It was a little past 9:00 a.m.
I passed through the research building entrance, stopped in front of Dr. Ross’s office door, and knocked twice.
"Come in."
When I opened the door, Dr. Ross was seated at his desk, reviewing documents.
He looked up at me and started to rise from his chair.
"Stay seated."
I sat in the chair opposite him.
"Report tomorrow’s experiment schedule in advance."
Dr. Ross stared at me for a moment, then nodded and opened a thick stack of documents.
"Beginning at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow, we will resume the children’s regular examinations. First, a basic vital-sign check, followed by additional blood sample collection. In the morning, we will also conduct neurological response testing and cognitive ability assessments. In the afternoon, lymph tissue biopsy and a lumbar puncture are scheduled."
I fell silent for a moment.
"A lumbar puncture... you mean...?"
"Yes. I mean collecting cerebrospinal fluid."
Collecting cerebrospinal fluid. On a five-year-old.
It was an unpleasant procedure even adults dreaded, something I had only ever undergone once before, when I had meningitis.
They were talking about sticking a needle between a child’s vertebrae.
My stomach turned.
But objecting right now would not help. I needed to hear the entire schedule first.
"Continue."
Dr. Ross turned a page and went on.
"The neurological response test is set for after 10:00 a.m. It will measure peripheral nerve responses using electrical stimulation. The cognitive ability assessment will begin at 11:00 a.m., with each child tested separately in different rooms. It will proceed in the following order: language ability, spatial perception, memory, and logical reasoning."
I listened without saying a word.
"The afternoon schedule begins with a lymph node tissue biopsy at 2:00 p.m. It will be performed as an incisional biopsy under local anesthesia, with tissue being excised for cellular analysis."
Goddamn it. That was just a fancy way of saying they were going to carve out flesh.
My hand trembled, but I forced it still with my other hand and endured it.
"The cerebrospinal fluid collection is scheduled for 4:00 p.m. That procedure will be performed under general anesthesia."
Dr. Ross closed the file and looked at me.
"That is all. Would you review it?"
I lowered my gaze for a moment.
Electrical stimulation, incisional biopsy, cerebrospinal fluid collection... this was not an examination. It was practically major surgery.
And those tiny children were supposed to endure all of that for an entire day.
Not just once, either. Regularly... they had been made to suffer this kind of horrific pain over and over.
No other words came to mind. I could only think that it was too much.
I slowly opened my mouth.
"For now, proceed with tomorrow’s experiment schedule as planned. But from now on, when you conduct examinations, remove the cerebrospinal fluid collection."
Dr. Ross looked up.
This time, it was the same look as before, as if he was wondering what I was going to nitpick now.
"Director, cerebrospinal fluid analysis is a mandatory item in this year’s quarterly research protocol."
"I know. But there is an alternative."
At that, Dr. Ross frowned.
"An alternative?"
I paused to choose my words.
How could I explain this in a way that would convince a researcher from this era?
Still, fortunately, even if my professional logic was weaker than theirs, I had knowledge that would not exist for decades yet.
"What are you trying to obtain from the cerebrospinal fluid? Levels of nervous-system-related proteins, correct?"
"That is correct."
"Then what if there is no law saying that data must be obtained only from cerebrospinal fluid? What if similar biomarkers exist in blood as well?"
To put it simply:
If something goes wrong in the brain or spinal cord, traces of it remain in the blood, however faintly.
In other words, there was no need to stick a needle into someone’s spine if a single drop of blood could yield similar information.
"Neuron-specific enolase and S100B protein can also be detected in blood. The accuracy may be somewhat lower than direct cerebrospinal fluid collection, but considering the children’s age and condition, we can still obtain sufficiently meaningful data."
Dr. Ross’s expression stiffened in a strange way.
"...Director, I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard of those biomarkers. Have they been reported in the academic literature?"
It was only natural that he didn’t know. Even before my reincarnation, this was still a field under research.
Of course, someone in the 1970s would have no way of knowing the concept even existed.
I chose my words carefully.
"They have not yet been formally published. But related research is underway. I have personally reviewed some materials."
"Applying an unpublished method to the research protocol is difficult. With an unverified approach..."
"Then we verify it ourselves, don’t we?"
Dr. Ross stopped speaking.
"After all, the Veronica Project itself is unprecedented. Trying a new methodology is the very essence of research."
Honestly, it was a gamble. I was trying to apply a research method that would not be validated for decades.
But whether it was unfortunate or fortunate, I was in Umbrella.
At least in biology and related fields, it was a place where every kind of scientific resource gathered, a place that even surpassed modern technology in the real world.
Maybe I could even complete here a method that had not been fully validated in the modern era...
Dr. Ross looked at me for a moment. He still did not seem convinced, but he also had no clear argument to counter me with.
"...Could you submit the relevant materials in written form?"
"I’ll organize them and submit them."
How I was going to produce those materials was a problem for later.
"But you said just now that the accuracy might be somewhat lower. I’d like to hear your specific opinion on that point."
"The accuracy may be lower than direct cerebrospinal fluid collection, but that is only true for elderly patients. Considering the children’s age and condition, I believe we can still obtain sufficiently meaningful data. And to be frank, maintaining a stable experimental environment is likely to produce better long-term results than chasing perfect data right now."
Dr. Ross looked at me a little longer, then wrote something on the report sheet.
"...I’ll note it for now."
"And change the biopsy method as well."
Dr. Ross looked up.
"How do you mean?"
"Use a needle biopsy instead of an incisional biopsy."
A needle biopsy meant collecting cells by inserting a needle.
At the very least, it was certainly better than cutting flesh open.
Dr. Ross frowned.
"Director, a needle biopsy is not suitable for lymph node biopsy. With a fine needle, you can only collect cells. For diagnosing lymph node disease, you need to see how the cells are arranged, that is, the overall structure of the tissue. A fine needle cannot provide that information in detail."
It was an accurate rebuttal. But it was also the answer I had expected.
"Then use a core biopsy."
Dr. Ross paused.
"A core biopsy?"
"Yes. It uses a thicker needle than a fine needle to collect a tissue core. You don’t need to open the flesh as widely as with an incisional biopsy, and you can obtain far more information than with a fine needle."
To simplify the whole thing so far:
If I used cooking as an example, a fine-needle biopsy was like putting a spoon into a stew pot and scooping out a spoonful of broth.
You could taste the broth, but you couldn’t tell what the chunks looked like.
A core biopsy, on the other hand, was like using tongs to grab an ingredient from the pot and pull it out whole.
You could check the size, shape, and condition of the chunks all at once.
And an incisional biopsy was like opening the pot lid and plunging in a huge ladle.
You could see the most broth and ingredients, but you also had to open the pot much wider, and the process was more cumbersome.
Since it did not require cutting open the flesh as much as an incisional biopsy, the burden on the children would be much lighter.
Dr. Ross thought for a moment, then spoke.
"A core biopsy would be better than an incisional biopsy... but it is still true that the accuracy is lower than with an incisional biopsy. If the needle does not hit the exact area, you may end up collecting only normal tissue."
"We can solve that with ultrasound."
Dr. Ross narrowed his eyes.
"Ultrasound?"
"Yes. While performing the core biopsy, you use ultrasound to check the position of the needle tip in real time. That way, you can aim for the exact area and avoid nearby blood vessels and nerves. It solves both the accuracy problem and the safety problem at once."
The ultrasound-guided core biopsy I was proposing went one step further.
To use the cooking example again, it was like attaching a transparent lid that let you see inside the pot, then using that view to pick out only the exact ingredient you wanted with tongs.
Dr. Ross stared at me for a while.
"You’re saying you can perform a core biopsy while watching the needle position in real time with ultrasound?"
"Yes."
"I’ve never heard of such a method. Has it been reported in the academic literature?"
That surprised me. Had this era really not yet developed ultrasound-guided biopsy?
I spoke slowly.
"It has not yet been formally published. But the principle itself is simple. We already have technology that lets us see internal structures in real time with ultrasound. We’re just combining that with a core biopsy. I’ll organize the relevant literature and submit it."
Dr. Ross said nothing for a while.
He kept looking down at the documents, then back at me.
In his eyes, curiosity about this new method and suspicion of it coexisted.
"We’ll need cross-verification for reliability, but the proposal itself is very interesting. If you wish, I will reconsider changing the experimental method to this approach... however, you must submit the relevant literature. And you will also need to draft a new biopsy protocol using ultrasound equipment."
"I will do that."
That, too, was a problem I would have to grind my teeth over later when it came to producing the literature and protocol, but at least it looked like I had persuaded him.
Dr. Ross gathered his documents and stood up.
Then, just as he was about to open the door, he paused.
"Director."
"Speak."
Dr. Ross turned and looked at me.
"You have changed a great deal recently."
I paused with my hand in midair.
"In what way do I seem to have changed?"
"How should I put it... you seem somewhat more at ease than before."
I thought about that for a moment.
He was not wrong. Spending every morning and evening with the children, playing the question game, letting those small daily routines pile up... something about me really had changed.
"Is that a problem?"
Dr. Ross looked at me briefly.
"Not a problem, exactly... it just doesn’t quite seem like you, Director."
"Then what do you think is like me?"
Dr. Ross gave a short laugh. It was less a laugh than a smile, the expression of someone swallowing something down.
"...Never mind. My apologies."
Then he left the office.
After the door closed, I sat there for a moment.
At ease, huh... ironically, I was actually straining my brain harder than anyone else right now.
I stood up.
It didn’t matter.
I didn’t need to match the image of the director they wanted.
At the very least, if the director they wanted was one who made children suffer, then I was willing to bear the sacrifice and change that image.
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