Novel Square
Chapter 882
The guests exchanged excited glances and raised their glasses in celebration, the atmosphere buzzing with energy.
"How should we pick the ten people?" someone called out from the crowd.
Karen flashed a small smile, microphone in hand, and slowly said, "There will be a raffle drum on stage filled with lots of cards, each bearing four different symbols. Those who scratch off the orchid symbol will be the lucky participants! Of course, there are only ten orchids."
With a gentle gesture, a crimson raffle drum was brought up and placed center stage.
Guests lined up, taking turns to draw their lots, each one eagerly scratching their card, hoping for the orchid.
Karen, with a light voice, announced, "Now, those who have found the orchid symbol, please come up and state your wish. I'll do my best to fulfill it."
The first to approach was a middle-aged man in a dark blue suit, sitting across from Karen. His pale, slightly gaunt face betrayed his anxiety as he hesitated, "Can you really solve any problem?" Karen's eyes shone with a calming light, "I'll agree to one request. Speak freely, within my means."
The man, not overly hopeful but desperate for a miracle, shared, "I've been sick, consulted numerous doctors to no avail. When the illness strikes, my heart races, I break out in cold sweats, and my skin erupts in crimson blisters covering my body, save for my face and neck. The ones on my chest have burst open and are festering. Can you help me?"
Revealing his condition in front of so many was a monumental act of bravery for him, a sign of sheer desperation.
Karen's gaze fixed on his neck, noting an anomaly, she directly addressed it, "The blisters have reached your neck. Within a month, they'll cover it, and then the ones on your legs will burst."
The man frantically touched his neck, panic-stricken, "Can you cure me?"Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.
Karen, composed and serene, asked to examine his chest.
The man hesitated, aware of the audience, until those near the stage encouraged him, suggesting the women could look away.
Overcoming his embarrassment, he removed his suit, followed by a black shirt, and then a white vest, revealing his torso. The sight of densely packed, festering blisters oozing yellow pus was profoundly disturbing, their stench driving those nearby to recoil in disgust.
After a thorough examination, Karen remained unfazed, diagnosing him with an "excess heat" condition typical of intense irritation and prescribed a treatment involving care herbs, "May Grass" and "April Blossom," not commonly found but available through the Linklater family. She instructed him to mix these with other herbs and apply the concoction to his wounds twice a day for a fortnight for recovery.
The man's relief was palpable, his eyes brimming with hope.
Karen's confident prognosis reassured the audience, who nodded in approval.
Next, a tall, lean man with piercing eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses and clutching a stack of academic papers approached. Introducing himself as Cory, a postdoctoral researcher from M State Newford College's Department of Molecular and Cellular Physiology, he sought Karen's insight on a perplexing scientific question regarding the conversion of skin cells into nerve cells.
Karen listened intently, briefly reviewing Cory's research before sharing her own experiences with iPSCs and their potential in studying Parkinson's disease, a subject of her past
Parkinsarch due to its rising
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prevalence in Veridia. Her expertise on the topic and her ability to propose a viable research direction left Cory, and the audience, in awe of her knowledge and the breadth of
her abilities.
Dr. Cory was all ears, hanging onto every word with the focus of a man on a mission. Despite his postdoc credentials, the concept was a tough nut to crack, but he was getting the gist of it.
Karen took another sip of her tea, her throat parched from the intense discussion, "In other words, is it possible to coax human skin cells into taking on characteristics of neurons?"
It was as if a light bulb went off in Dr. Cory's head, an epiphany that directed him towards a breakthrough in his research.
She reached for the pile of academic papers and flipped them open to a particular page, pointing out a flaw in his approach, "You've overlooked a crucial aspect here - failing to account for the diversity within the cell population."
Picking up a pen, she started sketching a dynamic diagram of cell differentiation on the margin of the paper, each number and line marked with clarity that could only come from a moment of insight.