“We told you this was a double-blind study, Mrs. Mulhouse.” Dr. Magnus shined his penlight in the ninety-year old woman’s blue eyes. “That means you’re possibly getting nothing at all. A mere placebo.”

“You know that’s all gobbledygook to me, Doctor Smarty Pants. Besides, I am sure I’m getting something because it’s making me sick.” The elderly woman straightened her out-dated pink flowered dress and adjusted her bifocals. “I even thought about quitting the program after that last dose.”

Dr. Magnus stared at her, perplexed at the comment. “But here you are.”

“I live on a fixed income and I have no family left to help me. $500 an injection plus $10,000 after this last shot. I just couldn’t walk away from all that money.” Hattie frowned.

“No, of course not. Now if you’ll just wait here, the nurse will come and take you to your room.”

“Is that really necessary?” Hattie’s frown grew, adding to the map of wrinkles on her face that ran from her chin all the way up to the blue tint in her gray hair. "Can’t I just go back to the assisted care home and return in the morning for your final tests? It’s Nacho Night.”

“Necessity is in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it?” Dr. Magnus straightened out his white lab coat and shook his head. “Now Miss Mulhouse, you know you signed a contract. You agreed to be test subject #494A and to submit to a 24-hour observation period after the final injection. Upon completion, there will be a $10,000 deposit into your bank account as agreed upon.”

“You’ll deposit it right in my account? I don’t trust you government types. Always sneaking about in dark places.”

“The moment you’re released. Promise.” He patted the old woman’s liver-spotted hand and gave her his warmest most reassuring smile. This was always the hardest part of the sell. “Besides, we don’t work for the government.”

“Not what I heard.” The cantankerous woman grunted.

“We’re 100% a private company. We hold a couple of government contracts and grants, but I assure you that we work for the betterment of society.”

“Harrumph!” Miss Hattie wrinkled up her nose in disdain as the nurse came in and led her from the examination room.

*. *. *

The young man stabbed a piece of meat, and held it up in front of his face, staring at it like it was some kind of alien life form. He took a tentative taste, raising his bushy eyebrows. “What exactly is this?”

“Test subject #494B, could you stop asking questions, please, and tell us what you think you are tasting?” Dr. Julius stared at the scraggly-haired man, a stern expression on her young pretty face.

“Sorry, Jennif . . . er . . . Doctor Julius. Let's see.” The young hippy-looking fella took a couple more larger bites. “Delicious. This certainly isn’t the rubbish you guys tried to feed me when I participated in this study last year. That was so horrid I nearly didn’t sign up again this year.”

“494B, drop the commentary and describe what you are tasting,” Dr. Julius prodded.

“It’s beef, lady. Beef! You have to know that, you fed it to me.” The young man gobbled down the rest of the chunks on the plate. “I haven’t had beef since the Bovine Disease hit. Where’d you guys find cows?”

Dr. Magnus turned away from the one-way glass and pushed a button, darkening his view of the scene playing out with his contemporary Dr. Julius and Test Subject 494B.

Bovine Disease had hit the world hard in 2044. It was an advanced form of Mad Cow Disease as it also stemmed from the Prion protein.

And it didn’t kill just the cows. Within a year all bison, buffalo, and antelopes were extinct as well. This took a toll on the world’s food supply, especially with the population having reached fifteen billion the same year.

Disease cures and extended lives had helped fuel the population explosion. Once it had been rare for people to reach their hundredth birthday, but now it was normal. Finally, we have a solution.

Magnus picked up a hardline phone and pushed a button. “It’s done.”

A smile slithered across the doctor’s face.

“Complete success with subjects 494.”

The doctor’s smile broadened from whatever the person on the other end of the line had replied.

“Ten injections. Subject 494A. She was prepped last night.”

Dr. Magnus began doodling.

“Yes, 494B stated she tasted just like beef. Of course, we’ll run more tests through some random taste-testers this evening, but this is the breakthrough we’ve all been waiting for, ever since that terrible day Test Subject #1A died after his second injection.”

Magnus found he was scribbling the name Hattie Mulhouse over and over again. Few would ever know of her magnanimous sacrifice.

“Yes, I know we’ll all be very rich men, but this is bigger than that. Don’t you understand that we’ve solved world hunger, over-population, and resolved how to deal with the unproductive elderly all in just under two years?”

Magnus was frowning now at the man on the other end of the lines’ implication that he was in it for money.

“Of course, I like money. But you folks down at the USDA must keep in mind that I was always in this to save humanity and to feed the starving masses.”

Magnus set the pen down.

“Production? Hmmm. . . taking into consideration injection periods and the need for a much larger facility . . . we could be up and running in as little as six months . . . eight tops. You guys just need to supply us with a steady stream of those deemed unwanted and useless to society.”

Magnus hung up the phone and took a seat in a big leather chair. A young intern brought in a plate bearing a large juicy Hattie burger.

After the intern left, he stared at the plate, contemplating. In the name of science. Besides, it's for the good of all. After a generous bite, a big smile returned to Dr. Magnus’ face. Exact match.
 

Sliding his chair forward, he tapped on the keyboard in front of him and pulled up the Lamborghini site. He’d had his eye on a snazzy green Sian.