NO
At first glance, most readers would pronounce
and interpret the title of this novel as a negative expletive.
But all-capitalized-each letter pronounced separately-NO is also
the chemical formula of the simple, diatomic molecule, nitric
oxide, which in 1992 the multidisciplinary journal Science
named "Molecule of the Year" under the cover title "Just
say NO." As will become clear, both meanings are relevant
to this fourth volume in my science-in-fiction tetralogy.
In contrast to science fiction, the much rarer
genre of science-in-fiction is based in real, or at least plausible,
science. Except for some minor predating in chronology (to fit
my plot), no significant aspects of the newly discovered biological
properties of NO are made up. Nor, for that matter,
is the conduct of the various scientific protagonists, entrepreneurs,
and lawyers. They may not exist, but their manners and practices
are right on the mark.
As a chemist, I could not resist the temptation to consider, in these days of rampant chemophobia the recent extraordinary discovery that nitric oxide (NO)-an industrial gas and environmental pollutant (the discovery of which was honored by the 1995 Nobel Prize in Chemistry)-does in fact fulfill a singularly complicated and sophisticated function in the human body, where (continuously generated) it serves as a biological messenger, indispensable in a staggering variety of processes, including penile erection. This, in turn, led me to use the therapeutic treatment of male functional impotence as the vehicle for illustrating the role of a biotech company in contemporary biomedical research.
Current investigations on erectile dysfunction
center around a device, called MUSE (an acronym for Medicated
Urethral System for Erection), the invention of VIVUS, Inc., a
California company of the 1990s. The originator of MUSE and
founder/chairman
of VIVUS, Dr. Virgil Place, has generously provided me with unpublished
technical information on the treatment of male impotence which
I have woven into my plot. But caveat lector: my description
of the fictional MUSA system (Medicated Unit for Sexual Arousal
and also the name of the genus to which the banana plant belongs)
and especially its incorporation of NONOates (the class of nitric
oxide releasers recently reported by the National Cancer Institute)
should by no means be read as constituting an endorsement of any
treatment for erectile dysfunction.
Since my own scientific contributions in
reproductive
biology have focused on women rather than men, I could not resist
introducing a second biotech development involving ovulation prediction-a
current focus of my teaching at Stanford University. The electrochemical
approach and the fictitiously named Wizard of Ov described in
this novel are based in part on very recent developments of Conception
Technology, Inc., in Fort Collins, Colorado. But the same caveat
applies here as well: I take no responsibility for any child's
paternity or any failure in sex-predetermination based on the
use of this novel's Wizard.
The research scientist's culture and mores
are tribal. Like most such behavior, scientific tribalism is acquired
by example, by apprenticeship via a mentor-disciple relationship,
and by intellectual osmosis rather than through textbooks or lectures.
Members of the scientific tribe rarely describe their cultural
practices, not because they have signed a covenant of secrecy
nor because one's own cultural routine is rarely articulated but
because research scientists generally are uninterested in dialog
with the lay public. In science, professional advancement and
recognition depend solely on approbation by one's peers, not on
communication with or approval by nonscientific outsiders.
As a long-term insider of this tribe, I am
attempting to narrow the ever-widening gulf between the scientific
community and the other subcultures of contemporary society-the
arts and humanities, the social sciences and, most strikingly,
the culture at large-through the medium of science-in-fiction.
Until now, my novels focused mostly on the academic world, but
in NO, I have moved to another subculture with which contemporary
science exists in a sometimes uneasy relationship: industry-more
specifically, the small, entrepreneurial, research-driven enterprises
sometimes collectively referred to as biotech.
As a founder, former officer and director,
and occasional gadfly of several such companies-as well as a university
professor-I am intimately familiar with this setting. Furthermore,
in contrast to "big" industry, biotech companies of
the eighties and nineties are a uniquely American phenomenon born
out of academia (much of it right in my own backyard-the San Francisco
Bay Area). Because of their intellectual origins in educational
institutions, biotech ventures have generated a series of contentious
problems, arising from the interaction of profit-driven enterprises
with supposedly non-profit institutions and (ideally) disinterested
individual scientists. These have caused numerous legal, philosophical,
and ethical debates that will continue to influence the conduct
of science within the academy, as well as the ways it is disseminated
into the economy and culture at large. NO describes some
of these behind the thin veil of fiction.
One other issue that I have chosen to highlight
here is the scientist's overwhelmingly patriarchal clan culture
in which my fictional, and at times not so fictional, characters
move. In my fiction, I invariably return to two gender issues:
the historic marginalization of women in the male-dominated scientific
universe and the attempts of modern women, as well as some men,
to change this state of affairs. No wonder most of my female characters
are "independent"--a pejorative term to some but the
ultimate compliment in my own eyes.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
An excerpt from chapter 16 (in
which characters from all earlier novels appear):
"I didn't know you were interested in
English antiques, Max."
"My new wife is, so I'm starting to
learn."
"Ah yes, your wife. I understand she
has one of those MacArthur 'genius' awards. What's it like to
live with a genius?"
"So far, great. About the only disadvantage
I see is that I'll never get a MacArthur. I don't think they'd
give another one to a spouse."
"I know how you must feel, Max,"
Cantor eyed him craftily. "They don't seem to give them to
Nobel recipients either. They must think we're now completely
satisfied."
"And are you?" asked Celestine Price,
who had listened to their exchange with increasing annoyance.
"You should know," Cantor said somewhat
brittlely. "You're living with one." He turned away
to address the rest. "The deli promised delivery by twelve.
There will be wine, of course... quite passable vintages, if I
may say so, from California, naturally, in honor of our corporate
sponsor and of Renu, who's flown all the way to Chicago to simplify
life for us busy academics." He inclined his head in Renu's
direction, ignoring Celestine Price, who had come in from Los
Angeles. "Although we should abstain from alcohol until we
have completed at least some of our business. In the meantime,
there are plenty of non-alcoholic drinks over there," he
motioned in the general direction of the kitchen, "soft drinks,
juices, mineral water....". His eyes cruised around the table
past his four colleagues, to rest, with undisguised disapproval,
on the plastic mineral water bottle by Celestine Price's side.
At least, he observed, she'd had the courtesy to place it on her
notepad, but the fact didn't mollify him sufficiently, especially
since she found it necessary to take a sip or two every few minutes.
Cantor was old-fashioned enough to object to the current vogue
among younger women, notably the "organic" members of
that class, who ostentatiously carry their water bottles with
them whether they are jogging or going to the opera-like wearing
Nikes with a formal dress. In his home, it offended his sense
of esthetics and propriety, implying as it did the unavailability
of anything but "ordinary" H2O from his kitchen
faucet. He'd never forgotten his falling out of sync during a
quartet performance when he'd noticed a young female listener
taking a swig while he fiddled rapturously. But Celestine Price
of all people!
His irritation was fueled by the realization
that he had only himself to blame. Chairing the SAB was hardly
onerous-this was only the third meeting they'd held in two years,
and he'd even persuaded Renu Krishnan to schedule this one in
Chicago. "Marletta is practically next door, in Ann Arbor,"
he'd said at the conclusion of their last meeting in Palo Alto.
"And Weiss can fly here in a couple of hours from Newark.
Let's meet in my apartment in Chicago. It's properly off-campus-after
all we shouldn't conduct non-university business on hallowed academic
turf," he'd added with a conspiratorial wink that seemed
out of character," and we can all be back in our homes the
same evening. That is, everyone but you, Renu. But think of the
money SURYA saves by our not flying to the West Coast."
Two excerpts from chapter 18:
"John Maddox, the editor of
Nature,
once wrote that science is intrinsically bad-mannered."
"Come now, Celly. That's overstating
it."
"No, it isn't. Each of us wants to be
there first. We push pretty hard to get there and if someone should
beat us we break our backs trying to prove him wrong. In my case,
especially if it's a him. Of course in science, having
others trying to prove us wrong is what keeps us honest. But in
the process, we do lust-blood-lust, I think it's called."
"Oh come now, Celly. Are you suggesting
that people do science because it's some kind of competition?
A contact sport for nerds?"
"It's an unpleasant proposition to
defend,"
sighed Celestine, "but how about this? The evolutionary argument
has been made that humans have a mixed allegiance to two contradictory
codes of conduct: friendly cooperation within their community,
but competition and warfare outside it. We approve of amity, but
enmity between states is a necessary condition for human evolution.
Maybe that's what made William James ask whether one could find
a moral equivalent for war. It seems to me that you'll only have
to read 'competition' for 'war' to find yourself in the scientific
world, which at the same time pays homage to cooperation. What
I'm saying is sad in a way but probably true."
Renu broke the silence. "Are you competing
with your husband?"
* * * * *
Celestine reached across the table to pat her
hand. "Enough of husbands. Let's talk about us women. I've
never asked before, but why didn't you consider an academic
career?"
"But I did." Renu's reply was
instantaneous.
"In contrast to what you told me about your own training,
about getting your Ph.D. with a woman professor, I had no women
role models. My supervisor in grad school at Stanford was a man.
Even my undergraduate research was done with a man, Michael Marletta.
And then came my postdoc with Prof Frankenthaler. They all were
very supportive and assumed all along that I'd stay in the academic
pipeline, but," Renu's tone turned critical, "no one
talked about the extreme leakiness of that pipe, especially for
women. I know there are exceptions. You're a remarkable one: a
tenure-track job in one of the top universities without even a
prior postdoc. Now don't take this as a criticism." She leaned
forward. "But, in the process, you seem to have accepted
all of the male values. Right now, how much leeway do you give
your graduate students? Aren't they expected to work on what you
tell them to work on? And won't you be tempted to keep the best
students just a bit longer, precisely because they are so productive
and because that productivity will help you get tenure?
And when you do pass that hurdle and get lots of grants, will
you be tempted to have an army of two or three dozen pairs of
hands like some of the big shots in organic chemistry?" Renu
realized her voice was getting loud. She straightened, and tried
to calm down. "Even if none of that should apply to you,
just think what you said a moment ago about competition."
"And you're so different?" Celestine
said coolly. "In your position as president of a high-tech
company? In testosterone-soaked Silicon Valley?"
Hardback edition published August 1998 by the
University of Georgia Press, Athens, GA 30602
(telephone orders: (USA) 1-800-266-5842;
(Internat.)
706-369-6130)
ISBN 0-8203-2032-3
Paperback edition published October 30, 2000 by Penguin Books, New York, NY.
ISBN 0 14 02.9654 9
(Publishers Weekly)
