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BioGenCo by Evenrude Introduction Thursday, January 8, 2004 The location is Kansas City, Missouri, the United States of America. The world is a quite different place than it once was just a short time ago. On the morning of September 11, 2001 a small number of highly motivated, fanatical Moslems, in a surprisingly coordinated effort, boarded four airliners in the eastern US and attempted to use them as guided bombs to destroy highly populated, high visibility, civilian targets. They were partially successful. Only one of the four airliners did not succeed in hitting a populated target. All aircraft were destroyed, with hundreds of lives lost on the airliners. On the ground, the loss if innocent life, citizens of many nations, numbered in the thousands. The USA immediately responded to the attack by tightening security in many aspects of domestic and international travel. President Bush declared war on international terrorism. One known supporter of terrorism, a wealthy Arabic ex-patriot, was implicated in the hijacking by multiple sources, and was declared the primary initial target of the considerable wrath of the USA. The President said there would surely be others. As the Military of many allied nations teamed to search out and eliminate or capture persons responsible for the cowardly actions, many commercial organizations were awarded contracts or grants to come up with solutions to real or anticipated chemical or biological threats to the population. Some were awarded grants to discover the military possibilities of other areas of the emerging technologies, including genetic and DNA research. BioGenCo was one of those companies. On September 11, 2001, I worked for BioGenCo as a Research Chemist. BioGenCo was (and still is) a small Company of around 200 employees. It was in struggling existence for about five years when it became the recipient of a significant research grant to study various tactical uses for genetic manipulation. The personal computer had made the study of the human genome easier and far quicker than early estimates. By 2001, much more was known about the human genome than we ever thought we would in the relatively short time that had elapsed since the double helix was discovered. The potential was enormous, so great that even those involved in the technology were often caught off guard by what was possible. BioGenCo was an interesting place to work before the grant money began rolling in, but when it did, the equipment and talent that came with it made BioGenCo a researchers dream. Suddenly, money was almost no object. We were actually encouraged to experiment, try things, just to see if there was any potential in the concept. We really tried to leave no stone un-turned. In the process, we often outran our ability to understand and document what we were uncovering. For a person who loved pure research for the sake of research, it was indeed an exciting place to work. Research at BioGenCo eventually fell into three separate groups. The first studied the use of genetics to enhance the immune system, chromosome modification, and things like that. One goal was to create immunity to diseases like Smallpox and Anthrax. Defensive uses of the technology to cure disease and prevent viral infections of the kind that could be spread by terrorism. The second BioGenCo group was tasked with finding ways to put the research of the first group to more profitable, commercial uses. This group was intended be the bread and butter for BioGenCo when the grant money ended. That made it a very important group to the long term success of BioGenCo, if possibly a less interesting one to work in. The third group was somewhat different. Unless you actually worked in it, you really didn?t even know exactly what it did. The rumor at BioGenCo (in the other groups) was that Special Projects was involved with military uses for our genetic discoveries. Find applications to use the technology as a weapon, probably an offensive weapon. I wasn?t in the third group, so I have no proof of all the things it did or probably continues to do. Although in the same building, only red badges can open the doors to the third group labs. Red badges can go anywhere. Everyone but third group at BioGenCo wore a green badge. Everone could go into the group one or group two areas, but group three, the red badge area, was always off limits to green badge personnel. Then, as now, I worked in the first group. It?s not called First Group. It was always know as Research Group. We just call it Research for short. Second group is actually known as Commercial Products, or Comm. The third group was always called Special Projects. There were always Special Projects guys working with us in Research. They were always around, even from the very start. Some days they would be with us, some days they weren?t. I never asked what they were doing, and I doubt they would have told me if I did. Nobody from Special Projects ever talked specifically about what they were working on. They only seemed interested in what we were doing in research, except on the days when they would stay in their lab. I thought I would never find out what was going on in Special Projects, and I wish I never did. I guess I had better introduce myself. My name is Allan Parsons. I grew up in a small town in southern Illinois. I went to school in Champaign, Illinois after a hitch in the Air Force. With a BS in Chemical Engineering, I began my career at BioGenCo. I was 27 years old when I started. That was four years ago. I?m thirty-one. Everyone says I don?t look it. Maybe that?s one of the effects of working at BioGenCo. But it sure isn?t the only one. If I could have imagined the potential risk of genetic and chromosome manipulation, perhaps I might have been even more careful. On the other hand, I followed all the rules and procedures in effect at the time. I guess no one really appreciated the hazards or the tremendous potential. Indeed, we are still discovering new things every day. It certainly could have been much worse, I suppose. Although life has become quite different for me now and I am still struggle to adapt, I suppose I am as healthy as I ever was, or better. Except for the continuing changes in my appearance and the way people tend to perceive me and the way I have changed and continue to change, I still have a chance for a ?normal? life I guess. One of the first items purchased when BioGenCo received the grant was a Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Spectrometer (NMRS). This device could analyze things to determine the structure and dynamics of materials at the molecular level. As Research Chemist, I was responsible for using this device to conduct research on samples from both the Research Group and Special Projects. This task was not all that difficult, but did require very careful handling to avoid sample contamination. Since the NMRS worked at the molecular level, it was very easy to contaminate a sample and thus get a false result. Because of this risk, I generally preferred to work alone while setting up and running samples. Most test specimens for NMRS analysis were in small vials, usually containing some type of organic or genetic material. A test batch might consist of hundreds of specimens. This would require me to repeatedly extract a small amount of material, put it in a fixture and then place it in the machine. I always tried to never come in direct contact with or inhale any material, and I don?t think I ever did. Somehow, I was exposed to specimen 014534. I now know that was the material, but I still don?t know what happened. BioGenCo Friday, January 18, 2002 ?What you doing this weekend, Al?? Asked Jim Scott, a BioGenCo Research Chemist who worked with me in the Lab. We had become good friends. ?I dunno,? I said, ?Barb is going to be in Washington with Ben and Mike. Guess I?ll just hang around the house. The weather is going to be crappy. Maybe I?ll catch up on some sleep.? Benjamin Burger and Mike Purcell were the founders of BioGenCo. Ben was in his mid-fifties, and Mike was a little younger. They were good people to work for. These days, they spent a lot of time at the nations Capitol reporting to whomever on the status of our research. Barbara Koenig was a Biologist for BioGenCo. She was a relatively new employee, at around three months. Twenty-eight years old, Barb was intelligent and attractive. For the last month or so, we had been seeing each other regularly. Barb spent a lot of time at my apartment. You might say we were getting somewhat serious. I couldn?t take my mind off her. We really didn?t work together, but we saw often each other there. I finally asked her out one day and we started going out regularly. I was always attracted by her cover girl looks, but the first time we talked, I was hooked. Besides being smart, she had a clever sense of humor and a personality that exuded confidence. That was unusual to find in a woman and, she smelled so good? ?The weather won?t be so bad,? Jim said, walking up to the desk where I was sitting. ?I plan to fly the Baron down to Tulsa, maybe run over to the Gun Show. Want to come along?? One of the many benefits of working at BioGenCo was the use of a very nice, Company owned, light twin-engine aircraft. Mike Purcell was a pilot and understood the flexibility an aircraft provided. Although it was often in use, flying Mike or others on Company business, Company policy was that anyone on the approved list could also use it for personal use by paying for the fuel and an hourly fee. It was somewhat expensive to just fly for fun, but if you could fill just three the four seats, you could usually beat airline prices on a trip. Moreover, you could set the schedule yourself. The Baron was a nice plane too, not pressurized, but a comfortable machine that could cruise around two hundred knots. Since to qualify on the Company insurance you needed an Instrument Rating and 200 hours multi, not many employees were on the approved list. Besides Mike Purcell, only Jim Scott and I were on it. Jim and I had Commercial tickets and sometimes were called on to fly others on Company business. Since it was expensive, we didn?t fly the Baron around just for fun very often. ?What?s the matter, afraid you?ll get lost flying all by yourself?? I teased. ?Naw,? Jim said, ?But I was hoping you might want to chip-in for some of the gas, in return for getting to shoot a couple of approaches.? ?So that?s the deal, you want me to help pay for your fun,? I retorted with mock resentment. In fact, we often flew together and, when not on Company time, we always shared the cost. Sometimes, on long trips for the Company, when we could both be spared from the Lab, we both served as flight crew. That was usually when we had Ben as a passenger. Ben didn?t mind flying, but he thought it safer to have two qualified pilots on the plane. I don?t know if it was much safer, but it made the task easier. Ben didn?t know how to fly and he didn?t seem very interested in learning. His hobby was horses. I thought it over. I hadn?t flown for almost a month. I tried to stay current, but we had been busy lately, and I had only been flying when the Company needed somebody hauled to St. Louis. Jim had been getting most of the longer trips. Since we received the Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Spectrometer (NMRS), I was kept busy running samples. Yeah, I could use the practice ?So? You wanna sleep all day, or go to Tulsa?? Jim asked again. ?OK. I?ll go,? I replied. ?Great. Be at the hanger at Oh-eight-thirty.? The plane was hangered at Downtown Airport. That was about twenty miles from my house. It meant getting up at seven. ?I?ll be there with bells on,? I agreed. Jim left the lab to work on something else while I took the samples of the day and began placing them on the specimen slides. The task was repetitious. I found myself thinking about other things, like the flight this weekend, the need for new tires on my Boxter and, what had been consuming so much of my thoughts lately, Barb. The day actually passed quickly, and seemed uneventful. As stated previously, I sure can?t imagine when or how or when I was contaminated. Besides the required clean-room atmosphere, I was wearing a complete environmental suite at all times while exposed to the specimens. Considering the harmless looks of specimens, it always seemed like tremendous overkill. I figured, with considerable knowledge of what was going on, it was really to keep the specimens from contamination, not for my own protection. When five o?clock came around, I was ready to go home. I felt tired, but not inordinately so. I decided to stop at a favorite Chinese Buffet that served crab legs on the buffet on Friday and Saturday nights. I pigged out and went home. It was still early so I decided to check the weather for the flight the following morning. Jim was right. There were some clouds and precipitation in the forecast but both airports would probably be within safe IFR minimums. It was ideal weather for logging some real instrument time. By nine o?clock, I was laying in bed, watching TV. I was so tired, but I thought it was just the day of monotonous work and the anticipation of the early appointment at the airport. I fell asleep within minutes and didn?t wake up until the buzzer rudely announced that it was seven AM. At Home Saturday, January 19 I got out of bed and struggled to the shower. I was still tired, but that was overshadowed by a feeling? a weird sensation? that is hard to describe. My skin itched all over. My eyes, even my eyeballs, itched. At first, I thought I had been exposed to Poison Ivy or some such. That?s sort of what it felt like. I tried to fight the overwhelming urge to scratch. I examined my self, looking for the telltale red welts. I found none. My arms, legs and everything else looked just fine. But oh, the itching. I turned the water on very hot and ducked into the shower. The pain of the heat helped to take my mind off the irritating itching. I just stood there, moving around slowly, letting each part of my body absorb the heat and relief provided by the steaming liquid. I?m even sure how long I stood there, it was probably ten or fifteen minutes, but it felt so good. When I finally recovered from my blissful diversion, I quickly soaped down and rinsed, still in the water that was far too hot for comfort. I really don?t know why it didn?t burn or scald me, it really seemed like it was that hot. As I turned off the water and drew back the curtain, I experienced some relief. I though it would be temporary and it was, but the itch was never as bad as that first morning, right after I woke up. But, it was just the start of my ordeal. Much more was to come. However, that morning, I just thought I had experienced some kind of allergic reaction to something. Maybe I did. I dressed, got my flight bag, and drove to Downtown Airport. Jim was already in the hanger, conducting preflight, and waiting for me to help pull the Baron out by hand. ?I already checked the weather,? Jim said in greeting. ?We look good here to Tulsa all day.? ?Sounds good,? I responded. ?Maybe that?ll make getting up early this morning worth it.? ?Why? What?s wrong?? Jim asked, ?It?s not that early.? ?Yeah, I know,? I replied. ?But I really feel like shit this morning. I don?t know what the problem is, I just itch all over. It?s weird. It?s getting better, I think.? ?Your Ok now, then?? Jim asked. ?Oh, yeah, I guess so.? I considered. ?I?ll be all right.? ?Then let?s pull the bird out,? Jim decided. ?You can take the first flight. I?ve filed for eight thousand to Tulsa. We can ask for a couple of approaches there and when we stop to eat, maybe I can find some new grips for my old High Power.? Jim was a gun collector. He had all kinds of guns, mostly pistols. He seldom shot them, but he still bought them and sold them, sometimes fixing them up a little. He claimed that they were a good investment, that he almost never lost money on them. I had a shotgun and a .22 rifle when I was young. I qualified on various weapons while in the Air Force and was awarded a marksmanship medal, but I never had much interest in owning one now, even though Jim often mentioned good deals that he thought would tempt me. I just never got the urge to buy one. The Baron looked good on the ramp in the early light. Most all airplanes do. The smooth, purpose built shape, the sleek lines? That all added up to excitement, at least to me. No matter how long I have flown, I always like the look of aircraft. Another quick walk around and we were ready to board. ?Why don?t you fly first leg,? I suggested. Jim took the left seat and I entered after him. We immediately entered into a familiar dialog of reading off and responding to the checklists. Although the Baron was not a large aircraft, both Jim and I conducted the checklist process with professionalism. We both came from a military background and knew that this was no place for joking or horseplay. When the batteries were connected and the avionics master switch energized, the cockpit came to life. We were tuned to ATIS and Jim listened intently, writing the pertinent information down in quick shorthand. When the tape finished, he tuned to Clearance Delivery and pressed the mike button. ?Ground, this is Baron November three five eight five bravo gulf, with delta, ready to copy clearance, IFR Tulsa.? ?Good morning November three five eight five bravo gulf,? the radio blared. ?November five bravo gulf is cleared to Tulsa International Airport, as filed. After takeoff, climb runway heading to three thousand. Expect higher from Kansas City Center. Squawk one four zero three. Departure frequency will be one one-niner point zero. Contact Ground on one twenty one point niner when ready to taxi. Read back.? ?November five bravo gulf is cleared to Tulsa as filed. Climb runway heading to three thousand after take off, expect higher from Kansas City Center. Squawk is one four zero three. Departure freq. is one one nine point zero. Ground one twenty one point nine when ready to taxi.? Jim replied as he continued to scribble on a small note pad. ?November five bravo gulf read back correct. Have a good flight.? The radio returned. Jim spun the radio knob to 121.9 and keyed the mike again. ?Good Morning Kansas City Ground. Baron November three five eight five bravo gulf is at Hanger three with delta, ready to taxi, IFR Tulsa.? ?November three five eight five bravo gulf is cleared to taxi to and hold short of runway one nine. Wind is two one zero at one two. Altimeter is two nine zero two. Read back all taxi instructions. Contact Tower on one three three point three when ready for takeoff.? Jim started the engines and let them idle as they warmed up. I watched the oil pressure as it stabilized. We reviewed the charts and entered the appropriate frequencies into the nav radios. Soon we were ready to move. We taxied to the run up area at the departure end of Runway 19. Jim turned into the wind and began the run ups. After a couple of cycles of the propellers to get the oil warm, we were ready to go. With 133.30 showing on Comm. 2, Jim pressed the mike button. ?Downtown Tower, Baron November three five eight five bravo gulf, with delta, is ready for take off, IFR Tulsa.? ?Baron five bravo gulf is cleared for takeoff. Wind is two one zero at ten. Departure frequency is one one nine point zero.? The plane took the runway and Jim pushed the throttles forward. The Baron responded willingly. In a couple of minutes were at our assigned altitude. ?Baron five bravo gulf, contact Kansas City Center on one three five point two five.? ?One three five point two five. Five bravo gulf. Good Day.? I took the initiative and tuned the frequency. Then I keyed the mike from my side. ?Kansas City Center, Baron November three five eight five bravo gulf is with you at three thousand,? I said. ?Baron three five eight five bravo gulf, radar contact. Climb and maintain nine thousand. Resume own navigation. Kansas City altimeter, two nine zero two. Jim advanced the power and the Baron began to climb. We were in and out of clouds and there was enough turbulence that it was a bit uncomfortable. I worked the weather radar to confirm we weren?t sneaking up on any thunderstorms. A little green and yellow here and there but nothing much and it was mostly all to the east of our route. Before long, the DME for Tulsa Vortac came alive. The miles clicked off and before long we were in the pattern for ILS Runway 18R. Jim concluded the first approach with a low approach, requesting vectors for another ILS. The solid 500-foot ceiling was perfect weather for instrument approach practice. The third approach ended with a full stop landing. We taxied the Baron to Tulsair, the BeechCraft FBO. The line crew flagged us to parking and Jim shut the engines down. ?Top it off,? Jim told the lineman. ?We?re going to find something to eat. Be back in a couple of hours.? We walked to the office, located in a thirties era, WPA built, limestone hanger. Even the interior walls of the building were hand cut limestone. ?Can we borrow a courtesy car to drive to lunch?" Jim asked the well- endowed young lady behind the counter. The girl smiled at us. Fueling the Baron was not really a high profit deal, but many FBO?s made car available for flight crew use. Just for the asking. ?You sure can,? she said, ?But don?t be gone too long, though. I have two Lears coming in early this afternoon.? (Translation; You can use it, but I really need it for the guys that buy hundreds of gallons of fuel at a time.) She handed Jim the keys and pointed to the lot outside the window. ?It?s a white and brown Chevy van,? she said, ?If you like fish, White River is about a mile south on Sheridan.? ?See you in a little while,? Jim said, winking at her. We went to our borrowed wheels and got inside. It was an old Chevy van, that was sure, but it started right up. Moreover, the price was right. Jim drove out the security gate and turned south. ?Do you mind checking out the Gun Show?? He asked. ?No problem here,? I replied. ?Ok then, we?ll go there and then get a bite, OK?? ?It?s only eleven,? I responded. ?I?m not even hungry yet.? In fact, I was starting to feel weird again. The itching was coming back. Not as bad this time, but now I could feel my insides churning around too. Not like an upset stomach, but that?s as close as anything else as a way to describe the way I felt. Something was wrong, but it just didn?t match any symptom I ever experienced before. ?You?ll be hungry in an hour,? Jim insisted. ?We?ll try White River like Miss Bright Eyes suggested.? We drove to the Tulsa Exposition Center, at the Fairgrounds, about five miles from the airport. We parked and walked into the large structure, built in the early sixties to house exhibits for the International Petroleum Exposition, held there when ?Big Oil? was king in Tulsa. From the looks of the place, those days were over some time ago. Although the Exposition Center was serviceable, it was a little shabby. A large golden statue out front, known as the ?Golden Driller? was the only indication of the original purpose of the building. Inside, it was clear why this gun show was considered one of the largest in the country. Row after row of stands and booths of vendors filled the huge building. Anything gun or knife related was there. I had never seen anything like it before. The Oshkosh of gun shows. As Jim walked from booth to booth, I followed behind, not really paying attention to much, absorbed with the strange sensations I was experiencing. My whole body seemed to be getting numb. At the same time, my skin itched and sort of felt like things were crawling around on me. I grabbed Jim?s shoulder. ?Do I look funny to you?? I asked. Jim turned around and gave me a funny look. He stared into my face. ?What the hell are you talking about?? Jim asked, acting annoyed that I was interrupting his fun. ?I feel like shit again,? I said, ?I think I need to sit down somewhere.? ?There are tables over by the Canteen,? Jim said, ?Go over there. I?ll be there in a few minutes. Then we can get out of here.? I walked over to the edge of the huge room, where a vendor sold food and drink. There were tables and one was unoccupied. I took a seat and began rubbing my arms and hands vigorously. I didn?t know if I was going to faint, have a heart attack or what. The feeling was unlike anything I had previously experienced. I put my head down on the table and ran my hands along the tops of my legs. I guess I looked stupid, but I really didn?t care. True to his word, Jim came along in about five or ten minutes. I certainly wasn?t counting. He saw me sitting there, looking quite pathetic. ?What?s wrong, Al?? Jim asked. ?You really do look like shit.? ?Don?t I know it,? I responded. ?I don?t have any idea what?s going on. I don?t think I can fly, that?s for sure.? ?Should we look for a Doctor?? Jim asked. ?I don?t know,? I replied. ?I guess it isn?t that bad. I just don?t know what?s going on.? ?Are you having a heart attack?? Jim queried. ?Does it feel like that?? I looked at him and grinned. ?How in the hell would I know?? I asked. ?I never had a heart attack before.? ?Chest pains? Are you experiencing chest pains?? ?No? Not really? Not chest pains. I don?t really have any pains at all.? ?What is it then?? ?I don?t know,? I said, looking at him. ?I just feel numb or tingly? and I itch all over.? ?That?s it? You just feel numb, and you itch?? ?No? That?s not all,? I said, trying to do a quick self analysis. ?I think maybe we should take you to a Doctor,? Jim decided. ?No. I don?t need to do that,? I insisted. ?Let?s just go back to Kansas City.? ?If you think you can do it,? Jim agreed. ?Yeah? Sure? No problem,? I said. ?Let?s get back.? We quickly went to the van and drove directly back to Tulsair. I don?t know if Jim was hungry, but I sure wasn?t. We walk into the FBO office and the girl behind the desk greeted us with a big smile. ?Where?d you eat?? she asked. ?We didn?t,? Jim explained. ?My buddy here is feeling bad. We want to get back to Kansas City.? ?You want a Tylenol or Dramamine?? The attractive young woman asked sympathetically. ?No. Nothing like that,? I said. ?I?ll be all right.? Jim settled the fuel bill. He then quickly got a weather briefing from the computer in the planning room and filed IFR direct back to Kansas City. We walked out to the plane. ?You sure you?re gonna be Ok?? Jim asked. ?I don?t want you passing out on me.? ?I think I?ll be ok,? I said, probably sounding more sure about it than I really was. Jim took over and quickly ran through the engine start checklist. He worked the radios and soon we were back in the air, winging our way north. I can?t say I remember much about the flight back. Maybe I was sleeping or something. Jim says I just sat there, looking straight ahead. After we landed, Jim insisted that he drive me to the Emergency Clinic to be examined. I fought the idea. It would be a pain in the butt to leave my car at the airport. An extra drive that I sure didn?t feel like doing. As we sat there, waiting for the physician, Jim kept asking me questions. ?What did you eat last night?? He asked. ?At the Royal Emperor,? I remember replying. ?Chinese food?? he said. ?That?s probably it. You probably got some bad eggs or something.? I wasn?t so sure. It didn?t seem like food poisoning, but then I didn?t have a lot of experience with that. When we finally got the call to see the doctor, I was feeling a little better. The physician was a young man, obviously doing internship. He looked at the form I filled out while waiting. ?Numbness and itching?? he queried. ?Just where are you experiencing numbness?? ?All over,? I replied. ?It?s like my skin is crawling. And it itches too.? ?You were flying when this began?? he asked. ?No. Not when it started,? I replied. ?I think I first noticed it when I woke up this morning. Mostly just the itching then.? ?Hmmm,? he muttered, examining my throat and tongue. He shined a light in my eyes. He looked in my ears. ?I?m not finding anything obviously wrong,? the young man finally concluded. ?Did you have anything to drink?? ?No. I didn?t,? I replied curtly. ?I?m sure as hell not drunk if that?s what you?re getting at.? He grinned. ?Sorry,? he said. ? I can?t find anything. I?m just trying to cover all the bases.? ?Could it be food poisoning?? I asked. ?I did have Chinese last night.? ?Have you ever experienced problems with Chinese food before now?? ?Nope. Not with Chinese or anything else,? I replied. ?Well, I guess it would be best to let it go a while and see if it all clears up by itself.? ?You mean you can?t do anything for me?? I asked. ?Just what would do you expect me to do?? He had me there. If he couldn?t find anything wrong, he couldn?t fix it. I was stuck until I developed more symptoms or this problem simply went away. Jim drove me back to the airport to pick up my car. I drove home, the crawling skin sensation still bothering me. Sunday Morning. I woke up to the sound of the television, which I had left on all night. Feeling around, I still sensed the tingling numbness and the itch. Would it ever go away? Rubbing my arms and legs, the feeling was about the same as when I went to bed, rubbing myself fitfully till sleep took over. As I pulled the blanket away and switched on the light, I met with another strange anomaly. The bed linen was covered with considerable hair. Body hair. Quick examination confirmed it was definitely mine. What the hell was going on? What was this? Cancer? Radiation sickness? Was I dying? I rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I examined myself critically. I looked the same, pretty much. Except for places where hair was missing in strange, mange-like patches, I looked the same. There were also places where I had scratched and rubbed until the skin was red and irritated, but I could find nothing else wrong. However, something was very definitely wrong. I still itched, and there was no doubt now that my hair was falling out. That wasn?t normal. What caused hair to fall out? Radiation! It had to be. Could it be that the NMRS was screwed up? Had I done something wrong? Was this going to be how I was going to die? I was starting to get very concerned now. There was no doubt that this was not a case of food poisoning or something like that. It had to be radiation, I decided. I didn?t know how it could have happened, but somehow, I had received a serious dose of radiation. I must have. I never heard of radiation sickness itching, but why not? Itching and numbness would be nothing like what would surely follow. Bleeding gums? Tremendous agony? I learned about the symptoms of radiation sickness in the Air Force. It was at best a lousy way to go. Oh, shit. Well, I wasn?t ready to give up just yet. I showered and dressed quickly. It was time to seek medical help again. They needed more symptoms. Here they were. No one could deny them. No one could ignore them. On the other hand, I knew there were few remedies for radiation sickness. It damaged your cells directly. The very building blocks of the body. There was no way to fix that. It was probably best to die quickly than to linger in misery. When I finally saw the physician, it happened to be the same intern that had examined me the day before. ?Hello again, Doc,? I said. ?You still here?? The young man looked at me. ?Well, well, Mr. Parsons,? He said. ?Just what is the problem this morning?? ?Same thing, I think,? I responded. ?But I have a new symptom.? ?And that is?? I unbuttoned my shirt. I was never very hairy, but since my late teens, I had been endowed with a reasonable crop of chest hair. Now, some of that had fallen out in one-inch patches. Some places I was the same and other places I was bare, like a mangy dog. ?My goodness,? he said, looking very concerned. ?This is most interesting.? ?Is it radiation sickness?? I asked. ?Could it be?? The young physician countered. ?Maybe,? I said. ?I work with a Nuclear Magnetic Resonance Spectrometer. That does produce radio energy.? ?Is it possible you were exposed?? ?I don?t think so, but maybe there?s something wrong with it.? ?Ok. Maybe that?s the problem,? The doctor considered. ?I never really heard of itching or numbness as an indication of radiation sickness. I really have no experience with this.? ?What should I do?? I asked. ?I believe I must refer you to a specialist,? he said finally, ?I don?t have any way to help you here.? He took out a pad and wrote on it. I was to see a Dr. James Haselhoff at UMKC Hospital. I would need to call on Monday for an appointment. ?Do you think I?m going to die?? I asked seriously. ?I really don?t know that much about radiation sickness,? he said. ?But until you see Dr. Haselhoff, I would not try to assume anything. There?s nothing definite that indicates radiation sickness.? ?Is there anything I can do until tomorrow?? I asked. ?Just go home and get some rest.? He suggested. ?If it gets worse or changes, go to UMKC Hospital and have them call me. We?ll get something going immediately. Perhaps you should call your lab and tell them to not use that analyzer until it?s checked out.? The Next episode is BioGenCo II.