The Memory Painter

Even though the biomedical industry was witnessing a decline in research and development, the pharmaceutical market projected it would grow at a rate of over eight percent a year due to an aging global population. Linz believed that her father’s vision and tenacity had kept Medicor on top, boasting the largest development portfolio in a shrinking pond. Not only were they responsible for a huge percentage of the country’s pharmaceutical research, but they also invested in other labs across the globe, helping to keep them afloat.

Growing up, she had played on the floor of her father’s office with her toy microscope and sat beside him on planes as they flew off to conferences around the world. Her unusual childhood had helped to shape who she was, giving her a love for science and the ambition to become a pioneer in her own right.

In college, she had reached a crossroads where she had to decide what path in science she would take. The human brain had always fascinated her the most because she had often wondered if her own mind was abnormal. The recurring nightmare of the woman in ancient Rome had always felt more like a memory to her and this conviction had galvanized her to try to understand where it had come from. Specializing in neuropathology and genetics had seemed only natural. In many ways the tangible findings and detective work were a comfort, and she believed that it would be possible for her to fully understand how the brain created memories within her lifetime. It was a belief that gave her extraordinary drive.

These last several months had been encouraging, especially now that the lab was up and running. When Linz had come aboard, she had absorbed a small staff from a project that had been terminated after the lead scientist had retired. Steve, Maggie, and Neil were all hungry, just out of grad school and ready to make their mark. At first they had been intimidated by the idea of working for her—the CEO’s daughter—but Linz quickly won them over and the initial awkwardness hadn’t lasted long.

Linz ducked into the employee kitchen and found Steve making coffee. He was the youngest in the group and had a crush on her as obvious as a neon sign. She tried hard not to notice. “Hey, where is everybody?” she asked him.

Steve started and turned around, eyes wide behind his John Lennon glasses. “Doughnut bonanza down in Patents.”

Linz thought he could use a few doughnuts. The poor guy gave skinny jeans a whole new meaning. She wished he would stop staring at her.

“I put your mail on your desk and I got your favorite coffee, Kona.” He showed her the bag of beans as proof. “I just made some now.”

Linz poured herself a cup. “Thanks. Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” He held out a sugar pack and stir stick.