mother seemed engrossed in the ocean, lit now by low-angled rays as the sun set behind us. The colors that dappled the ocean’s surface changed with the trajectory of the setting sun, violet and blue streaks giving way to yellow and orange, and finally blood red, the last wavelengths of the sun’s declension.
After the sun set, an onshore breeze chilled us. As soon as we were back in the NMech car I kicked off my sandals and stretched out along the bottom segment of the sofa-like seating area. My mother and Eva bracketed me, each sitting on opposite banquettes, uprights of the U-shaped passenger area. My father was next to my mother, engrossed in a holographic depiction that only he could see.
Eva selected some music, Bach’s Goldberg Variations. The simple aria that begins and ends the composition stands out in my memory. Even today, Bach’s melodies take me to a place of peace, and the counterpoint takes me to one of balance. My mother stroked my forehead with idle affection. I looked up at her face. It was framed by her sable hair and a slight smile caused her eyes to sparkle.
I felt another hand. Eva gently tickled my feet. Twin caresses bracketed me, like the music’s counterpoint. I floated in the music and the satisfied exhaustion of a day well-lived and hard-played. Then both sets of hands froze. I looked up and saw that my mother’s and Eva’s eyes were locked, one on the other, each with a gaze that held equal measures of compassion and possession.
My father must have noticed. He collapsed his heads-up display, reached out, and took Eva’s hand. He gently pulled her across the car to sit next to him and placed his other arm around my mother’s shoulders. All three looked contented—even Eva. I nearly laughed at their chained embrace, eyes closed and heads tilting back, resting on the car’s soft headrests. They were three dolls posed on a shelf for sleep by a child taking good care of her playthings.
The only sounds in the car were Bach and the slow, synchronized breathing of three friends, who were at peace. Anything seemed possible except failure.
16
ZVI
BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
2042
NMech’s first foray into desalinization was a success. In a few short months, output skyrocketed at the retrofitted Paraguana desalinization plant. Now Eva, Marta, and Jim were back in the boardroom, and once again vying to choose a color for the drapes. This time, Eva and Marta’s debate was relaxed, even diplomatic. This time Jim prevailed and the drapes showed a peaceful view: a bloom of jellyfish drifting in an endless ocean.
“Well, we’re heroes,” Eva began. “We got water to the masses and kept several nations from civil disorder, not that those countries would have even noticed a regime change.”
“Are they safe now?” asked Jim.
“Long as the plant keeps operating. But shut the spigot and I guarantee you’ll see some big time civil unrest down there.”
Marta said, “I’m proud of this one. I think we did well. Eva—thank you.”
“You’re happy, Marta, I’m happy.” Eva nodded slightly and with gravity, as an empress to a countess. “Now we can take this further. There are several commercial applications we can focus on.”
“What do you have in mind? I admit I had my doubts, but you pulled this off. What’s next?” Jim asked.
“Kidney dialysis for one. The Holy Grail of dialysis is an internal device instead of patients being hooked up to an inefficient dialysis machine for several hours per week. I think what we learned at Paraguana can be applied to build an implantable dialysis device.”
“Sounds interesting,” Marta said. “How do we fund the public health part?”
“Fund it? We’re not going to fund anything. If people want to live without spending time in dialysis, then they become customers. The manufacturing costs are low enough that most people will be able to afford the gizmos. There are surgeons’ fees, but that’s not our concern.”
Marta spoke up. “I’d like to make that our concern. Paraguana was supposed to be a public health project, but we’re going to recoup our costs with the commercial applications we’re licensing for desalinization. There’s money left in the pool we created from EasyMilk profits. Let’s take some of that cash and use it on dialysis for the hardest hit populations. I don’t mean we have to pay the bill for everybody, but I’d like to donate enough so that we can help, say, the poorest ten percent of renal failure patients.”
“I don’t think so,” said Eva. “You wanted public health, I gave you Paraguana. The fact that we parlayed that into profit is irrelevant. We can give away some of the devices but I’m not paying any surgeon’s fee. I’ll put my own grandchildren through college, not some rich doctor’s.”
“Give me a break. You don’t have any grandchildren. You organized the desal plant and you did a great job. But you also found a way to get massive publicity and public good will. You made the good deed profitable,” Marta said.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Not a thing,” admitted Marta. “And I’m sure you’ll find a way to make this profitable too. All I’m saying is my charter is public health. I want to work with the poor.”
“Why them?”
“Because they’ll die if we don’t.”
“Why is that my problem?”
Marta glared. The pacific mood in the conference room turned stormy. “Well, look at it this way, Little Miss Charity. Say you keep an extra 10,000 people alive. They’re tied to NMech through dialysis. Wouldn’t most of them become NMech customers for all their medications? Then you can turn a profit on them.”
“Good point.” Eva missed or ignored the sarcasm. “Let’s see if the numbers back you up.” She invoked a heads-up display and peered into it. “It’ll take about two to three years for a charity customer to generate enough revenue with other purchases to recover the cost of implantation. That’s a bit long for break-even, but there’s the increased life expectancy from the dialysis. That should cover it. Okay, Marta, bring on the masses.”
“Just like that?” Marta asked. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. The numbers add up. If this is what it takes to keep you happy and continuing to find cures in the jungle, then that’s what it takes.”
“They’re not jungles, they’re rainforests.” Even conceding to Marta, Eva managed to provoke her.
“By the way, Marta, your thinking is good but your math is off. Helping 10,000 people is on the low side. Think of the recipients as an investment. Couple years to hit break-even, and then each one is profitable. Think big.”
Marta stiffened, but Jim broke in. “Wait! Aren’t you two forgetting something?”
“What?” demanded Eva.
“Uh, don’t we have to
“Why Jim, now you’re starting to sound like your wife. Anyway, I think this is a bit closer to her expertise. You want to organize a research team?” Marta agreed after reconfirming that the project would include a public health component. The three reviewed the basics of what they would need to start and agreed to meet again to discuss strategy further.
The tension had evaporated in the boardroom and the three colleagues enjoyed a respite from quarrelling. EasyMilk and Free-Skin were stunning successes. The simplicity of the desalinization project, coupled with the scope of its potential benefit, had won even Marta’s trust.
Almost as a lazy afterthought, Jim asked, “Well, Eva, once we conquer every known disease, what’s next?”
Eva said, “I’ve got a bigger plan.”
