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“So all these people are test subjects?” Aster asks me with a tinge of concern.
I nod. “They’re all here willingly, though. I’m not forcing anyone to be here. And they’re all given the best possible care and compensation. If the trials go well, they even get the best possible reward – life.”
“So they’re all cancer patients?”
“Some of them have cancer in varying stages,” I say. “Some come from families with a history of cancer. But it’s not all cancer. We’re also trying to come up with ways to diagnose other diseases of the brain, heart and lungs early. And we’re working with scientists and medical professionals to come up with more effective courses of treatment.”
“The brain?” The look in Aster’s eyes lets me know I’ve sparked her interest, and I think I know why. “Are you working with patients with Alzheimer’s?”
Just as I thought. “Yes. We’re working with doctors who are performing clinical trials on Alzheimer’s patients.”
Aster’s eyes grow wide.
“However, the trials aren’t progressing as well as we hoped. Not yet. And they’re only being done on certain cases. I’m afraid your father wouldn’t qualify.”
I feel a stab of disappointment as I see the hope vanish from Aster’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, Aster,” I feel obliged to say. “I wish I could find a cure for Alzheimer’s, but I’m not a god. I’m just a survivor.”
“I understand,” Aster replies, though I still hear her dismay.
I frown.
“Mr. Burke?” A man’s voice calls my attention.
I turn my head and see Bruno, one of the test subjects. My frown vanishes.
“Bruno.” I shake his hand. “How are you feeling today?”
“Excellent,” he says. “I think I’m cured.”
“Bruno here was diagnosed with early pancreatic cancer thanks to our technology,” I explain to Aster.
“Technology he developed,” Bruno points out. “Thanks to that, they got the tumor out – it was just this tiny little son of a bitch but it was there – and they got rid of all the cancer cells and now I’m healthy as a horse. I just have to check in so they can keep putting in data and so forth. Technical stuff.”
“That can save other lives,” I add before placing my hand on Aster’s shoulder. “Bruno, this is my wife, Aster Higgins-Burke.”
“Your wife?” Bruno’s eyes grow wide. Then he takes Aster’s hand. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Aster says.
“And of course, congratulations to you, too.” He shakes my hand this time. Then he turns back to Aster. “Your husband is an amazing man. His company does amazing things. You know, my mother died so suddenly and since she was scared of doctors and my father didn’t want an autopsy, no one really knew why. I was always scared I’d die the same way. I wanted to have all these tests but I couldn’t afford it. I’m just a construction worker. I have a wife, six kids. A lot, I know, but I just love kids. Two of them are twins, by the way.”
“They’re adorable,” I remark.
“Wow.” Aster gives him a look of admiration. “You really do love kids.”
“Now I’ll get to see them grow old and enjoy every moment,” Bruno says with a wide smile. “And it’s all because of Mr. Burke. I was fit, you know. If I hadn’t come here, I would have died suddenly like my mother and no one would know why. My poor kids would have grown up without a father, not even knowing why they lost theirs.”
He purses his lips and falls silent as I see tears threaten to leak out of his eyes. For a big man, he’s always been a crybaby.
I pat his shoulder. “Well, I’m sure glad that didn’t happen, Bruno.”
“So am I,” Aster says. “You sound like a good father, and there aren’t enough of those in this world. I’m glad you get to keep being one.”
Bruno smiles at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Burke.”
After a few more words of thanks, he leaves. I turn to Aster, who still looks a little sullen.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“Yeah.” She nods.
Just then, my phone beeps. I take it out of my pocket and find an e-mail from Marketing. I open it.
“Is something wrong?” Aster asks.
“It’s just Marketing. They sent me the design for the brochures that we’re supposed to hand out at an IT conference next week. Mike was supposed to look at them and give the final approval today so they can start printing, but he’s in surgery. He’s having some gallstones taken out today.”
“Who’s Mike again?”
“One of my senior vice presidents,” I answer as I scroll down the attachment.
It looks good, but I don’t feel satisfied.
“He’s in charge of Marketing, but he’s not here, so…”
“There’s no one else who can do it?” Aster asks. “Like another senior vice president or whoever was working under him? I know you’re the CEO, but you don’t have to do everything, right? Don’t you have more important stuff to do?”
