Кен Макклюр - The Devil's Landscape

‘I think it’s money that makes the difference.’

‘One begets the other,’ said Macmillan. ‘Wealthy people like to be associated with heart-warming good causes. Show business people fall over each other to front-up sick children’s charities — there’s nothing quite like being filmed handing out presents in a children’s ward when it comes to furthering your career.’

‘And I thought I was the cynic in this outfit.’

‘You are, but I’m becoming increasingly-aware of the role of imagery in medical care in our country. We’re all being manipulated and I don’t like it.’

Steven nodded and said, ‘If you’re going to develop a condition, make sure it’s a fashionable one or you could be in trouble. No one gives three pounds a month to fight arthritis or deafness.’

‘Quite.’

‘What’s the plan for the meeting today?’

‘Rumour has it our suggestion will be turned down again.’

‘Surprise, surprise,’ said Steven. ‘But then politicians always tend to see bio-defence as a poisoned chalice.’

‘Vaccination isn’t sexy and won’t get you votes. They’ll pay lip service to the need for it, but when push comes to shove, other interests will come first. I understand we’ll be in competition with cancer research, genetic engineering, stem cell development and some new kid on the block, epigenetics I think it’s called. I’m told it’s the coming thing?’

‘There’s been a lot about it in the scientific journals,’ replied Steven. ‘It’s going to explain why we are all individuals and just what makes us different from each other.’

Macmillan’s expression suggested that he was less than impressed but he didn’t say so, obliging Steven to continue, ‘Some of the concepts are difficult to get across,’ he conceded. ‘But if you stick with it you just might get a sense of how big it’s going to be.’

‘I’ll await my epiphany.’

Steven was reluctant to let it go at that. ‘Look at it this way. Think of our DNA as our hardware — we can’t change it: we’ve got four trillion cells inside us and nearly all of them carry an exact copy of our genome. We can’t hope to replace a faulty gene in each and every one. But the good news is that we also have what those in the know are calling the epigenome. This can be regarded as our software — the tools we need to switch genes on and off. If we can get control of that, we could start telling our hardware what to do or what to stop doing.’

‘And how do we go about doing that?’

‘That’s the million-dollar question.’

‘That new?’

Steven nodded. ‘They’ve recently demonstrated strong epigenetic involvement in brain function, particularly during the change from childhood into adulthood. Some genes are switched on and others switched off and hey presto the ugly duckling with an attitude problem becomes a rational swan leaving for university to study history of art.’

‘Actually,’ said Macmillan thoughtfully and making a steeple with his fingers, ‘I do seem to remember reading something recently about identifying brain differences between optimists and pessimists.’

‘That’s all part of it,’ agreed Steven.

‘Be that as it may, I can’t see epithingy standing much of a chance in the competition for funds against the big boys unless they’ve got some kind of scientific superstar making the pitch.’

‘I think they just might,’ said Steven.

Macmillan opened his eyes wide. ‘Please God, not another telegenic pretty-boy.’

Steven shook his head. ‘I don’t think Professor Dorothy Lindstrom falls into that category.’

‘A woman... name seems familiar.’

‘She hit the headlines a few years ago, never off the telly, regarded as brilliant and not afraid to speak her mind but ruffled a few feathers in her time. There were a few sighs of relief when she went off to Yale.’

‘Of course,’ exclaimed Macmillan, relaxing back into his chair, ‘Now I remember. She was a bit unusual, wasn’t she, a big player in science who didn’t worship at the feet of Charles Darwin.’

‘That’s her,’ Steven agreed. ‘She’s a committed Christian, a Roman Catholic who thought there were just too many convenient evolutionary accidents required by Darwinists and wasn’t afraid to say so.’

‘So, what made Professor Lindstrom return to these shores?’

‘Tragedy.’

Macmillan looked over his glasses. ‘What happened?’

‘Just over a year ago there was a fire in her lab. It happened at night but two of her young post-doctoral workers were working there at the time and perished in the flames. The lab was completely destroyed.’

Macmillan made a face.

‘Dorothy took it very badly.’

‘Understandable.’

‘Yale were very supportive, told her to take as long as she needed to recover and assured her that her lab would be rebuilt as quickly as possible, but that didn’t happen. Dorothy told Yale she wouldn’t be needing a new lab, she was resigning. She did her best to have her people re-assigned to other research groups and took the decision to return to the UK.’

‘That really is taking it badly,’ said Macmillan.

‘She also decided to change her field from neuroscience to epigenetics.’

‘No small step.’

‘It certainly wasn’t. Most people at the top of their game are happy to drift along, dotting ’i’s and crossing ’t’s on their previous success.’

‘But not Professor Lindstrom.’

‘No, she moved back across the Atlantic after persuading a drug company to give her a year of start-up funding and Capital University here in London to give her lab space. One of her younger post-docs elected to come with her and she recruited new staff here. Things have been going well and she’s had a couple of papers published recently in good journals.’

‘What’s in it for Capital?’

‘Publicity. Dorothy is high profile. Every time she publishes a paper the press turns up to interview her. She’s good at... maximising the potential of her discoveries.’

‘They all are these days,’ said Macmillan.

‘Publicity means grants.’

‘You’d have thought the press would have wised up to their weekly breakthroughs by now,’ said Macmillan.

‘Symbiosis,’ said Steven. ‘The scientist gets a grant; the press gets a story.’

‘Well, I guess we’ll see how successful she’s been in attracting funding from the wise old owls of a government grants committee.’

Sir Robert Dalrymple, secretary to the government’s bio-research grants committee, got to his feet and looked around the table, checking that all expected were present before calling the meeting to order.

‘Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for coming although I have to say that I am the bearer of not very encouraging news. I’m afraid the treasury has been even less generous than we anticipated this year.’

There were groans and looks of exasperation were exchanged, but Steven and Macmillan remained impassive: they had expected little else.

‘The chancellor has resolved to keep a tight rein on spending and research funding is to be no exception. You will be aware that major annual research council funding has already been frozen at its current level and we thought that supplementary funds might suffer a similar fate. Unfortunately, we have been cut by a further ten percent.’

‘But there’ll still be enough cash for Trident submarines and Middle Eastern wars,’ said Sir Nigel Carter, a distinguished-looking, white-haired man representing the interests of cancer research.

Dalrymple did not respond.

‘All that public posturing about how important health care is and in reality, our hands are being tied behind our backs,’ said the scientist representing genetic engineering interests, Sir Keith Walman.