Neverland

Eric MacKenzie, CEO of MKZ Pharma, noticed the island first as a dull spot in the distance - a broken mirror in an ocean of mirrors reflecting the mid-morning sun. "How much longer?" he shouted. The pilot's voice crackled in his headset. "Fifteen minutes. Twenty tops." MacKenzie sat back in his seat, checked his watch, and tugged the seat belt and shoulder restraints tighter. He hated flying. Or rather, he feared crashing. The frequency of the risk was low but - no pun intended or hoped for - the impact was high and potentially tragic. 

He checked his watch again when they landed. Seventeen minutes. He heard the pilot's voice again. "And he sticks the landing." Everyone's a comedian, MacKenzie thought. "We hope you enjoyed the flight, and if you had the chicken, don't forget to contact a physician immediately." He definitely needs some new material, MacKenzie thought. As the din of the engines diminished and the rotors slowed, the passenger door was pulled open and Sam Augustine, MKZ's VP of Operations stuck his head in to greet his boss.

"Welcome to Neverland!"

The Never Never Project had already been in progress for nearly twenty years when MKZ announced that Eric MacKenzie was taking over from his father, James. James had just celebrated his 40th birthday and Eric was still in his early 20s; just graduated from college. It was a move that puzzled market analysts and MKZ stock took a short-term hit as James all but disappeared from the public eye, but Eric soon proved himself worthy of his sudden promotion, shepherding a non-addictive chronic pain medication and a pill that improved memory and proved successful in mitigating the effects of Alzheimer's to market in his first decade as MKZ's wunderkind CEO. Another thirty years had followed, with MKZ becoming a highly profitable global brand. He had doubled the stock valuation of MKZ since taking over from his father. It had all led up to today's visit to the island where the R&D for Never Never had been done, a potentially game-changing project hidden away from the media and from MKZ's competitors.

Eric MacKenzie looked every bit the modern CEO, stylish and trim. At 62 he looked like he was 40. His Armani suit fairly reeked of money. Thick brown hair without a trace of grey, lively blue eyes, and a perpetual smirk that seemed to say he knew something you didn't. He had been married and divorced three times, in each case to a younger "actress/model."

The two men took an elevator down to the sublevel 6. "I think we're ready," Augustine said.

Sam Augustine was a still young 42-year old, nakedly and unabashedly ambitious, having seemingly come out of nowhere to become the leader of the biggest project in MKZ's long and storied history; his corporate bio mirroring that of his boss. His brown hair, stiff with product, and his pale blue eyes had some of his jealous co-workers believing that Augustine might well be MacKenzie's bastard son from one of the numerous affairs that had been cited in those three divorces. Others believed Augustine wore colored contact lenses and favored Italian designer suits in an effort to suck up to MacKenzie. 

"FDA?" MacKenzie said. "I assumed as much. Or you wouldn't have asked me to fly out here."

"Airsick?" Augustine asked.

"Twice," MacKenzie said.

"Sorry," Augustine said. "Breath mint?"

MacKenzie tapped the breast pocket of his jacket. "Altoids," he said. "Well, we're in an elevator. Give me the pitch."

"Vitalixapril. Live for today. Forever," Augustine said.

"Side effects?" MacKenzie asked.

"Headaches," Augustine said. "Sometimes severe." He paused. "Increased libido."

"Increased libido?" MacKenzie noted. "That should sell some pills. Anything else?"

"Abnormal bruising and bleeding. In rare cases," Augustine said.

"How rare?" MacKenzie asked.

"Less than 2%," Augustine said.

"Anal leakage?" MacKenzie asked.

"No," Augustine said. 

"Good," MacKenzie said. "I think you know how I feel about anal leakage."

"I feel safe in saying that we all share your feelings when it comes to anal leakage," Augustine said, stifling a laugh, relieved to see the S6 indicator light up as the elevator settled. Eric MacKenzie's "Bunghole Busters Memo," as it came to be known, was a corporate communique of the unintentionally hilarious variety. Not as funny as the anonymous parody memo announcing the partnership between MKZ and Kimberly-Clark, the makers of Depends adult diapers, but still the first thing most of his co-workers mentioned when Sam announced MacKenzie's visit.

The elevator doors opened. Sublevel 6 was where most of the facility's meeting and presentation rooms were located.

The Executive Conference Room was tricked out with 65" 8K monitors on three walls. There was a long, mahogany topped table with four wireless keyboards and two speaker phones. It was surrounded by ten leather bound chairs. On the sideboard against the wall without a monitor, a corporate-style brunch had been laid out, with a picked over selection of mini-bagels, packets of cream cheese, a bowl of fresh fruit, an odd collection of pastries, and tall metal urns holding coffee, decaf, and hot water for tea. Five people were seated at the table, with plates of crumbs and empty cream cheese packets. MacKenzie recognized MKZ's VP of Corporate Ethics, Dr. Gwendolyn Lamb. She was hard to miss. A former college soccer star, tall, tanned, with a nose she'd had broken twice on the pitch that somehow fit perfectly with her girl next door good looks. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, a style MacKenzie assumed she'd adopted in high school and never changed. MacKenzie didn't recognize the other four; a black man, a white woman, a Latinx woman, and an Asian man. They all appeared to be in their late twenties/early thirties. All four were wearing dark blue MKZ facility jumpsuits. MacKenzie assumed they were employees of the company. 

"Would you like anything, Mr. MacKenzie?" Sam asked, gesturing at the sideboard.

"Just coffee," MacKenzie said, taking the seat at the head of the table. "Good morning, everyone," he said. A murmur of good mornings echoed back. He took the cup of coffee from Augustine. "Shall we get started?"

"Right," Sam said. "These are four of the participants in the Never Never trials. Perhaps we should go around the table. Tell us your name and age, please." Sam nodded toward the black man. "Why don't you start us off?"

The black man nodded. "All right. My name's Tom Johnson. I'm 67 years old."

"My name's Tabitha Waterman. I'm 71 years old," the white woman said.

"I'm Antonia Lopez-Vega. I'm 69 years old," the Latinx woman said.

"I'm Hiroku Chen," the Asian man said "I'm 73 years old."

After a beat of silence, MacKenzie spoke. "Remarkable. I mean, I've read the status reports but actually seeing it is truly believing. How do you all feel?"

"Fantastic," the black man said.

"I've lost forty pounds," the white woman said.

"Weight loss is a side effect?" MacKenzie asked Augustine. Increased libido and weight loss? Almost too good to be true, he thought.

"Not directly," Augustine said. "Tabitha needed an outlet for her, um, newfound energy and took great advantage of the health center's gym on sublevel 4."

MacKenzie nodded. He turned to the Latinx woman. "And you?"

"I feel 25," she said.

"I feel better than I was at 25," the Asian man added.

"All right," Augustine said. "I want to thank you all for your time this morning. You can return to your workstations now. Oh, and feel free to grab another bagel on the way out. Thanks!"

Augustine closed the door after the four test subjects had left.

"How soon can we be in market?" MacKenzie asked.

"We have print and video content ready to go as soon as we get approval from the FDA. We could roll out in South America, Europe and Asia ahead of that given the necessary, um, inducements, but given the price point on Vitalixapril, we see the US as our primary market."

MacKenzie had seen the marketing models. To turn a profit in three years, assuming 5,000 customers, Vitalixapril would have to sell at $19,500 for a monthly dose. A fair price for immortality, MacKenzie thought. If the projections were accurate, it would mean $1.17 billion minimum towards MKZ's bottom line annually. Forever. And if the population trends continued, the customer base would increase by 25% every 50 years. 

MacKenzie turned to his ethics officer and said, "Okay, give me the bad news."

"You mean aside from the fact that we're fucking with Mother Nature and that never turns out good?" Dr. Lamb asked.

MacKenzie sighed. He had no idea what ethics had to do with capitalism but also took pride in ensuring a diversity of opinion in his executive team. "Yes," he said. "Aside from fucking with Mother Nature."

"All right," Dr. Lamb said, "Before I get into the analysis, I'd like to share one of our case studies." She pulled one of the keyboards towards her and began typing, checking the monitors on the walls as she did. The picture of what looked more like a well-preserved mummy discovered in a Central American archaeological dig than a living human being lying in a hospital bed appeared on the monitor. "This is James Tipton. He began taking Vitalixapril when he was 27."

"Wait," MacKenzie said. "I thought we had a 100% success rate in all the trials that we've run on the island."

"That's correct," Augustine said. 

"In Mr. Tipton's case, when he turned 55 about three months ago, we substituted a placebo for his dose of Never Never," Dr. Lamb said. "This is the rather horrifying result."

"The marketing materials will include one of those 'Don't stop taking Vitalixapril without consulting your physician' warnings," Augustine said.

"Okay," MacKenzie said. "So. Immortality. Increased Libido. And it's effectively addictive."

"Highly addictive," Augustine said. "Given the alternative."

MacKenzie smiled. "This is better than crack. Crack will kill you if you take it, Vitalixapril will kill you if you don't!" He turned to Dr. Lamb. "I assume you will eventually get to the bad news?"

"I've run a number of Monte Carlo simulations, 10,000 to be exact, and from those I've identified the most highly probable scenarios," Dr. Lamb said. She tapped the keyboard again. The image of a desiccated James Tipton was replaced by a presentation slide.

"Let me start with global class warfare," Dr. Lamb said.

"We will move on from the painfully obvious at some point, Dr. Lamb?" MacKenzie asked.

"Apologies," Dr. Lamb said, in a tone that was clearly not apologetic. She tapped the keyboard again.

"Quite dramatic, Dr. Lamb," MacKenzie said. "And thank you for making me the star of the movie. But 8% of 23% is - help me with the math, here, Sam."

"It's less than 2%," Dr. Lamb said.

"Thank you, Dr. Lamb," MacKenzie said. "Speaking as a businessman, I have to say I like those odds." He smiled and nodded. "Go on."

$350 million was chump change, MacKenzie thought. "In the context of there being no such thing as bad publicity, I assume these will be highly publicized, widely covered court cases?" MacKenzie asked.

"Are you kidding?" Augustine said. "The rich and famous on trial? For murder? Social media will blow up. News coverage 24x7. Nieces' and nephews' tell-all books on the best seller lists. Movies. MKZ will be everywhere."

Dr. Lamb tapped the keyboard.

"That's enough," MacKenzie said before Lamb could continue with the presentation. "I do appreciate your point of view, Dr. Lamb, but we're talking about a customer base with a certain, built in moral flexibility. You don't become Bezos Rich by being a good guy."

"I'm not referencing our customers' moral framework," Dr. Lamb said. "I'm addressing ours."

"You don't want to be Bezos Rich, Dr. Lamb?" MacKenzie asked.

"You don't want to live forever?" Augustine asked.

Dr. Lamb took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking. "I could run 10,000 more simulations and I don't know if we would ever be able to predict with complete confidence the far reaching implications, the unintended consequences that result from disrupting the natural order of-"

"Natural order?" MacKenzie interrupted. "There hasn't been a natural order since man made fire. I've heard enough. Thank you, Dr. Lamb."

"But," Dr. Lamb began.

"Thank you, Dr. Lamb," MacKenzie repeated.

Gwendolyn Lamb rose from her seat. "You'll have my letter of resignation in an hour."

"And I'll tear it up," MacKenzie said.

"Why?" Dr. Lamb asked.

"I like to think of myself as having followed in my father's footsteps," MacKenzie said. "And my father may have been a captain of industry but he was also a total hard ass, a real son of a bitch, and a stone killer. Allegedly. Now, like any man, I can occasionally experience self-doubt. It's reassuring to have someone like you around to remind me I'm every bit the son of a bitch my father was."

"I can't be a part of this," Dr. Lamb said.

"And yet," Augustine said, "you are."

MacKenzie and Augustine waited until the door closed behind Dr. Lamb, then stood up. MacKenzie walked over to Sam Augustine and hugged him. "You did it, Dad," MacKenzie said.

"I couldn't have done it without you, son," Augustine said. 

MacKenzie stepped back. "Now, let's make some money."

"Not just now," Augustine said. "Forever."