Dr Jackie & Mr Hideo

Chapter 2: Two Months Ago

"No, I'm saying your projections are fundamentally flawed," I said, my voice tight with barely suppressed frustration. "You're basing your ROI on an unrealistic timeline. We're talking about a revolutionary breakthrough in anti-aging technology, not a new flavor of instant ramen."

The prospective investor, a man whose tailored suit probably cost more than my entire lab equipment budget, narrowed his eyes. "Dr. Yip, with all due respect, I've been in the venture capital game for a long time. I know a pipe dream when I see one."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. This was exactly the kind of condescending attitude I'd been battling my entire career. As if being a woman wasn't enough of an uphill climb, I also had the audacity to be researching something that sounded like science fiction to these short-sighted suits.

"Mr. Henderson," I said, forcing a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Our research isn't a pipe dream. It's based on years of meticulous research and groundbreaking discoveries. The data's there. We're on the verge of a scientific revolution, and I'm not about to let your lack of vision stand in the way."

Beside me, Ramona shifted nervously. I could practically feel her radiating anxiety. Poor girl. She probably wasn't used to seeing her usually mild-mannered professor go full-on Mama Bear on a potential investor.

Across the table, Professor Curtis, my research partner and the picture of charming academia, intervened with his usual diplomatic finesse. "Mr. Henderson, perhaps if we delve a little deeper into the specifics of Dr. Yip's research..."

He launched into a well-rehearsed explanation of our findings, peppering his speech with just the right amount of scientific jargon to impress without overwhelming. I had to give him credit, the man could charm the pants off a statue. It was probably why he was so good at securing funding, and why I was usually relegated to the role of the "brains" of the operation.

But today, I wasn't backing down. This research was my life's work, and I wasn't about to let some condescending investor dismiss it with a wave of his hand and a patronizing pat on the head.

"Mr. Henderson," I interrupted, my voice regaining its composure. "I understand you're looking for a quick return on your investment. But sometimes, the most groundbreaking discoveries require a little patience. And I can assure you, the potential rewards in this case are astronomical."

I held his gaze, channeling the spirit of my ancestors - generations of strong, resilient women who had faced far greater challenges than a skeptical investor. My grandmother, who had immigrated to America with nothing but a suitcase and a fierce determination to succeed. My mother, who had shattered glass ceilings in a male-dominated industry.

The meeting ended with the usual vague promises and non-committal handshakes. As soon as the door closed behind Mr. Henderson, I turned to Curtis, my stomach churning with a mixture of anxiety and frustration.

"How bad is it?" I asked, already bracing myself for the worst.

Curtis managed a wry smile, the kind that usually preceded bad news. "From my experience, let's just say we need to start polishing our resumes and prepping for a whole bunch of new investor meetings."

I slumped back in my chair, the weight of his words settling like a lead brick in my gut. I rubbed my temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.

"We're this close," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. "We just need a little more time. We can squeeze in a few more experiments with the rest of the Soma flowers."

Ramona, who had been unusually quiet throughout the meeting, spoke up. "Actually, Professor... we used the last batch yesterday."

My jaw dropped. "You... what?"

"I... I thought we were running low, and I needed to finish the cell regeneration tests..." Her voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.

My initial surge of anger quickly dissipated, replaced by a weary resignation. Ramona Lambert was a brilliant student, meticulous and dedicated. She wouldn't have used the last of our precious Soma flowers without a valid reason.

"It's alright, Ramona," I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "It's just... we're back to square one. Without the Soma flowers, we can't synthesize the key compound for the serum. And without the serum, we can't..."

I didn't need to finish the sentence. We both knew what it meant. No serum, no breakthrough. No breakthrough, no funding. No funding, no research. No research... well, let's just say my career would be about as vibrant as a petri dish full of expired agar.

The silence in the room was thick with disappointment. We'd poured our hearts and souls into this research, sacrificing sleep, sanity, and probably a few years off our lifespans in the process. And now, it felt like it was all slipping away.

"What about Mr. Watson?" I asked, grasping at straws. "Can't you pull a few strings with your billionaire botanist buddy?"

Curtis chuckled humorlessly. "You know as well as I do that a single batch of Soma flowers costs about the same as a brand new Ferrari. I've already used up all my friendship tokens just getting the last one."

I sighed, the weight of our predicament pressing down on me. "Without real-world results, it's all just theoretical. But we're still a long way from human trials."

"I know," Curtis said, his voice laced with a weariness that mirrored my own. "I'll start making some calls. Maybe I can find someone who can connect us with another investor. Someone with a little more... vision."

He clapped a hand on my shoulder, a gesture of support that felt more like a shared burden. "Don't worry, Jackie. We'll figure this out."

I nodded, though my optimism was wearing thinner than a lab coat after a chemical spill. Curtis headed off to work his magic, leaving me with Ramona, who was still radiating an aura of apologetic guilt.

"Look, Ramona, it's not your fault," I said, forcing a reassuring smile. "We all make mistakes. It's just... frustrating, you know? We were so close."

She nodded, her eyes downcast. "I know, Professor. I'm really sorry."

"Forget it," I said, waving a dismissive hand. "We'll find another way. We always do."

(cont'd)