The Lost World

"You’re sure it’s all right…."

"Of course it’s all right! We’d be delighted!" Dodgson said. "Besides, how else are you going to get there? There’s no planes, the helicopter is gone.

"I know, I checked…."

"Well, then, you know. If you want to get to the island, you’d better go with us."

She looked at the jeep on the boat, and said, "I think Doc must already be there, with his equipment."

At the mention of that, the second man, King, snapped his head around in alarm. But Dodgson just nodded calmly and said, "Yes, I think so. He left last night, I believe."

"That’s what he said to me."

"Right." Dodgson nodded. "So he’s already there. At least, I hope he is."

From on deck, there were shouts in Spanish, and a captain in greasy overalls came and looked over the side. "Se?or Dodgson, we are ready."

"Good," Dodgson said. "Excellent. Climb aboard, Ms. Harding. Let’s get going!"

King

Spewing black smoke, the fishing boat chugged out of the harbor, heading toward open sea. Howard King felt the rumble of the ship’s engines beneath his feet, heard the creak of the wood. He listened to the shouts of the crewmen in Spanish. King looked back at the little town of Puerto Cortes, a jumble of little houses clustered around the water’s edge. He hoped this damn boat was seaworthy – because they were out in the middle of nowhere.

And Dodgson was cutting corners. Taking chances again.

It was the situation King feared most.

Howard King had known Lewis Dodgson for almost ten years, ever since he had joined Biosyn as a young Berkeley Ph.D., a promising researcher with the energy to conquer the world. King had done his doctoral thesis on blood-coagulation factors. He had joined Biosyn at a time of intense interest in those factors, which seemed to hold the key to dissolving clots in patients with heart attacks. There was a race among biotech companies to develop a new drug that would save lives, and make a fortune as well.

Initially, King worked on a promising substance called Hemaggluttin V-5, or HGV-5. In early tests it dissolved platelet aggregation to an astonishing degree. King became the most promising young researcher at Biosyn. His picture was prominently featured in the annual report. He had his own lab, and an operating budget of nearly half a million dollars.

And then, without warning, the bottom fell out. In preliminary tests on human subjects, HGV-5 failed to dissolve clots in either myocardial infarctions or pulmonary embolisms. Worse, it produced severe side effects: gastrointestinal bleeding, skin rashes, neurological problems. After one patient died from convulsions, the company halted further testing. Within weeks, King lost his lab. A newly arrived Danish researcher took it over; he was developing an extract from the saliva of the Sumatran yellow leech, which showed more promise.

King moved to a smaller lab, decided he was tired of blood factors, and turned his attention to painkillers. He had an interesting compound, the L-isomer of a protein from the African horny toad, which seemed to have narcotic effects. But he had lost his former confidence, and when the company reviewed his work, they concluded that his research was insufficiently documented to warrant seeking FDA approvals for testing. His horny-toad project was summarily canceled.

King was then thirty-five, and twice a failure. His picture no longer graced the annual report. It was rumored that the company would probably let him go at the next review period. When he proposed a new research project, it was rejected at once. It was a dark time in his life.

Then Lewis Dodgson suggested they have lunch.

Dodgson had an unsavory reputation among the researchers; he was known as "The Undertaker," because of the way he took over the work of others, and prettied it up as his own. In earlier years, King never would have been seen with him. But now he allowed Dodgson to take him to an expensive seafood restaurant in San Francisco.

"Research is hard," Dodgson said, sympathetically.

"You can say that again," King said.

"Hard, and risky," Dodgson said. "The fact is, innovative research rarely pans out. But does management understand? No. If the research fails, you’re the one who’s blamed. It’s not fair."

"Tell me," King said.

"But that’s the name of the game." Dodgson shrugged, and speared a leg of soft-shell crab.

King said nothing.

"Personally, I don’t like risk," Dodgson continued. "And original work is risky. Most new ideas are bad, and most original work fails. That’s the reality. If you feel compelled to do original research, you can expect to fail. That’s all right if you work in a university, where failure is praised and success leads to Ostracism. But in industry…no, no. Original work in industry is not a wise career choice. It’s only going to get you into trouble. Which is where you are right now, my friend."

"What can I do? " King said.

"Well," Dodgson said. "I have my I own version of the scientific method. I call it focused research development. If only a few ideas are going to be good, why try to find them yourself? It’s too hard. Let other people find them – let them take the risk – let them go for the so-called glory. I’d rather wait, and develop ideas that already show promise. Take what’s good, and make it better. Or at least, make it different enough so that I can patent it. And then I own it. Then, it’s mine."

King was amazed at the straightforward way that Dodgson admitted he was a thief. He didn’t seem in the least embarrassed. King poked at his salad for a while. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I see something in you," Dodgson said. "I see ambition. Frustrated ambition. And I’m telling you, Howard, you don’t have to be frustrated. You, don’t even have to be fired from the company at the next performance review. Which is exactly what’s going to happen. How old is your kid?"