Post by Chuck Matthews on Sept 17, 2017 21:39:48 GMT -5
**Again, thank you to Betsy Granger for all her continued assistance**
August 20, 2017
Horus Corporation Headquarters
Indianapolis, Indiana
It was bright out, the sun shining brighter than Betsy Granger’s mood. She found herself on an important mission, having finally managed to crack Chuck Matthews’ mysterious “gibberish”. With the help of Aurora Jansen and Kris… Kris… She couldn’t come up with his last name, but in this moment, she didn’t quite care to find out. Now was not the time and all that mattered was that he had her gratitude. Keywords, vital clues, had been hidden in the scrambled messages Chuck was desperately trying to get across and she finally had them.
She was dressed quite professionally, in a blue blouse, black slacks and simple black pumps. Her unruly blonde hair was swept up in a loose bun. Her green eyes were glittering with determination, despite the dark circles beneath hinting at her lack of sleep. She kept her makeup light and natural. Around her shoulder was a small purse that contained very few items: keys, wallet, phone… and a tiny flash drive.
She looked up as the building she sought out came into a view. The symbol of the legendary bird out of Egyptian mythology loomed overhead; it was enough to make anyone stop and look. Betsy felt slightly intimidated for a moment. She scanned the front of the building and noticed all the suits and security entering and exiting. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, this atmosphere had never been her scene. Also knowing what went on in the confines of this particular building made her feel a bit dirty at having to enter. All the same…
She steeled herself for whatever was about to greet her. Lifting her head and shoulders, reaching her full height, she marched towards the doors of the Horus Cooperation. When she reached the doorway, she paused and looked inside. Security was milling about the lobby, the Horus logo on their high-tech weapons. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of that, but she couldn’t be concerned with this for now. She took a breath and stepped through the doors. Right away, she was momentarily blinded by the sudden darkness of the lobby. She blinked slowly and as her eyes began to adjust, she looked around her.
It was typical of a lobby to a highly powerful business: marble floors, ornate ceiling, fancy wallpaper. Large desk with several receptionists, comfortable looking chairs, even a counter set up with two coffee pots and the fixings, fresh fruits, rolls and on the far side, a water dispenser. Betsy licks her lips which suddenly seem to have dried out of nowhere as stands in the middle of all the fast paced business men and women around her. ‘C’mon Bets… You’ve dealt with politicians and world leaders in damn near every country. Why should a bunch of suits scare you?’ She thought to herself in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves. With a last look around, she finally forces herself to walk over to the welcome desk, although her legs felt like sand sacks.
There was a short line, but it moved briskly. She admired the way the receptionists were courteous while moving quickly to move the line down. When it was her turn, her voice shook ever so slightly. The receptionist smiled up at her warmly.
Receptionist: “Welcome to Horus Cooperation. If you could just sign in with your name and appointment time, we’ll get you where you need to be as quickly as possible.”
Betsy nearly choked on her words. She signed her name, but left the appointment time blank.
Betsy Granger: “My name is Betsy Granger… I need to speak with Blake Ramsey as soon as you can possibly get me…”
Betsy let the sentence trail off when she noticed several things at once; The receptionists warmth turned to clear exasperation. The closest two security guards suddenly gave her their full, undivided attention. Several of the other businessmen and women glanced her way and sneered. Betsy tried to ignore all of this, but she was all too keen to it. When the receptionist gave her reply, the warmth in her voice was gone.
Receptionist: “I’m sorry, Miss Granger, but you aren’t the only one here who needs to see Mr. Ramsey as soon as you possibly can. I’m afraid you’ll have to make an appointment and his schedule is quite full.”
Betsy nods, she had known this would be the response to expect. She licked her lips nervously again.
Betsy Granger: “I implore you. I know I’m not the first and won’t be the last to make such a request. But I desperately need to speak with him. I’m a friend of Charles Matthews, I know you know that name.”
Receptionist: “Of course I do. But why should that mean anything to me? Name dropping is easy, you think you’re the first one to try that, too?”
Betsy feels her panic growing.
Betsy Granger: “Of course not, but in this case, it’s true. I’m his girlfriend and he needs my help… Here, I have…”
Betsy trails off as she starts to reach inside her purse. This prompts security into action and before she knows it, she’s flanked on each side. She looks up at the two larger men glaring down at her and she brings her hand out of her purse slowly, holding up the flash drive. She throws up her other hand, palm flat out, acknowledging surrender.
Betsy Granger: “Please, I’m not here to cause trouble. Chuck needs my help… He told me to find Blake Ramsey. Please…”
Fatigue and desperation begin to spill over as tears start to burn hot in her eyes. The receptionist looks at the two guards and gives them a small nod. In response, they each take one of Betsy’s arms and start turning her towards the door. Betsy shakes her head, the tears spilling over her eyelashes and rolling down her cheeks.
Betsy Granger: “No! Call down Ramsey, I need to speak with him. You can’t do this… I can’t fail… I can’t…”
Betsy manages to break free the arm with flash drive. She waves it around as she whimpers and pleads to the receptionist. Through her desperation and fear, anger is starting to rise. The sass and never-back-down attitude taking hold. She couldn’t fail Chuck… she wouldn’t.
Betsy Granger: “Call him. Or I swear on my life, I will find a way through myself.”
Blake Ramsey: “Miss Granger?”
Blake steps off the elevator in the back of the lobby, his attention immediately drawn to the commotion. Around him, two suited individuals, a man and a woman, both holding briefcases and clipboards, stand on either side. He trots over quickly, observing the scene, and it was quite a scene to behold. His receptionist stood, looking shocked and uncomfortable at her desk. Two armed men stood, arms outstretched to seize hold of Betsy once again. Betsy Granger stood, one arm breaking free from a guard, the other clutching…
Blake Ramsey: “You have my flash drive.”
The receptionist looks at the drive, then to Blake.
Receptionist: “This is yours?”
Blake gently takes the drive from Betsy’s hand. She’s reluctant to let it go… her only connection to Chuck, to everything going on. She relinquishes it though, and Ramsey reads it over with a thoughtful look. He smiles, and shows Betsy the inside of the cap, where Betsy can see a tiny engraving of the eye of Horus.
Blake Ramsey: “Definitely mine. I believe I gave it to your boyfriend. At the Expo, right?”
Betsy nods.
Blake Ramsey: “Then we have a lot to discuss.”
He motions Betsy towards the elevator. His female companion pipes in.
Secretary: “Mr. Ramsey, your ride is waiting out front-”
Blake waves her off, ushering Betsy towards the elevator.
Blake Ramsey: “Cancel it, tell the general I’m going to have to reschedule. Something’s come up.”
Secretary: “What should I say?”
Blake Ramsey: “You’re a creative woman, you’ll think of something.”
His entourage walks quickly, trying to follow him onto the elevator, but Blake makes no attempt to keep the doors open. He calmly calls the elevator to the 50th floor.
Blake Ramsey: “I’ll be honest, Miss Granger, I should have expected you would conduct your own investigation into this, but I was hoping to have more answers by the time you came to me. I take it you’re here because of Chuck. I’m guessing you’ve found out what happened. I don’t think I need to tell you that time is critical at this juncture, so I need you to tell me everything you know.”
Betsy looks around the elevator, unsure of where to start.
Betsy Granger: “Are we safe… Speaking in here? I’d hate for the walls to have ears...”
Blake chuckles gently. He looks down on Betsy with a hint of admiration in his eyes.
Blake Ramsey: “You’re clever. I can see why Chuck likes you so much. My office then. You won’t find a more secure and private room in this building.”
Betsy nods and keeps her eyes forward. Her natural mistrust towards the man beside her was at war with her desperation to seek his help. It seemed as though the elevator was being unbearably slow. She could feel Ramsey’s inquisitive gaze on her, sizing her up and trying to figure her out. She refused to look his way as she maintained her breathing. After what seemed like hours, the elevator reaches the 50th floor. Ramsey gestures for Betsy to follow him as they step out and he leads her to his office.
Once inside, he pulls out a chair for her to sit and strolls around the desk. He sits in his large swivel chair and places his elbows on the desk, his two pointer fingers pressed together and pointed upward against his face.
Blake Ramsey: “Now, Miss Granger. We are secure and couldn’t ask for more privacy. Not a soul will be able to penetrate this office. Everything you know, I need to know. We haven’t a moment to spare.”
Betsy nods and licks her lips again in that nervous gesture. Her voice is choked and soft at first, but picks up strength as her anger builds.
Betsy Granger: “We only met briefly at the Expo, but it’s clear to me now that you knew something was going on. Something suspect. Chuck was taken away to be shown something new… I went with him because they didn’t have a say in it. Alan Marshall and Doctor Ashvin were so eager for him to see this miracle drug, this genius pill… Promethyrol.”
Even as she says the word, her voice hardens along with her face. Ramsey shifts at this and gestures for her to continue.
Betsy Granger: “I read the charts, all their reports and studies. This pill, it’s dangerous. Unstable. But there wasn’t a single report on its properties or chemical bonding. I wanted to observe one of the pills right then and there. Break it open, see what it was about, what went into it…”
Betsy pauses for a moment, recollecting her thoughts.
Betsy Granger: “I’m getting ahead of myself. As I read through these diagrams and studies, I listened to what Doctor Ashvin and that fiend, Alan Marshall, had to say about the pill. How it worked, what it did…”
She pauses again, trying to recall exactly how the Doctor had put it.
Betsy Granger: “He said… He said that the brain is like a roadmap full of cities and streets. This pill is supposed to act as a satellite of sorts to help you find your way through all the cities, highways, side streets, dirt trails, etc… All in an instant. Instant recollection of stored away data, memories, you name it. Whatever your brain stored away, new and old, this pill was meant to access all of it.”
Betsy begins to shake as she reaches the part that infuriates her the most.
Betsy Granger: “Chuck was interested, but not completely convinced. Very little human testing had been done. Obviously, what they HAD found was ‘very promising’. That’s when they went into the side effects… Emotional breakdowns. Loss in motor function. Memory loss and minor brain damages. And in the eyes of Doctor Ashvin and Marshall… These were only ‘deeply regrettable’.”
Betsy’s loathing for the two men are obvious. Even Ramsey shifts, seeing the fire in her eyes. Betsy finally lifts her eyes and meets his gaze.
Betsy Granger: “They offered him one right then and there to try. He had the good sense to turn it down at that moment, and that’s when they made their real pitch. It showed that it could “act” as an antidepressant and an antipsychotic for those with various mental illnesses. One of them being schizophrenia.”
Ramsey nods knowingly much to Betsy’s relief. She didn’t know how much of the situation he knew, but it seemed he knew enough to know why this would be of so much interest to Chuck.
Betsy Granger: “Following that, they flat-out asked him if he would be the public face for Promethyrol. Chuck asked for my opinion, which I gave. I didn’t agree with this. The pills is ethically and professionally wrong. It’s not ready for FDA approval, let alone being made public with a figure as famous as Chuck backing it. I trust this earned me Alan Marshall’s approval as much as my double degree from Oxford did.”
Ramsey let’s out a snicker at this. Betsy can’t help but chuckle at this herself.
Betsy Granger: “The meeting didn’t go much farther beyond that. Conrad came running in. All that security, all that preparation… All for naught. They had an army built to secure a potential robbery of Promethyrol. While we were in the meeting for it, another item was taken instead. We were rushed out… I managed to snatch some diagrams and studies.”
Betsy rises and opens her blouse. Ramsey shifts uncomfortably in his chair, until he realizes she is wearing a tank top underneath her blouse. That’s when he notices the folder she had managed to keep well-hidden this entire time. She pulls it out and slides it across the desk. She buttons the blouse back up and takes her seat once more. Ramsey scans the paperwork before looking back up at Betsy.
Betsy Granger: “I wanted to crack open one of those cursed pills and have a look at it myself. I’ve got a minor in chemistry… I know my way around chemicals. I don’t know when Chuck started taking the pills or why he even agreed to start in the first place. But he can’t… He’s…”
Betsy feels that all too familiar lump in her throat forming again. Even as the tears spill, Ramsey rises from his chair. He pulls Betsy a small shot of the brandy kept on the counter by several neat stacks of memos and mail. He brings this over to her along with several napkins. Betsy looks up and accepts both with a small nod. She wipes her eyes before slowly sipping the brandy. The warmth of the liquor seems to calm her nerves a bit.
Betsy Granger: “He’s losing it. He speak in riddles, he can’t focus. He can barely function. I hate being away from him now because I don’t know when or if he’s coherent enough to take care of himself. He can’t piece things together the way he normally would. I think… I think his brain is on overdrive or something. Too many thoughts bombarding him all at once. I fear what it’s doing to his mind…”
She stops and wipes her eyes again, taking another sip of the brandy. Ramsey nods, listening intently to what she has to say. He frowns slightly, but leans back in his chair, rifling through his desk drawer, and recalling a folder of his own. He slides it across the desk to Betsy.
Blake Ramsey: “Go ahead.”
Betsy looks down at the folder, tentatively lifting the cover. The first page contains basic information on promethyrol. The second, elaborate details of the test trials, identical to those Betsy had read herself at the Expo. The third…
Betsy Granger: “Is this-”
Blake Ramsey: “Chemical structure of promethyrol, courtesy of Horus Corporation’s 26th floor lab.”
Betsy Granger: “How did you get this? How did you get a sample of the drug?”
Blake opens his mouth, but pauses.
Blake Ramsey: “You’ve got your boyfriend to thank, really. He’s a smart man. I’ll tell you what I know, but I’m going to need you to trust that the things I’ve done were for the best… I know there are going to be some things you don’t like.”
Betsy says nothing, but allows him to continue.
Blake Ramsey: “The real reason I had attended the Expo was twofold. First, I intended to see the presentation on Cavington, get an idea for the plans for the city to make a more educated decision about the fate of my company. The second… was to oversee an acquisition.”
Betsy Granger: “An acquisition?”
Blake Ramsey: “I…. hired a professional thief. The best in the world. The target was a mask I knew would be presented at the Expo. It contains a cloaking mechanism, and with a tweak with some of Horus’s technology, I think we could have found the missing piece to make it fully operational. So I made some connections and arranged to have it ah… stolen. Well, the original prospect dropped out, so I got the next best thing. He got the job done, acquired the mask, and I had it arranged to meet him once news of the theft had calmed down… I suppose that’s not important.’
He pauses, expecting an angry outburst from Betsy. None comes yet.
Blake Ramsey: “After the Expo, Chuck called me. Said he wanted to set up a meeting that same week to discuss those plans we’d discussed at the presentation… but he made mention that if for any reason he didn’t make the meeting, I was to find him immediately. That seemed unusual, but… well, you know how he is. Always cryptic, always likes to create puzzles. In any case, I agreed. Looking back, I think he may have suspected something was off. Now, I’m not sure what happened in that private meeting with you two and Marshall, but it spooked him, I think. He wanted assurance.”
He pauses, looking a bit nervous himself, but goes on.
Blake Ramsey: “The meeting day came and went. Nothing from Chuck. No call, no messages, nothing. So I called my thief, asked if he still had the mask. Told me he’d given it to his daughter for safekeeping… the thief who had originally turned the job down. I contacted her, she brought me the mask. We tweaked it, gave it the fine-tuning it needed… and we set out for Chuck’s home.
We found him there, and...something was wrong. Exactly as you said. Muttering. Writing everywhere. He seemed… mostly aware, I think. He didn’t seem disturbed by myself or my thief. Seemed relieved, actually. We took him to the hospital to see what they could do. I think that’s when he reached out to you.”
Betsy nods, slowly. She remembered all too well, hearing his visit to the hospital, just before his collapse.
Blake Ramsey: “Our job wasn’t done. We had a sample of his blood, we had him under constant surveillance, both in the hospital, and when they released him to return home, under Horus’s eye. We found high concentrations of… something, in his system. At the time, we didn’t know what, but we knew the MRI’s were going haywire when they scanned his brain. Everything was lit up, all at once. We needed to work before his brain suffered completely. My thief agreed to one last job: She broke into Matthews Enterprises one final time, and got everything she could find on this odd drug in his system. She came back with promethyrol.”
Betsy Granger: “How long have you had this?”
Blake Ramsey: “We worked fast. We found the promethyrol last week… my scientists have been working day in and day out trying to figure out how to counteract it. I mean… everything we have, all the information we’ve got… it’s not adding up. Look at this…”
Ramsey flips to a page in the folder, pointing out a section to Betsy.
Blake Ramsey: “The gel capsule is designed to release the medication slowly, through the stomach, where it absorbs into the blood in controlled dosages.. Chuck… it all seemed to hit him all at once, didn’t it? He would have had to overdose on it in a big way… or remove the gel capsule completely.”
Betsy Granger: “You’re saying you don’t think Chuck took it willingly?”
Blake Ramsey: “I think it was injected directly into his bloodstream in a very highly concentrated dose. I-...”
He stops, biting his tongue. Betsy eyes him sternly, demanding that he finish that thought.
Blake Ramsey: “I think they may have been trying to kill him. Suffer critical brain damage, complete failure of his cerebrus, and death would come after. When he didn’t… I don’t know. Maybe they thought he’d make for an interesting case study. Effects of high concentrations of promethyrol directly in the bloodstream.”
He flips to another page.
Blake Ramsey: “Our doctors found this three days ago. We know the drug improves memory. It reactivates dormant synapses in the brain, strengthens atrophied neural networks. In this high level, I think it was activating large amounts of Chuck’s brain simultaneously. Thousands, maybe millions of neurons, all firing at once. Violent twitches, hallucinations, involuntary movement, hypersensitivity, paranoia, constant fear and panic… everything, every cortex, his amygdala, his cerebellum, all going haywire, all at once.”
Betsy Granger: “And the random words… not random at all.”
Blake Ramsey: “You really are as brilliant as he says you are. Chuck’s brain right now is, quite literally, being overloaded. Picture a battery. Now, if you put enough electrical current through a battery, eventually, it explodes. It simply can’t handle that much power at once. Now with Chuck… I mean, he’s a genius, but even his brain has his limits. This much promethyrol, all at once time? You’re taking a human brain and trying to process all the information in Chuck’s brain, all at one time. You may as well take a car battery and strap it to a nuclear power plant. We theorize that his scrambled letters are the manifestation of that. Thousands of words, ideas, everything he’s ever heard, everything he’s ever read, every detail he knows about a person, a place, an idea, all bombarding his brain at once, and he’s lost the ability to filter out the ones he doesn’t need. They’re all going through that same piece of the brain. Memory, language, it’s all processed, mostly, in that frontal cortex.”
Betsy smiles wide, reading excitedly through the pages.
Betsy Granger: “So because he has such a traffic jam of thoughts and memories in the frontal part of his brain, he can’t possibly process it all at once… so he writes them down, speaks them out loud, and by doing so-”
Blake Ramsey: “He sends them to the parietal and temporal lobes to be processed instead. Perhaps the reason why he’s able to cling to certain words?”
Betsy Granger: “He’s not losing his grip on his thoughts, he’s redirecting them to the parts of his brain that AREN’T overloaded. He’s learned his own weakness and… he’s adapting.”
Blake Ramsey: “I’d be impressed if the consequences weren’t so terrifying.”
Betsy snatches up the papers that Chuck had used to scribble down his thoughts. She held up the first one, about the Pharaoh and finding Ramses.
Betsy Granger: “He means you here. That's the first one I figured out. That's why I'm here. He wanted me to seek you out.”
Blake Ramsey: “You beat me to it. Once we’d developed a cure, our intent was to contact you immediately. We… think you may be the first one he’ll want to see when we’ve reversed the promethyrol.”
Betsy smiles slightly, but returns her attention to the pages. She holds up the next paper, with the various military ranks.
Betsy Granger: “If this isn't about Alan Marshall, then I'm not worth my salt in the brain game. I didn't like that creepy monster from the moment he first sneered at me.”
Blake Ramsey: “Marshall… he hates Chuck. He’s tried to change the name of the company several times now, and they keep shutting him down. Marshall thinks, eventually, Chuck’s going to want that CEO position back, and his board is going to elect him to the seat in a heartbeat.”
Betsy Granger: “He’s behind this. Who else would want Chuck out of the picture so badly?”
Blake scratches his chin.
Blake Ramsey: “It would make sense… with Chuck incapacitated, there would be no threat to take his seat. He’d be free to do whatever he wanted, and Chuck would be nowhere to stop him.”
Betsy Granger: “He could have killed him.”
Blake eyes Betsy. She’s fuming, nearly shaking with anger.
Blake Ramsey: “Hey… listen. You want to get to Marshall, I get that. I’ve got my gripes with him too. And it sounds like Chuck has some words for him when he’s in the right place. But he’s our concern right now. I don’t know how long he can keep this going before his brain is damaged for good… who knows, maybe it already is… but I’m not ready to quit on him.”
Betsy breathes slowly, doing her best to calm herself down.
Betsy Granger: “No… you’re right. Chuck first, then Marshall. How close are you to finding a fix?”
Blake Ramsey: “I… don’t know. I’ve got the best biochemists and engineers I’ve got working on it, but we’re new to this. There’s just something missing. Something’s not really adding up. I know you don’t really trust me, or my company… but I’ve been told you know your way around a lab, and you may be able to see something my techs can’t. We both want the same thing right now... ”
Betsy speaks through gritted teeth.
Betsy Granger: “Get me access to your labs.”
Blake smiles.
Blake Ramsey: “Full authorization. I’ll have my head of security issue the badge.”
Betsy nods appreciatively. She rises from her seat, gathering up her folder. Ramsey stands, offering his hand for a warm handshake. Betsy hesitates, but grasps his hand.
Betsy Granger: "Thank you."
August 20, 2017
Horus Corporation Headquarters
Indianapolis, Indiana
It was bright out, the sun shining brighter than Betsy Granger’s mood. She found herself on an important mission, having finally managed to crack Chuck Matthews’ mysterious “gibberish”. With the help of Aurora Jansen and Kris… Kris… She couldn’t come up with his last name, but in this moment, she didn’t quite care to find out. Now was not the time and all that mattered was that he had her gratitude. Keywords, vital clues, had been hidden in the scrambled messages Chuck was desperately trying to get across and she finally had them.
She was dressed quite professionally, in a blue blouse, black slacks and simple black pumps. Her unruly blonde hair was swept up in a loose bun. Her green eyes were glittering with determination, despite the dark circles beneath hinting at her lack of sleep. She kept her makeup light and natural. Around her shoulder was a small purse that contained very few items: keys, wallet, phone… and a tiny flash drive.
She looked up as the building she sought out came into a view. The symbol of the legendary bird out of Egyptian mythology loomed overhead; it was enough to make anyone stop and look. Betsy felt slightly intimidated for a moment. She scanned the front of the building and noticed all the suits and security entering and exiting. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, this atmosphere had never been her scene. Also knowing what went on in the confines of this particular building made her feel a bit dirty at having to enter. All the same…
She steeled herself for whatever was about to greet her. Lifting her head and shoulders, reaching her full height, she marched towards the doors of the Horus Cooperation. When she reached the doorway, she paused and looked inside. Security was milling about the lobby, the Horus logo on their high-tech weapons. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of that, but she couldn’t be concerned with this for now. She took a breath and stepped through the doors. Right away, she was momentarily blinded by the sudden darkness of the lobby. She blinked slowly and as her eyes began to adjust, she looked around her.
It was typical of a lobby to a highly powerful business: marble floors, ornate ceiling, fancy wallpaper. Large desk with several receptionists, comfortable looking chairs, even a counter set up with two coffee pots and the fixings, fresh fruits, rolls and on the far side, a water dispenser. Betsy licks her lips which suddenly seem to have dried out of nowhere as stands in the middle of all the fast paced business men and women around her. ‘C’mon Bets… You’ve dealt with politicians and world leaders in damn near every country. Why should a bunch of suits scare you?’ She thought to herself in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves. With a last look around, she finally forces herself to walk over to the welcome desk, although her legs felt like sand sacks.
There was a short line, but it moved briskly. She admired the way the receptionists were courteous while moving quickly to move the line down. When it was her turn, her voice shook ever so slightly. The receptionist smiled up at her warmly.
Receptionist: “Welcome to Horus Cooperation. If you could just sign in with your name and appointment time, we’ll get you where you need to be as quickly as possible.”
Betsy nearly choked on her words. She signed her name, but left the appointment time blank.
Betsy Granger: “My name is Betsy Granger… I need to speak with Blake Ramsey as soon as you can possibly get me…”
Betsy let the sentence trail off when she noticed several things at once; The receptionists warmth turned to clear exasperation. The closest two security guards suddenly gave her their full, undivided attention. Several of the other businessmen and women glanced her way and sneered. Betsy tried to ignore all of this, but she was all too keen to it. When the receptionist gave her reply, the warmth in her voice was gone.
Receptionist: “I’m sorry, Miss Granger, but you aren’t the only one here who needs to see Mr. Ramsey as soon as you possibly can. I’m afraid you’ll have to make an appointment and his schedule is quite full.”
Betsy nods, she had known this would be the response to expect. She licked her lips nervously again.
Betsy Granger: “I implore you. I know I’m not the first and won’t be the last to make such a request. But I desperately need to speak with him. I’m a friend of Charles Matthews, I know you know that name.”
Receptionist: “Of course I do. But why should that mean anything to me? Name dropping is easy, you think you’re the first one to try that, too?”
Betsy feels her panic growing.
Betsy Granger: “Of course not, but in this case, it’s true. I’m his girlfriend and he needs my help… Here, I have…”
Betsy trails off as she starts to reach inside her purse. This prompts security into action and before she knows it, she’s flanked on each side. She looks up at the two larger men glaring down at her and she brings her hand out of her purse slowly, holding up the flash drive. She throws up her other hand, palm flat out, acknowledging surrender.
Betsy Granger: “Please, I’m not here to cause trouble. Chuck needs my help… He told me to find Blake Ramsey. Please…”
Fatigue and desperation begin to spill over as tears start to burn hot in her eyes. The receptionist looks at the two guards and gives them a small nod. In response, they each take one of Betsy’s arms and start turning her towards the door. Betsy shakes her head, the tears spilling over her eyelashes and rolling down her cheeks.
Betsy Granger: “No! Call down Ramsey, I need to speak with him. You can’t do this… I can’t fail… I can’t…”
Betsy manages to break free the arm with flash drive. She waves it around as she whimpers and pleads to the receptionist. Through her desperation and fear, anger is starting to rise. The sass and never-back-down attitude taking hold. She couldn’t fail Chuck… she wouldn’t.
Betsy Granger: “Call him. Or I swear on my life, I will find a way through myself.”
Blake Ramsey: “Miss Granger?”
Blake steps off the elevator in the back of the lobby, his attention immediately drawn to the commotion. Around him, two suited individuals, a man and a woman, both holding briefcases and clipboards, stand on either side. He trots over quickly, observing the scene, and it was quite a scene to behold. His receptionist stood, looking shocked and uncomfortable at her desk. Two armed men stood, arms outstretched to seize hold of Betsy once again. Betsy Granger stood, one arm breaking free from a guard, the other clutching…
Blake Ramsey: “You have my flash drive.”
The receptionist looks at the drive, then to Blake.
Receptionist: “This is yours?”
Blake gently takes the drive from Betsy’s hand. She’s reluctant to let it go… her only connection to Chuck, to everything going on. She relinquishes it though, and Ramsey reads it over with a thoughtful look. He smiles, and shows Betsy the inside of the cap, where Betsy can see a tiny engraving of the eye of Horus.
Blake Ramsey: “Definitely mine. I believe I gave it to your boyfriend. At the Expo, right?”
Betsy nods.
Blake Ramsey: “Then we have a lot to discuss.”
He motions Betsy towards the elevator. His female companion pipes in.
Secretary: “Mr. Ramsey, your ride is waiting out front-”
Blake waves her off, ushering Betsy towards the elevator.
Blake Ramsey: “Cancel it, tell the general I’m going to have to reschedule. Something’s come up.”
Secretary: “What should I say?”
Blake Ramsey: “You’re a creative woman, you’ll think of something.”
His entourage walks quickly, trying to follow him onto the elevator, but Blake makes no attempt to keep the doors open. He calmly calls the elevator to the 50th floor.
Blake Ramsey: “I’ll be honest, Miss Granger, I should have expected you would conduct your own investigation into this, but I was hoping to have more answers by the time you came to me. I take it you’re here because of Chuck. I’m guessing you’ve found out what happened. I don’t think I need to tell you that time is critical at this juncture, so I need you to tell me everything you know.”
Betsy looks around the elevator, unsure of where to start.
Betsy Granger: “Are we safe… Speaking in here? I’d hate for the walls to have ears...”
Blake chuckles gently. He looks down on Betsy with a hint of admiration in his eyes.
Blake Ramsey: “You’re clever. I can see why Chuck likes you so much. My office then. You won’t find a more secure and private room in this building.”
Betsy nods and keeps her eyes forward. Her natural mistrust towards the man beside her was at war with her desperation to seek his help. It seemed as though the elevator was being unbearably slow. She could feel Ramsey’s inquisitive gaze on her, sizing her up and trying to figure her out. She refused to look his way as she maintained her breathing. After what seemed like hours, the elevator reaches the 50th floor. Ramsey gestures for Betsy to follow him as they step out and he leads her to his office.
Once inside, he pulls out a chair for her to sit and strolls around the desk. He sits in his large swivel chair and places his elbows on the desk, his two pointer fingers pressed together and pointed upward against his face.
Blake Ramsey: “Now, Miss Granger. We are secure and couldn’t ask for more privacy. Not a soul will be able to penetrate this office. Everything you know, I need to know. We haven’t a moment to spare.”
Betsy nods and licks her lips again in that nervous gesture. Her voice is choked and soft at first, but picks up strength as her anger builds.
Betsy Granger: “We only met briefly at the Expo, but it’s clear to me now that you knew something was going on. Something suspect. Chuck was taken away to be shown something new… I went with him because they didn’t have a say in it. Alan Marshall and Doctor Ashvin were so eager for him to see this miracle drug, this genius pill… Promethyrol.”
Even as she says the word, her voice hardens along with her face. Ramsey shifts at this and gestures for her to continue.
Betsy Granger: “I read the charts, all their reports and studies. This pill, it’s dangerous. Unstable. But there wasn’t a single report on its properties or chemical bonding. I wanted to observe one of the pills right then and there. Break it open, see what it was about, what went into it…”
Betsy pauses for a moment, recollecting her thoughts.
Betsy Granger: “I’m getting ahead of myself. As I read through these diagrams and studies, I listened to what Doctor Ashvin and that fiend, Alan Marshall, had to say about the pill. How it worked, what it did…”
She pauses again, trying to recall exactly how the Doctor had put it.
Betsy Granger: “He said… He said that the brain is like a roadmap full of cities and streets. This pill is supposed to act as a satellite of sorts to help you find your way through all the cities, highways, side streets, dirt trails, etc… All in an instant. Instant recollection of stored away data, memories, you name it. Whatever your brain stored away, new and old, this pill was meant to access all of it.”
Betsy begins to shake as she reaches the part that infuriates her the most.
Betsy Granger: “Chuck was interested, but not completely convinced. Very little human testing had been done. Obviously, what they HAD found was ‘very promising’. That’s when they went into the side effects… Emotional breakdowns. Loss in motor function. Memory loss and minor brain damages. And in the eyes of Doctor Ashvin and Marshall… These were only ‘deeply regrettable’.”
Betsy’s loathing for the two men are obvious. Even Ramsey shifts, seeing the fire in her eyes. Betsy finally lifts her eyes and meets his gaze.
Betsy Granger: “They offered him one right then and there to try. He had the good sense to turn it down at that moment, and that’s when they made their real pitch. It showed that it could “act” as an antidepressant and an antipsychotic for those with various mental illnesses. One of them being schizophrenia.”
Ramsey nods knowingly much to Betsy’s relief. She didn’t know how much of the situation he knew, but it seemed he knew enough to know why this would be of so much interest to Chuck.
Betsy Granger: “Following that, they flat-out asked him if he would be the public face for Promethyrol. Chuck asked for my opinion, which I gave. I didn’t agree with this. The pills is ethically and professionally wrong. It’s not ready for FDA approval, let alone being made public with a figure as famous as Chuck backing it. I trust this earned me Alan Marshall’s approval as much as my double degree from Oxford did.”
Ramsey let’s out a snicker at this. Betsy can’t help but chuckle at this herself.
Betsy Granger: “The meeting didn’t go much farther beyond that. Conrad came running in. All that security, all that preparation… All for naught. They had an army built to secure a potential robbery of Promethyrol. While we were in the meeting for it, another item was taken instead. We were rushed out… I managed to snatch some diagrams and studies.”
Betsy rises and opens her blouse. Ramsey shifts uncomfortably in his chair, until he realizes she is wearing a tank top underneath her blouse. That’s when he notices the folder she had managed to keep well-hidden this entire time. She pulls it out and slides it across the desk. She buttons the blouse back up and takes her seat once more. Ramsey scans the paperwork before looking back up at Betsy.
Betsy Granger: “I wanted to crack open one of those cursed pills and have a look at it myself. I’ve got a minor in chemistry… I know my way around chemicals. I don’t know when Chuck started taking the pills or why he even agreed to start in the first place. But he can’t… He’s…”
Betsy feels that all too familiar lump in her throat forming again. Even as the tears spill, Ramsey rises from his chair. He pulls Betsy a small shot of the brandy kept on the counter by several neat stacks of memos and mail. He brings this over to her along with several napkins. Betsy looks up and accepts both with a small nod. She wipes her eyes before slowly sipping the brandy. The warmth of the liquor seems to calm her nerves a bit.
Betsy Granger: “He’s losing it. He speak in riddles, he can’t focus. He can barely function. I hate being away from him now because I don’t know when or if he’s coherent enough to take care of himself. He can’t piece things together the way he normally would. I think… I think his brain is on overdrive or something. Too many thoughts bombarding him all at once. I fear what it’s doing to his mind…”
She stops and wipes her eyes again, taking another sip of the brandy. Ramsey nods, listening intently to what she has to say. He frowns slightly, but leans back in his chair, rifling through his desk drawer, and recalling a folder of his own. He slides it across the desk to Betsy.
Blake Ramsey: “Go ahead.”
Betsy looks down at the folder, tentatively lifting the cover. The first page contains basic information on promethyrol. The second, elaborate details of the test trials, identical to those Betsy had read herself at the Expo. The third…
Betsy Granger: “Is this-”
Blake Ramsey: “Chemical structure of promethyrol, courtesy of Horus Corporation’s 26th floor lab.”
Betsy Granger: “How did you get this? How did you get a sample of the drug?”
Blake opens his mouth, but pauses.
Blake Ramsey: “You’ve got your boyfriend to thank, really. He’s a smart man. I’ll tell you what I know, but I’m going to need you to trust that the things I’ve done were for the best… I know there are going to be some things you don’t like.”
Betsy says nothing, but allows him to continue.
Blake Ramsey: “The real reason I had attended the Expo was twofold. First, I intended to see the presentation on Cavington, get an idea for the plans for the city to make a more educated decision about the fate of my company. The second… was to oversee an acquisition.”
Betsy Granger: “An acquisition?”
Blake Ramsey: “I…. hired a professional thief. The best in the world. The target was a mask I knew would be presented at the Expo. It contains a cloaking mechanism, and with a tweak with some of Horus’s technology, I think we could have found the missing piece to make it fully operational. So I made some connections and arranged to have it ah… stolen. Well, the original prospect dropped out, so I got the next best thing. He got the job done, acquired the mask, and I had it arranged to meet him once news of the theft had calmed down… I suppose that’s not important.’
He pauses, expecting an angry outburst from Betsy. None comes yet.
Blake Ramsey: “After the Expo, Chuck called me. Said he wanted to set up a meeting that same week to discuss those plans we’d discussed at the presentation… but he made mention that if for any reason he didn’t make the meeting, I was to find him immediately. That seemed unusual, but… well, you know how he is. Always cryptic, always likes to create puzzles. In any case, I agreed. Looking back, I think he may have suspected something was off. Now, I’m not sure what happened in that private meeting with you two and Marshall, but it spooked him, I think. He wanted assurance.”
He pauses, looking a bit nervous himself, but goes on.
Blake Ramsey: “The meeting day came and went. Nothing from Chuck. No call, no messages, nothing. So I called my thief, asked if he still had the mask. Told me he’d given it to his daughter for safekeeping… the thief who had originally turned the job down. I contacted her, she brought me the mask. We tweaked it, gave it the fine-tuning it needed… and we set out for Chuck’s home.
We found him there, and...something was wrong. Exactly as you said. Muttering. Writing everywhere. He seemed… mostly aware, I think. He didn’t seem disturbed by myself or my thief. Seemed relieved, actually. We took him to the hospital to see what they could do. I think that’s when he reached out to you.”
Betsy nods, slowly. She remembered all too well, hearing his visit to the hospital, just before his collapse.
Blake Ramsey: “Our job wasn’t done. We had a sample of his blood, we had him under constant surveillance, both in the hospital, and when they released him to return home, under Horus’s eye. We found high concentrations of… something, in his system. At the time, we didn’t know what, but we knew the MRI’s were going haywire when they scanned his brain. Everything was lit up, all at once. We needed to work before his brain suffered completely. My thief agreed to one last job: She broke into Matthews Enterprises one final time, and got everything she could find on this odd drug in his system. She came back with promethyrol.”
Betsy Granger: “How long have you had this?”
Blake Ramsey: “We worked fast. We found the promethyrol last week… my scientists have been working day in and day out trying to figure out how to counteract it. I mean… everything we have, all the information we’ve got… it’s not adding up. Look at this…”
Ramsey flips to a page in the folder, pointing out a section to Betsy.
Blake Ramsey: “The gel capsule is designed to release the medication slowly, through the stomach, where it absorbs into the blood in controlled dosages.. Chuck… it all seemed to hit him all at once, didn’t it? He would have had to overdose on it in a big way… or remove the gel capsule completely.”
Betsy Granger: “You’re saying you don’t think Chuck took it willingly?”
Blake Ramsey: “I think it was injected directly into his bloodstream in a very highly concentrated dose. I-...”
He stops, biting his tongue. Betsy eyes him sternly, demanding that he finish that thought.
Blake Ramsey: “I think they may have been trying to kill him. Suffer critical brain damage, complete failure of his cerebrus, and death would come after. When he didn’t… I don’t know. Maybe they thought he’d make for an interesting case study. Effects of high concentrations of promethyrol directly in the bloodstream.”
He flips to another page.
Blake Ramsey: “Our doctors found this three days ago. We know the drug improves memory. It reactivates dormant synapses in the brain, strengthens atrophied neural networks. In this high level, I think it was activating large amounts of Chuck’s brain simultaneously. Thousands, maybe millions of neurons, all firing at once. Violent twitches, hallucinations, involuntary movement, hypersensitivity, paranoia, constant fear and panic… everything, every cortex, his amygdala, his cerebellum, all going haywire, all at once.”
Betsy Granger: “And the random words… not random at all.”
Blake Ramsey: “You really are as brilliant as he says you are. Chuck’s brain right now is, quite literally, being overloaded. Picture a battery. Now, if you put enough electrical current through a battery, eventually, it explodes. It simply can’t handle that much power at once. Now with Chuck… I mean, he’s a genius, but even his brain has his limits. This much promethyrol, all at once time? You’re taking a human brain and trying to process all the information in Chuck’s brain, all at one time. You may as well take a car battery and strap it to a nuclear power plant. We theorize that his scrambled letters are the manifestation of that. Thousands of words, ideas, everything he’s ever heard, everything he’s ever read, every detail he knows about a person, a place, an idea, all bombarding his brain at once, and he’s lost the ability to filter out the ones he doesn’t need. They’re all going through that same piece of the brain. Memory, language, it’s all processed, mostly, in that frontal cortex.”
Betsy smiles wide, reading excitedly through the pages.
Betsy Granger: “So because he has such a traffic jam of thoughts and memories in the frontal part of his brain, he can’t possibly process it all at once… so he writes them down, speaks them out loud, and by doing so-”
Blake Ramsey: “He sends them to the parietal and temporal lobes to be processed instead. Perhaps the reason why he’s able to cling to certain words?”
Betsy Granger: “He’s not losing his grip on his thoughts, he’s redirecting them to the parts of his brain that AREN’T overloaded. He’s learned his own weakness and… he’s adapting.”
Blake Ramsey: “I’d be impressed if the consequences weren’t so terrifying.”
Betsy snatches up the papers that Chuck had used to scribble down his thoughts. She held up the first one, about the Pharaoh and finding Ramses.
Betsy Granger: “He means you here. That's the first one I figured out. That's why I'm here. He wanted me to seek you out.”
Blake Ramsey: “You beat me to it. Once we’d developed a cure, our intent was to contact you immediately. We… think you may be the first one he’ll want to see when we’ve reversed the promethyrol.”
Betsy smiles slightly, but returns her attention to the pages. She holds up the next paper, with the various military ranks.
Betsy Granger: “If this isn't about Alan Marshall, then I'm not worth my salt in the brain game. I didn't like that creepy monster from the moment he first sneered at me.”
Blake Ramsey: “Marshall… he hates Chuck. He’s tried to change the name of the company several times now, and they keep shutting him down. Marshall thinks, eventually, Chuck’s going to want that CEO position back, and his board is going to elect him to the seat in a heartbeat.”
Betsy Granger: “He’s behind this. Who else would want Chuck out of the picture so badly?”
Blake scratches his chin.
Blake Ramsey: “It would make sense… with Chuck incapacitated, there would be no threat to take his seat. He’d be free to do whatever he wanted, and Chuck would be nowhere to stop him.”
Betsy Granger: “He could have killed him.”
Blake eyes Betsy. She’s fuming, nearly shaking with anger.
Blake Ramsey: “Hey… listen. You want to get to Marshall, I get that. I’ve got my gripes with him too. And it sounds like Chuck has some words for him when he’s in the right place. But he’s our concern right now. I don’t know how long he can keep this going before his brain is damaged for good… who knows, maybe it already is… but I’m not ready to quit on him.”
Betsy breathes slowly, doing her best to calm herself down.
Betsy Granger: “No… you’re right. Chuck first, then Marshall. How close are you to finding a fix?”
Blake Ramsey: “I… don’t know. I’ve got the best biochemists and engineers I’ve got working on it, but we’re new to this. There’s just something missing. Something’s not really adding up. I know you don’t really trust me, or my company… but I’ve been told you know your way around a lab, and you may be able to see something my techs can’t. We both want the same thing right now... ”
Betsy speaks through gritted teeth.
Betsy Granger: “Get me access to your labs.”
Blake smiles.
Blake Ramsey: “Full authorization. I’ll have my head of security issue the badge.”
Betsy nods appreciatively. She rises from her seat, gathering up her folder. Ramsey stands, offering his hand for a warm handshake. Betsy hesitates, but grasps his hand.
Betsy Granger: "Thank you."
