters, sweet old couples, who sometimes turned out to be not so sweet when they stood up and started expressing their views. And others like him, with dreadlocks and hemp clothes. He knew most of the natural folks – as he thought of them-from Saturday Market where he sold his handmade bongo drums and copper jewelry. Only three people from his Love the Earth group were here tonight. The rest had gone to Florence to protest a plan to build a Costco on ocean front property.
Most people smiled back. Some gave him thumbs-up gestures or peace signs. Ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, Cricket moved down the steps, so he had a better view of passing traffic and they had a better view of him. He hoped to catch the attention of a TV reporter. A little news coverage could rally a lot of support.
Two men coming up the sidewalk caught his eye. They wore denim work shirts sporting political buttons that said: Jobs first! Cricket smiled and held out a pamphlet that outlined the environmental impact of chemical factories on wetlands. One man started to reach for it, then caught the words on Cricket’s sign. He abruptly pulled back.
“If you drink city water, you should read this.” Cricket spoke softly. He never preached and he never raised his voice in non-confrontational situations.
“No thanks.” They looked at him with disgust, then walked past. At least they hadn’t swore or spit at him, which happened sometimes.
A few minutes later, a white KRSL TV van pulled up in front of the wide steps. Trina Waterman, his favorite TV reporter, stepped out, followed by a cameraman. Cricket couldn’t believe his luck. He moved into the center of the steps. The young blond reporter and the camera guy both looked at him, then at each other, then shrugged. Trina, particularly pretty in a pale blue suit, motioned him to come down.
Cricket practiced what he would say as they set up for the shot. Then Trina asked his name.
“Cricket.”
“Just Cricket?”
“Yep. I’m with Love the Earth, a Eugene-based environmental group dedicated to keeping the water supply clean.”
Speaking toward the camera, Trina gave a brief background about Prolabs’ plans and the special council meeting. Then she gave Cricket’s name and affiliation before asking, “Why do you oppose this development?” She held the microphone out to him.
Cricket was ready. “First, it’s illegal. The land is zoned for preservation and only the city can change that. Second, Prolabs wants to build a chemical factory. Yes, they call them pharmaceuticals, but they’re still chemicals. And those chemicals leech into our water supply during the manufacturing process. They also enter our water supply through human use. In some places, there’s so much estrogen and progestin in the water from discarded birth control that the fish and frogs are all becoming one sex and can no longer reproduce. In fact-”
Trina abruptly pulled the microphone away. “Thank you.” She and the cameraman picked up their goods, then went around him and up the stairs. Cricket was so happy he would have done a little dance had he not been holding a heavy sign. She would probably edit out half of what he said, but that was okay. People who watched the news at eleven would think about the water supply. That made his day worthwhile.
It was only the beginning though. His group planned to fight Prolabs’ development with everything they had. To be effective, they had to act now. They also had to get the attention of the media every time they staged a protest.
Chapter 9
Rudker spent the rest of the day in meetings talking about the merger. The details were overwhelming at times. Especially in regard to drug development. The companies had projects that overlapped and they argued passionately about which to continue and which to drop. Rudker believed Prolabs’ cardiovascular lineup was superior, but JB’s scientists wanted to throw all their resources into an anti-inflammatory molecule that had shown clinical activity against C-reactive proteins. After his humiliation that morning, Rudker refused to back down and they had left the matter unsettled.
At the end of the day he was mentally exhausted, yet physically charged. He left JB’s campus on foot in search of a quiet place to eat. He wanted to be on the next flight back to Eugene, but he had another round of
