The Genius Who Solved It in an Instant

"Ah… come to think of it."

Jobs had just reached for the call button to ring Dr. Raymond when he stopped.

In the excitement, he had momentarily forgotten the rest of the message Zero had sent earlier.

She said she added a feature, didn’t she?

Jobs turned back to the computer monitor.

Then he rolled the mouse wheel and skimmed through the code at speed.

Even at a glance, Zero’s algorithm was obvious enough to understand.

It was a neatly organized flow of genomic analysis.

If he, a human, could understand it this easily, a computer would have no trouble at all.

The algorithm flow looks like it just keeps analyzing DNA, but…

By the time he reached about two-thirds of the way through the code, he paused.

"This is…?"

Jobs narrowed his eyes.

There, embedded in the code, was a brand-new algorithmic block with a structure completely different from the one above it.

……

// Auto-Matching Solution System

// Connected with Database (Search database integration complete)

……

The moment he read the comment, Jobs understood instinctively what it meant.

They linked this analysis algorithm to the Search engine’s database?

The program the doctors had originally built, and the one Jobs had wanted, was nothing more than a diagnostic algorithm.

It was supposed to stop at finding where the fault lay among three billion genes.

That alone was astonishing. But Zero hadn’t stopped there.

If I read the rest of the code…

In the algorithm Zero had added, the instant the computer found an abnormal DNA sequence, it sent a signal to Search’s vast database.

Search would then scour the medical papers, clinical trial data, and FDA-approved drug lists made public on the internet worldwide.

It would comb through all of that information in real time, find the drugs and treatments best suited to the detected cancer or mutation, and match them together.

"Good Lord…"

A soft gasp escaped Jobs before he could stop it.

Of course, if the disease had no known treatment yet, the search might come up empty.

Even on the internet, information only existed if someone had bothered to upload it.

But if there happened to be a similar clinical case or an effective drug somewhere…?

This program would find in 0.1 seconds what a human could spend an entire lifetime searching for, and shove it right in front of the doctors’ eyes.

After all, no matter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how hard doctors studied every day, they did not memorize every clinical record in existence.

"...This is incredible."

With this feature alone, the medical world would be turned upside down.

One day, there might come a time when doctors couldn’t practice without this program.

They still hadn’t run the algorithm on a supercomputer, and no doctor had yet confirmed the results or proposed a treatment.

But Jobs felt something far beyond hope that it could be saved.

By this point, though, another concern had started to gnaw at him.

...Just how much royalty is he going to demand for letting Search be installed on Apple in exchange for this?

He had made something this perfect. There was no way the price he asked in return would be small.

Worried though he was, Jobs immediately called Dr. Raymond.

Rrring.

After a moment, a sleepy voice answered, still thick with the early morning haze.

"No, I feel better than ever. More importantly, I need to see you right now."

"Yes, right now. The program you made has been completely changed. By that 'genius' I told you about."

Dr. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Raymond didn’t understand what Jobs was saying for a second.

They’d already changed the program they made? And only a few hours had passed?

It made no sense.

But he couldn’t simply ignore Jobs when he spoke like that.

Jobs was the biggest backer of his medical research institute, and in practical terms, his employer.

So Dr. Raymond could only answer one way.

* * *

Steve Jobs’s attending physician, Dr. Raymond, had received the call at four in the morning and immediately summoned the entire medical team.

Since they were all researchers as well as doctors, they were used to being called in at odd hours.

Even so, they were still human, and coming in this early was hardly something they welcomed.

"Haa... I’m exhausted."

"I’m going for coffee. Anyone want one? I’ll grab it while I’m there."

"Oh, Derrick already went to get coffee. He should be back soon."

"Coffee’s here!"

"There it is."

Sipping coffee, the doctors gathered one by one around Dr. Raymond’s computer.

Once everyone needed was assembled, a senior researcher yawned and grumbled.

"Haaawn... We handed over that program less than twenty-four hours ago, and he’s already saying he modified something? Ridiculous. Steve’s hysteria keeps getting worse."

The doctors nodded at that.

"He’s in a difficult time, physically and mentally."

"Can’t really blame him."

"Once we settle on a clear treatment direction, I think it’ll ease up a bit."

Hearing the murmurs around him, Dr. Raymond nodded, silently agreeing.

Once we decide on a treatment, the stress should ease somewhat.

With that thought, he opened the program file Jobs had given him.

The file the unnamed genius had supposedly modified.

For Steve

For Steve…

So this so-called genius programmer must care a great deal about Steve.

"Let’s run it first."

Dr. Raymond launched the file without any particular expectations.

Then, as a matter of habit, he allocated the supercomputer’s computing nodes to the maximum.

And then—

[Estimated time required: 3 minutes 34 seconds... 33 seconds....]

"...It says three minutes?"

Dr. Raymond’s hand froze.

This was a program handling three billion genome data points.

There was no way it could finish that fast.

By simple arithmetic alone, checking three billion data points three billion times meant 900 quadrillion comparisons.

That was why they were using a supercomputer in the first place.

And yet it said three minutes?

Absurd.

...Did they perhaps lose all the data and just send over the shell?

Dr. Raymond wasn’t the only one thrown into confusion.

─ Hold on. What is this?

─ Is it skipping the data right now?

─ No! Look at the logs! It’s doing a full sweep! But the speed...!

─ The time estimation logic is messed up. How are you going to compare three billion entries at that speed?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

─ W-well, right? Should we stop it?

─ N-no. Let it run for now.

Uneasy and amazed voices rose and fell among the medical staff.

But as time passed, those voices gradually died away.

The program ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, and kept moving forward with complete stability.

─ No way...?

─ I-is this really happening...?

─ That can’t be right. By simple arithmetic alone, it should need to review hundreds of quadrillions of cases!

─ Still... if it’s actually working...

The doctors stared blankly at the monitor.

Even then, the program did not stop.

If anything, it seemed to be accelerating; the supercomputer’s cooling fans roared louder, and the progress bar climbed at a mad pace.

WOOOOOOOM~!

[50%... ]

[56%... ]

[61%... ]

The laboratory had fallen into a thick silence so complete that not even breathing could be heard anymore.

What if it wasn’t an error? What if it really was analyzing everything?

Then that would be even more incredible than a nuclear bomb.

Just then, one of the doctors spoke.

Beep~!

A cheerful alert sounded, and green text appeared on the screen.

"...It’s done?"

Someone murmured blankly.

Under Dr. Raymond’s watchful gaze, the chief assistant’s trembling hand gripped the mouse.

"T-the result file was generated."

"Open it."

After Dr. Raymond gave his careful permission,

click.

When the results window opened, red text filled the screen with the diagnosis.

"...Accuracy is 99.99%?"

Dr. Raymond leaned so far toward the monitor it looked as if he might be drawn into it.

The red text on the screen.

There, written in black-and-white, was the name of the cancer cell that had caused Steve Jobs’s pancreatic cancer to recur and spread to his liver.

It was the bastard they’d failed to find for an entire year, no matter how many times they stared at it through microscopes.

And this vicious mutation had been found before they even finished their coffee.

"...Is this even possible? We spent a whole year searching for what this found in minutes..."

The chief assistant’s voice shook.

But Dr. Raymond still didn’t relax.

...Not yet. It isn’t certain.

That was right. There was no guarantee the gene the genius’s modified program had found was actually the one they were after.

They would have to test it, verify it, examine it.

But—

...Why do I feel like this is the answer?

It was a gene they had never even considered, a cancer cell they had never imagined.

And yet the computer was telling him it was right.

Was that why? Dr. Raymond kept getting the feeling, over and over, that this was the answer.

"D-doctor. There’s more below..."

At the chief assistant’s words, Dr. Raymond’s eyes dropped downward.

And there, too, was information he could hardly believe.

"Holy sh... (This is insane...)"

Dr. Raymond nearly cursed out loud before catching himself.

This program wasn’t merely finding the cause of the disease.

Apparently, it pulled medical papers and clinical data from some database and then proposed treatments based on that information.

Search... isn’t that the search engine a lot of students use these days?

He still used Google when searching the internet, but when he saw students at the library, they seemed to use something called Search quite often.

He remembered it because the search screen was black and impossible to miss.

"F-first, check whether these papers actually exist."

"Understood!"

The chief assistant answered and hurried out of the lab.

Shortly after, he returned carrying a thick file folder that looked freshly printed and said,

"D-doctor, they’re real."

"Those papers exist?"

"Yes. And... they were published last month."

If they were from last month, then they were the very latest of the latest.

No matter how brilliant they were as doctors, they couldn’t possibly read every paper pouring out of the world each day.

It was more than possible they’d missed it.

But this program hadn’t.

─ …

─ …

─ …

─ …

─ …

─ …

Silence settled over the lab.

As everyone struggled to make sense of the situation, Dr. Raymond, the most senior among them, said,

"...But even if the paper exists, that still doesn’t guarantee that mutation is in Steve’s body."

Calming his excitement, Dr. Raymond drew a cool line.

He was a doctor, a scientist, a professor, and a philosopher.

The number 99.99% on the screen was enticing, but until they verified it with their own eyes in the lab, it was only a hypothesis.

"Get the verification underway immediately. Bring out Steve’s stored tissue sample."

"The tissue sample?"

"Yes. Until now we couldn’t find the one gene among three billion DNA sequences because we were looking blindly. But now this program has told us exactly which DNA to check."

Dr. Raymond pointed a finger at the gene labeled KRAS on the monitor, the one detected in Jobs.

"We only need to examine this part. Codon 12 of the KRAS gene. Run PCR and see if the G12D mutation is really there. If it reacts..."

"... "

"...Well, let’s test it first."

"Understood! I’ll prepare it right away!"

The lab sprang into motion.

The chief assistant and the researchers retrieved Steve’s tissue samples and rushed to the workbench.

"How long will it take?"

"Since the target is clear, four hours. No, three hours and we’ll have the result."

"I know rushing won’t change anything, but hurry anyway."

"Of course."

Dr. Raymond bit his lip anxiously.

Three hours. Usually, that was the kind of time that vanished in the middle of a quick round of research.

But as they say, water never boiled while you were watching it.

Tick... tick... tick.

Time began to crawl.

During that stretch, Dr. Raymond picked up the paper the chief assistant had brought.

Harvard Medical School Phase III Results: Study of Targeted Therapy Responsiveness in Pancreatic Cancer Patients

"...According to this paper..."

The doctor skimmed it quickly.

The contents were shocking.

For patients with a particular gene mutation, survival rates rose dramatically when a targeted therapy called Tarceva was used in combination rather than standard anticancer drugs.

Tarceva was a representative oral targeted therapy whose active ingredient was erlotinib, the same drug the program had mentioned.

"Why did we miss this paper?"

"Just from the title, you wouldn’t know. This paper filed the pancreatic cancer data as if it were an appendix to a lung cancer treatment study."

The doctor beside him clicked his tongue.

"Even if we’d looked closely, we would’ve passed it over because it was in the lung cancer section. But this program scraped the full text of the paper and found the connection."

"...I suppose it could do that."

It was truly incredible.

The algorithm linked with Search had pushed beyond even the limits of human perception and error.

A program that finds what people truly need... maybe one day the computer really will become the best doctor.

Tick... tick.

Only the second hand of the wall clock filled the silence.

The researchers worked with their breathing held tight, alternating between the microscope and the monitor as they carried out the verification.

And exactly two hours and forty minutes later—

"D-doctor!"

The pathologist peering into the microscope screamed.

His voice shook so badly that the chart in his hand slipped from his grip and hit the floor.

"I-it’s really there!

The specialist couldn’t finish the sentence and could only point at the monitor.

Dr. Raymond hurried over.

On the screen was the waveform of the amplified gene sequence from the tissue sample.

It was clearly different from the normal waveform.

It was cancer.

"...So it was real."

There was no room for doubt.

This program had gotten it right.

The cancer cells they had poured money into trying to find so they could save Jobs, the cancer cells even the world’s greatest experts had failed to locate after joining their heads together—

this program had found them in a single day. Or rather, the genius Jobs had spoken of had found them through the program in a single day.

Of course, the foundation of the algorithm had been built by them.

It had reflected every piece of specialized knowledge from medicine, biology, pathology, and more.

...That’s why we claimed ownership of this program.

But the one who had completed it was that genius.

And whether in medicine or science or technology, the one who completes something is the one who is great.

Anyone can try.

At this point... there’s no way I can claim it for myself in good conscience.

But right now, what mattered to Dr. Raymond wasn’t credit.

"...The treatment? Check that paper from earlier!"

"Already did! The data for the patient group with this mutation matches Steve’s pathological findings! So if we use the drug mentioned in the paper... it should respond to Steve’s cancer too!"

Not some vague hope, but solid information proven by data.

The instant they heard that, cheers exploded through the lab.

─ Yes!!

─ We found it!

─ We did it!

─ Holy shit, that’s it!

─ Yesssssss!!!

Unlike the cheering researchers—

Thud.

Dr. Raymond sank weakly into his chair and said, not out of emptiness but from the shiver that ran through him as he realized he was standing inside a moment that would be written into history,

"This program is going to become technology that saves millions... no, tens of millions."

Of course, it wasn’t a technology that had conquered cancer.

Humanity still hadn’t even conquered ten percent of cancer.

But this technology would undoubtedly become a powerful weapon against the doctors’ worst enemy: cancer.

A treatment that cost tens of thousands of dollars could, with this technology, be reduced to a few thousand—maybe even a few hundred.

Even poor people, who would otherwise have no choice but to die of cancer like his parents had, might finally be able to receive proper treatment.

Raymond thought again of what he’d thought earlier about credit.

...I said it, didn’t I? No matter how that genius Jobs recommended improves this program, the research institute and our medical team would own it.

But—

I simply can’t do that.

Of course, the desire to monopolize this achievement was there.

Who wouldn’t want that?

And yet Raymond, as a physician, couldn’t take all the credit for a program this perfect.

His conscience simply wouldn’t allow it.

"Everyone, get ready to write a paper based on this program."

Even if they wrote a paper, the program’s code itself wouldn’t all be included.

Only the algorithmic method would be there, so there was no risk of the program itself leaking.

"And when we tell Steve the results, ask him who that genius is—the one who modified this program... no, the one who made it—and include him as a co-author too."

Dr. Raymond finished speaking as he took his phone and walked out of the lab.

"The next Nobel Prize... will belong to all of us."

By all of us, he meant not only the institute, but the unknown genius programmer as well.

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