The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,25

did everything Bianca believed it would, the licensing fees from the patents could potentially be worth billions. The investors would take the lion’s share, and as the company’s founder James Harding would claim a hefty chunk of the remainder, but all of Luminica’s fourteen employees were assured of a piece of the action. In a best-case scenario, Bianca’s slice would be worth . . .

She didn’t even want to think of the number in case doing so jinxed the deal. Anyway, it was too much – more than she could possibly need in several lifetimes. Even if she made sure that the people she cared about were provided for in perpetuity, the amount left over would still be obscene. There would be a lot of charities receiving unexpected – and large – donations.

God, her feet hurt. She tried to force a state of Zen calm upon herself to overcome it, with limited success, as James clicked on his final PowerPoint slide. It would soon be time for her to add her own contribution to the presentation. She tried to judge the investors’ feelings. Were they going to buy in? The mere fact that they were here at all was a good omen, but she had friends in other pharmaceutical start-ups who had come so close to a life-changing deal . . . only for everything to collapse at the last moment.

She had a good feeling about this deal, though. The body language of the six expensively dressed visitors – none had bought their shoes for a tenner – was veiled, but they couldn’t disguise their interest. All were subtly leaning forward, necks craning as if trying to get closer to something delicious. Hungry Hungry Venture Capitalists. The thought brought an involuntary giggle, which she hurriedly tried to hide behind a fake cough.

But there undeniably was a hunger there. One man watched James with literally calculating attention, head bobbing millimetrically as if he were working a mental abacus. The others displayed similar subtle signs of their keenness.

Nothing had been signed yet, though. They still had to be convinced to take the final step . . .

James gestured in her direction, the VIPs’ heads turning as one. ‘So with that in mind, I’d like to introduce the person whose insight and dedication has led to the development of Thymirase: Dr Bianca Childs.’

This is it. ‘Thank you, James. Thank you,’ she said as she stood to polite applause. ‘But Thymirase was really a team effort – it wouldn’t have happened without the help of my incredibly talented colleagues. Some of whom are much better at public speaking than me, so thank you again, James, for making me face my fears!’ The joke got a small amount of laughter.

‘So, what I was supposed to talk about now,’ she went on, ‘were the technical details of Thymirase – how it affects the protein kinases that build connections between neurons, the neurochemical boost this gives to a patient’s recall, and so on. But James has already done a very good job in his presentation of explaining what the drug will do to help sufferers of Alzheimer’s, so rather than repeat what’s already been said, I’d like to talk about something else instead.’ She let James sweat for a moment, imagining his thoughts: oh God, please don’t let the crazy hippie woman scare off the investors! ‘The reasons why I started the research that created Thymirase.’

James appeared relieved, if not entirely secure. Her audience, meanwhile, seemed intrigued. Even the most number-crunching capitalist could still appreciate a human interest story.

Bianca composed herself, trying to assemble what was essentially a huge ad lib. The last time she had done anything similar was an attempt at a performance piece while at university; she hoped this would be better received. She had tied back her long frizzy dark hair, but a strand had managed to work loose and drop down annoyingly over one eye, so she flicked it away before beginning.

‘All long-term debilitating diseases have tragic costs,’ she said, ‘both in the purely financial sense of treatment and care, and personally for the sufferer and their family. But Alzheimer’s is especially cruel, because not only is it currently incurable, but it destroys what makes a person unique – what makes them them. If our personalities are defined by our experiences, by our memories, then Alzheimer’s literally kills who you are, one thought at a time. It’s painful for the sufferer when there’s still enough of them left to realise how much