Lasker Award (1)
Dawn flight. The plane Rigelotte had arranged was first class. In a way, it made sense. For people to whom that kind of money meant nothing? I stared out the airplane window. The plane began to taxi, and the scenery on the ground whipped by outside in a flash. Was first class comfortable? I sipped from my champagne flute as I sat there. Not particularly. There was a serious problem. Some lunatics were smoking cigars inside the cabin. It must've been before smoking on planes got banned. The air was thick with haze. I couldn't very well ask them to put them out. Headache. This really was an age of barbarism. Anyone claiming this era's America was anything positive was full of it. No, forget the plane—it was this cramped space. Hospitals let people smoke too, after all. Hell, some smoked in the operating room. A plane was probably par for the course. I sighed inwardly. California to New York was shaping up to be a long haul. At least the champagne was free. That dulled the ache a bit...
Two hours later, I deplaned at Kennedy Airport. Come to think of it, we hadn't planned to meet Rigelotte here. Was she waiting out front? I headed for the exit. There she was, flag of the Weiseman Foundation in hand. Well, not her personally—her attendant held it. Unnecessarily flashy, but big enough to spot from a mile away. I locked onto it right after landing and made a beeline.
"Over here!"
I waved, and Rigelotte broke into a smile the moment she saw me.
"Thanks for the flight."
"How was the trip?"
I eyed Rigelotte. She looked just like the society belle from last time. A simple black dress, elegantly adorned—no skin showing, but hugging her figure just right. Her long blonde hair was pinned up in a black net, makeup minimal. Ivory skin, piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. Stunning, yet her style screamed elegance and restraint over ostentation...
"Fine. They served champagne."
I fell into step beside her. She seemed especially chipper today. More than before. Rigelotte laughed.
"Booze in the morning? You good?"
"Just the one glass."
Not much. Airport staff ushered us into a deserted area. I glanced around. Where to now? Rigelotte caught my eye.
"The Lasker Award ceremony's at the Waldorf Astoria today, right?"
"Yep."
"Helipad's a godsend. Landing in the parking lot would've been a hassle."
I stared at her. What?
"Pardon?"
"Can't drive around New York this time of day. Worst traffic."
Her whole worldview was alien. Don't donate to the Weiseman Foundation, folks—your money goes to helicopter Ubers. Sure, mostly their own cash. But still... rich people and traffic, I guess. Rigelotte didn't see the issue. I boarded the chopper after her.
"So... what do you do day-to-day, Miss Rigelotte?"
"I'm on the Weiseman Foundation board. Nothing fancy... I rent gallery space there for exhibits sometimes."
Just a trust-fund kid.
Waldorf Astoria Hotel. Convention hall. One of New York's most storied hotels, and today's ceremony venue. It hadn't started yet, but the buzz was electric. Lasker Foundation chairman Dr. Johan Langford stood at the podium. Around a hundred attendees: winners, families, a handful of elder statesmen of science. Scale didn't matter to the Lasker folks—content did. The chairman took the mic.
"Esteemed guests, today we gather to honor medicine and life's sciences' greatest achievements."
Langford scanned the room.
"This occasion shows how discoveries spark new treatments and research, how science transforms lives—"
He paused at the noise, glancing up. A growing whump-whump rattled the walls.
"Louder than usual today. Someone flying in, perhaps?"
Langford chuckled genteelly; the crowd tittered along.
The chopper sliced through Manhattan's skyline. Hope we're not too loud. There's the Waldorf Astoria. We descended, touching down on the rooftop helipad moments later. We had arrived. I followed Rigelotte off. Hotel staff awaited, bowing as we approached.
"Good day."
Rigelotte nodded—like it was the most normal thing.
"Which way?"
"Main convention hall. This way, please."
The event hadn't kicked off proper. Might've missed the opener. We entered the hall amid final prep. Hugh McDevitt sat off to one side. He waved; I bowed in greeting.
"Ah, there you are. Who's this?"
"Miss Rigelotte Weiseman, here repping the Weiseman Foundation."
Rigelotte nodded, saying nothing more. I took the seat beside McDevitt. He eyed the podium.
"Chopper landed on the roof mid-opening remarks. What a racket."
Wonder who. Rigelotte settled next to me and stifled a snicker.
"I see..."
"What slot you in?"
"Toward the end."
And so. McDevitt claimed his trophy, gave a brief speech, and stepped down. Chairman Langford reclaimed the mic.
"Now, the moment everyone's awaited. The youngest winner in history! Mr. Parks, please come forward."
Applause thundered long and hard. I rose and approached the podium. Faces blurred, but past Lasker Award laureates and luminaries filled the seats—medicine's past and future. The chairman beckoned.
"Those paying close attention know: Mr. Parks' work doesn't merely uncover discoveries. It proposes a new paradigm."
The hall hushed; Langford nodded gravely.
"Molecular biologists here recall: bacteria and viruses possess profound underlying simplicity."
Rigelotte grinned from the side, thumbs-up. McDevitt met my eyes.
"This lets us wield their enzymes in labs—tools to rewrite life's code..."
He trailed off.
"An era-shifting insight."
"No one in molecular biology these past years escaped that young doctor's letter. Inevitable he'd win the Lasker."
He handed me the trophy.
"Coupled with other landmark work—a physician beyond his years, fully worthy."
"Congratulations."
And just like that... I held the Lasker trophy, front and center. What the— Scanning the crowd anew, there were my parents, back of the hall. When'd they sneak in? They waved. I'd mulled my speech: academic deep-dive? Nah—keep it thanks. Not a lecture or debate. Simple: why here, what we did, why it matters.
"In the world's most advanced, open, forward-thinking academia and culture, a pen let me change the world."
"My parents never dreamed an orphan from a foreign home would claim America's top medical honor."
I gazed out.
"Per my oath: I devote my life to humanity's service, taking my predecessors' torch with reverence and thanks."
"Thank you."
Short and sweet, I stepped down.
Rigelotte surveyed the banquet hall. Fun vibe. A rare space free of high society's jadedness. People united by real accomplishments, real drive. Not just some hotel convention crowd.