Setbacks were inevitable. She knew that. She had known that and still it had caught her by surprise when it had happened to her.
She remembered a friend of hers from graduate school who had done his research in the history department, spending countless hours a day in the library, gathering material for his thesis. However, when he was done for the day or the week, he would close his books and walk away. She remembered feeling slightly envious because things didn’t work that way with living organisms. One could never take the entire weekend off if a culture was growing. But, truth be told, she loved a good challenge, and there was no comparing how much more interesting it was to work with living organisms than with indecipherable writings in old books.
Living organisms. That’s exactly what had gone wrong. The mice were not living. Or rather, some were thriving, and others were dying too quickly. What on earth was happening? As she sipped the last few drops of tea, now greatly watered down by the melting ice cubes, she returned to that question. There had to be a way to get to the bottom of it, and perhaps the answer would shed light on where the research needed to go afterwards. Yes. Now that she thought about it, frequently the most frustrating results led to new breakthroughs. It was probably too much to hope for right now, but even this realization went a long way toward making her feel better.
She looked at her now empty glass. The café, decorated with fake palm trees, was still fairly empty. All around her the bright blue tables were covered with crumbs and the sweat rings from glasses that had been filled with ice. Two waiters, joking in Spanish with each other, were making their way methodically down the rows of tables, disinfecting and cleaning them. As she watched, she noticed that although each worker was using the same type of cleaning spray and presumably the same kinds of cleaning cloths, the tables did not look the same when they finished wiping them. As she wondered idly about this, a new thought occurred to her.
She looked at her watch and realized that over an hour had elapsed as she had sat there, thinking. She got up and gathered herself for the walk back to the lab. She was in a better mood now that she had just thought of a new idea.
CHAPTER 15
Back in her office in the UT Medical research building, Sarah pulled up the most recent data tables and began going through them again. The idea that had begun to form while she was sitting in the café had coalesced on her walk back. If it turned out that the mice were not contaminated before the testing began, then there was one other possibility which they had not yet explored: perhaps the mice from the two groups had been handled differently while they were being inoculated with the virus. Emile had said that they had all received the same batch of virus, but perhaps some of them had squirmed more while they were being handled and had therefore ended up receiving an unintentionally lower or higher dosage?
Or perhaps some sort of contamination had occurred while they were being handled? Stress levels would have been skyrocketing among the researchers as they worked with the lethal live virus, wearing all of the protective gear and trying to be careful not to contaminate themselves. And healthy mice did move around quite a bit, even when handled correctly.
Or perhaps something else had occurred during the inoculation process, something that would tip her off as to why the mice were faring so differently. Fortunately, this was something she could attempt to verify herself as the lab kept a video feed of everything that happened in BSL-4, the lab with the highest biosafety level. This was the lab where the investigators handled the most deadly viruses, and video cameras had been installed for security, protection and training purposes.
Sarah typed in the codes to access the video feed and began the painstaking process of observing the work that had occurred in the lab over the previous weeks. Fortunately the researchers had not spent much time in the room, as once the mice were infected they had been locked in hermetic, self-contained cages, pre-equipped with plenty of water and food. After that, the mice had only been handled rarely and as needed. Sarah was able to fast forward through large stretches of the video feed, but after she had seen it in its entirety, she went back through all the footage a second time, focusing carefully on every step that the investigators had taken while they were in the high security lab.
Investigators had to be decontaminated both before entering and after exiting this lab. Her researchers all held Ph.D.’s and were drilled regularly on safety precautions. Their equipment was checked rigorously. She verified to her satisfaction that they had suited up properly, and checked the records to make sure that no flaws were later detected in their suits or gloves, and no contamination from outside had shown up on any of the control tests.
Then she watched in slow motion how the researcher, it was Drew this time, fished a mouse out from the first bin by its tail. He quickly hoisted the mouse up in his left hand and then lowered it to the surface of the table, allowing it to catch hold of a test tube rack turned on its side. The mouse immediately grasped the wire bars of the rack, which was shaped like a grid, and tried to pull itself free of its captor, who continued to hold it by its tail.
With the mouse stretched out, Drew pressed two fingers of his right hand on the mouse’s back, flattening it slightly, and then, still anchoring the tail between his little finger, ring finger and the base of his thumb, he now firmly pinched the nape of its neck with the pad of his thumb and forefinger of his left hand, taking as much skin as possible in order to immobilize the torso of the mouse, pinning it down in his palm, before picking it up and flipping it over.
Thus the mouse was held in one hand, its belly exposed, its four legs sticking straight up into the air and its head unable to turn side to side to bite the hand that held it fast. That didn’t stop the mice from trying to do so, however, and as Drew held the mouse, she saw its little legs kicking and its head struggling to swivel.
Soon after injecting the mouse in its belly with a quick acting muscle relaxant, the mouse stopped struggling. It was still awake—there was no need for full anesthesia—but it would not feel pain or anxiety.
Then it was time to deliver the virus. Since they wanted to be sure that the virus entered the lungs, they were using a technique called non-invasive pulmonary application. This would ensure that the virus was placed into the lower airway. Tally picked up the aerolizer, which looked like a metallic syringe. The “needle” was a slender tube which was bent at an angle so that it could be inserted into the throat of the mouse. When she pushed on the plunger, a precise dosage of solution was delivered into the mouse’s trachea in the form of a fine mist. The mouse gasped for a moment, which indicated that the concoction had not been swallowed, and soon it was breathing normally again.
Once the mouse had been inoculated, it was then placed gently in a second bin. The mice would be drowsy for the rest of the day, but by the next day they would be recuperated—unless the virus was busy infecting it.
Sarah watched the procedure being repeated for each mouse, looking closely and rewinding as necessary to be sure that she had observed each step thoroughly from all of the angles of the three different cameras. When she finished, she slumped in her chair and ran her hand over her pony tail, absently teasing out the curls.
Nothing. There was nothing abnormal in the entire process. The video feeds confirmed that her researchers had been meticulous and there was no indication whatsoever that the contamination could have derived from faulty technique. Sarah sighed and turned off the video feed, now at the end of the second viewing. She rubbed her eyes. She still could not see how the results they had obtained could be explained. Why had some lived and some died across the spectrum of dosage levels? And how had some of the mice cells become contaminated with whatever those purple dots were? It made no sense. Sarah had worked with mice for years, often taking tissue samples from the brain, and she had never come across something like this before.