been looking at Dr. Shoo’s questions and comments on the
foundation website?”
“I have,” he said, “but that’s really out of my league. This guy is working like a dog on this, but the funny thing is, he really doesn’t want the money.”
“No?”
“Turns out his mom just died from pancreatic cancer, so it’s personal.”
“Sounds like Nick.”
“Okay, Shel, gotta run. Let me know your answer as soon as
possible. Talk to you soon.”
“Love ya! Mean it!” they said in unison, a phrase they used as students. It was one of the few times she ever got to use that expression with a man. Shelly hung up the phone, grabbed her files, and was off on her rounds, a bit giddy at the thought of going back to UF, seeing Barry, and reliving some of the memories. And sharing those with Nick. That would be special.
*****
Dr. Henry Shoo was staring at his computer as a colleague looked over his shoulder.
“So that’s what the SRCK looks like?”
“Yep, and after ten years, it can finally be tested.”
“I just need to start on the FDA approval process with legal,” Roger Till said, staring at the handiwork of SRCK, the Surgical Robotic Cancer Killer. “And you know how difficult that is. Probably will take about five years. Hopefully by then we’ll get it into human testing.”
“Sadly,” his colleague said, “that’s the next hurdle to jump through.” He glanced over at the copy of the letter sent out by Drs. White and Wall concerning the three billion dollar promise that Dr. Shoo had taped to an uncluttered area of his desk. “You think you got the big cash prize with this?”
“What we have here is a delivery system, not a cure,” Shoo said. “But if they can find something, something that works, I am pretty sure I can target the cancer cell and attack it.”