The Zyne Project (2 page)

Chapter 3

Dan paced up and down the floor.  His “guests” were sitting in chairs, their arms resting comfortably while the liquid from their infusions crept through tubes and into their arms. 

Dinner had been good.  The subjects had gotten to know each other and seemed to get along.  Upon closer assessment, he was pleased with the decision they’d made to bring these six people together for what would be one of the most groundbreaking studies ever.

If…things went well.

There had been a few glitches since the successful mice infusions.  For one, the mice seemed
different
after the infusions. They were not as frightened of people and were more confident when handled and studied.  But some of the mice had become more aggressive, and one had even bit one of the researchers before it was euthanized.  Dan wasn’t too concerned because the majority of the test mice seemed fine, but the fact remained that they weren’t allowed to live long enough for him to do lengthy research.  Once their fur grew in, he’d been instructed to kill them in order to study their blood and organs to ensure that nothing had been damaged in the process.

The good news was that their organs appeared fine, but he’d fought with Zyne to give him more time to observe the mice before testing on humans.

Despite his arguments, he’d been overruled by other scientists who felt that studies on humans would be fine.  After all, gene therapy was different than other types of pills or solutions given orally or intravenously.  There were few deaths or complications for most similar-type studies and given that the gene was “hair” related and not tied to tumors or other more dangerous conditions, there was an assumption that it would either work or not work…and at very little risk to the participants.

But now, a pang of fear shot through his skull. 
What if the infusion doesn’t work?
he thought.
What if nothing happens?

“Dr. Johns, how are you?” chirped one of the nurses, interrupting his thoughts.  He walked over to Jennifer and watched as the infusion dripped down the clear tubing into her arm.

“I’m doing fine.  Hi, Jennifer
.
  How are you feeling?”

He watched as she managed a small smile.  The overhead lights glinted off her bald head. She had cried when medical personnel shaved her head, but now seemed a bit better.

“I’m ok. It just feels weird to be bald and my arm stings a bit.”

He reached down and touched her shoulder gently. “Don’t worry, this infusion causes hair to grow back more quickly.  From what I understand, you’re getting the ‘redhead’ formula and that one does seem to encourage hair growth.” She nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry.  In a few days, you’ll start to see those red sprouts come in and you’ll be very happy…trust me.”

Jennifer smiled at him and seemed to relax.

Walking over to some of the other subjects, he was relieved to see that they all appeared calm and content.  Rosa and Teresa were discussing the latest national politics while they both received their therapy.  From what he understood, both brunettes were receiving ‘blonde’ infusions.  He smiled at them and walked over to check on the men.

The male subjects all seemed relaxed with the exception of the hair products tycoon, Rick, who fidgeted anxiously and took annoyed deep breaths every once in a while.  Thinking back, Dan remembered that Rick had been invited to join the study because he was one of the largest distributors of off-label Zyne products. He had created some of his own brands over the years, but was a close “friend” of Zyne’s CEO and continued to provide global outlets for cheaper brands…some literally made out of perfumed soap and water.

“Hey, doctor…” Rick said in his thick New York accent, “When is this gonna start working?  I mean, how long does it take for the genes to kick in?” 

Smiling politely, Dan attempted to explain that once hair grew back in, it would grow in with the color and consistency of the formula being infused. Rick, who was balding, could expect to see dark brown hair emerge within a week or so and would hopefully see a fuller head of hair as well.  This was part of the benefits of the trial.

Rick nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair.  He turned away from the doctor and concentrated on the sports event unfolding on one of the TVs that hung overhead.

 Satisfied that Rick was more comfortable, Dan looked around and saw that his two athletes, Tim and Bryan were talking about sports, while the gene therapy dripped into their arms.

Confident that everyone was stable, Dan headed for his makeshift office when his cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi Dan…” the voice on the phone sounded concerned.  It was his assistant April.

“Hey, what’s up April?  How are our smaller subjects doing?” he asked jokingly.  April was aware of the type of clientele Zyne had recruited and often commented that she was happy
he
was the one handling the trial.

But now, she sounded concerned. “Dan, there’s something wrong with the twins.”

The “twins” were two mice that spent an inordinate amount of time together.  Despite being in a testing environment with a number of other creatures, the furry companions were constantly together. The scientists at the laboratory had affectionately named them “the twins”, despite one now being a brunette and the other a blonde. The mice had been infused several weeks back and now proudly displayed their new fur colors. Unfortunately, they would be destroyed in a few weeks, but some of the technicians had discussed possibly taking them home as pets.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, they seem to be changing…” April hesitated, “For starters, they’re losing their fur.  We’re not sure how that happened, but it could just be that they’re nervous or have an infection. But, their faces are contorting.  It seems as if their muscular structure is altered somehow.”

Dan’s heart was beating fast. “How are the other mice?”

“The other mice are fine,” she answered, “No problems other than the fact that some of them have been displaying aggression, but nothing vastly different than before.  Dan, do you think maybe we should stop the trial?  These recent changes are worrisome. At least to me.  What do you think?”

Dan turned and looked back at the subjects who were already receiving their first infusions.

“Not sure we can stop now.  Let me see what the people at Zyne say.”

***

The discussion with Zyne representatives did not go well.  They demanded to know how many animals had been affected and when Dan reported that only two mice out of several hundred were experiencing hair loss and personality changes, their reaction wasn’t what he’d hoped for.

“Let’s see how our folks do,” he was told. “It’s a trial after all. They know the risks. If things start getting out of hand, we’ll shut it down.  But for now, let’s stay the course.  We’ve just started and need to see how things go.”

When the phone call ended, Dan felt uneasy and he wondered about how much of a risk the Zyne Corporation was willing to take.

***

The massage was invigorating.  Teresa couldn’t remember the last time she had been so relaxed.  The masseuse manipulated her muscles, and expertly worked out the tension.  Warm oils were lathered all over her body and as the world continued to melt away, she thought about her life.

Things had been rough lately.  The breakup with Jean-Paul had been tough enough, but to top it off, her business was struggling due to issues with the airlines and inconsistencies with listed rates.  The past few quarters the site had posted large losses and her accountants were starting to get nervous.

Doctors said her alopecia was a result of this stress and lack of sleep.

But Teresa knew better.  She simply had to stop pulling her hair out during times of stress.

Sometimes she forgot about it.  She’d be sitting at her desk at work, and while thinking about how much there was to do, start gently yanking on strands of her long black hair.  If no one noticed, she might be pulling on it for hours.  Over time however, the constant yanking and tugging created bald spots that she could not hide. So, when her business partner mentioned a study that could change the consistency and color of her hair, Teresa thought it would be a great idea.  What better way to end her nervous habit than to first shave her head and then allow new, more beautiful hair to grow in.

Since her head had been shaved that morning, she’d felt the addictive impulse to once again pull on her hair. But without any tufts protruding from her scalp, it was just an unsatisfied burning urge…an invisible itch that she could not scratch.  So, instead of thinking about it, she succumbed to the massage and tried to focus on thoughts that were pleasant.

Teresa was just starting to relax, when a sharp pang of pain suddenly hit her, like a spike being shoved directly through her skull.

Sitting up quickly, she sent the masseuse spiraling backwards.  “Oh!” she apologized, “I’m so sorry.  My head just started hurting all of a sudden.”

The masseuse asked if she wanted to call for help or assistance, but Teresa declined. “No, that’s ok. Let’s just finish the massage. It feels so good, I would hate for you to have to stop.”

Lying back down on the table, Teresa took a few deep breaths but the pain lingered.  She closed her eyes and tried not to think about it.

***

At the same time, the others in the group decided to take a swim in the outdoor heated pool.  Sporting bald heads and towels, Tim joked that they looked like a bunch of “cone heads” from another planet.  The group chuckled, but everyone was secretly relieved to be done with the first infusion.

The pool, located on the east wing of the building was kidney shaped and surrounded by tables and chairs. Colorful foliage encapsulated the entire area, giving the impression of being transported to a tropical paradise. Bright blue water reflected the glowing orb of the sun and gently rippled from the jets of water shooting out underneath the surface.

Tim and Bryan immediately jumped into the pool, while Rosa and Jennifer sprawled out on the lounge chairs. Rick was pacing the deck, looking irritated.

“Yo Rick.  What’s wrong dude?” Tim asked casually, throwing his head back and looking into the warmth of the sun. He didn’t mind being bald.  It felt kind of cool and he was looking forward to having sun-kissed blonde hair that didn’t have to come from a bottle.  Tim had been secretly bleaching his hair for years, but the media and his fans always talked about his golden locks as a birthright.  His hair was actually a mousey brown and despite the sun’s bleaching effects, it took many regular visits to the salon to keep the public’s distorted perception alive. In addition, he was approaching 35 and knew that his years in the spotlight were finite.  This was his one chance to look good again, and change history…at least for a little while.

He was also thinking about his financial situation.  A hidden, but growing gambling problem had drained his bank accounts.  Too many underground poker games were taking their toll on his nest egg and most of the money he’d made from sponsors as he tackled the waves was slowly draining out of a sieve held in a viselike grip by people who were rumored to be connected to the mafia.  The problem was they made it very easy for him to drop-in on a running poker or blackjack game that never ended.  It was easy access to an addiction that held him firmly by the balls.

And they know it too,
he thought grimly.

After months and months of losses, Tim owed quite a bit of money.  And he knew that time was running out.  If he could emerge from all of this as a bigger star than before, it might lead to some extra cash.

Maybe even a movie deal…

It might save my life…

Tim shook off his fears and plunged his head into the water again.  When he emerged, he shook his skull back and forth to shake off the droplets of water and howled like a deranged wolf.

Several members of the group laughed, but Rick glared at the surfer from the other end of the pool deck and closed his eyes in annoyance.

Rick had barely ever heard of Tim before this ordeal and was an elitist who didn’t mind being a snob. He felt like he was classier than his fellow subjects and the idea that he could not communicate via a cell phone was driving him nuts.