Marcus Donovan squeezed his eyes shut so tight that his vision blurred when he opened them again. His eyes slowly came back into focus, and he stared at the man in the mirror. When had the bags formed under his eyes? He couldn’t remember. For that matter, he couldn’t remember when the stomach ulcers had developed, or the spare tire around his mid-section, or the gray hairs at his temples. His eyes were bloodshot, and the alcohol wasn’t helping.
He couldn’t go back. He often pondered now what life might have been like with Rachel. He imagined what their kids would have looked like. He tried to imagine himself driving a mini-van with 3 kids in the back. It was hard to imagine, his life was too different.
He hadn’t had many regrets in life; he was always working too hard and running too fast to bother with the past. He knew how long patents lasted, and that thought was paramount. Once you got one product on the market, you had to start working on the next, or you would fall behind. Someone else would copy your idea, and then sell it for cheaper than you ever could, to cover costs. That’s why he had to be smarter than the rest, always a step ahead, and he always had to do everything exactly by the book. Litigation was rampant in his business, and that was the only way to survive.
This time was different. He had made a mistake. He had been sure everything was going to work. He had done the research himself, he had developed it himself, and set up the experiments. Then he had started making promises, a little too early. His company had already signed government contracts, and already started receiving payment. The ball was rolling, but the ball was defective. He had made sure all quality controls were double blind studies so that no one could claim bias or data manipulation. No one who did the tests could see the results, and vice-versa; no one except him. He was the gatekeeper, the supposed “control” among all the variables. He was the only one who could ensure everything was accurate, and therefore he was only one who could manipulate things without getting caught.
His conscience had finally caught up with him. Was he going to get fired? There was really no question there. Was he going to jail? Probably. Once he went public the company was through. They had spent over 5 years on development; the amount invested was now reaching billions. Yet tomorrow it would all be for naught.
Marcus walked into the kitchen and went through his evening ritual. He pulled out his half empty bottle of Chateau Margaux 1995. He poured a glass and sniffed once before drinking. He loved the smell of blackberry and the deep ruby color of his $800 wine. After finishing the glass he sat in his overstuffed recliner and turned on ESPN. After a few sips of his wine he began drinking larger and larger glasses till he eventually put his lips to the bottle and downed the rest. He was sick of the mundane sports highlights and he was finally feeling the alcohol settle on his brain. He wished the bottle had been full so he were a little more drunk before doing this, but no amount of alcohol could stop the crushing avalanche he was about to unleash. He pulled his laptop out of the drawer and prepared to send his e-mail to his CEO, shareholders, and six different newspapers. He felt a tingle on his lips and didn’t think much of it.
As the computer booted up, he noticed his tongue was starting to go numb. He put his laptop on the coffee table and went to look in the mirror. As he walked he felt lightheaded. His limbs began to give out on him, and he fell to the floor. He pushed on his temples, trying to relieve the developing headache. As he thought his head was clearing he suddenly felt his stomach burning. He felt like he was going to vomit. He now regretted all the coffee and alcohol. His stomach ulcer was acting up, and the alcohol was finally getting to him. He felt nauseated once again, and decided he better get himself to the bathroom before the vomited all over his plush carpet.
He tried to get up, but his legs were no longer numb, they were paralyzed. He started becoming nervous, and decided he’d better call out for help. He tried, but his lips wouldn’t form the words. He couldn’t even manage enough breath to scream. This was no stomach ulcer, he realized. What was going on? He felt himself shake and convulse a few times, then he was still. He was still conscious, but could do nothing. He couldn’t flex a muscle in his body, even his eyes had trouble moving in their sockets. His mind was reeling. Had he eaten something he shouldn’t have? Had he ingested something on accident? He knew chemistry, he knew poisons, and he started to think through his symptoms, trying to figure out if he was going to recover, or if this was the end.
Was it botulism toxin? No – then I would be limp, not rigid and paralyzed.
Tetanus? He hadn’t felt the back spasms, and he didn’t remember tetanus causing numbness or tingling. His mind was starting to fade. He tried with all his might to move any part of his body, but nothing worked. He felt like he was being buried alive, but in his own body, not a tomb.
Then it hit him, tetrodotoxin, the poison found in pufferfish. He knew the signs and symptoms because he had to review them once a year. It was work policy; you had to know what was in every lab, and the dangers of each substance. Tetrodotoxin was used in the lab next door to his. It takes its effect in less than half an hour, but he had been home longer than that. So he hadn’t been exposed at work. He hadn’t eaten any pufferfish tonight; he hadn’t even been near seafood. Where had he… then he saw the empty bottle of wine.
Rage began swelling inside him. They already knew. They knew that all the results were wrong, that their product didn’t work, and that he was going to tell all. Now he was going to die for it. In less than a minute his diaphragm and all breathing muscles would be paralyzed, then his heart. All he could do, was think.
They’ll make millions! Everyone will want it, and no one will know that it doesn’t work. His e-mail had not been sent, the evidence was still hidden away. The world would have no idea they were vulnerable. No one would know…until it was too late.
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