Dick is so engrossed in what he’s reading he startles when Graham says, “Hey, Dick, got a minute?”
“Uh, sure,” Dick says, swiveling his body to block the screen. His deep dive into sexual predators and their behaviors is probably best kept to himself. What started as research to try and understand Otis has led him down a rabbit hole of dark perversion both fascinating and repulsive.
His friend pulls off his glasses and wipes them with the tail of his shirt, his farsighted eyes squinting. “I think I figured something out.”
“That’s good. Right?” Dick asks.
For thirteen years, Graham has been working in the science of genomics, the chemical alteration of an individual’s DNA to cure disease. Specifically, he’s been looking at it in regard to the genetic disposition for obesity. He jokingly refers to himself as the Jenny Craig of genomics and jests he’ll be the first volunteer to try his discovery once he figures it out. At five six, he tips the scales at close to three hundred pounds, and the number continues to grow.
“I think so,” Graham says. “Though I’m not entirely sure.”
Dick nods. It’s the life of a research scientist. For years, you struggle for a breakthrough, and finally, when it comes, it’s all so uncertain.
“I could use a sounding board. Beer after work?”
His friend’s request is not something he can say no to, so despite his preoccupation, he nods. Truthfully, a beer might do him good, give him the dose of liquid courage he needs.
He watches Graham as he returns to the lab where his team is hard at work. At one time, the tables had been reversed. Dick was the star on the precipice of success, and Graham was one of the pool scientists. But that was a long time ago.
If Graham figures this out, he will be famous . . . and rich. Any Pentco scientist who makes a significant discovery gets half a percent of the profits that come from it. A cure for obesity—Dick can’t imagine how much that could be worth.
* * *
Pro Sports Grill is a megapixel haven of sports entertainment located a few minutes from Pentco. The Angels are playing the Dodgers, so Dick asks the hostess for a seat in the bar where he can keep an eye on the game. It’s only five thirty, but already the bar is busy, baseball fans excited about the local team rivalry.
“You, okay?” Graham asks when they’re settled on their stools. “You look like crap.”
“Thanks.”
“No, seriously. I might actually be the good-looking one tonight.”
The server sets down their beers, and Dick, ignoring his friend’s insulting concern, takes a sip and says, “Tell me what you’ve got.”
With a deep breath, Graham begins, the science so complex few people in the world could understand it. Basically, the gist is, through genetic editing, Graham intends to alter the hereditary DNA that contributes to obesity, potentially not only providing treatment but also prevention. In other words, infants with genetic markers for becoming overweight could be treated as newborns and never struggle with obesity at all. But baseline editing of the sort Graham is proposing has never been done in humans, and making the transition from mice to people is full of potential pitfalls. Dick listens intently as Graham lays out his theory, staying quiet as he catalogs questions and thoughts for consideration.
“Which is why I think it could work,” Graham finishes with a flourish of his hand almost like the thump of a gavel. Case closed.
Dick leans back processing what’s been said. Graham is brilliant, so smart it causes Dick to question his own intelligence. Though when Dick was at the top of his game, he also had hubris and swagger. He rubs his chin, then leans forward and methodically sets out to disprove everything Graham said, picking the theory apart piece by piece—the premise, the results, his methods. Graham volleys back, and as they talk, new questions and arguments arise along with new ideas and ways to test them. They’re in the zone, Graham scrawling notes and Dick’s brain spinning so fast that, for the first time since Dee called about Otis’s return, he is thinking about something else.
Finally, three beers later, the two of them sigh and slump in their seats, weary and worn as if they’ve just walked off a battlefield.
After a moment, Dick says, “Scary stuff, getting this close.”
“Yup. It’s definitely over if this fat man sinks.” Graham puts his finger to his temple and pulls an imaginary trigger, then flops his head to the side with his tongue hanging out.
“Kidding,” Graham says when he sees Dick isn’t smiling.
Dick’s own catastrophic failure a dozen years ago is an albatross he still carries around his neck. Dick tries to lighten his expression and takes another sip of beer.
The leadoff hitter for the Dodgers hits a walk-off home run to win the game, and the bar crowd boos and cheers.
Graham lays a twenty on the table. “The battle of the bulge awaits,” he says and lifts his chubby fist in salute of the charge. He pivots away, leaving Dick alone.
Dick remains at the bar, sipping his beer and staring at the postgame interview while not hearing a word, his mind spinning with his conversation with Graham, Otis, Dee, and Jesse. When his beer is gone, he sets another twenty on the table, returns to Pentco, and climbs to the roof.
He smokes and, for the millionth time, considers the situation and the choice in front of him. Voices below cause him to look down, and he watches as two Pentco employees walk to their cars. He recognizes one of them, Sam, a guy from accounting—three kids and a pretty wife. He hosted a barbeque last year to celebrate his fortieth birthday, and over a hundred people showed up, everyone laughing, complimenting him, and slapping him on the back as they wished him a happy birthday. An average guy, but somehow, he did it right.
Dick used to dream of that and, for a while, pretended he had it with Caroline.
He watches Sam climb into his car and drive away, the taillights of his shiny BMW fading.
When they disappear from sight, Dick blows out a final stream of smoke, crushes the cigarette beneath his toe, and looks at the concrete below. Nothing to lose. So he might as well, for the first time in his life, finally do something right.