The Memory Painter

Finn nodded to Bryan. “Please, go on.”

“Back then, the general consensus was that the brain didn’t have the capability to generate new cells, but studies in animals had begun to show otherwise. Michael believed that if animals possessed an innate ability for neurogenesis, humans must as well. His work centered on developing compounds to trigger the growth of new neurons—later it was considered light-years ahead of its time. He wanted to keep things quiet until he was certain of what he had and only shared his results with Diana and you,” he said, gesturing to Finn.

“So he never published,” Linz said.

“No. But the compounds he created and tested in preliminary animal studies showed four times the number of proliferating neurons as the control animals. And the mice exhibited a ninety percent improvement in memory skills.”

Linz looked astonished. Her words tumbled out of her mouth with excitement. “Those findings are phenomenal. Neurodegenerative disease results in the slow death of the brain’s nerve cells. If it could be combated, it would revolutionize treatment across the board.”

Bryan saw Finn studying Linz with a curious frown, probably wondering how she knew so much. Bryan continued, “Only one other scientist at Harvard conducted research that dealt with neurogenesis.” He cleared his throat. “Conrad’s goal was to create a protein that would not only keep nerve cells in the brain from dying but also increase their ability to function. In a move that was even more unorthodox, he introduced the protein as a virus.”

Linz remained silent at the mention of her father. Finn still had no idea who she was.

“Conrad’s approach intrigued Michael,” Bryan said. “He reached out in the hope that they could become colleagues.”

For the first time Finn interrupted Bryan; he sounded bitter. “Conrad was an arrogant loner who thought he was God’s gift to science. I accepted the new addition to the group with less pleasure than Michael, even though I recognized his genius. No one could afford to be an isolationist. When our program at Harvard came to an end, the big question loomed—what to do next. Michael had the idea. Instead of pursuing the usual avenues—moving to a research institute, pharmaceutical company, or a hospital—he proposed that we combine our research and apply for a joint grant.”

Bryan remembered the night Michael had pitched the idea over beers at Doc’s. He explained, “Michael’s protein had proven to be incredibly effective and would be the cornerstone for the whole study. His proposal was to use Conrad’s delivery system with his protein to create a virus and couple it with the compounds developed by Diana and Finn.”

“Forcing the body’s immune system to respond by creating new neurons,” Linz summarized. “Basically, you attempted to create a super virus to combat all neurodegenerative diseases.” She shook her head in wonder.

Finn smiled. “The proposal Michael drafted was too tantalizing for the National Institute of Aging to resist, and we received a sizable grant. After development, we entered a phase-one clinical trial, targeting severe Alzheimer’s patients in a double-blind, randomized control study. Within weeks, it became apparent which subjects took the placebo. The effects of the drug were that dramatic. And once we were well into the trial, we started preparing to present the first-round findings to the NIA review board to determine if we could broaden it. There were twelve test subjects taking the drug. By the final test stages, their symptoms had virtually disappeared.”

“They all had Alzheimer’s? And it just went away?” Linz’s voice rose. “This never went public? Why?”

“Because of what happened after Michael took the drug. By the end, we all had taken it.” Finn got up to pour them tea. As he held the teapot, the tremor in his hand was detectable. He set it back down. “When it became apparent Renovo had the ability to repair damaged minds, Michael began to ask what it would do to a healthy mind.”

Linz leaned forward and burst out, “That’s insane.”

Finn gave a grim smile of agreement. “But you can’t condemn our curiosity. We had yet to see a side effect on an animal or human. The risk seemed minimal. Within days, we began accessing remote memories of other lifetimes as real as our own, from people who lived hundreds, even thousands of years ago.” He stared hard at Linz. “You know your mother as your mother. But what if you suddenly remembered her as your wife? Your sister? Your husband? Your killer? Lifetimes became crossed. The human psyche, the ego, is not equipped to process such information.”