Building a Conglomerate in Another World

The next morning, March 11, 1893, Matthew Hesh convened an emergency council at the White House. Doctors, researchers, and scientific advisors from across the nation filled the room. Among them was Dr. Frederick Hall, head of the Public Health Service, along with prominent chemists and microbiologists. The atmosphere was tense as they awaited the President's directive.

Matthew entered and took his seat at the head of the table. He wasted no time.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the nation is in crisis," he began. "Containment measures are buying us time, but they won't solve the core problem. We need a cure. I believe the solution lies in developing an antibiotic. Specifically, I want us to create a compound capable of killing bacterial infections."

The room fell into a stunned silence. Dr. Hall adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "Mr. President, with all due respect, we haven't identified the cause of this disease yet. We're still investigating whether it's bacterial or viral. And antibiotics, as you describe, are… well, speculative at best. There's no precedent for what you're suggesting."

Matthew nodded, expecting the skepticism. "You're right, Dr. Hall. But consider this—symptoms like high fever, skin boils, and organ failure point toward a severe bacterial infection. We've seen similar patterns in past epidemics, such as anthrax and pneumonic plague. If that's the case, antibiotics could halt the spread." Read exclusive chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

Dr. Leonard Perry, a biochemist, leaned forward. "Even if you're correct, developing a new medicine of this nature would take years under normal circumstances. We'd need to isolate the pathogen, test compounds, and ensure safety before deployment."

"Then we'll have to accelerate the process," Matthew replied firmly. "We don't have years—we have weeks, if not days, to prevent a total collapse of society. I've already initiated a nationwide mobilization of scientific resources. I'm authorizing emergency funding and full access to any equipment you need. But I need your cooperation."

A younger researcher, Dr. Eleanor Hart, spoke up. "Mr. President, do you have any specific ideas on where to start? You seem... remarkably confident for someone without a medical background."

Matthew hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. He couldn't reveal that he possessed knowledge from a future where antibiotics were common. He needed a believable justification.

"I've spent years working closely with industrial chemists and researchers," he began. "During that time, I learned that certain natural substances have antimicrobial properties. Mold and fungi, for example. Historical records even mention ancient practices of using moldy bread to treat wounds. We need to explore that angle."

Dr. Hall's eyes narrowed in thought. "Mold-based compounds? You're referring to what some herbalists and folk healers have experimented with. It's... unconventional, but not without merit."

Matthew pressed on. "Precisely. I want teams focused on analyzing molds and fungi. Look for strains that inhibit bacterial growth. We'll also conduct parallel research to identify the pathogen behind the outbreak. We need both efforts running simultaneously."

The room buzzed with cautious discussion. Some scientists expressed doubts, while others acknowledged that extraordinary measures were necessary under the circumstances. Finally, Dr. Hall nodded.

"Very well, Mr. President. I'll coordinate the research teams. We'll start with fungal samples and bacterial cultures. But I'll be honest—it's a long shot."

Matthew stood and addressed the entire council. "I understand the risks, but long shots are better than no shots. We're fighting for the survival of this nation. Let's make history."

Over the following week, laboratories across Amerathia launched an unprecedented research effort. Samples of various molds were collected from hospitals, food storage facilities, and even nature reserves. Researchers worked around the clock, testing their effects on bacterial cultures extracted from infected patients.

Matthew kept a close eye on the progress. Daily reports streamed into the White House. Amber often found him poring over scientific journals and lab data late into the night.

"You're pushing yourself too hard," she said one evening, bringing him a cup of coffee. "You can't carry all of this on your shoulders."

Matthew glanced up from his papers and gave a tired smile. "If I don't push, who will? We're on the verge of something revolutionary, Amber. This could save millions—not just now, but for generations to come."

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone. You've got brilliant minds working with you. Trust them."

On May 5th, the breakthrough came.

"Mr. President, this could be the breakthrough we've been waiting for. If this compound proves effective and safe, we may have a viable treatment."

Matthew leaned forward, gripping the edge of his desk. "Then let's waste no time. Begin preparing for human trials immediately. I want updates every few hours. This is our top priority."

"Understood," Hall and Hart confirmed in unison before the line went silent.

The following day, May 5, the first human trial was ready to begin. The team in Chicago selected a critically ill patient named Joseph Langston, a dockworker who had been among the first infected. His condition had deteriorated rapidly, and doctors believed he had mere days—if not hours—left to live.

Matthew followed the situation closely from Washington. Dr. Hall's report came in just before noon. "We're about to administer the first dose, Mr. President. We'll monitor him closely over the next 24 hours."

Matthew nodded through the telegraph exchange, his thoughts racing. "I trust your team, Dr. Hall. Keep me informed of every development. The nation is watching."

In the hospital ward in Chicago, doctors and nurses gathered around Joseph's bedside. Dr. Hart carefully injected the experimental compound into his arm. The room was silent except for the steady beeping of monitoring equipment. His breathing was labored, his skin pale and clammy.

The waiting began.

By nightfall, initial signs of improvement emerged. Langston's fever began to drop, and his breathing steadied. Though still unconscious, he appeared more stable than he had been in days. The team cautiously documented every change, sending hourly updates to the White House.

At 4 a.m. on May 6, a message from Dr. Hall arrived at the President's residence: "Patient stabilizing. Fever down 40%. Initial test shows immune response improving. Will proceed with next dose."