Valentine's Day (1)
London, Nature editorial office. In the hundred-odd years of Nature's long history, had there ever been a researcher who tormented the journal quite like this? It seemed unlikely.
Structural and functional thought experiment on ulcer-inducing bacteria. The moment Dr. Fairchild read the title, he nearly hurled the manuscript across the room. "This guy again? Another thought experiment? Does he think he's Einstein?"
The scientist beside him, who had been reviewing the paper, soon looked up. Unfortunately. It appeared the doctor from Stanford was rarely wrong. "Uh, Doctor. This one seems legitimate."
"Does it?"
"The claim is that spiral-shaped bacteria burrow into the gastric mucosa like screws and cause ulcers. Reports of spiral bacteria in the stomach date back to the nineteenth century—"
Ah. It was an extraordinarily intriguing topic. And another paper that would have to be published. Only a few months had passed since the last submission. Dr. Fairchild skimmed the Stanford doctor's manuscript once more. A medical thought experiment, a peculiar nineteenth-century Polish medical paper, a hastily sketched diagram of spiral bacteria drawn in ballpoint pen, and an outlandish hypothesis. Nothing about this was ever straightforward.
"Still, there were no in vivo experiments."
The editor seated nearby scratched his head awkwardly, and Dr. Fairchild could only frown. What now? This man was strange no matter how you looked at him. "Well... the inoculation described appears to involve administering the bacteria to a living human."
Inoculation experiments with ulcer-inducing bacteria? How had anyone even thought of ingesting them? This paper could not be rejected either. Even Dr. Fairchild had to admit it. Rejection was out of the question. It might well be the most fascinating medical paper he had ever read. Then, as he continued scanning the manuscript, a moment of realization struck him.
The paper's core implication. "Ah, but if these doctors are correct and the bacteria truly cause ulcers, then treatment with antibiotics should be possible, shouldn't it?"
"The conclusion states exactly that. It suggests a substantial portion of cases could be treated with medication."
A discovery of the century. Sighs of astonishment rippled through the researchers gathered in the conference room.
We had thus submitted two papers on gastric ulcers to Nature. The first, co-authored with researchers from Australia, proved that bacteria were the cause. Attached to it was Marshall's case report detailing his self-experimentation. The second was a letter comparing Helicobacter to the syphilis spirochete through thought experiments.
One important matter was settled. Now... another important matter.
"You've been quite busy at the hospital lately, haven't you? I was worried when I didn't hear from you for so long."
I looked at Lieselotte. She appeared much as she always did—youthful face lightly made up, soft hair tied with a blue ribbon. She wore a white blouse adorned with a large ribbon bow, and a navy cardigan cinched at the waist covered her shorts. Dark pastel tones. A calm red scarf and matching socks drew the eye.
The outfit evoked the civilian clothes from Sailor Moon, though that series would not exist for decades; to this era, it might seem futuristic rather than retro. In any case, I blinked.
"We met last week."
Lieselotte regarded me with a shameless, expectant gaze, as though her version of events were obviously correct. She looked pleased nonetheless. "Still, I was hoping we might see each other around Valentine's Day. When I heard nothing, I simply called you myself...!"
She linked her arm through mine. "I've been occupied."
"Mm, I thought that might be the case."
I scratched my head awkwardly and met her eyes. To be fair, I had not forgotten her entirely. "I did prepare something for you, though. I'll give it to you later."
Lieselotte's eyes sparkled as she looked up at me. It was nothing grand, of course. "Huk, really?"
I nodded. What did one give to someone who could buy anything with money? It was a question worth considering at least once. I had reached a conclusion of sorts.
In any event, several minutes later we entered the restaurant Lieselotte had chosen—a high-rise establishment overlooking the Palo Alto skyline. Fine Western cuisine. Ah, Americans did not use that phrase. Fine Italian cuisine, then. Given the proximity to Valentine's Day, I had expected it to be packed, yet it was quieter than anticipated. I glanced at Lieselotte seated beside me.
"It's emptier than I expected. I thought there would be more people around Valentine's."
"Ah, that. When I made the reservation, I asked them to leave the tables near ours empty."
"I see."
Lieselotte spoke as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Honestly, it was somewhat absurd. Did they simply comply with any request, or had she also covered the cost of those reservations and meals? As always, she seemed not to grasp why the situation was amusing. In her world, such things were simply ordinary. Lieselotte leaned against the window, gazing down at the city, then turned her attention to me.
"Ah. You mentioned bringing a gift, didn't you?"
I took a small velvet jewelry box from my pocket. Lieselotte covered her mouth. "Huk, is it a ring?"
A ring? I glanced briefly at the box. Palm-sized, velvet-lined. On second thought, the misunderstanding was understandable. Instead of answering, I opened it. Inside lay the palm-sized crinoid fossil I had prepared as a gift.
"It's a crinoid fossil."
Lieselotte covered her mouth again. "Wow. It's so pretty...!"
She looked at me, eyes sparkling, then carefully took the box, as though she had found a flower she liked and wanted to tuck it into her hair. For a moment she smiled brightly. "You remembered I collect fossils. I'm glad you thought of me..."
We had seen them together at the natural history museum last time—Lieselotte liked fossils. Among the elites of the Western world, it was a venerable tradition dating back to Jefferson's era. Fossils were not particularly expensive, either. Compared to the suit or plane tickets she had once bought me, this was nothing.
"I'm glad you like it."
"I won't forget this kindness. I'll repay you properly. I thought you might be too busy to even bring chocolate..."
Lieselotte let her words trail off. Shortly afterward, the food arrived—an Italian tasting menu. Wine and bread came first, but Lieselotte seemed too excited to pay them much attention. After a few bites she turned back to me.
"So, I heard you've been working on some research lately. There's talk of a major project coming out of Stanford. This is it, right?"
"Ah, yes."
This study would almost certainly reach the popular media. Restriction enzymes, antigen presentation by lymphocytes—those topics were difficult for the public to grasp. This one was simple. Everyone had thought ulcers were caused by stress, but we had found the bacteria responsible.
Someone had even cultured them and drunk the broth as an experiment. It made him sick. Straightforward, easily understood. It might even fit into a thirty-second yogurt commercial.
"How fascinating. What kind of research is it?"
Lieselotte tilted her head.
Lieselotte watched the man beside her. He was explaining something with great enthusiasm. She nodded occasionally. As always, understanding the medical details he described was not easy. Then why ask? Well... it was entertaining. No matter what other topics they discussed, she would never receive answers delivered with such sincerity.
It was obvious he enjoyed talking about it. Listening to him speak passionately was pleasant enough, and occasionally she caught something she could follow. Today, at least, it was simple. They had discovered a new bacterium. And contrary to traditional medical belief, it caused gastric ulcers—or something along those lines.
Meanwhile, Lieselotte glanced at the velvet box beside her. She had not expected a gift at all, let alone chocolate. A fossil. She had never imagined it. The unexpected present made her even happier.
"Thank you so much for dining with us this evening. Was everything to your satisfaction?"
"Yes."
Lieselotte had eaten barely half her meal, and the waiter had scarcely spoken to us, yet she handed over a generous tip—presumably because she was in good spirits. We left the restaurant that way. The food had been better than expected. Of course, the prices would have given anyone a headache, but since I had not paid, it hardly mattered.
"I'm happy today."
Lieselotte had linked her arm through mine again. She seemed far more cheerful than before receiving the gift. "Ah, right. Now that I think of it, there's somewhere we need to go together."
"Is there?"
Lieselotte led me toward her car. I wondered what she had in mind this time.