DANNY Chapter 44 by Roberta J. Cabot This is a story about Daniel, a guy with a unique talent and an even more unique problem: A great singing voice and the looks of his gorgeous sister. And how he and his family deal with his having breasts. And how he ends up as the female lead singer for a high-school cover band as well as a radio DJ. Nikki and Danielle wondered about Danny's frequent disappearances. What could Danny have been doing? But since Danny eventually stopped doing that, they didn't worry about it anymore. Still... What could Danny be doing when he disappears? Never a dull moment with Batch Fourteen, and Dan & his gang, huh?

  Chapter Forty-Four:  A House Call

***** (Dr. Roberts) *****

Over the months, I've discovered several things about Danny's and Danielle's conditions. The source of their unique conditions was the same even though the effect on them was different - the mysterious chemical that we have yet to track down that Eleanor Marshall, Danny's company-assigned dietician, liked to call "Batch 14," since the chemical we're looking for was the final batch of a fourteen-batch run. But the effects on these two kids were totally different from each other. We tracked the previous thirteen batches down but they didn't seem too unusual. We have, in fact, synthesized them and all that we've found was that they were just like all currently-available dietary supplements on the market today. They were dead ends. But we remained clueless about number fourteen.

The one curious thing was that all the active components in all thirteen batches were synthetic, so the fourteenth was probably the same. Actually, that was the only major similarity. The formulation of each batch was totally different from each other.

In fact, one would have wondered why they were filed as batches from the same formulation anyway - they weren't. Which frustrated me to death. If this was the normal output of the defunct pharma company's R&D, no wonder the company folded.

Still, Eleanor continued to chug along, using components from the thirteen batches, experimenting with the make-up of Batch 14, and adding or subtracting or changing the ratios of the components. I told her that it was useless to guess, and it would be a million to one that she'd be that lucky - actually, more like a billion to one - that she would hit the right combination. Furthermore, she would need to give the solution to a pregnant woman and see if the newborn child is affected. That's not just impractical but unethical in the extreme. And what if the kids' genetics had to do something with the effect?

The other alternative was to use animal test subjects as human analogs. But since these were analogs, the results were, at best, approximations. And besides, her animal tests haven't shown results as yet.

But she had more experience than I did in this area, given her background as a biochemical specialist in the Kinkaide Institute, so I let her do what she wanted, short of anything illegal or unethical.

I'm afraid the company will be pulling the plug on our project soon though - our bosses won't stand for us wasting time and resources this way any longer.

But until then, I'll continue running my experiments with the samples we get from Danny and Danielle.

Danielle's samples turned out to be completely normal. No new information could be gleaned from her, and nothing came out of any experimentation on her samples. Danielle was in the peak of health, but totally within normal parameters. She just had an optimal metabolism. Yet another dead end.

As for Danny's…

All of his samples had traces of the same chain of molecules I've been interested in since we first discovered the twins whereas Danielle had none. And the chemicals were indeed analogous to pheromones, as I originally concluded all those months ago. I'm surprised that Danny hadn't been buried under a whole gaggle of girls by now. Or boys for that matter - the "pheromones" affected the olfactory senses of both genders.

I tried synthesizing the compound artificially but my concoctions didn't seem to work. I couldn't understand it - my version was totally the same, chemically, but they didn't work at all. I was therefore reduced to working with Danny's samples directly.

I developed a method of concentrating the samples (basically evaporating 70% of the samples' water passively without heating them), and had been doing my own personal… testing with the material. And it had been quite effective, to say the least.

Based on animal tests, I've found that it also had an effect on non-human mammalian olfactory senses, with the effect that, the closer the animal is to the human emotionally, such as that of a pet to its master, the stronger its feelings of loyalty and other similar feelings, although it didn't cross over to... sexually-related emotions. Of course, these are expressed differently from species to species, so it wasn't too easy to identify. The easier to identify, though, were those of the primate and canine species.

I just bet Danny would have the most devoted pet, if he ever had one.

But the testing I did with human volunteers were also very telling. The effects were many, and many were difficult to map, especially since my experiments weren't according to protocol since I had to do it without the company's knowledge. I had no choice: I had reached a dead end, and human testing wasn't allowed, at least not at this stage. So I had to continue on using unwitting volunteers as the main subjects - all without letting them know they were test subjects.

The thing was, I was being affected myself, and the only way I could make sure I wasn't affected was to temporarily deaden my sense of smell using various chemicals I concocted. Not completely, though - just a specific "spectrum" of smells that were beyond what people consiously detect, and only temporarily. And this did the trick.

Over the months, though I wasn't closer to understanding how it worked, I hit upon a formula that was able to reduce the pheromone effects to manageable levels - in essence, they caused it to metabolize or chemically break down more quickly until my chemical was all used up. But then, all one had to do was to apply more.

However, I did discover something else, and decided to tell Danny. So I made an appointment to meet with Danny and Danielle right away.

Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild assumed that something was wrong so they agreed immediately. I told them the reason for my visit was just a regular checkup. The parents were relieved to hear that, but they still decided to schedule my "house call" right away.

And that's why I hopped on a plane "right away," and was now in an Uber driving towards the Fairchild's little town.

My Uber driver let me down right in front of their house and I walked up to their front door as he drove away.

Obviously, I was expected. I didn't even need to ring the bell. Mrs. Fairchild opened the door as I stepped up to it.

"Doctor Roberts!" Mrs. Fairchild said, shook my hand and gave me a welcome hug. Her enthusiastic greeting made me smile. And she was looking as lovely as before.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Fairchild," I said. I glimpsed her husband inside so it was good that I limited things to the handshake and hug. Not that I intended to make any moves on her.

"Good afternoon, doctor," Mr. Fairchild said and shook my hand. "Come on in."

I was ushered in and offered a drink. "Any chance of a beer?" I asked, smiling. "It was a long drive."

Mr. Fairchild grabbed us a couple of cold beers and we chatted while the three of us waited for the twins to get home from school. Mrs. Fairchild assured me they knew about the visit and should be home any minute.

While we waited, we had a nice visit and didn't notice the time.

Eventually, the kids arrived and, after some hugs, the parents excused themselves to allow me to do my checkup properly.

Before stepping out of the Uber earlier, I had used my special smell-numbing formula, so I knew I wouldn't be affected by Danny's "special charms." So I wasn't worried when I started the "checkup."

The twins looked even more closely like each other than before but, truthfully, despite the clothes, Danny looked the more feminine of the two. That was something I wouldn't tell them, of course, and spare him the embarassment, and her the indignation.

"It's been a long time, kids," I said while I set up. "So what's new with you?"

"Oh, nothing much, Doc," Danny said in false humility, "same ole same-old."

Danielle playfully hit him on the shoulder. "Ow!"

"Don't listen to him, Doc. Yeah lots of things have been happening."

"Oh?"

"But nothing you'd be interested in."

"Your mother has been telling me you guys have been busy in music?"

"Oh, yeah…" The two looked at each other, and Danielle abruptly changed the topic. I didn't mind so I just let it ride.

As we visited, I did a thorough checkup of both. These two didn't insist on being alone as I did the checkup. Just like identical twins.

Not having Eleanor around to help made it a little more cumbersome to perform the examinations, but I gamely pushed on. I noticed Danny now wore bras - no wonder, given his… very feminine chest. But his attire disguised them quite effectively.

Both knew that part of their checkups included physical measurements, so neither made a big deal of it. Danny passively let me measure him around the chest, waist, breasts, et cetera, like he was used to it, as did Danielle.

However, he did did insist we go to the bathroom so I could check him out in terms of his… sexual development. I understood. There were limits to openness even between brother and sister.

Danny was a very well-developed young man. Not the biggest according to the textbooks, but he was definitely very well developed. But other than his... generous endowment, he was totally okay.

Danny was beet red from embarassment when we stepped out of the bathroom, but I acted professionally, made nothing of it, and continued with my checkup.

Their parents returned as I was finishing up their medical interviews. I had collected a fair amount of samples from both as well, of course, and this should give me enough material for weeks of testing and whatnot.

"So," Mr. Fairchild said, "how are my kids, Doc?"

"Oh, they're totally fine, Mr. Fairchild," I said. "Totally healthy."

"How about…" he trailed off.

"I'm afraid nothing really has changed with Danny's condition," I said sadly. "But other than that, he is completely healthy. And Danielle is completely healthy as well."

"Well… I guess that's good then."

"Well, Doctor," Mrs. Fairchild said, "I hope you can stay for dinner."

Not having had home-cooking in a long while, I gladly accepted. And over a dinner of Mrs. Fairchild's wonderful version of spaghetti bolognese that the kids called "crunchy spaghetti," homemade French bread, caesar salad, and Irish-style meatballs on the side, I enjoyed myself and got to know more of what Danny and Danielle had been up to ever since I last saw them.

The family seemed reluctant to talk about some things, though, and only talked in generalities. I didn't push and just let them lead the conversation.

On my side, I tried to tell them about what I've been doing myself, telling them that Eleanor and I were trying to break a medical mystery, and trying to piece together enough information that could help us rediscover a formula that could help people. I couldn't be more detailed than that, otherwise Danny would definitely know that I was talking about Batch 14. On second thought, he probably already knew, actually - Danny was a very sharp young man.

I was looking for an opportunity to get to talk to Danny alone, but dinner ended eventually and it was time for me to go.

Even as I made my goodbyes, I was still looking for an opening. But before I could call up an Uber, Mr. Fairchild offered to run me back to the airport, which was right beside Franklin State U in the next town. Maybe a twenty-minutte drive.

"No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Fairchild, but, you know, I'm sure Danny can take me. That way, I can check out his Mustang that I've been hearing so much about."

I looked at Danny and gave him a look.

Danny saw it and picked up on my signal.

"Ummm, yeah, Dad. I can run Doctor Roberts to the airport. No problem. So - you ready, Doc?"

I nodded, gave Danielle and Mrs. Fairchild farewell kisses on the cheek and shook Mr. Fairchild's hand.

"Thank you for a wonderful dinner, and I will send back the results of the tests as soon as possible."

Danny got a jacket and we went to his car. The night was a little nippy so I put on my coat as well.

As soon as we left Danny's little suburbian neighborhood, Danny turned to me.

"So, what's up, Doc?" he said.

"I'm glad you picked up on my signal, Dan," I said. "I needed to tell you something that I'm sure you'd rather your family not hear."

So I started to explain, that, over the months since I started to regularly receive their samples, I noticed a gradual change in his, and said it was undoubtedly because of his being a growing teenager.

"Remember the 'pheromones' we talked about, Danny?" I asked.

"Yes," he said as he drove. "Something's changed?"

"There could be," I said.

I explained that I've been laboring to separate the particular components of his sweat and blood that contained this pheromone, but I couldn't. Danny's samples were completely normal, except for the level of female hormones and other slight anomalies.

Naturally, I concentrated on these differences, but I wasn't making much progress. I suspected it's not any one component but a combination of components that only occured in him. I told him I was basically going through a process of elimination as I broke down the components of his samples, and recombined them. It might take a long time, or I might not be able to find the answers I was looking for at all, but I carried on.

As I was doing my work, I did notice a change in the effects of his so-called pheromones in the subsequent samples they sent.

"How were you even able to test for effects," Danny asked. "Are you telling me you had volunteers?"

I knew Danny was smart.

"Well something like that," I said, glossing over his question. "The point is…"

I explained that the strength of the effects of his pheromones had been growing as time went on, and there might come a time when they become detrimental to both him and to others.

"What do you mean 'detrimental?'" he asked.

"Imagine how it would be if you had a bunch of obsessed, infatuated girls after you all the time," I said. "Imagine how they'd react to other girls who were as equally obsessed. Imagine how these girls would fight over you, and how they might not want to be out of your sight. Imagine how these obsessed girls would be if they couldn't be around you every second of every day."

Danny grew white as a sheet as he thought that through.

"But you're saying I'm not yet at that point?" he asked.

"I don't think so, but I need to do more tests."

He was silent for a while. I picked up on this, and a thought occurred to me.

"Have you been having encounters with these kinds of people?" I asked. "Unstable people? People not behaving normally?"

"Well… not exactly," he said, dodging me. "So the effect is basically like the people are, ummm, 'over-infatuated,' I guess?"

"Mostly," I said. "Actually, it's more akin to an addiction. We keep on calling it a pheromone. But it's really not. Its effects are like a pheromone, but who can say what will happen to those affected, especially at the levels that I'm expecting to see soon."

"Any guesses, at least?"

"Well… conceivably, extreme irritability, aggression, extreme changes in behavior to those exposed to it. These are all the usual effects of addiction. But these are all guesses, like I said."

He looked at me. "Addiction…" he murmured. He looked like what I said hit something.

"You're acting like you've already encountered…" I said.

"No!" he said. "Well… I'm not sure."

"Well, as I said, the strength of your so-called hormones is growing. But eventually, it should level off, maybe even taper down. But - "

"But, in the meantime, the people around me will grow more and more homicidal?"

"Well, I wouldn't use that word…"

"Oh, God…"

"I may have a solution." I reached into my shirt's breast pocket, took out a small, folded piece of paper and handed it to Danny.

"What is it?" he said, and unfolded it.

"I suggest you read that later instead, so we don't hit anyone with your car," I laughed. "Or I can tell you what's on it."

Though he looked like he really wanted to read it, he nodded and slipped it into his pocket.

"That's basically a list of several common kitchen and bathroom products, plus instructions how to mix them up properly and how to apply the resulting concoction."

"How to apply…"

"It's basically something you apply to the hollows of your neck, your armpits, your wrists and your groin, and what it will do is basically - I guess 'dilute' is the best word to use - basically dilute the effect of your pheromones."

"But you said my pheromones are changing and becoming stronger. Does that mean I have to put more and more of this stuff?"

"The, ah, ratios of some of the liquids need to be changed regularly to insure its efficacy. It's all in the instructions. But even without this, the people who're regularly exposed to your pheromones will likely develop a sort of immunity or resistance. Its effects on them will probably not go away completely, but constant exposure will mean they won't be as affected as others. Sort of like people developing a resistance to certain antibiotics."

Danny drove on in silence.

"What are you thinking," I inquired.

He sighed. "I guess I'm just sad. I thought we had a handle on my situation already. But it turns out that we didn't."

"Hopefully, with this new solution, you'll be back in control."

"I hope so… Doc? Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, Danny. Anything. And you can be sure I won't share it with anyone. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that."

And then Danny started telling me about an amazing story - a story about a little boy that grew up to look like his sister, and became the most popular female radio disk jockey in town and, on top of it all, to be a lead singer for a popular girl band.

And though we had already reached the airport and pulled up to the curb near my boarding gate, he continued his story. I asked him if he knew a nice place nearby that served coffee. Maybe we could have some coffee and talk some more.

We ended up in a little greasy spoon a few blocks away, and I listened some more while we sipped coffee, and Danny had several slices of pie.

I knew I was here just to give Danny the background about his condition and the formula for my little concoction, and maybe he'll be able to continue with his life without worrying about love-crazed girls trying to kill him. But now, I found myself listening to a high school kid telling me about his extraordinary life.

The results of the little experiments that I've been doing were indeterminate - no completely definitive or quantifiable results since I couldn't do as much experimenting as I needed because I didn't have the authority nor the resources to do it properly. But little Danny's experiences were proof positive of all of my assumptions.

His play-acting as a girl DJ and a girl rock-star was incredible to hear - that he could convince so many people that he was a girl. And, apparently, he was even able to convince people on TV. I think I'm gonna want to see that show. And, if they stream it, maybe I can listen to his Saturday morning radio programs, too.

Having examined him and knowing his physiology, I knew it was totally possible. As for his voice, according to him, an operation he had when he was a kid probably had something to do with it. Actually, I vaguely remember that from his medical history. He may be right, but I bet his condition had at least a little to do with it, too - that maybe his condition interacted with the physical changes resulting from his operation.

Actually, his psychiatrist, Dr. Jessup, had told me some of it, but I never did get the full picture - what with patient-doctor confidentiality and all - she wasn't inclined to share much even if both of us were working with the same teen, since she probably assumed Danny's problem wasn't physiologically based. So I didn't really have much information about it until now.

Damn. This will change the scope of my experimentation. Again.

I was also interested in his friends, his bandmates, his family, his classmates in school and the people he works with at the radio station as well, and how they were affected. From what Danny said, it seemed that his friends and family weren't too affected. At the beginning, when he was just starting to get his breasts, he said his family and friends were acting a little too "friendly and clingy" as he put it. But over time, things seemed to have calmed down. However, there were some exceptions - some kids at school, a couple of guards at the office, and the new deejays in the station. Danny said they weren't that problematic because he didn't interface with them all that much, anyway, but it troubled him enough that he told me about them.

However, the latest trouble he was having with Janet, one of his bandmates, was the one that worried him the most.

Danny said the girl was very argumentative at times and then overly conciliatory and sweet in others. Danny didn't like how it was affecting her relationship with him and his friends.

And then the events just before the concert show happened. I listened with growing alarm.

"Danny, maybe you should tell the police," I said.

He was reluctant, though, I suppose because he was worried about his being found out.

For me, though I wasn't a psychiatrist like Dr. Jessup, it sounded very familiar - it was like some teenager with an obsession. And obviously, she was obsessed with him. But when he talked about that meeting they had that resulted in her leaving the band, what she did at their concert, and what Danielle and the others said Janet's been doing since, it seemed that her condition was worsening, into somethig like borderline personality disorder - like a teenage version of Fatal Attraction. Accordinng to Danny, she wasn't like this before - she was totally normal before. The natural conclusion was that it was because of the hormones.

"What has she been doing now?" I asked.

It seemed Danny's friends and bandmates have been seeing Janet creeping around and spying on them. They weren't sure, though, but someone from the band - Fallon - had been getting some letters left in her locker. They didn't say anything major - more like "you bitch!" or "I have my eye on you," or "I don't know how you can stand looking at yourself in the morning." Danny said, since Fallon essentially took over Janet's spot in the band, it was obvious to them who wrote the notes.

"No emails or posts in twitter, facebook or other social media?" I asked. "That's unusual."

"No, nothing on social media, but that's not too surprising, actually." Danny explained: "Janet was a little paranoid about being traced," he said, "or spoofed or spammed, so she's rarely on social medial. And she knew my friends and I were fairly Internet savvy so it would be easy for us to trace things back to her, especially since she's such a dweeb about the net. So she just stays off the net."

"Does the school administration and the police know about the letters?"

"Ummm, no," Danny said. "We wouldn't want to make a big deal of it and mess up Janet's life. After all, they weren't really threatening, and we aren't sure it's her..."

"Come on, Danny - you're sure, aren't you?"

Danny reluctantly nodded.

"You are a loyal friend, Danny."

"I'm afraid I'm too loyal for my own good."

He played with the remaining piece of pie on his plate. "Doc," he said, "can I ask you what you think?"

"Think, Danny?"

"What all this means for me, for my family. What will we need to face because of me? I don't want to put those close to me in danger. And all because of my screwy…"

"Stop, Dan. Just stop."

I sighed. "First thing you must realize," I said, "is that this is not your fault. This is just one of those things that families have to face together."

"Really?" he said incredulously.

"Well, you know what I mean. Other families have other things to worry about. This happens to be your family's."

"But, Doc…"

"Dan. Yes, your hormones and everything else has made it difficult. But just look at you - look at what you've done! Dr. Jessup says you're doing great in school. Top Ten in your class, in fact. You are on your way to carving a bright future for yourself. And your mom and dad are so proud of you. And your sister and friends think very highly of you.

"And even with everything fate has saddled you with, you do the best you can for everyone, using it to start promising careers for them and yourself.

"And this new thing - the changing quality of your pheromones - it's not irreversible. Or rather, it's not unmanageable."

I put my hand on his shoulder, and I felt him tremble a bit. Perhaps it was a kind of relief that was coursing through him now. My words seemed to have given rise to some hope. It was time to shore up that hope somehow.

"Do you have that piece of paper I showed you?"

He brought it out.

"Read it, please."

He took it out, read it and looked at me in askance.

"What's this?" he asked.

"They're basically things you can find in the house - acetone, rubbing alcohol, hand sanitizer, liquid hand soap, a ladies perfume, shampoo, and several others."

"With specific brands, too."

"Oh, yes, that's important - the brand. You have to get those specific brands as well as the amounts specified, otherwise the chemicals will be different enough that they won't work: specific brands of liquid soap, detergent, astringent, rubbing alcohol, bleach, two different men's colognes, one specific women's perfume, and several other things.

You're supposed to put them in a bottle in the amounts specified, and shake it vigorously until the color changes until it's transparent, like water. And then you're supposed to put some on the hollows of your neck, your armpits, the inside of your wrists and in your groin."

He was looking at me a little unbelievingly.

"My groin?"

I chuckled. "Yep."

"How about the amounts I should put on?"

"Doesn't matter - it's up to you. A couple of drops, or you slather it on - it doesn't matter. You'll be good for a couple of hours. Afterwards, you have to put on some more."

"And when I do, my pheromones won't affect anyone anymore?"

"Oh, it still will. But it won't reach the levels that will make people go crazy in love with you, or start getting violent, except perhaps for those who've already gone over."

"But you also said that my hormones were changing."

I nodded. "Yes. And this is the way around that. What you do is you get fresh litmus paper, both the blue and red kind. Wipe a piece on your neck or wrist. And then put some drops of the solution. If the paper doesn't change to red or blue, or at least pinkish or bluish, then the solution isn't right anymore. That means your pheromones changed enough that the solution isn't effective anymore."

"Then what…"

"You add a little more of the women's perfume in the list, shake it again and then do another test. If the paper's color doesn't change, then there is either too much or too little of the perfume. So you change the amounts until the color change happens."

He looked at me with hope.

"As I said, Danny, you can manage this new twist to your thing."

"What did you mean when you said people will go crazy in love and get violent?"

"My scans of the people I tested with your, ummm, extracts showed increased electrical activity in the brain, specifically the amygdala, especially the hypothalamus and the ventral tegmentum."

"What're those?"

"The Amygdala are two almond-shaped parts of the brain's lymbic system and are present in most vertebrates. It's the part of the brain that processes emotions. Subjects exposed to your pheromones show an immediate increase in activity in the amygdala, mostly in the left amygdala.

"Also, as exposure continues, the activity concentrates more in the ventral tegmentum."

"Sorry, Doc," Danny said, "but…" He made a gesture with his hand, like a plane just went over his head. "This is all too much like medical gibberish."

"Sorry, Dan. It's like this - the amygdala is responsible for processing emotions in general, and the ventral tegmentum is in charge of emotions like love, and how the person feels pleasure. So, you see the connection?"

Danny looked at me and nodded.

"Eleanor and I also found that more frequent exposure makes the effect last longer. Not necessarily a bad thing, but, in some people, the effect also increases after each exposure. The emotional pleasure is therefore ratcheted up in intensity.

"But, in the newer samples that we've gotten from you, in some people - about one in three hundred - activity seems to have increased in the right amygdala as well. And the right amygdala is more about sadness, fear and anger. See the connection?"

Danny looked a bit shocked as he connected the dots.

"What's the implication of that?" he asked.

"In those that had increased activity in the right amygdala, we found an increase in mood swings, feelings of abandonment, intense and unstable relations with people, impulsive and dangerous behavior, self-harming behavior, anger and lots of other things. And this behavior seems to increase as they get exposed to the newer versions of your pheromones.

"But, like I said, most people aren't affected that way - the effects on the right amygdala don't occur in most people. But in one in three hundred people, exposure to the newer versions of your pheromones trigger these negative effects, and then the cycle of increasing effects start. Needless to say, as soon as this started to happen to our test subjects, I discontinued the experiments with these specific people."

"So people around me become psychopaths?"

I shrugged. "One in three hundred," I corrected. "And these aren't psychopaths, Dan. At best they are troubled people that need help and understanding."

Dan's shoulders slumped. "And I'm the one who makes them that way…"

I had some more bad news, so I pushed on, thinking it best to tell him all of this now instead of stretching out the agony.

"There's more, Dan," I said. "These one-in-three hundred people who we continuously exposed to your pheromones developed a kind of dependency, like an addict, always looking for their next fix. And if they don't get their fix, they experience withdrawal - flu-like symptoms, anxiety, depression, tremors, and mostly a desperate need to get their next fix. But then, they don't really know that their fix is your pheromones. All they know is that they feel better when they get it."

He looked at me, forlorn.

"But, like any addict, if the person is able to avoid exposure for long enough, the symptoms go away.

"Then what about my folks? My friends?"

"Well, you're always around them so they don't experience any withdrawal. But I doubt if they're part of the one-in-three hundred - if they were in the one-in-three hundred group, the symptoms would have shown up long before now. Since they haven't, then they're safe. And because of the constant exposure, they would have developed a tolerance by now, unless they're one of the one-in-three hundred folks, like I said. I am fairly sure anyone who's been regularly dosed with your pheromones won't be affected by them much anymore, just like someone developing a drug tolerance to antibiotics as I said."

"So that means, if people get exposed enough, they'll be okay?"

"Until they become desensitized, you mean."

"When do they become desensitized? How will I know they've been desensitized?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe a couple of weeks to a month of daily exposure should do it."

"Then when overexposed, they would be immune? And my pheromones won't work on them anymore?"

"Sort of," I said. "The left-amygdala effects will remain regardless. The effect on those who've been overexposed are greatly reduced, of course, and there's no extra escalation of the effects. They'll still be affected, but only mildly, and only the left-amygdala effects . As for my concoction, it will stop the effect on the right amygdala. So at least no one goes psycho."

"What about someone who's already gone psycho?" Clearly, he was thinking of his friend Janet. I haven't thought of a scenario like that.

"Well… I suppose if she gets concentrated exposure to your hormones for, say, seventy-two hours straight or thereabouts, she should be immunized from the right-amygdala effects. She'll still have the left-amygdala ones, though, just like anyone, but if there's continuous exposure, the left-amygdala effects should become milder, like with everyone."

"God… How could I even do that for those who're affected? Seventy-two hours..."

"Sorry, Dan," I said. "I had to be honest."

"Not a problem, Doc," he said. "I appreciate it nevertheless."

But, looking at his face, he seemed to have something else on his mind.

"Okay, Dan," I said. "Spit it out."

He took a deep breath and started to tell yet another incredible story.

My jaw literally dropped, and listened with rapt attention. Danny said he couldn't really prove it, and would not have said anything to me if it weren't for the doctor-patient confidentiality, and the fact that he needed advice. What he said to me sounded like one of Eleanor's tall stories about her hometown of Spiral, but I had half a mind to believe this one.

With everything he told me, assuming it was all true, I had to say that nothing fundamental had changed in my point of view, and there was nothing I could add. To that, Danny just nodded. In my mind, though, I couldn't help think how appropriate Danny's… "powers" were. It couldn't be true, could it? Either he was lying or he probably imagined all of it.

But there were people in history that seem to have this kind of... power. For example, Rasputin comes to mind.

Maybe I can ask someone to research this, and look for these people. Oh my god. What was I thinking?

I looked at my watch.

"Ohmigod!" Danny suddenly said as he saw me looking at my watch. "Your flight…"

"It's long gone, Danny," I said. "Don't worry about it. I'll catch a later flight. It's good we were able to spend time talking. I doubt if we could have talked openly like this in front of your family. So it was worth it missing my plane. And there's always another flight, like I said."

"I'm really sorry, Doc…"

I waved it away. "Not a problem, Danny. I'll just book another flight, and I guess I'll stick around the lounge until it gets here."

Danny giggled. "Sorry, Doc. Our little one-horse airport doesn't have any kind of lounge. You have to go to the big one in... oh, wait - There's a waiting room, though…"

"In that case, I guess I can check into a motel and try and book a new flight..."

"There's a motel right beside the airport. I can bring you there?"

"That'll be great. Thanks!"

With my bag, the precious vials of samples from the twins in my doctor's battery powered sample box, and my coat, Danny left me at the curb by the motel.

"Thanks, Doc," he said, and shook my hand. "I really appreciate your help."

"Not a problem, Danny. You're a special kid. Don't loose heart. You're doing well. Just keep on fighting. And give me a call anytime you want. Eleanor and I will be available. And you can always talk to Dr. Jessup, too."

Impulsively, he gave me a hug, and I just realized how good a person Danny really was. He deserves a break. I didn't mind helping him.

And after he stepped back into his car and drove away and I contemplated these thoughts, I had the sneaking suspicion that maybe my nose-numbing formula had stopped working…

to be continued...

 

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