Kevin paused from fitting a blade into the saw. “What do you think they’ll do?”
“Try to discredit the technology—by spreading scare stories, getting it bad press to frighten investors into pulling their money out and keep new ones away. That’s what I’m pretty certain they tried before.”
“Before? You mean when my dad quit?”
Corfe nodded. “It happens a lot more than you probably think. It didn’t work then, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try again. Lots of stuff was printed and circulated around at the time. It’s just waiting to be resurrected.”
Kevin thought for a moment. He knew that around the time that Eric left Microbotics there had been some controversy over alleged dangers of DNC, but he had been too young at the time to really follow it; and in the years since, life had been too full of other things. “You mean those stories that were going around about DNC screwing people up in the head? Way back. Is that what we’re talking about?”
Corfe nodded. “That’s right.”
“I thought it was just one of those alarmist things that hack science writers with nothing better to do pick up. That’s what Dad says.”
“I know he does. That’s what he’s always thought. I wanted him to get the thing out in the open and fight it, but he said it would die a natural death faster if we just left it alone. I think he was wrong. It never really went away, and I don’t think it will until it’s killed—dead in the water.”
“What actually happened?” Kevin asked.
Corfe made the first cut in the transom, then switched the saw off to speak. “Right after Eric set up Neurodyne, stories started going around saying that the reason why Microbotics had decided against DNC wasn’t that management had chickened out, but on account of unexpected side effects. But the stories weren’t true. I was there, and I knew that the things they talked about hadn’t figured in the debate at the time. They were concocted afterward.”
“What kind of things . . . for instance?”
“Okay, I’ll give you an example. One report that got a lot of press was about a couple of technicians who were supposed to have developed neural disorders through being involved in the early work at Microbotics. But I happened to know that one of those cases had always suffered from that condition. It ran in her family. The symptoms had been there before any work on DNC was ever started . . . but the reports didn’t tell you that. And the other guy had a drug history. He’d kicked the habit by then, but he still had flashbacks. As far as I’m concerned, anything that ignores facts as basic as those is no different from plain lying.”
Corfe completed cutting out the piece and lifted it clear. Kevin picked up the container of resin and peered at the directions while he reflected on what Corfe had said. “Shall I pour some of this out?”
“About a pint. But don’t add any of the catalyst until I tell you.”
There was a short silence. Finally, Kevin said, “Did anyone else know about this? I mean, you can’t have been the only one. Didn’t anyone else try to point this out?”
“Not openly. As far as the public knew, it all blew over and went away.” Corfe gestured with his free hand. “After all, Neurodyne’s here today. The funds didn’t dry up. . . . Right at the last moment, something made them back off. And I think it had to do with Jack. Did you know much about him?”
“Jack? You mean my stepmother’s ex?”
“Right: Jack Anastole.”
Kevin made a so-so face. “Not a lot, really. I guess they split up before she had anything to do with my life.”
“Jack was a lawyer too—in fact, he used to be the partner of Phil Garsten, who handles your family affairs now. Now Jack told Eric once—back when all this business was going on that I was telling you about—that he had proof there were people out to discredit the DNC concept. Said he could name the names, had it all documented—everything. That was enough to make even Eric sit up and take notice.” Corfe finished smoothing the edges of the cutout and began lining it with the layers of fiberglass cloth that he had cut.