Lisa frowns and cuts Maria off. “I am saving billions of lives. Look, I’m not keeping the vaccine from anyone. There’s enough money in the world for everyone to be vaccinated. And, you know, for millennia we have expected women to sacrifice themselves at the altar of the greater good and I’m not engaging in it. You want me to tell you that this was a hard decision and I had sleepless nights deciding what to do but that’s not the truth. This was the easiest decision in the world and it’s not as selfish as it first appears—well, if you think being compensated for an incredible achievement is selfish, which personally I don’t. Besides, if we’re going to eradicate this disease from the face of the earth, we have to be certain that vaccination is done right. Letting anyone, anywhere, produce the vaccine causes the very real risk that a poorly produced vaccine will be used and this disease will live on when it doesn’t have to.”
Maria visibly relaxes. She looks much more comfortable with the idea that medical necessity has been a factor in Lisa’s thinking rather than just cold, hard cash.
“So that’s why you involved the Canadian government so closely? To ensure the quality of the vaccine?”
“As I said, it’s a factor. We’re preserving the vaccine’s reputation and efficacy. Only countries with adequate manufacturing facilities and a rigorous quality control process will be allowed to purchase a license for the vaccine. That way, we’ll know that everyone who has been vaccinated has received an effective dose.”
“Have you spoken, since the announcement of the vaccine, to Dr. Amaya Sharvani, Dr. George Kitchen and Dr. Elizabeth Cooper, whose work was instrumental in your discovery?” Maria looks for the first time in this interview like she’s enjoying herself a little. I have no doubt that question is written in capital letters, underlined in red: Do not let Lisa take all the credit as though she invented the vaccine single-handedly without any help from anyone.
“I’ve been quite busy,” Lisa replies smoothly. “Although I’m very grateful to them for their work at the beginning of the research process.” She can’t even thank them without a caveat. The beginning of the process. The cheek of it.
“There’s rumors that the Canadian government has already made you a billionaire thanks to your share of the vaccine. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is.” She’s shameless. Completely shameless. Who cares about billions when the world has been ripped apart and you have the means to sew it back together again? I don’t buy her “validity of vaccine” excuse for a second. She could have ensured production was kept safe and then provided licenses for free.
“Are you willing to disclose what share of the vaccine you have retained and how much you have been paid?”
“I own forty percent of the MP-1 vaccine. The Canadian government owns fifty percent and the University of Toronto owns the remaining ten percent. I’m not at liberty to reveal the amounts that have been paid.”
“What do you say to the people who accuse you of prioritizing your own financial gain over the health of billions of people around the world?”
“I would say that I’ve prioritized my own country—as many countries would expect their scientists to do in a time of crisis—and I’ve balanced Canada’s interests, the global need for a safe and effective vaccine and, of course, my own interests. Not to mention the fact that the University of Toronto is a publicly funded university where I have spent the majority of my career. I wanted it to benefit from the research that it funded. I did my undergraduate degree here and got my first job as a researcher here after doing my PhD when I was in my twenties. I owe a lot to this place. It was unthinkable to me that we would just give away a piece of priceless research, the result of decades of commitment, recruitment, teaching and the thousands of hours my team put in. Hand it over like it was a penny we had found on the street? No.”
Maria smiles tightly and looks at her notes. I feel like the entire world is uncomfortable with Lisa’s existence and attitude. We all want to say, “No no, we wanted to be rescued but not like this. We wanted a kindly savior. A woman, or a rare, immune man, who would tell us everything is going to be okay, and provide a solution to our ills before living a life bathed in respect and gratitude.” Can we turn back the clock and have someone else discover the vaccine in a few weeks’ time, but do it right this time? You’re not meant to profit from the apocalypse. The Plague is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. The Plague is the worst thing that’s ever happened to the rest to us. I can’t accept it, can’t accept her. This can’t be the way the cure happens.