Prologue
My palms are sweaty. I wipe them on my skirt, pressing against my thighs. I take a deep breath again and look behind the curtain. The speaker in front of me is just answering his final questions. He’ll be finished soon.
This thought alone raises my heartbeat a notch. I swallow and close my eyes.
Calm down, Jane. Just calm down. You know this best. No one else knows it as well as you do. That’s all you need to remember.
I open my eyes again and see the speaker leaving the stage.
I touch my messy bun, then quickly tighten it one more time, hooking a loose strand behind my ear. Then I look down, checking to make sure all is in place. Red pumps, black stockings, and black long-sleeved dress.
I straighten.
Outside: all good. Now let’s show them the inside.
The conference moderator steps to the podium and leans in a bit to get closer to the microphone.
“Our next speaker didn’t have to travel far. In fact, she works just across the Charles, at the Science and Technology Institute of Boston in the laboratory of Professor David Wright. Please welcome Dr. Jane McGregor.”
There is applause.
I take a deep breath and walk onto the stage, forcing a smile onto my face as I look at the audience.
The moderator turns toward me and hands me the laser pointer. Looking at the gadget, he says in a low voice, “Here is forward, here back. If you have any videos, press here.” He looks at me. “You’re good?”
Of course not.
But I widen my smile and nod.
“The stage is yours,” he says quietly, then leaves.
I turn toward the audience.
Oh, boy!
There are more than two hundred people in front of me. Almost all of them are in the dark. In the back, I see three small bright squares: open doors at the back of the hall. Someone just enters—a shadow dimming one of the squares for one moment—and then he moves to the side again, finding a free seat in the last row.
I take a small step forward to look at the audience. The first two or three rows are scarcely lit, light from the stage reflected off their faces. David is there, and so are Miyako, Frank and Chris from the lab.
Miyako has her palms pressed together, her fingers touching her lips as if in prayer. She isn’t quite displaying a vote of confidence when she looks at me like that, but I know she’s only empathizing with me.
Frank keeps fiddling with his glasses and I know he does that whenever he’s anxious. I think Miyako got him all worked up.
The side of my lips curls into a smile. It feels good to know they are behind me. Then I look down at the laser pointer and click forward to the first slide.
An image of an eighteenth-century painting covers the entire back wall behind me. I am not going to talk about art, but this painting gives me the punch-line introduction to the biological question I’m about to answer in my speech.
“This is the siege of Constantinople. The year is 1453. Seven thousand soldiers defending the city with fifty thousand civilians, and more than one hundred thousand soldiers attacking from the outside.
“Constantinople fell in the end. To historians, this marks the end of the Byzantine Empire and the end of the Middle Ages. But it took fifty-three days for the army of the Ottoman Empire to conquer seven thousand not-very-well-trained defenders of the city. So the real question here is this: how could a city resist a force more than ten times bigger than their own for fifty-three days?”
I point with my laser to the wall surrounding the city. “One of the main reasons is that the city was surrounded by an almost impenetrable wall.”
I turn to my audience. “Now, I’m not going to tell you anything more about this monumental battle, mainly because I’ve already told you everything I know about it—”
Laugher from the audience.
“—but I’m going to switch gears and downsize the story a lot. In fact, I’ll reduce it to a microscopic level. Let’s imagine the city is actually Bacillus subtilis, also known as hay or grass bacillus, commonly found in the soil as well as in the digestive system of humans. Now, let’s say it finds itself in a very hostile environment.” I point to the army outside the city walls.
“Normally, the bacterial cells would die in such an environment, but some strains have the ability to build a wall, making a so-called endospore. These strains can save their valuable genetic material”—I point the laser pointer at the inhabitants of the city—“inside this impenetrable wall. In this state, a cell can survive for thousands of years.
“Once the cell is surrounded by a friendly environment again, the endospore breaks the impenetrable wall and continues a normal existence as a living bacterial cell.”
I change the slide and show a microscope image of the Bacillus strain I’ve been working with: many blue rod-shaped cells. Among those, a few are colored a striking fluorescent green. “These are the endospores, the protected cells,” I say, pointing to green cells. “These are the ones resisting the siege.”
“But”—I turn toward the audience—“what if we had a way to weaken some of the bricks in that wall? What if we made some of the connections of the endospore cortex so thin that they collapse under the first impact?”
I pause. On purpose.
Everyone is quiet now. They expect the answer, the big revelation.
And I love it.
I bask in this expecting and eager audience for a second longer, then continue.
“The city resisted fifty-three days before the walls shattered, but for my Bacilli endospores, the walls came down within a minute. Now let me show you how.”
I switch the slide and show them the first of my experiments. And I talk.
I have rehearsed this speech more times than I can count. I’m at the point where I can actually think of something else while I’m talking about the slides behind me.
David knows this. He has seen me rehearse. He’s leaning back, sitting sideways, as he would do in a lounge bar while discussing the latest game of hockey. He looks very relaxed. Every now and then he looks down at his notebook and writes something down, then looks back.
The research I am talking about has been published already and, thanks to David, in a very prestigious journal. I think he has some connections high up that I’ll never understand. Whatever the case had been, this publication has just made my path to becoming a lab head a few steps shorter.
And this is where I want to be. Leading a lab of my own.
My twenty minutes are almost over.
“To summarize: We have found that using this reagent, we managed to alter the structure of the endospore cortex of Bacillus subtilis. With this treatment, the resistant bacterial cells became vulnerable again, making them susceptible to their environment, most notably, susceptible to antibiotics. Thank you for your attention. I’d be happy to take your questions.”
The applause is huge. Miyako, I think, is the loudest of all; she’s jumping in her seat and clapping twice as fast as everyone else. I smile from ear to ear, unable to hide my joy.
The moderator comes out to join me on the stage, and a person to the left raises her hand. One of the assistants rushes to her and gives her a microphone.
“Great research, Dr. McGregor!”
“Thank you!”
“Could you tell me, the reagent you used—could it be used for human treatment, you know, for cases when dangerous human pathogens make endospores? It would be great to use it in combination with antibiotics!”
“This would have to be confirmed with clinical trials. We don’t have the setup to do it in our institute, but that research step is open to whoever wants to embark on it. I can tell you, however, that the same reagent was successfully used in a fruit fly and some nonhuman primates without adverse effects.”
At that moment, several people raise their hands and start talking at the same time.
“One at a time,” the moderator says. “The gentleman on the right first, perhaps?” He points to a man with his hand raised and the assistant closest to him hands him a microphone.
The questions pile up, and so do my answers. After the tenth question, I realize I am suddenly tired. It must be the adrenaline leaving my system.
Finally, the moderator raises his hands and says, “I think it’s time for an afternoon break. If you have any more questions for Dr. McGregor, you can approach her during the break. Thank you.”
The lights come up. People start to stand and slowly move to the back of the hall, all converging at the three exits in the back.
The moderator turns to me. “Well done, Jane. That was the best speech I’ve heard in a while.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s very nice of you to say.”
He nods with a smile and starts to leave, but then turns to say, “By the way, we have a lovely buffet outside. I’d encourage you to give it a try.”
“Thanks, I’ll be right there,” I say, my tummy rumbling in agreement.
***
All the people from the audience are in the foyer by the time I arrive, grouped around high standing tables with beautifully arranged appetizers.
I approach the first one, several people crammed around it. “Excuse me!” I say as I reach behind a woman to take a one-bite sandwich.
The woman turns. “Jane, what a wonderful speech! And great research too.”
That’s when I realize who the woman is. “Dr. Rosenberg, thanks very much! I had very good guidance.”
“Evelyn, please. And it’s not all due to your boss. Not all of David’s students make such great discoveries. Well done!”
“Thanks, um, Evelyn!” I find it strange to call her by her first name. Whenever I’ve talked to her in the institute, I’ve always used her surname. She’s one of those icons who commands immense respect. Even other lab heads have a hard time switching to a first-name basis.
I stuff the sandwich in my mouth. Bite-sized it may be, but my mouth seems to be too small.
“Have you met Dr. Grant?” Dr. Rosenberg asks, pointing to a tall man standing next to her.
I close my mouth, trying very hard to make it look graceful.
I fail.
Then I look up at him. He’s more than six feet tall; his head is bald with some gray hairs on the side, and his thick glasses make his eyes so small I can barely tell their color. He’s—what’s the polite word?—overweight. His extra storage of energy bulges over his belt. He’s got three folds under his chin too. And he’s looking at me.
I refrain from talking with a full mouth and offer my hand, hoping I’m not being too impolite.
Dr. Grant shakes my hand and says, “I’m pleased to meet you, Jane. I liked your talk a lot. You are . . . very passionate about what you do.” His voice is a deep baritone, warm and serene.
I nod, desperately trying to finish the mouthful so I can finally say something.
Dr. Grant raises one eyebrow at me. “Speechless, I see.” Then he turns to Dr. Rosenberg. “I often have that effect on woman.”
I start to laugh but then choke on the bread crumbs. Dr. Grant pats me on the back. “Are you okay?”
Finally, I manage to swallow. “I’m sorry . . . Dr. Grant . . . a bad moment for a joke with all the food in my mouth,” I say with a smile.
He looks at me, raising both of his eyebrows.
Oops! I quickly look down, avoiding his gaze. Perhaps he didn’t mean that as a joke.
“At any rate, Jane,” Dr. Rosenberg says, her voice a bit harsher than before, “Dr. Grant managed to come to the conference despite his prior arrangements.” She turns to him and smiles. “Which I am so happy to see. You know, Brian, I’ve been so eager to finally meet you. We need to find some one-on-one time to discuss your recent paper.”
Dr. Grant answers but keeps looking at me. “Yes . . . yes . . . but I’d much rather hear about new discoveries.” He finally turns to Dr. Rosenberg. “My work is boring.”
“Oh, nonsense, Brian!” Dr. Rosenberg touches his shoulder. “It is the most exciting research I’ve read in a while.”
I look at Dr. Rosenberg, then at her hand—still on Dr. Grant’s shoulder—then at her. Huh, I guess she must like him.
I narrow my eyes, looking at Dr. Grant again, trying to see what she sees. He’s quite a lot older than her. But he does have a wonderful voice and is strikingly tall.
Ah, well. He wouldn’t be my type, but—to each one’s own.
“Jane!” comes a voice from behind me.
I turn around and see Miyako rushing over to me.
I look at Dr. Grant. “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Grant. Dr. Ros—Evelyn, thank you for organizing the conference and for giving me the opportunity to show my research.”
“Pleasure, Jane.” Dr. Rosenberg politely smiles before returning her full attention to Dr. Grant.
As soon as I turn to look at Miyako, she hugs me, her dark, straight, shoulder-length hair swinging around me as well. She’s so tiny you almost don’t see her if you look at her from the side, but she nevertheless almost knocks me off balance with her force. “That was brilliant! Why were you so afraid before? You were great!”
“I’m always anxious before a talk, you know that. But thanks!”
Frank is right behind her, a head taller than both of us, his overgrown curly black hair shadowing the sunlight coming from behind him. “May I?” he says.
Miyako releases me and takes a step back. Then Frank hugs me with one arm, casually keeping the other hand in his pocket. “Perfetto, Jane. Just awesome.”
“Thanks, Frank.”
Behind him, I notice Dr. Grant is looking over Evelyn’s shoulder. His eyes are fixed on me.
I frown, not understanding what to make of his undivided attention. Then I shake my head, focusing on my friends again.
Frank starts walking, still keeping one arm around my shoulders. He hugs Miyako with his other arm and pushes us both forward. “So, girls, let’s get out of here and get something proper to eat!”
“What about the last session?” I ask, slightly resisting his push.
“Oh, you’re such a nerd! You can miss the last three talks!” Frank says.
“Fine!” I shake my head and let him lead me forward.
“So”—Miyako peeks at me around Frank’s chest—“who’s the big guy over there?”
“The one talking to Dr. Rosenberg? Dr. Brian Grant.”
Miyako looks back over Frank’s shoulder. “Oh, really? On the brochure he looked . . . smaller. Ah, well.” She turns then to the front, looking at the wide-open glass door of the conference building, sunshine seeping through. “Let’s enjoy the last summer day.”
I glance at her. “What do you mean ‘last summer day’?”
“Autumn is officially starting tomorrow and so are the autumn rains.”
“Oh, I hate hibernation,” I mutter under my breath.
Miyako laughs and Frank squeezes me once around my shoulders. “We know you do. That’s why we are going to make today even more special.”
And we walk out of the building, sunshine bathing us in warmth for one last time this year.