“There’s more?” Dr. Aubert asks. “Morethan the BioVIVE?”
“Vincent,” I hiss, but it’s too late.
My eyes fall closed as the next words rocket from his mouth: “Dr. Martín has spent the better part of the morning talking of medical miracles, but I’d like to hear her explain her real reason for being at BioNEX: resurrection.”
4EMERY
Okay… even I admit it sounds questionable when you just blurt it out like that.
Fucking Vince.
After an interminable moment of deafening silence, where the board members at the table look at each other in question, and the ones over video do that peering-forward thing like they can see dimensionally into the conference room, they all turn their focus on me.
Waiting.
When I can’t seem to form an actual sentence, Vince elaborates, “Emery’s team has been covertly working on a compound meant to initiate hypothermia, prolong artificial cardiovascular function, and essentially bring deceased mammals back from the dead using the BioVIVE.”
Which is why I spend the next eleven hours in locked-door meetings with shouting heads of state.
Perhaps I should back up.
Just so you don’t think my whole life is a lie, I did initially start out working on surgical lasers. But from my very first meeting with Leonard, this was the deal: As long as I continued to develop the BioVIVE, he’d continue to fund my real life’s work, a compound that can profoundly lower core body temperature, keep a heart artificially contracting, and maintain electrical signals in the brain for up to anhour, hopefully buying victims of accidents or injury enough time to get help.
It’s why I agreed to this life in the first place. My entire career, all I’ve ever wanted is to spare someone else what I lived through.
But now…? Fucking Vince.
“I can’t believe I was worried about Leonard when Vince wasright there. I should have known,” Annie says from my small office couch. She’s dressed in a bright pink pencil skirt and a cream blouse secured at the top with a knotted men’s tie. Her outfit says cool and trendy, fun but professional. Her posture says she is contemplating a murder and deciding where to hide the body. “That smug little rat. This is exactly why overconfidence is number twenty-eight on the Ick List.”
Annie’s Ick List is an ever-changing catalog of things men do/say/own that immediately rule them out as possible romantic partners. The total was up to seventy-six at last count, and includes big things, obviously, but also random and indefensible actions like no-show socks (or, as Annie calls them,socklettes), water shoes, air guitar (see also: finger guns), frowny-face emojis during text fights, listing height in a professional bio, engine revving at stoplights, natural deodorant, and the sight of any man treading water, ever.
It’s probably why she’s single and rarely ever dates. Though watching me attempt to juggle two lives unsuccessfully might also have something to do with it.
“I admit this situation isn’t ideal,” I say, stifling a nervous laugh, “but when you really think about it, it’s notallbad. After everyone calmed down, the billionaires were pretty stoked.”
“Give me one example of a billionaire being stoked about anything that ended up being good for the rest of us.” She throws up her hands. “We are on the verge of a potential trade war withFrance, Emery.”
“Vince made it sound like we’ve been doing this in secret, but they all approved this research!” I protest. Quietly, I add, “In theory.”
“Yes, darling of mine, they approved compound screening! But while the BioVIVE has been approved for preclinical animal trials, Compound Y hasn’t.”
I protest this with a loud groan. “We work for a company that doesn’t even technically exist. Since when do they care about rubber stamps? It’s the chicken-and-egg conundrum! We need proof-of-concept studies in order to get their full approval but aren’t allowed to do proof-of-concept studies until we have their full approval. Everyone knows the system is a mess. They’ve always just looked the other way!”
“Yeah, but they have plausible deniability,” Annie says, before slowly exhaling. “And now everyone thinks the goal of the BioVIVE is to create zombies. If France really pushes, the board could cut our funding. We’re lucky they only paused the project until they’re able to review the data; they could insist you be removed from it entirely.”
I sit down beside her. “They wouldn’t do that. It’s too important. Resurrection through medical science? Come on, the scientific community has been circling this possibility for decades and we’re the first to succeed? Evenvive la Franceis too power hungry to give that up.”
She holds my gaze. “Then they’ll punt it over to Vince’s team, which does everything by the semi-broken books rather than by the completely corrupt books.”
“Is that why he did this? To get me kicked off the project and claim the glory for himself?” At the thought, I can feel my blood pressure rise. “Or does he want to shut it down so that the BioSCAN is the only technology we have?”
“I’m not sure, but you know how butthurt he is over the BioVIVE stealing his thunder. And he has never been Team Zombie. He’s against the whole Compound Y concept.”
Fuck.
Today is a mess. I can’t believe my probability dress failed me.
“His entire argument is absurd.” I stand and begin pacing. “The idea of reanimation scares people because when we hear the word, we think of divinity, not science.”